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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:34:42 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:34:42 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/10550-0.txt b/10550-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..227ccdc --- /dev/null +++ b/10550-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,21309 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10550 *** + +A SELECT COLLECTION OF OLD ENGLISH PLAYS, VOL. IX + +Originally published by Robert Dodsley in the Year 1744. + + +Fourth Edition, + +Now first chronologically arranged, revised and enlarged with the Notes +of all the Commentators, and new Notes + +By + +W. CAREW HAZLITT. + +1874-76. + + + +CONTENTS: + +How a Man May Choose a Good Wife from a Bad +The Return from Parnassus +Wily Beguiled +Lingua +The Miseries of Enforced Marriage + + + + + + +HOW A MAN MAY CHOOSE A GOOD WIFE FROM A BAD. + + + + +_EDITION + + +A Pleasant conceited Comedie, Wherein is shewed how a man may chuse a +good Wife from a bad. As it hath bene sundry times Acted by the Earle of +Worcesters Seruants. London Printed for Mathew Lawe, and are to be solde +at his shop in Paules Church-yard, neare unto S. Augustines gate, at the +signe of the Foxe_. 1602. 4to. + +[There were editions in 1605, 1608, 1614, 1621, 1630, 1634, all in 4to. + +It is not improbable that the author was Joshua Cooke, to whom, in an +old hand on the title of edit. 1602 in the Museum, it is attributed.] + + + + +[PREFACE TO THE FORMER EDITION.[1]] + + +This play agrees perfectly with the description given of it in the +title; it is certainly a most pleasant conceited comedy, rich in humour, +and written altogether in a right merry vein. The humour is broad and +strongly marked, and at the same time of the most diverting kind; the +characters are excellent, and admirably discriminated; the comic parts +of the play are written with most exquisite drollery, and the serious +with great truth and feeling. Of the present piece there were seven +editions, within a short period, with all of which the present reprint +has been carefully collated, and is now, for the first time, divided +into acts and scenes. + + + +PERSONS REPRESENTED. + +OLD MASTER ARTHUR. +OLD MASTER LUSAM. +YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. +YOUNG MASTER LUSAM.[2] +MASTER ANSELM. +MASTER FULLER. +SIR AMINADAB, _a Schoolmaster_. +JUSTICE REASON. +BRABO. +HUGH, _Justice Reason's Servant_. +PIPKIN, _Master Arthur's Servant_. +_Boys, Officers, &c_. +MISTRESS ARTHUR. +MISTRESS MARY. +MISTRESS SPLAY. +MAID. + +_Scene, London_. + + + + +A PLEASANT CONCEITED COMEDY; WHEREIN IS SHOWED + +HOW A MAN MAY CHOOSE A GOOD WIFE FROM A BAD. + + + +ACT I., SCENE I. + + + _The Exchange_. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR _and_ YOUNG MASTER LUSAM. + +Y. ART. I tell you true, sir; but to every man +I would not be so lavish of my speech: +Only to you, my dear and private friend, +Although my wife in every eye be held +Of beauty and of grace sufficient, +Of honest birth and good behaviour, +Able to win the strongest thoughts to her, +Yet, in my mind, I hold her the most hated +And loathed object, that the world can yield. + +Y. LUS. O Master Arthur, bear a better thought +Of your chaste wife, whose modesty hath won +The good opinion and report of all: +By heaven! you wrong her beauty; she is fair. + +Y. ART. Not in mine eye. + +Y. LUS. O, you are cloy'd with dainties, Master Arthur, +And too much sweetness glutted hath your taste, +And makes you loathe them: at the first +You did admire her beauty, prais'd her face, +Were proud to have her follow at your heels +Through the broad streets, when all censuring tongues +Found themselves busied, as she pass'd along, +T'extol her in the hearing of you both. +Tell me, I pray you, and dissemble not, +Have you not, in the time of your first-love, +Hugg'd such new popular and vulgar talk, +And gloried still to see her bravely deck'd? +But now a kind of loathing hath quite chang'd +Your shape of love into a form of hate; +But on what reason ground you this hate? + +Y. ART. My reason is my mind, my ground my will; +I will not love her: if you ask me why, +I cannot love her. Let that answer you. + +Y. LUS. Be judge, all eyes, her face deserves it not; +Then on what root grows this high branch of hate? +Is she not loyal, constant, loving, chaste: +Obedient, apt to please, loath to displease: +Careful to live, chary of her good name, +And jealous of your reputation? +Is she not virtuous, wise, religious? +How should you wrong her to deny all this? +Good Master Arthur, let me argue with you. + + [_They walk aside_. + + _Enter_ MASTER ANSELM _and_ MASTER FULLER. + +FUL. O Master Anselm! grown a lover, fie! +What might she be, on whom your hopes rely? + +ANS. What fools they are that seem most wise in love, +How wise they are that are but fools in love! +Before I was a lover, I had reason +To judge of matters, censure of all sorts, +Nay, I had wit to call a lover fool, +And look into his folly with bright eyes. +But now intruding love dwells in my brain, +And franticly hath shoulder'd reason thence: +I am not old, and yet, alas! I doat; +I have not lost my sight, and yet am blind; +No bondman, yet have lost my liberty; +No natural fool, and yet I want my wit. +What am I, then? let me define myself: +A dotard young, a blind man that can see, +A witty fool, a bondman that is free. + +FUL. Good aged youth, blind seer, and wise fool, +Loose your free bonds, and set your thoughts to school. + + _Enter_ OLD MASTER ARTHUR _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM. + +O. ART. 'Tis told me, Master Lusam, that my son +And your chaste daughter, whom we match'd together, +Wrangle and fall at odds, and brawl and chide. + +O. LUS. Nay, I think so, I never look'd for better: +This 'tis to marry children when they're young. +I said as much at first, that such young brats +Would 'gree together e'en like dogs and cats. + +O. ART. Nay, pray you, Master Lusam, say not so; +There was great hope, though they were match'd but young, +Their virtues would have made them sympathise, +And live together like two quiet saints. + +O. LUS. You say true, there was great hope, indeed, +They would have liv'd like saints; but where's the fault? + +O. ART. If fame be true, the most fault's in my son. + +O. LUS. You say true, Master Arthur, 'tis so indeed. + +O. ART. Nay, sir, I do not altogether excuse +Your daughter; many lay the blame on her. + +O. LUS. Ah! say you so? by the mass, 'tis like enough, +For from her childhood she hath been a shrew. + +O. ART. A shrew? you wrong her; all the town admires her +For mildness, chasteness, and humility. + +O. LUS. 'Fore God, you say well, she is so indeed; +The city doth admire her for these virtues. + +O. ART. O, sir, you praise your child too palpably; +She's mild and chaste, but not admir'd so much. + +O. LUS. Ay, so I say--I did not mean admir'd. + +O. ART. Yes, if a man do well consider her, +Your daughter is the wonder of her sex. + +O. LUS. Are you advis'd of that? I cannot tell, +What 'tis you call the wonder of her sex, +But she is--is she?--ay, indeed, she is. + +O. ART. What is she? + +O. LUS. Even what you will--you know best what she is. + +ANS. Yon is her husband: let us leave this talk:[3] +How full are bad thoughts of suspicion; +I love, but loathe myself for loving so, +Yet cannot change my disposition. + +FUL. _Medice, cura teipsum_. + +ANS. _Hei mihi! quod nullis amor est medicabilis herbis_. + + [_Exeunt_ ANSELM and FULLER. + +Y. ART. All your persuasions are to no effect, +Never allege her virtues nor her beauty, +My settled unkindness hath begot +A resolution to be unkind still, +My ranging pleasures love variety. + +Y. LUS. O, too unkind unto so kind a wife, +Too virtueless to one so virtuous, +And too unchaste unto so chaste a matron. + +Y. ART. But soft, sir, see where my two fathers are +Busily talking; let us shrink aside, +For if they see me, they are bent to chide. + + [_Exeunt_ Y. ARTHUR _and_ Y. LUSAM. + +O. ART. I think 'tis best to go straight to the house, +And make them friends again; what think ye, sir? + +O. LUS. I think so too. + +O. ART. Now I remember, too, that's not so good: +For divers reasons, I think best stay here, +And leave them to their wrangling--what think you? + +O. LUS. I think so too. + +O. ART. Nay, we will go, that's certain. + +O. LUS. Ay, 'tis best, 'tis best-- +In sooth, there's no way but to go. + +O. ART. Yet if our going should breed more unrest, +More discord, more dissension, more debate, +More wrangling where there is enough already? +'Twere better stay than go. + +O. LUS. 'Fore God, 'tis true; +Our going may, perhaps, breed more debate, +And then we may too late wish we had stay'd; +And therefore, if you will be rul'd by me, +We will not go, that's flat: nay, if we love +Our credits or our quiets, let's not go. + +O. ART. But if we love +Their credits or their quiets, we must go, +And reconcile them to their former love; +Where there is strife betwixt a man and wife 'tis hell, +And mutual love may be compared to heaven, +For then their souls and spirits are at peace. +Come, Master Lusam, now 'tis dinner-time; +When we have dined, the first work we will make, +Is to decide their jars for pity's sake. + +O. LUS. Well fare a good heart! yet are you advis'd? +Go, said you, Master Arthur? I will run +To end these broils, that discord hath begun. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE II. + + + _Young Arthur's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR _and_ PIPKIN. + +MRS ART. Come hither, Pipkin. +How chance you tread so softly? + +PIP. For fear of breaking, mistress. + +MRS ART. Art thou afraid of breaking, how so? + +PIP. Can you blame me, mistress? I am crack'd already. + +MRS ART. Crack'd, Pipkin, how? hath any crack'd your crown? + +PIP. No, mistress; I thank God, +My crown is current, but-- + +MRS ART. But what? + +PIP. The maid gave me not my supper yesternight, so that indeed my belly +wambled, and standing near the great sea-coal fire in the hall, and not +being full, on the sudden I crack'd, and you know, mistress, a pipkin is +soon broken. + +MRS ART. Sirrah, run to the Exchange, and if you there +Can find my husband, pray him to come home; +Tell him I will not eat a bit of bread +Until I see him; prythee, Pipkin, run. + +PIP. By'r Lady, mistress, if I should tell him so, it may be he would +not come, were it for no other cause but to save charges; I'll rather +tell him, if he come not quickly, you will eat up all the meat in the +house, and then, if he be of my stomach, he will run every foot, and +make the more haste to dinner. + +MRS ART. Ay, thou may'st jest; my heart is not so light +It can digest the least conceit of joy: +Entreat him fairly, though I think he loves +All places worse that he beholds me in. +Wilt thou begone? + +PIP. Whither, mistress? to the 'Change? + +MRS ART. Ay, to the 'Change. + +PIP. I will, mistress: hoping my master will go so oft to the 'Change, +that at length he will change his mind, and use you more kindly. O, it +were brave if my master could meet with a merchant of ill-ventures, to +bargain with him for all his bad conditions, and he sell them outright! +you should have a quieter heart, and we all a quieter house. But hoping, +mistress, you will pass over all these jars and squabbles in good health, +as my master was at the making thereof, I commit you. + +MRS ART. Make haste again, I prythee. [_Exit_ PIPKIN.] Till I see him, +My heart will never be at rest within me: +My husband hath of late so much estrang'd +His words, his deeds, his heart from me, +That I can seldom have his company; +And even that seldom with such discontent, +Such frowns, such chidings, such impatience, +That did not truth and virtue arm my thoughts, +They would confound me with despair and hate, +And make me run into extremities. +Had I deserv'd the least bad look from him, +I should account myself too bad to live, +But honouring him in love and chastity, +All judgments censure freely of my wrongs. + [_Exit_. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, YOUNG MASTER LUSAM, _and_ PIPKIN. + +Y. ART. Pipkin, what said she when she sent for me? + +PIP. 'Faith, master, she said little, but she thought +[The] more, for she was very melancholy. + +Y. ART. Did I not tell you she was melancholy, +For nothing else but that she sent for me, +And fearing I would come to dine with her. + +Y. LUS. O, you mistake her; even, upon my soul, +I durst affirm you wrong her chastity. +See where she doth attend your coming home. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR. + +MRS ART. Come, Master Arthur, shall we in to dinner? +Sirrah, begone, and see it served in. + +Y. LUS. Will you not speak unto her? + +Y. ART. No, not I; will you go in, sir. + +MRS ART. Not speak to me! nor once look towards me! +It is my duty to begin, I know, +And I will break this ice of courtesy. +You are welcome home, sir. + +Y. ART. Hark, Master Lusam, if she mock me not! +_You are welcome home, sir_. Am I welcome home? +Good faith, I care not if I be or no. + +Y. LUS. Thus you misconstrue all things, Master Arthur. +Look, if her true love melt not into tears. + +Y. ART. She weeps, but why? that I am come so soon, +To hinder her of some appointed guests, +That in my absence revel in my house: +She weeps to see me in her company, +And, were I absent, she would laugh with joy. +She weeps to make me weary of the house, +Knowing my heart cannot away with grief. + +MRS ART. Knew I that mirth would make you love my bed, +I would enforce my heart to be more merry. + +Y. ART. Do you not hear? she would enforce her heart! +All mirth is forc'd, that she can make with me. + +Y. LUS. O misconceit, how bitter is thy taste! +Sweet Master Arthur, Mistress Arthur too, +Let me entreat you reconcile these jars, +Odious to heaven, and most abhorr'd of men. + +MRS ART. You are a stranger, sir; but by your words +You do appear an honest gentleman. +If you profess to be my husband's friend, +Persist in these persuasions, and be judge +With all indifference in these discontents. +Sweet husband, if I be not fair enough +To please your eye, range where you list abroad, +Only, at coming home, speak me but fair: +If you delight to change, change when you please, +So that you will not change your love to me. +If you delight to see me drudge and toil, +I'll be your drudge, because 'tis your delight. +Or if you think me unworthy of the name +Of your chaste wife, I will become your maid, +Your slave, your servant--anything you will, +If for that name of servant and of slave +You will but smile upon me now and then. +Or if, as I well think, you cannot love me, +Love where you list, only but say you love me: +I'll feed on shadows, let the substance go. +Will you deny me such a small request? +What, will you neither love nor flatter me? +O, then I see your hate here doth but wound me, +And with that hate it is your frowns confound me. + +Y. LUS. Wonder of women! why, hark you, Master Arthur! +What is your wife, a woman or a saint? +A wife or some bright angel come from heav'n? +Are you not mov'd at this strange spectacle? +This day I have beheld a miracle. +When I attempt this sacred nuptial life, +I beg of heaven to find me such a wife. + +Y. ART. Ha, ha! a miracle, a prodigy! +To see a woman weep is as much pity +As to see foxes digg'd out of their holes. +If thou wilt pleasure me, let me see thee less; +Grieve much; they say grief often shortens life: +Come not too near me, till I call thee, wife; +And that will be but seldom. I will tell thee, +How thou shalt win my heart--die suddenly, +And I'll become a lusty widower: +The longer thy life lasts, the more my hate +And loathing still increaseth towards thee. +When I come home and find thee cold as earth, +Then will I love thee: thus thou know'st my mind. +Come, Master Lusam, let us in to dine. + +Y. LUS. O, sir, you too much affect this evil; +Poor saint! why wert thou yok'd thus with a devil? [_Aside_. + + [_Exeunt_ Y. ART. _and_ Y. LUS. + +MRS ART. If thou wilt win my heart, die suddenly! +But that my soul was bought at such a rate, +At such a high price as my Saviour's blood, +I would not stick to lose it with a stab; +But, virtue, banish all such fantasies. +He is my husband, and I love him well; +Next to my own soul's health I tender him, +And would give all the pleasures of the world +To buy his love, if I might purchase it. +I'll follow him, and like a servant wait, +And strive by all means to prevent his hate. + [_Exit_. + + + _Enter_ OLD MASTER ARTHUR _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM. + +O. ART. This is my son's house; were it best go in? +How say you, Master Lusam? + +O. LUS. How? Go in? How say you, sir? + +O. ART. I say 'tis best. + +O. LUS. Ay, sir, say you so? so say I too. + +O. ART. Nay, nay, it is not best; I'll tell you why. +Haply the fire of hate is quite extinct +From the dead embers; now to rake them up, +Should the least spark of discontent appear, +To make the flame of hatred burn afresh, +The heat of this dissension might scorch us; +Which, in his own cold ashes smother'd up, +May die in silence, and revive no more: +And therefore tell me, is it best or no? + +O. LUS. How say you, sir? + +O. ART. I say it is not best. + +O. LUS. Mass, you say well, sir, and so say I too. + +O. ART. But shall we lose our labour to come hither, +And, without sight of our two children, +Go back again? nay, we will in, that's sure. + +O. LUS. In, quotha! do you make a doubt of that; +Shall we come thus far, and in such post-haste, +And have our children here, and both within, +And not behold them e'er our back-return? +It were unfriendly and unfatherly. +Come, Master Arthur, pray you follow me. + +O. ART. Nay, but hark you, sir, will you not knock? + +O. LUS. Is't best to knock? + +O. ART. Ay, knock in any case. + +O. LUS. 'Twas well you put it in my mind to knock, +I had forgotten it else, I promise you. + +O. ART. Tush, is't not my son's and your daughter's door, +And shall we two stand knocking? Lead the way. + +O. LUS. Knock at our children's doors! that were a jest. +Are we such fools to make ourselves so strange, +Where we should still be boldest? In, for shame! +We will not stand upon such ceremonies. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE III. + + + _The Street_. + + _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +FUL. Speak: in what cue, sir, do you find your heart, +Now thou hast slept a little on thy love? + +ANS. Like one that strives to shun a little plash +Of shallow water, and (avoiding it) +Plunges into a river past his depth: +Like one that from a small spark steps aside, +And falls in headlong to a greater flame. + +FUL. But in such fires scorch not thyself, for shame! +If she be fire, thou art so far from burning, +That thou hast scarce yet warm'd thee at her face; +But list to me, I'll turn thy heart from love, +And make thee loathe all of the feminine sex. +They that have known me, knew me once of name +To be a perfect wencher: I have tried +All sorts, all sects, all states, and find them still +Inconstant, fickle, always variable. +Attend me, man! I will prescribe a method, +How thou shalt win her without all peradventure. + +ANS. That would I gladly hear. + +FUL. I was once like thee, +A sigher, melancholy humorist, +Crosser of arms, a goer without garters, +A hatband-hater, and a busk-point[4] wearer, +One that did use much bracelets made of hair, +Rings on my fingers, jewels in mine ears, +And now and then a wench's carcanet, +Scarfs, garters, bands, wrought waistcoats, gold-stitch'd caps, +A thousand of those female fooleries; but when +I look'd into the glass of reason, straight +I began to loathe that female bravery, +And henceforth studied[5] to cry +_Peccavi_ to the world. + +ANS. I pray you, to your former argument: +Prescribe a means to win my best-belov'd. + +FUL. First, be not bashful, bar all blushing tricks: +Be not too apish-female; do not come +With foolish sonnets to present her with, +With legs, with curtsies, congees, and such like: +Nor with penn'd speeches, or too far-fetch'd sighs: +I hate such antique, quaint formality. + +ANS. O, but I cannot snatch[6] occasion: +She dashes every proffer with a frown. + +FUL. A frown, a fool! art thou afraid of frowns? +He that will leave occasion for a frown, +Were I his judge (all you his case bemoan), +His doom should be ever to lie alone. + +ANS. I cannot choose but, when a wench says nay, +To take her at her word, and leave my suit. + +FUL. Continue that opinion, and be sure +To die a virgin chaste, a maiden pure. +It was my chance once, in my wanton days, +To court a wench; hark, and I'll tell thee how: +I came unto my love, and she look'd coy, +I spake unto my love, she turn'd aside, +I touch'd my love, and 'gan with her to toy, +But she sat mute, for anger or for pride; +I striv'd and kiss'd my love, she cry'd _Away_! +Thou wouldst have left her thus--I made her stay. +I catch'd my love, and wrung her by the hand: +I took my love, and set her on my knee, +And pull'd her to me; O, you spoil my band, +You hurt me, sir; pray, let me go, quoth she. +I'm glad, quoth I, that you have found your tongue, +And still my love I by the finger wrung. +I ask'd her if she lov'd me; she said, No. +I bad her swear; she straight calls for a book; +Nay then, thought I, 'tis time to let her go, +I eas'd my knee, and from her cast a look. +She leaves me wond'ring at these strange affairs, +And like the wind she trips me up the stairs. +I left the room below, and up I went, +Finding her thrown upon her wanton bed: +I ask'd the cause of her sad discontent; +Further she lies, and, making room, she said, +Now, sweeting, kiss me, having time and place; +So clings me to her with a sweet embrace. + +ANS. Is't possible? I had not thought till now, +That women could dissemble. Master Fuller, +Here dwells the sacred mistress of my heart; +Before her door I'll frame a friv'lous walk, +And, spying her, with her devise some talk. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, MISTRESS ARTHUR, OLD MASTER ARTHUR, + OLD MASTER LUSAM, YOUNG MASTER LUSAM, _and_ PIPKIN. + +FUL. What stir is this? let's step but out the way, +And hear the utmost what these people say. + +O. ART. Thou art a knave, although thou be my son. +Have I with care and trouble brought thee up, +To be a staff and comfort to my age, +A pillar to support me, and a crutch +To lean on in my second infancy, +And dost thou use me thus? Thou art a knave. + +O. LUS. A knave, ay, marry, and an arrant knave; +And, sirrah, by old Master Arthur's leave, +Though I be weak and old, I'll prove thee one. + +Y. ART. Sir, though it be my father's pleasure thus +To wrong me with the scorned name of knave, +I will not have you so familiar, +Nor so presume upon my patience. + +O LUS. Speak, Master Arthur, is he not a knave? + +O. ART. I say he is a knave. + +O. LUS. Then so say I. + +Y. ART. My father may command my patience; +But you, sir, that are but my father-in-law, +Shall not so mock my reputation. +Sir, you shall find I am an honest man. + +O. LUS. An honest man! + +Y. ART. Ay, sir, so I say. + +O. LUS. Nay, if you say so, I'll not be against it: +But, sir, you might have us'd my daughter better, +Than to have beat her, spurn'd her, rail'd at her +Before our faces. + +O. ART. Ay, therein, son Arthur, +Thou show'dst thyself no better than a knave. + +O. LUS. Ay, marry, did he, I will stand to it: +To use my honest daughter in such sort, +He show'd himself no better than a knave. + +Y. ART. I say, again, I am an honest man; +He wrongs me that shall say the contrary. + +O. LUS. I grant, sir, that you are an honest man, +Nor will I say unto the contrary: +But wherefore do you use my daughter thus? +Can you accuse her of unchastity, of loose +Demeanour, disobedience, or disloyalty? +Speak, what canst thou object against my daughter? + +O. ART. Accuse her! here she stands; spit in her face, +If she be guilty in the least of these. + +MRS ART. O father, be more patient; if you wrong +My honest husband, all the blame be mine, +Because you do it only for my sake. +I am his handmaid; since it is his pleasure +To use me thus, I am content therewith, +And bear his checks and crosses patiently. + +Y. ART. If in mine own house I can have no peace, +I'll seek it elsewhere, and frequent it less. +Father, I'm now past one and twenty years; +I'm past my father's pamp'ring, I suck not, +Nor am I dandled on my mother's knee: +Then, if you were my father twenty times, +You shall not choose, but let me be myself. +Do I come home so seldom, and that seldom +Am I thus baited? Wife, remember this! +Father, farewell! and, father-in-law, adieu! +Your son had rather fast than feast with you. + [_Exit_. + +O. ART. Well, go to, wild-oats! spendthrift! prodigal! +I'll cross thy name quite from my reck'ning book: +For these accounts, faith, it shall scathe thee somewhat, +I will not say what somewhat it shall be. + +O. LUS. And it shall scathe him somewhat of my purse: +And, daughter, I will take thee home again, +Since thus he hates thy fellowship; +Be such an eyesore to his sight no more: +I tell thee, thou no more shalt trouble him. + +MRS ART. Will you divorce whom God hath tied together? +Or break that knot the sacred hand of heaven +Made fast betwixt us? Have you never read, +What a great curse was laid upon his head +That breaks the holy band of marriage, +Divorcing husbands from their chosen wives? +Father, I will not leave my Arthur so; +Not all my friends can make me prove his foe. + +O. ART. I could say somewhat in my son's reproof. + +O. LUS. Faith, so could I. + +O. ART. But, till I meet him, I will let it pass. + +O. LUS. Faith, so will I. + +O. ART. Daughter, farewell! with weeping eyes I part; +Witness these tears, thy grief sits near my heart. + +O. LUS. Weeps Master Arthur? nay, then, let me cry; +His cheeks shall not be wet, and mine be dry. + +MRS ART. Fathers, farewell! spend not a tear for me, +But, for my husband's sake, let these woes be. +For when I weep, 'tis not for my own care, +But fear, lest folly bring him to despair. + + [_Exeunt_ O. ART. _and_ O. LUS. + +Y. LUS. Sweet saint! continue still this patience, +For time will bring him to true penitence. +Mirror of virtue! thanks for my good cheer-- +A thousand thanks. + +MRS ART. It is so much too dear; +But you are welcome for my husband's sake; +His guests shall have best welcome I can make. + +Y. LUS. Than marriage nothing in the world more common; +Nothing more rare than such a virtuous woman. + [_Exit_. + +MRS ART. My husband in this humour, well I know, +Plays but the unthrift; therefore it behoves me +To be the better housewife here at home; +To save and get, whilst he doth laugh and spend: +Though for himself he riots it at large, +My needle shall defray my household's charge. + [_She sits down to work in front of the house_. + +FUL. Now, Master Anselm, to her, step not back; +Bustle yourself, see where she sits at work; +Be not afraid, man; she's but a woman, +And women the most cowards seldom fear: +Think but upon my former principles, +And twenty pound to a drachm,[7] you speed. + +ANS. Ay, say you so? + +FUL. Beware of blushing, sirrah, +Of fear and too much eloquence! +Rail on her husband, his misusing her, +And make that serve thee as an argument, +That she may sooner yield to do him wrong. +Were it my case, my love and I to plead, +I have't at fingers' ends: who could miss the clout, +Having so fair a white, such steady aim. +This is the upshot: now bid for the game. + + [ANSELM _advances_. + +ANS. Fair mistress, God save you! + +FUL. What a circumstance +Doth he begin with; what an ass is he, +To tell her at the first that she is fair; +The only means to make her to be coy! +He should have rather told her she was foul, +And brought her out of love quite with herself; +And, being so, she would the less have car'd, +Upon whose secrets she had laid her love. +He hath almost marr'd all with that word fair. [_Aside_.[8]] + +ANS. Mistress, God save you! + +FUL. What a block is that, +To say, God save you! is the fellow mad? +Once to name God in his ungodly suit. + +MRS ART. You are welcome, sir. Come you to speak with me +Or with my husband? pray you, what's your will? + +FUL. She answers to the purpose; what's your will? +O zounds, that I were there to answer her. + +ANS. Mistress, my will is not so soon express'd +Without your special favour, and the promise +Of love and pardon, if I speak amiss. + +FUL. O ass! O dunce! O blockhead! that hath left +The plain broad highway and the readiest path, +To travel round about by circumstance: +He might have told his meaning in a word, +And now hath lost his opportunity. +Never was such a truant in love's school; +I am asham'd that e'er I was his tutor. + +MRS ART. Sir, you may freely speak, whate'er it be, +So that your speech suiteth with modesty. + +FUL. To this now could I answer passing well. + +ANS. Mistress, I, pitying that so fair a creature-- + +FUL. Still fair, and yet I warn'd the contrary. + +ANS. Should by a villain be so foully us'd, +As you have been-- + +FUL. _As you have been_--ay, that was well put in! + +ANS. If time and place were both convenient[9]-- +Have made this bold intrusion, to present +My love and service to your sacred self. + +FUL. Indifferent, that was not much amiss. + +MRS ART. Sir, what you mean by service and by love, +I will not know; but what you mean by villain, +I fain would know. + +ANS. That villain is your husband, +Whose wrongs towards you are bruited through the land. +O, can you suffer at a peasant's hands, +Unworthy once to touch this silken skin, +To be so rudely beat and buffeted? +Can you endure from such infectious breath, +Able to blast your beauty, to have names +Of such impoison'd hate flung in your face? + +FUL. O, that was good, nothing was good but that; +That was the lesson that I taught him last. + +ANS. O, can you hear your never-tainted fame +Wounded with words of shame and infamy? +O, can you see your pleasures dealt away, +And you to be debarr'd all part of them, +And bury it in deep oblivion? +Shall your true right be still contributed +'Mongst hungry bawds, insatiate courtesans? +And can you love that villain, by whose deed +Your soul doth sigh, and your distress'd heart bleed? + +FUL. All this as well as I could wish myself. + +MRS ART. Sir, I have heard thus long with patience; +If it be me you term a villain's wife, +In sooth you have mistook me all this while, +And neither know my husband nor myself; +Or else you know not man and wife is one. +If he be call'd a villain, what is she, +Whose heart and love, and soul, is one with him? +'Tis pity that so fair a gentleman +Should fall into such villains' company. +O, sir, take heed, if you regard your life, +Meddle not with a villain or his wife. [_Exit_. + +FUL. O, that same word villain hath marr'd all. + +ANS. Now where is your instruction? where's the wench? +Where are my hopes? where your directions? + +FUL. Why, man, in that word villain you marr'd all. +To come unto an honest wife, and call +Her husband villain! were he[10] ne'er so bad, +Thou might'st well think she would not brook that name +For her own credit, though no love to him. +But leave not thus, but try some other mean; +Let not one way thy hopes make frustrate clean. + +ANS. I must persist my love against my will; +He that knows all things, knows I prove this will. + + _Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT II., SCENE I. + + + _A School_. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB, _with a rod in his hand, and_ + BOYS _with their books_. + +AMIN. Come, boys, come, boys, rehearse your parts, +And then, _ad prandium; jam, jam, incipe_! + +1ST BOY. Forsooth, my lesson's torn out of my book. + +AMIN. _Quae caceris chartis deseruisse decet_. +Torn from your book! I'll tear it from your breech. +How say you, Mistress Virga, will you suffer +_Hic puer bonae[11] indolis_ to tear +His lessons, leaves, and lectures from his book? + +1ST BOY. Truly, forsooth, I laid it in my seat, +While Robin Glade and I went into _campis_; +And when I came again, my book was torn. + +AMIN. _O mus_, a mouse; was ever heard the like? + +1ST BOY. _O domus_, a house; master, I could not mend it. + +2D BOY. _O pediculus_, a louse; I knew not how it came. + +AMIN. All toward boys, good scholars of their times; +The least of these is past his accidence, +Some at _qui mihi_; here's not a boy +But he can construe all the grammar rules. +_Sed ubi sunt sodales_? not yet come? +Those _tardè venientes_ shall be whipp'd. +_Ubi est_ Pipkin? where's that lazy knave? +He plays the truant every Saturday; +But Mistress Virga, Lady Willow-by,[12] +Shall teach him that _diluculo surgere +Est saluberrimum_: here comes the knave. + + _Enter_ PIPKIN. + +1ST BOY. _Tardè, tardè, tardè_. + +2D. BOY. _Tardè, tardè, tardè_. + +AMIN. _Huc ades_, Pipkin--reach a better rod-- +_Cur tam tardè venis_? speak, where have you been? +Is this a time of day to come to school? +_Ubi fuisti_? speak, where hast thou been? + +PIP. _Magister, quomodo vales_? + +AMIN. Is that _responsio_ fitting my demand? + +PIP. _Etiam certè_, you ask me where I have been, and I say _quomodo +vales_, as much as to say, come out of the alehouse. + +AMIN. Untruss, untruss! nay, help him, help him! + +PIP. _Quaeso, preceptor, quaeso_, for God's sake do not whip me: +_Quid est grammatica_? + +AMIN. Not whip you, _quid est grammatica_, what's that? + +PIP. _Grammatica est_, that, if I untruss'd, you must needs whip me +upon them, _quid est grammatica_. + +AMIN. Why, then, _dic mihi_, speak, where hast thou been? + +PIP. Forsooth, my mistress sent me of an errand to fetch my master from +the Exchange; we had strangers at home at dinner, and, but for them, I +had not come _tardè; quaeso, preceptor_! + +AMIN. Construe your lesson, parse it, _ad unguem +et condemnato_ to, I'll pardon thee. + +PIP. That I will, master, an' if you'll give me leave. + +AMIN. _Propria quae maribus tribuuntur mascula, dicas; expone, expone_. + +PIP. Construe it, master, I will; _dicas_, they say--_propria_, the +proper man--_quae maribus_, that loves marrow-bones--_mascula_, +miscalled me. + +AMIN. A pretty, quaint, and new construction. + +PIP. I warrant you, master, if there be marrow-bones in my lesson, +I am an old dog at them. How construe you this, master, _rostra +disertus amat_? + +AMIN. _Disertus_, a desert--_amat_, doth love--_rostra_, roast-meat. + +PIP. A good construction on an empty stomach. Master, now I have +construed my lesson, my mistress would pray you to let me come home +to go of an errand. + +AMIN. Your _tres sequuntur_, and away. + +PIP. _Canis_ a hog, _rana_ a dog, _porcus_ a frog, +_Abeundum est mihi_. [_Exit_. + +AMIN. Yours, sirrah, too, and then _ad prandium_. + +1ST BOY. _Apis_ a bed, _genu_ a knee, _Vulcanus_, Doctor Dee: +_Viginti minus usus est mihi_. + +AMIN. By _Juno's_ lip and _Saturn's_ thumb +It was _bonus, bona, bonum_. + +2D BOY. _Vitrum_ glass, _spica_ grass, _tu es asinus_, you are an ass. +_Precor tibi felicem noctem_. + +AMIN. _Claudite jam libros, pueri: sat, prata, bibistis_, +Look, when you come again, you tell me _ubi fuistis_. +He that minds trish-trash, and will not have care of his _rodix_. +Him I will be-lish-lash, and have a fling at his _podix_. + + [_Exeunt_ BOYS. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. + +Y. ART. A pretty wench, a passing pretty wench. +A sweeter duck all London cannot yield; +She cast a glance on me as I pass'd by, +Not Helen had so ravishing an eye. +Here is the pedant Sir Aminadab; +I will inquire of him if he can tell +By any circumstance, whose wife she is: +Such fellows commonly have intercourse +Without suspicion, where we are debarr'd. +God save you, gentle Sir Aminadab! + +AMIN. _Salve tu quoque_! would you speak with me? +You are, I take it, and let me not lie, +For, as you know, _mentiri non est meum_, +Young Master Arthur; _quid vis_--what will you? + +Y. ART. You are a man I much rely upon; +There is a pretty wench dwells in this street +That keeps no shop, nor is not public known: +At the two posts, next turning of the lane, +I saw her from a window looking out; +O, could you tell me how to come acquainted +With that sweet lass, you should command me, sir, +Even to the utmost of my life and power. + +AMIN. _Dii boni, boni_! 'tis my love he means; +But I will keep it from this gentleman, +And so, I hope, make trial of my love. [_Aside_.] + +Y. ART. If I obtain her, thou shalt win thereby +More than at this time I will promise thee. + +AMIN. _Quando venis aput_, I shall have two horns on my _caput_. + [_Aside_.] + +Y. ART. What, if her husband come and find one there? + +AMIN. _Nuncquam time_, never fear, +She is unmarried, I swear. +But, if I help you to the deed, +_Tu vis narrare_ how you speed. + +Y. ART. Tell how I speed? ay, sir, I will to you: +Then presently about it. Many thanks +For this great kindness, Sir Aminadab. [_Exit_. + +AMIN. If my _puella_ prove a drab, +I'll be reveng'd on both: _ambo_ shall die; +Shall die! by what? for _ego_ I +Have never handled, I thank God, +Other weapon than a rod; +I dare not fight for all my speeches. +_Sed cave_, if I take him thus, +_Ego sum expers_ at untruss. + + [_Exit_. + + + +SCENE II. + + + _A Room in Justice Reason's House_. + + _Enter_ JUSTICE REASON, OLD MASTER ARTHUR, OLD MASTER LUSAM, + MISTRESS ARTHUR, YOUNG MASTER LUSAM, _and_ HUGH. + +O. ART. We, Master Justice Reason, come about +A serious matter that concerns us near. + +O. LUS. Ay, marry, doth it, sir, concern us near; +Would God, sir, you would take some order for it. + +O. ART. Why, look ye, Master Lusam, you are such another, +You will be talking what concerns us near, +And know not why we come to Master Justice. + +O. LUS. How? know not I? + +O. ART. No, sir, not you. + +O. LUS. Well, I know somewhat, though I know not that; +Then on, I pray you. + +JUS. Forward, I pray, [and] yet the case is plain. + +O. ART. Why, sir, as yet you do not know the case. + +O. LUS. Well, he knows somewhat; forward, Master Arthur. + +O. ART. And, as I told you, my unruly son, +Once having bid his wife home to my house, +There took occasion to be much aggriev'd +About some household matters of his own, +And, in plain terms, they fell in controversy. + +O. LUS. 'Tis true, sir, I was there the selfsame time, +And I remember many of the words. + +O. ART. Lord, what a man are you! you were not there +That time; as I remember, you were rid +Down to the North, to see some friends of yours. + +O. LUS. Well, I was somewhere; forward, Master Arthur. + +JUS. All this is well; no fault is to be found +In either of the parties; pray, say on. + +O. ART. Why, sir, I have not nam'd the parties yet, +Nor touch'd the fault that is complain'd upon. + +O. LUS. Well, you touch'd somewhat; forward, Master Arthur. + +O. ART. And, as I said, they fell in controversy: +My son, not like a husband, gave her words +Of great reproof, despite, and contumely, +Which she, poor soul, digested patiently; +This was the first time of their falling out. +As I remember, at the selfsame time +One Thomas, the Earl of Surrey's gentleman, +Din'd at my table. + +O. LUS. I knew him well. + +O. ART. You are the strangest man; this gentleman, +That I speak of, I am sure you never saw; +He came but lately from beyond the sea. + +O. LUS. I am sure I know one Thomas;--forward, sir. + +JUS. And is this all? Make me a _mittimus_, +And send the offender straightways to the jail. + +O. ART. First know the offender--now[13] began the strife +Betwixt this gentlewoman and my son-- +Since when, sir, he hath us'd her not like one +That should partake his bed, but like a slave. +My coming was that you, being in office +And in authority, should call before you +My unthrift son, to give him some advice, +Which he will take better from you than me, +That am his father. Here's the gentlewoman, +Wife to my son, and daughter to this man, +Whom I perforce compell'd to live with us. + +JUS. All this is well; here is your son, you say, +But she that is his wife you cannot find. + +Y. LUS. You do mistake, sir, here's the gentlewoman; +It is her husband that will not be found. + +JUS. Well, all is one, for man and wife are one; +But is this all? + +Y. LUS. Ay, all that you can say, +And much more than you can well put off. + +JUS. Nay, if the case appear thus evident, +Give me a cup of wine. What! man and wife +To disagree! I prythee, fill my cup; +I could say somewhat: tut, tut, by this wine, +I promise you 'tis good canary sack. + +MRS ART. Fathers, you do me open violence, +To bring my name in question, and produce +This gentleman and others here to witness +My husband's shame in open audience. +What may my husband think, when he shall know +I went unto the Justice to complain? +But Master Justice here, more wise than you, +Says little to the matter, knowing well +His office is no whit concern'd herein; +Therefore with favour I will take my leave. + +JUS. The woman saith but reason, Master Arthur, +And therefore give her licence to depart. + +O. LUS. Here is dry justice, not to bid us drink! +Hark thee, my friend, I prythee lend thy cup; +Now, Master Justice, hear me but one word; +You think this woman hath had little wrong, +But, by this wine which I intend to drink-- + +JUS. Nay, save your oath, I pray you do not swear; +Or if you swear, take not too deep an oath. + +O. LUS. Content you, I may take a lawful oath +Before a Justice; therefore, by this wine-- + +Y. LUS. A profound oath, well-sworn, and deeply took; +'Tis better thus than swearing on a book. + +O. LUS. My daughter hath been wronged exceedingly. + +JUS. O, sir, I would have credited these words +Without this oath: but bring your daughter hither, +That I may give her counsel, ere you go. + +O. LUS. Marry, God's blessing on your heart for that! +Daughter, give ear to Justice Reason's words. + +JUS. Good woman, or good wife, or mistress, if you have done amiss, it +should seem you have done a fault; and making a fault, there's no +question but you have done amiss: but if you walk uprightly, and +neither lead to the right hand nor the left, no question but you have +neither led to the right hand nor the left; but, as a man should say, +walked uprightly; but it should appear by these plaintiffs that you +have had some wrong: if you love your spouse entirely, it should seem +you affect him fervently; and if he hate you monstrously, it should +seem he loathes you most exceedingly, and there's the point at which I +will leave, for the time passes away: therefore, to conclude, this is +my best counsel: look that thy husband so fall in, that hereafter you +never fall out. + +O. LUS. Good counsel, passing good instruction; +Follow it, daughter. Now, I promise you, +I have not heard such an oration +This many a day. What remains to do? + +Y. LUS. Sir, I was call'd as witness to this matter, +I may be gone for aught that I can see. + +JUS. Nay, stay, my friend, we must examine you. +What can you say concerning this debate +Betwixt young Master Arthur and his wife? + +Y. LUS. Faith, just as much, I think, as you can say, +And that's just nothing. + +JUS. How, nothing? Come, depose him; take his oath; +Swear him, I say; take his confession. + +O. ART. What can you say, sir, in this doubtful case? + +Y. LUS. Why, nothing, sir. + +JUS. We cannot take him in contrary tales, +For he says nothing still, and that same nothing +Is that which we have stood on all this while; +He hath confess'd even all, for all is nothing. +This is your witness, he hath witness'd nothing +Since nothing, then, so plainly is confess'd, +And we by cunning answers and by wit +Have wrought him to confess nothing to us, +Write his confession. + +O. ART. Why, what should we write? + +JUS. Why, nothing: heard you not as well as I +What he confess'd? I say, write nothing down. +Mistress, we have dismissed you; love your husband, +Which, whilst you do, you shall not hate your husband. +Bring him before me; I will urge him with +This gentleman's express confession +Against you; send him to me; I'll not fail +To keep just nothing in my memory. +And, sir, now that we have examin'd you, +We likewise here discharge you with good leave. +Now, Master Arthur and Master Lusam too, +Come in with me; unless the man were here, +Whom most especially the cause concerns, +We cannot end this quarrel: but come near, +And we will taste a glass of our March beer. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE III. + + + _A Room in Mistress Mary's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS MARY, MISTRESS SPLAY, _and_ BRABO. + +MRS MA. I prythee, tell me, Brabo, what planet, think'st thou, governed +at my conception, that I live thus openly to the world? + +BRA. Two planets reign'd at once; Venus, that's you, +And Mars, that's I, were in conjunction. + +MRS SPLAY. Prythee, prythee, in faith, that conjunction copulative is +that part of speech that I live by. + +BRA. Ha, ha! to see the world! we swaggerers, +That live by oaths and big-mouth'd menaces, +Are now reputed for the tallest men: +He that hath now a black moustachio, +Reaching from ear to ear, or turning up, +_Puncto reverso_, bristling towards the eye; +He that can hang two handsome tools at his side, +Go in disguis'd attire, wear iron enough, +Is held a tall man and a soldier. +He that with greatest grace can swear Gog's-zounds, +Or in a tavern make a drunken fray, +Can cheat at dice, swagger in bawdy-houses, +Wear velvet on his face, and with a grace +Can face it out with,--As I am a soldier! +He that can clap his sword upon the board, +He's a brave man--and such a man am I. + +MRS MA. She that with kisses can both kill and cure, +That lives by love, that swears by nothing else +But by a kiss, which is no common oath; +That lives by lying, and yet oft tells truth; +That takes most pleasure when she takes most pains; +She's a good wench, my boy, and so am I. + +MRS SPLAY. She that is past it, and prays for them that may-- + +BRA. Is an old bawd, as you are, Mistress Splay. + +MRS SPLAY. O, do not name that name; do you not know, +That I could ne'er endure to hear that name? +But, if your man would leave us, I would read +The lesson that last night I promis'd you. + +MRS MA. I prythee, leave us, we would be alone. + +BRA. And will, and must: if you bid me begone, +I will withdraw, and draw on any he, +That in the world's wide round dare cope with me. +Mistress, farewell! to none I never speak +So kind a word. My salutations are, +Farewell, and be hang'd! or, in the devil's name! +What they have been, my many frays can tell; +You cannot fight; therefore to you, farewell! + [Exit. + +MRS MA. O, this same swaggerer is +The bulwark of my reputation; but, +Mistress Splay, now to your lecture that you promised me. + +MRS SPLAY. Daughter, attend, for I will tell thee now +What, in my young days, I myself have tried; +Be rul'd by me, and I will make thee rich. +You, God be prais'd, are fair, and, as they say, +Full of good parts; you have been often tried +To be a woman of good carriage, +Which, in my mind, is very commendable. + +MRS MA. It is indeed; forward, good Mother Splay. + +MRS SPLAY. And, as I told you, being fair, I wish, +Sweet daughter, you were as fortunate. +When any suitor comes to ask thy love, +Look not into his words, but into his sleeve; +If thou canst learn what language his purse speaks, +Be ruled by that; that's golden eloquence. +Money can make a slavering tongue speak plain. +If he that loves thee be deform'd and rich, +Accept his love: gold hides deformity. +Gold can make limping Vulcan walk upright; +Make squint eyes straight, a crabbed face look smooth, +Gilds copper noses, makes them look like gold; +Fills age's wrinkles up, and makes a face, +As old as Nestor's, look as young as Cupid's. +If thou wilt arm thyself against all shifts, +Regard all men according to their gifts. +This if thou practise, thou, when I am dead. +Wilt say: Old Mother Splay, soft lie[14] thy head. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. + +MRS MA. Soft, who comes here? begone, good Mistress Splay; +Of thy rule's practice this is my first day. + +MRS SPLAY. God, for thy passion, what a beast am I +To scare the bird, that to the net would fly! + [_Exit_. + +Y. ART. By your leave, mistress. + +MRS MA. What to do, master? + +Y. ART. To give me leave to love you. + +MRS MA. I had rather afford you some love to leave me. + +Y. ART. I would you would as soon love me, as I could leave you. + +MRS MA. I pray you, what are you, sir? + +Y. ART. A man, I'll assure you. + +MRS MA. How should I know that? + +Y. ART. Try me, by my word, for I say I am a man; +Or by my deed I'll prove myself a man. + +MRS MA. Are you not Master Arthur? + +Y. ART. Not Master Arthur, but Arthur, and your servant, +sweet Mistress Mary. + +MRS MA. Not Mistress Mary, but Mary, and your handmaid, +sweet Master Arthur. + +Y. ART. That I love you, let my face tell you; that I love you more +than ordinarily, let this kiss testify; and that I love you fervently +and entirely, ask this gift, and see what it will answer you, myself, +my purse, and all, being wholly at your service. + +MRS MA. That I take your love in good part, my thanks shall speak for +me; that I am pleased with your kiss, this interest of another shall +certify you; and that I accept your gift, my prostrate service and +myself shall witness with me. My love, my lips, and sweet self, are at +your service: wilt please you to come near, sir? + +Y. ART. O, that my wife were dead! here would I make +My second choice: would she were buried! +From out her grave this marrigold should grow, +Which, in my nuptials, I would wear with pride. +Die shall she, I have doom'd her destiny. [_Aside_.] + +MRS MA. 'Tis news, Master Arthur, to see you in such a place: +How doth your wife? + +Y. ART. Faith, Mistress Mary, at the point of death, +And long she cannot live; she shall not live +To trouble me in this my second choice. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB _with a bill and headpiece_. + +MRS MA. I pray forbear, sir, for here comes my love: +Good sir, for this time leave me; by this kiss +You cannot ask the question at my hands +I will deny you: pray you, get you gone. + +Y. ART. Farewell, sweet Mistress Mary! [_Exit_. + +MRS MA. Sweet, adieu! + +AMIN. Stand to me, bill! and, headpiece, sit thou close! +I hear my love, my wench, my duck, my dear, +Is sought by many suitors; but with this +I'll keep the door, and enter he that dare! +Virga, be gone, thy twigs I'll turn to steel; +These fingers, that were expert in the jerk; +Instead of lashing of the trembling _podex_, +Must learn pash and knock, and beat and mall, +Cleave pates and _caputs_; he that enters here, +Comes on to his death! _mors mortis_ he shall taste. + [_He hides himself_. + +MRS MA. Alas! poor fool, the pedant's mad for love! +Thinks me more mad that I would marry him. +He's come to watch me with a rusty bill, +To keep my friends away by force of arms: +I will not see him, but stand still aside, +And here observe him what he means to do. [_Retires_. + +AMIN. _O utinam_, that he that loves her best, +Durst offer but to touch her in this place! +_Per Jovem et Junonem! hoc_ +Shall pash his coxcomb such a knock, +As that his soul his course shall take +To Limbo and Avernus' lake. +In vain I watch in this dark hole; +Would any living durst my manhood try, +And offer to come up the stairs this way! + +MRS MA. O, We should see you make a goodly fray. [_Aside_.] + +AMIN. The wench I here watch with my bill, +_Amo, amas, amavi_ still. +_Qui audet_--let him come that dare! +Death, hell, and limbo be his share! + + _Enter_ BRABO _with his sword in his hand_. + +BRA. Where's Mistress Mary? never a post here, +A bar of iron, 'gainst which to try my sword? +Now, by my beard, a dainty piece of steel. + +AMIN. O Jove, what a qualm is this I feel! + +BRA. Come hither, Mall, is none here but we two? +When didst thou see the starveling schoolmaster? +That rat, that shrimp, that spindle-shank, +That wren, that sheep-biter, that lean chitty-face, +That famine, that lean envy, that all-bones, +That bare anatomy, that Jack-a-Lent, +That ghost, that shadow, that moon in the wane? + +AMIN. I wail in woe, I plunge in pain.[15] [_Aside_.] + +BRA. When next I find him here, I'll hang him up, +Like a dried sausage, in the chimney's top: +That stock-fish, that poor John, that gut of men! + +AMIN. O, that I were at home again! [_Aside_.] + +BRA. When he comes next, turn him into the streets. +Now, come, let's dance the shaking of the sheets. + + [_Exeunt_ MISTRESS MARY _and_ BRABO. + +AMIN. _Qui, quae, quod_! +Hence, boist'rous bill! come, gentle rod! +Had not grimalkin stamp'd and star'd, +Aminadab had little car'd; +Or if, instead of this brown bill, +I had kept my Mistress Virga still, +And he upon another's back, +His points untruss'd, his breeches slack; +My countenance he should not dash, +For I am expert in the lash. +But my sweet lass my love doth fly, +Which shall make me by poison die. +_Per fidem_, I will rid my life +Either by poison, sword, or knife. + + [_Exit_. + + + + +ACT III., SCENE I. + + + _A Room in Young Arthur's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR _and_ PIPKIN. + +MRS ART. Sirrah! when saw you your master? + +PIP. Faith, mistress, when I last look'd upon him. + +MRS ART. And when was that? + +PIP. When I beheld him. + +MRS ART. And when was that? + +PIP. Marry, when he was in my sight, and that was yesterday; since when +I saw not my master, nor looked on my master, nor beheld my master, nor +had any sight of my master. + +MRS ART. Was he not at my father-in-law's? + +PIP. Yes, marry, was he. + +MRS ART. Didst thou not entreat him to come home? + +PIP. How should I, mistress? he came not there to-day. + +MRS ART. Didst thou not say he was there? + +PIP. True, mistress, he was there? but I did not tell ye when; he hath +been there divers times, but not of late. + +MRS ART. About your business! here I'll sit and wait +His coming home, though it be ne'er so late. +Now once again go look him at the 'Change, +Or at the church with Sir Aminadab. +'Tis told me they use often conference; +When that is done, get you to school again. + +PIP. I had rather play the truant at home, than go seek my master at +school: let me see, what age am I? some four and twenty, and how have +I profited? I was five years learning to crish cross[16] from great A, +and five years longer coming to F; there I stuck some three years, +before I could come to Q; and so, in process of time, I came to e per +se e, and com per se, and tittle; then I got to a, e, i, o, u; after, +to Our Father; and, in the sixteenth year of my age, and the fifteenth +of my going to school, +I am in good time gotten to a noun, +By the same token there my hose went down; +Then I got to a verb, +There I began first to have a beard; +Then I came to _iste, ista, istud_, +There my master whipped me till he fetched the blood, +And so forth: so that now I am become the greatest scholar in the +school, for I am bigger than two or three of them. But I am gone; +farewell, mistress! + + [_Exit_. + + + +SCENE II. + + + _The Street_. + + _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +FUL. Love none at all! They will forswear themselves, +And when you urge them with it, their replies +Are, that Jove laughs at lovers' perjuries. + +ANS. You told me of a jest concerning that; +I prythee, let me hear it. + +FUL. That thou shalt. +My mistress in a humour had protested, +That above all the world she lov'd me best; +Saying with suitors she was oft molested, +And she had lodg'd her heart within my breast; +And sware (but me), both by her mask and fan, +She never would so much as name a man. +Not name a man? quoth I; yet be advis'd; +Not love a man but me! let it be so. +You shall not think, quoth she, my thought's disguis'd +In flattering language or dissembling show; +I say again, and I know what I do, +I will not name a man alive but you. +Into her house I came at unaware, +Her back was to me, and I was not seen; +I stole behind her, till I had her fair, +Then with my hands I closed both her een; +She, blinded thus, beginneth to bethink her +Which of her loves it was that did hoodwink her. +First she begins to guess and name a man, +That I well knew, but she had known far better; +The next I never did suspect till then: +Still of my name I could not hear a letter; +Then mad, she did name Robin, and then James, +Till she had reckon'd up some twenty names; +At length, when she had counted up a score, +As one among the rest, she hit on me; +I ask'd her if she could not reckon more, +And pluck'd away my hands to let her see; +But, when she look'd back, and saw me behind her, +She blush'd, and ask'd if it were I did blind her? +And since I sware, both by her mask and fan, +To trust no she-tongue, that can name a man. + +ANS. Your great oath hath some exceptions: +But to our former purpose; yon is Mistress Arthur; +We will attempt another kind of wooing, +And make her hate her husband, if we can. + +FUL. But not a word of passion or of love; +Have at her now to try her patience. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR. + +God save you, mistress! + +MRS ART. You are welcome, sir. + +FUL. I pray you, where's your husband? + +MRS ART. Not within. + +ANS. Who, Master Arthur? him I saw even now +At Mistress Mary's, the brave courtesan's. + +MRS ART. Wrong not my husband's reputation so; +I neither can nor will believe you, sir. + +FUL. Poor gentlewoman! how much I pity you; +Your husband is become her only guest: +He lodges there, and daily diets there, +He riots, revels, and doth all things; +Nay, he is held the Master of Misrule +'Mongst a most loathed and abhorred crew: +And can you, being a woman, suffer this? + +MRS ART. Sir, sir! I understand you well enough: +Admit, my husband doth frequent that house +Of such dishonest usage; I suppose +He doth it but in zeal to bring them home +By his good counsel from that course of sin; +And, like a Christian, seeing them astray +In the broad path that to damnation leads, +He useth thither to direct their feet +Into the narrow way that guides to heaven. + +ANS. Was ever woman gull'd so palpably! [_Aside_.] +But, Mistress Arthur, think you as you say? + +MRS ART. Sir, what I think, I think, and what I say, +I would I could enjoin you to believe. + +ANS. Faith, Mistress Arthur, I am sorry for you: +And, in good sooth, I wish it lay in me +To remedy the least part of these wrongs +Your unkind husband daily proffers you. + +MRS ART. You are deceived, he is not unkind: +Although he bear an outward face of hate, +His heart and soul are both assured mine. + +ANS. Fie, Mistress Arthur! take a better spirit; +Be not so timorous to rehearse your wrongs: +I say, your husband haunts bad company, +Swaggerers, cheaters, wanton courtesans; +There he defiles his body, stains his soul, +Consumes his wealth, undoes himself and you +In danger of diseases, whose vile names +Are not for any honest mouths to speak, +Nor any chaste ears to receive and hear. +O, he will bring that face, admir'd for beauty, +To be more loathed than a lep'rous skin! +Divorce yourself, now whilst the clouds grow black; +Prepare yourself a shelter for the storm; +Abandon his most loathed fellowship: +You are young, mistress; will you lose your youth? + +MRS ART. Tempt no more, devil! thy deformity +Hath chang'd itself into an angel's shape, +But yet I know thee by thy course of speech: +Thou gett'st an apple to betray poor Eve, +Whose outside bears a show of pleasant fruit; +But the vile branch, on which this apple grew, +Was that which drew poor Eve from paradise. +Thy Syren's song could make me drown myself, +But I am tied unto the mast of truth. +Admit, my husband be inclin'd to vice, +My virtues may in time recall him home; +But, if we both should desp'rate run to sin, +We should abide certain destruction. +But he's like one, that over a sweet face +Puts a deformed vizard; for his soul +Is free from any such intents of ill: +Only to try my patience he puts on +An ugly shape of black intemperance; +Therefore, this blot of shame which he now wears, +I with my prayers will purge, wash with my tears. + [_Exit_. + +ANS. Fuller! + +FUL. Anselm! + +ANS. How lik'st thou this? + +FUL. As school-boys jerks, apes whips, as lions cocks, +As Furies do fasting-days, and devils crosses, +As maids to have their marriage-days put off; +I like it as the thing I most do loathe. +What wilt thou do? for shame, persist no more +In this extremity of frivolous love. +I see, my doctrine moves no precise ears, +But such as are profess'd inamoratos. + +ANS. O, I shall die! + +FUL. Tush! live to laugh a little: +Here's the best subject that thy love affords; +Listen awhile and hear this: ho, boy! speak. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB. + +AMIN. _As in presenti_, thou loath'st the gift I sent thee; +_Nolo plus_ tarry, but die for the beauteous Mary; +Fain would I die by a sword, but what sword shall I die by? +Or by a stone, what stone? _nullus lapis jacet ibi_. +Knive I have none to sheathe in my breast, or empty my full veins: +Here's no wall or post which I can soil with my bruis'd brains; +First will I therefore say two or three creeds and Ave Marys, +And after go buy a poison at the apothecary's. + +FUL. I pry thee, Anselm, but observe this fellow; +Doest not hear him? he would die for love; +That misshap'd love thou wouldst condemn in him, +I see in thee: I prythee, note him well. + +ANS. Were I assur'd that I were such a lover +I should be with myself quite out of love: +I prythee, let's persuade him still to live. + +FUL. That were a dangerous case, perhaps the fellow +In desperation would, to soothe us up, +Promise repentant recantation, +And after fall into that desperate course, +Both which I will prevent with policy. + +AMIN. O death! come with thy dart! come, death, when I bid thee! +_Mors, veni: veni, mors_! and from this misery rid me; +She whom I lov'd--whom I lov'd, even she--my sweet pretty Mary, +Doth but flout and mock, and jest and dissimulary. + +FUL. I'll fit him finely; in this paper is +The juice of mandrake, by a doctor made +To cast a man, whose leg should be cut off, +Into a deep, a cold, and senseless sleep; +Of such approved operation +That whoso takes it, is for twice twelve hours +Breathless, and to all men's judgments past all sense; +This will I give the pedant but in sport; +For when 'tis known to take effect in him, +The world will but esteem it as a jest; +Besides, it may be a means to save his life, +For being [not] perfect poison, as it seems +His meaning is, some covetous slave for coin +Will sell it him,[17] though it be held by law +To be no better than flat felony. + +ANS. Uphold the jest--but he hath spied us; peace! + +AMIN. Gentles, God save you! +Here is a man I have noted oft, most learn'd in physic, +One man he help'd of the cough, another he heal'd of the pthisic, +And I will board him thus, _salve, O salve, magister_! + +FUL. _Gratus mihi advenis! quid mecum vis_? + +AMIN. _Optatus venis; paucis te volo_. + +FUL. _Si quid industria nostra tibi faciet, dic, quaeso_. + +AMIN. Attend me, sir;--I have a simple house, +But, as the learned Diogenes saith +In his epistle to Tertullian, +It is extremely troubled with great rats; +I have no _mus_ puss, nor grey-ey'd cat, +To hunt them out. O, could your learned art +Show me a means how I might poison them, +_Tuus dum suus_, Sir Aminadab. + +FUL. With all my heart; I am no rat-catcher; +But if you need a poison, here is that +Will pepper both your dogs, and rats, and cats: +Nay, spare your purse: I give this in good will; +And, as it proves, I pray you send to me, +And let me know. Would you aught else with me? + +AMIN. _Minimè quidem_; here's that you say will take them? +A thousand thanks, sweet sir; I say to you, +As Tully in his Aesop's Fables said +_Ago tibi gratias_; so farewell, _vale_! + [_Exit_. + +FUL. Adieu! Come, let us go; I long to see, +What the event of this new jest will be. + + _Enter_ YOUNG ARTHUR. + +Y. ART. Good morrow, gentleman; saw you not this way, +As you were walking, Sir Aminadab? + +ANS. Master Arthur, as I take it? + +Y. ART. Sir, the same. + +ANS. Sir, I desire your more familiar love: +Would I could bid myself unto your house, +For I have wish'd for your acquaintance long. + +Y. ART. Sweet Master Anselm, I desire yours too; +Will you come dine with me at home to-morrow? +You shall be welcome, I assure you, sir. + +ANS. I fear, sir, I shall prove too bold a guest. + +Y. ART. You shall be welcome, if you bring your friend. + +FUL. O Lord, sir, we shall be too troublesome. + +Y. ART. Nay, now I will enforce a promise from you: +Shall I expect you? + +FUL. Yes, with all my heart. + +ANS. A thousand thanks. Yonder's the schoolmaster. +So, till to-morrow, twenty times farewell. + +Y. ART. I double all your farewells twenty-fold. + +ANS. O, this acquaintance was well scrap'd of me; +By this my love to-morrow I shall see. + + [_Exeunt_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB. + +AMIN. This poison shall by force expel +_Amorem_, love, _infernum_, hell. +_Per hoc venenum, ego_, I +For my sweet lovely lass will die. + +Y. ART. What do I hear of poison; which sweet means +Must make me a brave frolic widower? +It seems the doting fool, being forlorn, +Hath got some compound mixture in despair, +To end his desperate fortunes and his life; +I'll get it from him, and with this make way +To my wife's night and to my love's fair day. + +AMIN. _In nomine domini_, friends, farewell! +I know death comes, here's such a smell! +_Pater et mater_, father and mother, +_Frater et soror_, sister and brother, +And my sweet Mary, not these drugs +Do send me to the infernal bugs, +But thy unkindness; so, adieu! +Hob-goblins, now I come to you. + +Y. ART. Hold, man, I say! what will the madman do? + [_Takes away the supposed poison_. +Ay, have I got thee? thou shalt go with me. [_Aside_. +No more of that; fie, Sir Minadab! +Destroy yourself! If I but hear hereafter +You practise such revenge upon yourself, +All your friends shall know that for a wench-- +A paltry wench--you would have kill'd yourself. + +AMIN. _O tace, quaeso_; do not name +This frantic deed of mine for shame. +My sweet _magister_, not a word; +I'll neither drown me in a ford, +Nor give my neck such a scope, +T'embrace it with a hempen rope; +I'll die no way, till nature will me, +And death come with his dart, and kill me, +If what is pass'd you will conceal, +And nothing to the world reveal; +Nay, as Quintillian said of yore, +I'll strive to kill myself no more. + +Y. ART. On that condition I'll conceal this deed: +To-morrow, pray, come and dine with me; +For I have many strangers; 'mongst the rest, +Some are desirous of your company. +You will not fail me? + +AMIN. No, in sooth; +I'll try the sharpness of my tooth; +Instead of poison, I will eat +Rabbits, capons, and such meat; +And so, as Pythagoras says, +With wholesome fare prolong my days. +But, sir, will Mistress Mall be there? + +Y. ART. She shall, she shall; man, never fear. + +AMIN. Then my spirit becomes stronger, +And I will live and stretch longer; +For Ovid said, and did not lie, +That poison'd men do often die: +But poison henceforth I'll not eat, +Whilst I can other victuals get. +To-morrow, if you make a feast, +Be sure, sir, I will be your guest. +But keep my counsel, _vale tu_! +And, till to-morrow, sir, adieu! +At your table I will prove, +If I can eat away my love. [_Exit_. + +Y. ART. O, I am glad I have thee; now devise +A way how to bestow it cunningly; +It shall be thus: to-morrow I'll pretend +A reconcilement 'twixt my wife and me, +And to that end I will invite thus many-- +First Justice Reason, as the chief man there; +My father Arthur, old Lusam, young Lusam. +Master Fuller and Master Anselm I have bid already; +Then will I have my lovely Mary too, +Be it but to spite my wife, before she die; +For die she shall before to-morrow night. +The operation of this poison is +Not suddenly to kill; they that take it +Fall in a sleep, and then 'tis past recure, +And this will I put in her cup to-morrow. + + _Enter_ PIPKIN, _running_. + +PIP. This 'tis to have such a master! I have sought him at the 'Change, +at the school, at every place, but I cannot find him nowhere. + [_Sees_ M. ART.] +O, cry mercy! my mistress would entreat you to come home. + +Y. ART. I cannot come to-night; some urgent business +Will all this night employ me otherwise. + +PIP. I believe my mistress would con you as much thank to do that +business at home as abroad. + +Y. ART. Here, take my purse, and bid my wife provide +Good cheer against to-morrow; there will be +Two or three strangers of my late acquaintance. +Sirrah, go you to Justice Reason's house; +Invite him first with all solemnity; +Go to my father's and my father-in-law's; +Here, take this note-- +The rest that come I will invite myself: +About it with what quick despatch thou can'st. + +PIP. I warrant you, master, I'll despatch this business with more +honesty than you'll despatch yours. But, master, will the gentlewoman +be there? + +Y. ART. What gentlewoman? + +PIP. The gentlewoman of the old house, that is as well known by the +colour she lays on her cheeks, as an alehouse by the painting is laid +on his lattice; she that is, like _homo_, common to all men; she that +is beholden to no trade, but lives of herself. + +Y. ART. Sirrah, begone, or I will send you hence. + +PIP. I'll go [_aside_]; but, by this hand, I'll tell my mistress as +soon as I come home that mistress light-heels comes to dinner +to-morrow. [_Exit_. + +Y. ART. Sweet Mistress Mary, I'll invite myself: +And there I'll frolic, sup, and spend the night. +My plot is current; here 'tis in my hand +Will make me happy in my second choice: +And I may freely challenge as mine own, +What I am now enforc'd to seek by stealth. +Love is not much unlike ambition; +For in them both all lets must be remov'd +'Twixt every crown and him that would aspire; +And he that will attempt to win the same +Must plunge up to the depth o'er head and ears, +And hazard drowning in that purple sea: +So he that loves must needs through blood and fire, +And do all things to compass his desire. + + [_Exit_. + + + +SCENE III. + + + _A Room in Young Arthur's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR _and her_ MAID. + +MRS ART. Come, spread the table; is the hall well rubb'd? +The cushions in the windows neatly laid? +The cupboard of plate set out? the casements stuck +With rosemary and flowers? the carpets brush'd? + +MAID. Ay, forsooth, mistress. + +MRS ART. Look to the kitchen-maid, and bid the cook take down the +oven-stone, [lest] the pies be burned: here, take my keys, and give +him out more spice. + +MAID. Yes, forsooth, mistress. + +MRS ART. Where's that knave Pipkin? bid him spread the cloth, +Fetch the clean diaper napkins from my chest, +Set out the gilded salt, and bid the fellow +Make himself handsome, get him a clean band. + +MAID. Indeed, forsooth, mistress, he is such a sloven, +That nothing will sit handsome about him; +He had a pound of soap to scour his face, +And yet his brow looks like the chimney-stock. + +MRS ART. He'll be a sloven still; maid, take this apron, +And bring me one of linen: quickly, maid. + +MAID. I go, forsooth. + +MRS ART. There was a curtsy! let me see't again; +Ay, that was well.--[_Exit_ MAID.] I fear my guests will come +Ere we be ready. What a spite is this. + +_Within_. Mistress! + +MRS ART. What's the matter? + +_Within_. Mistress, I pray, take Pipkin from the fire; +We cannot keep his fingers from the roast. + +MRS ART. Bid him come hither; what a knave is that! +Fie, fie, never out of the kitchen! +Still broiling by the fire! + + _Enter_ PIPKIN. + +PIP. I hope you will not take Pipkin from the fire, +Till the broth be enough. + + _Enter_ MAID, _with an apron_. + +MRS ART. Well, sirrah, get a napkin and a trencher, +And wait to-day. So, let me see: my apron. [_Puts it on_.] + +PIP. Mistress, I can tell ye one thing, my master's wench +Will come home to-day to dinner. + + _Enter_ JUSTICE REASON, _and his man_ HUGH. + +MRS ART. She shall be welcome, if she be his guest. +But here's some of our guests are come already: +A chair for Justice Reason, sirrah! + +JUS. Good morrow, Mistress Arthur! you are like a good housewife: +At your request I am come home. What, a chair! +Thus age seeks ease. Where is your husband, mistress? +What, a cushion, too! + +PIP. I pray you, ease your tail, sir. + +JUS. Marry, and will, good fellow; twenty thanks. + + [HUGH _and_ PIPKIN _converse apart_.] + +PIP. Master Hugh, as welcome as heart can tell, or tongue can think. + +HUGH. I thank you, Master Pipkin; I have got many a good dish of broth +by your means. + +PIP. According to the ancient courtesy, you are welcome; according to +the time and place, you are heartily welcome: when they are busied at +the board, we will find ourselves busied in the buttery; and so, sweet +Hugh, according to our scholars' phrase, _gratulor adventum tuum_. + +HUGH. I will answer you with the like, sweet Pipkin, _gratias_. + +PIP. As much grace as you will, but as little of it as you can, +good Hugh. But here comes more guests. + + _Enter_ OLD MASTER ARTHUR _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM. + +MRS ART. More stools and cushions for these gentlemen. + +O. ART. What, Master Justice Reason, are you here? +Who would have thought to have met you in this place? + +O. LUS. What say mine eyes, is Justice Reason here? +Mountains may meet, and so, I see, may we. + +JUS. Well, when men meet, they meet, +And when they part, they oft leave one another's company; +So we, being met, are met. + +O. LUS. Truly, you say true; +And Master Justice Reason speaks but reason: +To hear how wisely men of law will speak! + + _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +ANS. Good morrow, gentlemen! + +MRS ART. What? are you there? + +ANS. Good morrow, mistress, and good morrow, all! + +JUS. If I may be so bold in a strange place, +I say, good morrow, and as much to you. +I pray, gentlemen, will you sit down? +We have been young, like you; and, if you live +Unto our age, you will be old like us. + +FUL. Be rul'd by reason; but who's here? + + _Enter_ AMINADAB. + +AMIN. _Salvete, omnes_! and good day +To all at once, as I may say; +First, Master Justice; next, Old Arthur, +That gives me pension by the quarter; +To my good mistress and the rest, +That are the founders of this feast; +In brief, I speak to _omnes_, all, +That to their meat intend to fall. + +JUS. Welcome, Sir Aminadab; O, my son +Hath profited exceeding well with you: +Sit down, sit down, by Mistress Arthur's leave. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, YOUNG MASTER + LUSAM, _and_ MISTRESS MARY. + +Y. ART. Gentlemen, welcome all; whilst I deliver +Their private welcomes, wife, be it your charge +To give this gentlewoman entertainment. + +MRS ART. Husband, I will. O, this is she usurps +The precious interest of my husband's love; +Though, as I am a woman, I could well +Thrust such a lewd companion out of doors; +Yet, as I am a true, obedient, wife, +I'd kiss her feet to do my husband's will. [_Aside_. +You are entirely welcome, gentlewoman; +Indeed you are; pray, do not doubt of it. + +MRS MA. I thank you, Mistress Arthur; now, by my little honesty, +It much repents me to wrong so chaste a woman. [_Aside_. + +Y. ART. Gentles, put o'er your legs; first, Master Justice, +Here you shall sit. + +JUS. And here shall Mistress Mary sit by me. + +Y. ART. Pardon me, sir, she shall have my wife's place. + +MRS ART. Indeed, you shall, for he will have it so. + +MRS MA. If you will needs; but I shall do you wrong +To take your place. + +O. LUS. Ay, by my faith, you should. + +MRS ART. That is no wrong, which we impute no wrong! +I pray you, sit. + +Y. ART. Gentlemen all, I pray you, seat yourselves: +What, Sir Aminadab, I know where your heart is. + [_Aside_. +AMIN. Mum, not a word, _pax vobis_, peace: +Come, gentles, I'll be of this mess. + +Y. ART. So, who gives thanks? + +AMIN. Sir, that will I. + +Y. ART. I pray you to it by and by. +Where's Pipkin? +Wait at the board; let Master Season's man +Be had into the buttery; but first give him +A napkin and a trencher. Well-said. Hugh, +Wait at your master's elbow: now say grace. + +AMIN. _Gloria Deo_, sirs, proface; +Attend me now, whilst I say grace. +For bread and salt, for grapes and malt, +For flesh and fish, and every dish; +Mutton and beef, of all meats chief; +For cow-heels, chitterlings, tripes and souse, +And other meat that's in the house; +For racks, for breasts, for legs, for loins, +For pies with raisins and with proins, +For fritters, pancakes, and for fries, +For ven'son pasties and minc'd pies; +Sheeps'-head and garlic, brawn and mustard, +Wafers, spic'd cakes, tart, and custard; +For capons, rabbits, pigs, and geese, +For apples, caraways, and cheese; +For all these and many mo: +_Benedicamus Domino_! + +ALL. Amen. + +JUS. I con you thanks; but, Sir Aminadab, +Is that your scholar! now, I promise you, +He is a toward stripling of his age. + +PIP. Who? I, forsooth? yes, indeed, forsooth, I am his scholar. I would +you should well think I have profited under him too; you shall hear, if +he will pose me. + +O. ART. I pray you, let's hear him. + +AMIN. _Huc ades_, Pipkin. + +PIP. _Adsum_. + +AMIN. _Quot casus sunt_? how many cases are there? + +PIP. Marry, a great many. + +AMIN. Well-answer'd, a great many: there are six, +Six, a great many; 'tis well-answer'd; +And which be they? + +PIP. A bow-case, a cap-case, a comb-case, a lute-case, a fiddle-case, +and a candle-case. + +JUS. I know them all; again, well-answer'd: +Pray God, my youngest son profit no worse. + +AMIN. How many parsons are there? + +PIP. I'll tell you as many as I know, if you'll give me leave to reckon +them. + +ANS. I prythee, do. + +PIP. The parson of Fenchurch, the parson of Pancras, and the parson +of------ + +Y. ART. Well, sir, about your business:--now will I +Temper the cup my loathed wife shall drink + [_Aside, and exit_. + +O. ART. Daughter, methinks you are exceeding sad. + +O. LUS. Faith, daughter, so thou art exceeding sad. + +MRS ART. 'Tis but my countenance, for my heart is merry: +Mistress, were you as merry as you are welcome, +You should not sit so sadly as you do. + +MRS MA. 'Tis but because I am seated in your place, +Which is frequented seldom with true mirth. + +MRS ART. The fault is neither in the place nor me. + +AMIN. How say you, lady? +To him you last did lie by! +All this is no more, _praebibo tibi_. + +MRS MA. I thank you, sir. Mistress, this draught shall be +To him that loves both you and me! + +MRS ART. I know your meaning. + +ANS. Now to me, +If she have either love or charity. + +MRS ART. Here, Master Justice, this to your grave years, +A mournful draught, God wot: half-wine, half-tears. [_Aside_. + +JUS. Let come, my wench; here, youngsters, to you all! +You are silent: here's that will make you talk. +Wenches, methink you sit like puritans: +Never a jest abroad to make them laugh? + +FUL. Sir, since you move speech of a puritan, +If you will give me audience, I will tell ye +As good a jest as ever you did hear. + +O. ART. A jest? that's excellent! + +JUS. Beforehand, let's prepare ourselves to laugh; +A jest is nothing, if it be not grac'd. +Now, now, I pray you, when begins this jest? + +FUL. I came unto a puritan, to woo her, +And roughly did salute her with a kiss: +Away! quoth she, and rudely push'd me from her; +Brother, by yea and nay, I like not this: +And still with amorous talk she was saluted, +My artless speech with Scripture was confuted. + +O. LUS. Good, good, indeed; the best that e'er I heard. + +O. ART. I promise you, it was exceeding good. + +FUL. Oft I frequented her abode by night, +And courted her, and spake her wond'rous fair; +But ever somewhat did offend her sight, +Either my double ruff or my long hair; +My scarf was vain, my garments hung too low, +My Spanish shoe was cut too broad at toe. + +ALL. Ha, ha! the best that ever I heard! + +FUL. I parted for that time, and came again, +Seeming to be conform'd in look and speech; +My shoes were sharp-toed, and my band was plain, +Close to my thigh my metamorphos'd breech; +My cloak was narrow-cap'd, my hair cut shorter; +Off went my scarf, thus march'd I to the porter. + +ALL. Ha, ha! was ever heard the like? + +FUL. The porter, spying me, did lead me in, +Where his fair mistress sat reading of a chapter; +Peace to this house, quoth I, and those within, +Which holy speech with admiration wrapp'd her; +And ever as I spake, and came her nigh, +Seeming divine, turn'd up the white of eye. + +JUS. So, so, what then? + +O. LUS. Forward, I pray, forward, sir. + +FUL. I spake divinely, and I call'd her sister, +And by this means we were acquainted well: +By yea and nay, I will, quoth I, and kiss'd her. +She blush'd, and said, that long-tongu'd men would tell; +I swore[18] to be as secret as the night, +And said, on sooth, I would put out the light. + +O. ART. In sooth he would! a passing-passing jest. + +FUL. O, do not swear, quoth she, yet put it out, +Because I would not have you break your oath. +I felt a bed there, as I grop'd about; +In troth, quoth I, here will we rest us both. +Swear you, in troth, quoth she? had you not sworn, +I had not done't, but took it in full scorn: +Then you will come, quoth I? though I be loth, +I'll come, quoth she, be't but to keep your oath. + +JUS. 'Tis very pretty; but now, when's the jest? + +O. ART. O, forward, to the jest in any case. + +O. LUS. I would not, for an angel, lose the jest. + +FUL. Here's right the dunghill cock that finds a pearl. +To talk of wit to these, is as a man +Should cast out jewels to a herd of swine--[_aside_.] +Why, in the last words did consist the jest. + +O. LUS. Ay, in the last words? ha, ha, ha! +It was an excellent admired jest-- +To them that understood it. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, _with two cups of wine_. + +JUS. It was, indeed; I must, for fashion's sake, +Say as they say; but otherwise, O, God! [_Aside_. +Good Master Arthur, thanks for our good cheer. + +Y. ART. Gentlemen, welcome all; now hear me speak-- +One special cause that mov'd me lead you hither, +Is for an ancient grudge that hath long since +Continued 'twixt my modest wife and me: +The wrongs that I have done her I recant. +In either hand I hold a sev'ral cup, +This in the right hand, wife, I drink to thee, +This in the left hand, pledge me in this draught, +Burying all former hatred; so, have to thee. [_He drinks_. + +MRS ART. The welcom'st pledge that yet I ever took: +Were this wine poison, or did taste like gall, +The honey-sweet condition of your draught +Would make it drink like nectar: I will pledge you, +Were it the last that I should ever drink. + +Y. ART. Make that account: thus, gentlemen, you see +Our late discord brought to a unity. + +AMIN. _Ecce, quam bonum et quam jucundum +Est habitare fratres in unum_. + +O. ART. My heart doth taste the sweetness of your pledge, +And I am glad to see this sweet accord. + +O. LUS. Glad, quotha? there's not one among'st us, +But may be exceeding glad. + +JUS. I am, ay, marry, am I, that I am. + +Y. LUS. The best accord that could betide their loves. + +ANS. The worst accord that could betide my love. + + [_All about to rise_. + +AMIN: What, rising, gentles? keep your place, +I will close up your stomachs with a grace; +_O Domine et care Pater_, +That giv'st us wine instead of water; +And from the pond and river clear +Mak'st nappy ale and good March beer; +That send'st us sundry sorts of meat, +And everything we drink or eat; +To maids, to wives, to boys, to men, +_Laus Deo Sancto_, Amen. + +Y. ART. So, much good do ye all, and, gentlemen, +Accept your welcomes better than your cheer. + +O. LUS. Nay, so we do, I'll give you thanks for all. +Come, Master Justice, you do walk our way, +And Master Arthur, and old Hugh your man; +We'll be the first [that] will strain courtesy. + +JUS. God be with you all! + + [_Exeunt_ O. ART., O. LUS., _and_ JUS. REASON. + +AMIN. _Proximus ego sum_, I'll be the next, +And man you home; how say you, lady? + +Y. ART. I pray you do, good Sir Aminadab. + +MRS MA. Sir, if it be not too much trouble to you, +Let me entreat that kindness at your hands. + +AMIN. Entreat! fie! no, sweet lass, command; +_Sic_, so, _nunc_, now, take the upper hand. + + [_Exit_ MRS MARY _escorted by_ AMINADAB. + +Y. ART. Come, wife, this meeting was all for our sakes: +I long to see the force my poison takes. [_Aside_. + +MRS ART. My dear-dear husband, in exchange of hate, +My love and heart shall on your service wait. + + [_Exeunt_ Y. ART., MRS ART., _and_ PIPKIN. + +ANS. So doth my love on thee; but long no more; +To her rich love thy service is too poor. + +FUL. For shame, no more! you had best expostulate +Your love with every stranger; leave these sighs, +And change them to familiar conference. + +Y. LUS. Trust me, the virtues of young Arthur's wife, +Her constancy, modest humility, +Her patience, and admired temperance, +Have made me love all womankind the better. + + _Re-enter_ PIPKIN. + +PIP. O, my mistress! my mistress! she's dead! +She's gone! she's dead! she's gone! + +ANS. What's that he says? + +PIP. Out of my way! stand back, I say! +All joy from earth has fled! +She is this day as cold as clay; +My mistress she is dead! +O Lord, my mistress! my mistress! [_Exit_. + +ANS. What, Mistress Arthur dead? my soul is vanish'd, +And the world's wonder from the world quite banish'd. +O, I am sick, my pain grows worse and worse; +I am quite struck through with this late discourse. + +FUL. What! faint'st thou, man? I'll lead thee hence; for shame! +Swoon at the tidings of a woman's death! +Intolerable, and beyond all thought! +Come, my love's fool, give me thy hand to lead; +This day one body and two hearts are dead. + + [_Exeunt_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +Y. LUS. But now she was as well as well might be, +And on the sudden dead; joy in excess +Hath overrun her poor disturbed soul. +I'll after, and see how Master Arthur takes it; +His former hate far more suspicious makes it. + [_Exit_. + + _Enter_ HUGH, _and after him_, PIPKIN. + +HUGH. My master hath left his gloves behind where he sat in his chair, +and hath sent me to fetch them; it is such an old snudge, he'll not +lose the droppings of his nose. + +PIP. O mistress! O Hugh! O Hugh! O mistress! +Hugh, I must needs beat thee; I am mad! +I am lunatic! I must fall upon thee: my mistress is dead! + [_Beats_ HUGH. + +HUGH. O Master Pipkin, what do you mean? what do you mean, +Master Pipkin? + +PIP. O Hugh! O mistress! O mistress! O Hugh! + +HUGH. O Pipkin! O God! O God! O Pipkin! + +Pip. O Hugh, I am mad! bear with me, I cannot choose: O death! +O mistress! O mistress! O death! [_Exit_. + +HUGH. Death, quotha? he hath almost made me dead with beating. + + _Re-enter_ JUSTICE REASON, OLD MASTER ARTHUR, + _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM. + +JUS. I wonder why the knave, my man, stays thus, +And comes not back: see where the villain loiters. + + _Re-enter_ PIPKIN. + +PIP. O Master Justice! Master Arthur! Master Lusam! wonder not why I +thus blow and bluster; my mistress is dead! dead is my mistress! and +therefore hang yourselves. O, my mistress, my mistress! + [_Exit_. + +O. ART. My son's wife dead! + +O. LUS. My daughter! + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, _mourning_. + +JUS. Mistress Arthur! Here comes her husband. + +Y. ART. O, here the woful'st husband comes alive, +No husband now; the wight, that did uphold +That name of husband, is now quite o'erthrown, +And I am left a hapless widower. + +O. ART. Fain would I speak, if grief would suffer me. + +O. LUS. As Master Arthur says, so say I; +If grief would let me, I would weeping die. +To be thus hapless in my aged years! +O, I would speak; but my words melt to tears. + +Y. ART. Go in, go in, and view the sweetest corpse +That e'er was laid upon a mournful room; +You cannot speak for weeping sorrow's doom: +Bad news are rife, good tidings seldom come. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT IV., SCENE I. + + + _A Street_. + + _Enter_ ANSELM. + +ANS. What frantic humour doth thus haunt my sense, +Striving to breed destruction in my spirit? +When I would sleep, the ghost of my sweet love +Appears unto me in an angel's shape: +When I'm awake, my fantasy presents, +As in a glass, the shadow of my love: +When I would speak, her name intrudes itself +Into the perfect echoes of my speech: +And though my thought beget some other word, +Yet will my tongue speak nothing but her name. +If I do meditate, it is on her; +If dream of her, or if discourse of her, +I think her ghost doth haunt me, as in times +Of former darkness old wives' tales report. + + _Enter_ FULLER. + +Here comes my better genius, whose advice +Directs me still in all my actions. +How now, from whence come you? + +FUL. Faith, from the street, in which, as I pass'd by, +I met the modest Mistress Arthur's corpse, +And after her as mourners, first her husband, +Next Justice Reason, then old Master Arthur, +Old Master Lusam, and young Lusam too, +With many other kinsfolks, neighbours, friends, +And others, that lament her funeral: +Her body is by this laid in the vault. + +ANS. And in that vault my body I will lay! +I prythee, leave me: thither is my way. + +FUL. I am sure you jest, you mean not as you say. + +ANS. No, no, I'll but go to the church, and pray. + +FUL. Nay, then we shall be troubled with your humour. + +ANS. As ever thou didst love me, or as ever +Thou didst delight in my society, +By all the rights of friendship and of love, +Let me entreat thy absence but one hour, +And at the hour's end I will come to thee. + +FUL. Nay, if you will be foolish, and past reason, +I'll wash my hands, like Pilate, from thy folly, +And suffer thee in these extremities. [_Exit_. + +ANS. Now it is night, and the bright lamps of heaven +Are half-burn'd out: now bright Adelbora +Welcomes the cheerful day-star to the east, +And harmless stillness hath possess'd the world: +This is the church,--this hollow is the vault, +Where the dead body of my saint remains, +And this the coffin that enshrines her body, +For her bright soul is now in paradise. +My coming is with no intent of sin, +Or to defile the body of the dead; +But rather take my last farewell of her, +Or languishing and dying by her side, +My airy soul post after hers to heaven. + [_Comes to_ MRS ARTHUR'S _tomb_. +First, with this latest kiss I seal my love: +Her lips are warm, and I am much deceiv'd, +If that she stir not. O, this Golgotha, +This place of dead men's bones is terrible, +Presenting fearful apparitions! +It is some spirit that in the coffin lies, +And makes my hair start up on end with fear! +Come to thyself, faint heart--she sits upright! +O, I would hide me, but I know not where. +Tush, if it be a spirit, 'tis a good spirit; +For with her body living ill she knew not; +And with her body dead ill cannot meddle. + +MRS ART. Who am I? Or where am I? + +ANS. O, she speaks, +And by her language now I know she lives. + +MRS ART. O, who can tell me where I am become? +For in this darkness I have lost myself; +I am not dead, for I have sense and life: +How come I then in this coffin buried? + +ANS. Anselm, be bold; she lives, and destiny +Hath train'd thee hither to redeem her life. + +MRS ART. Lives any 'mongst these dead? none but myself? + +ANS. O yes, a man, whose heart till now was dead, +Lives and survives at your return to life: +Nay, start not; I am Anselm, one who long +Hath doted on your fair perfection, +And, loving you more than became me well, +Was hither sent by some strange providence, +To bring you from these hollow vaults below, +To be a liver in the world again. + +MRS ART. I understand you, and I thank the heavens, +That sent you to revive me from this fear, +And I embrace my safety with good-will. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB _with two or three_ BOYS. + +AMIN. _Mane citus lectum fuge, mollem discute somnum, +Templa petas supplex, et venerate deum_. +Shake off thy sleep, get up betimes, +Go to the church and pray, +And, never fear, God will thee hear, +And keep thee all the day. +Good counsel, boys; observe it, mark it well; +This early rising, this _diluculo_ +Is good both for your bodies and your minds: +'Tis not yet day; give me my tinder-box; +Meantime, unloose your satchels and your books: +Draw, draw, and take you to your lessons, boys. + +1ST BOY. O Lord, master, what's that in the white sheet? + +AMIN. In the white sheet, my boy? _Dic ubi_, where? + +1ST BOY. _Vide_, master, _vide illic_, there. + +AMIN. O, _Domine, Domine_, keep us from evil, +A charm from flesh, the world, and the devil! + + [_Exeunt_. + +MRS ART. O, tell me not my husband was ingrate, +Or that he did attempt to poison me, +Or that he laid me here, and I was dead; +These are no means at all to win my love. + +ANS. Sweet mistress, he bequeath'd you to the earth; +You promis'd him to be his wife till death, +And you have kept your promise: but now, since +The world, your husband, and your friends suppose +That you are dead, grant me but one request, +And I will swear never to solicit more +Your sacred thoughts to my dishonest love. + +MRS ART. So your demand may be no prejudice +To my chaste name, no wrong unto my husband, +No suit that may concern my wedlock's breach, +I yield unto it; but +To pass the bounds of modesty and chastity, +Sooner[19] will I bequeath myself again +Unto this grave, and never part from hence, +Than taint my soul with black impurity. + +ANS. Take here my hand and faithful heart to gage. +That I will never tempt you more to sin: +This my request is--since your husband dotes +Upon a lewd, lascivious courtesan-- +Since he hath broke the bonds of your chaste bed, +And, like a murd'rer, sent you to your grave, +Do but go with me to my mother's house; +There shall you live in secret for a space, +Only to see the end of such lewd lust, +And know the difference of a chaste wife's bed, +And one whose life is in all looseness led. + +MRS ART. Your mother is a virtuous matron held: +Her counsel, conference, and company +May much avail me; there a space I'll stay, +Upon condition, as you said before, +You never will move your unchaste suit more. + +ANS. My faith is pawn'd. O, never had chaste wife +A husband of so lewd and unchaste life! + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE II. + + + _A Room in Mistress Mary's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS MARY, MISTRESS SPLAY, _and_ BRABO. + +BRA. Mistress, I long have serv'd you, even since +These bristled hairs upon my grave-like chin +Were all unborn; when I first came to you, +These infant feathers of these ravens' wings +Were not once begun. + +MRS SPLAY. No, indeed, they were not. + +BRA. Now in my two moustachios for a need, +(Wanting a rope) I well could hang myself; +I prythee, mistress, for all my long service, +For all the love that I have borne thee long, +Do me this favour now, to marry me. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. + +MRS MA. Marry, come up, you blockhead! you great ass! +What! wouldst thou have me marry with a devil! +But peace, no more; here comes the silly fool, +That we so long have set our lime-twigs for; +Begone, and leave me to entangle him. + + [_Exeunt_ MISTRESS SPLAY _and_ BRABO. + +Y. ART. What, Mistress Mary? + +MRS MA. O good Master Arthur, +Where have you been this week, this month, this year? +This year, said I? where have you been this age? +Unto a lover ev'ry minute seems +Time out of mind: +How should I think you love me, +That can endure to stay so long from me? + +Y. ART. I' faith, sweetheart, I saw thee yesternight. + +MRS MA. Ay, true, you did, but since you saw me not; +At twelve o'clock you parted from my house, +And now 'tis morning, and new-strucken seven; +Seven hours thou stay'd'st from me; why didst thou so? +They are my seven years' 'prenticeship of woe. + +Y. ART. I prythee, be patient; I had some occasion +That did enforce me from thee yesternight. + +MRS MA. Ay, you are soon enforc'd; fool that I am, +To dote on one that nought respecteth me! +'Tis but my fortune, I am born to bear it, +And ev'ry one shall have their destiny. + +Y. ART. Nay, weep not, wench; thou wound'st me with thy tears. + +MRS MA. I am a fool, and so you make me too; +These tears were better kept than spent in waste +On one that neither tenders them nor me. +What remedy? but if I chance to die, +Or to miscarry with that I go withal, +I'll take my death that thou art cause thereof; +You told me that, when your wife was dead, +You would forsake all others, and take me. + +Y. ART. I told thee so, and I will keep my word, +And for that end I came thus early to thee; +I have procur'd a licence, and this night +We will be married in a lawless[20] church. + +MRS. MA. These news revive me, and do somewhat ease +The thought that was new-gotten to my heart. +But shall it be to-night? + +Y. ART. Ay, wench, to-night. +A se'nnight and odd days, since my wife died, +Is past already, and her timeless death +Is but a nine-days' talk; come, go with me, +And it shall be despatched presently. + +MRS. MA. Nay, then, I see thou lov'st me; and I find +By this last motion thou art grown more kind. + +Y. ART. My love and kindness, like my age, shall grow, +And with the time increase; and thou shalt see +The older I grow, the kinder I will be. + +MRS. MA, Ay, so I hope it will; but, as for mine, +That with my age shall day by day decline. [_Aside_. +Come, shall we go? + +Y. ART. With thee to the world's end, +Whose beauty most admire, and all commend. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE III. + + + _The Street near the House of Anselm's Mother_. + + _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +ANS. 'Tis true, as I relate the circumstance, +And she is with my mother safe at home; +But yet, for all the hate I can allege +Against her husband, nor for all the love +That on my own part I can urge her to, +Will she be won to gratify my love. + +FUL. All things are full of ambiguity, +And I admire this wond'rous accident. +But, Anselm, Arthur's about a new wife, _a bona roba_; +How will she take it when she hears this news? + +ANS. I think, even as a virtuous maiden should; +It may be that report may, from thy mouth, +Beget some pity from her flinty heart, +And I will urge her with it presently. + +FUL. Unless report be false, they are link'd already; +They are fast as words can tie them: I will tell thee +How I, by chance, did meet him the last night:-- +One said to me this Arthur did intend +To have a wife, and presently to marry. +Amidst the street, I met him as my friend, +And to his love a present he did carry; +It was some ring, some stomacher, or toy; +I spake to him, and bad God give him joy. +God give me joy, quoth he; of what, I pray? +Marry, quoth I, your wedding that is toward. +'Tis false, quoth he, and would have gone his way. +Come, come, quoth I, so near it and so froward: +I urg'd him hard by our familiar loves, +Pray'd him withal not to forget my gloves. +Then he began:--Your kindness hath been great, +Your courtesy great, and your love not common; +Yet so much favour pray let me entreat, +To be excus'd from marrying any woman. +I knew the wench that is become his bride, +And smil'd to think how deeply he had lied; +For first he swore he did not court a maid; +A wife he could not, she was elsewhere tied; +And as for such as widows were, he said, +And deeply swore none such should be his bride: +Widow, nor wife, nor maid--I ask'd no more, +Knowing he was betroth'd unto a whore. + +ANS. Is it not Mistress Mary that you mean? +She that did dine with us at Arthur's house? + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR. + +FUL. The same, the same:--here comes the gentlewoman; +O Mistress Arthur, I am of your counsel: +Welcome from death to life! + +ANS. Mistress, this gentleman hath news to tell ye, +And as you like of it, so think of me. + +FUL. Your husband hath already got a wife; +A huffing wench, i' faith, whose ruffling silks +Make with their motion music unto love, +And you are quite forgotten. + +ANS. I have sworn +To move this my unchaste demand no more. [_Aside_.] + +FUL. When doth your colour change? When do your eyes +Sparkle with fire to revenge these wrongs? +When doth your tongue break into rage and wrath, +Against that scum of manhood, your vile husband?' +He first misus'd you. + +ANS. And yet can you love him? + +FUL. He left your chaste bed, to defile the bed +Of sacred marriage with a courtesan. + +ANS. Yet can you love him? + +FUL. And, not content with this, +Abus'd your honest name with sland'rous words, +And fill'd your hush'd house with unquietness. + +ANS. And can you love him yet? + +FUL. Nay, did he not +With his rude fingers dash you on the face, +And double-dye your coral lips with blood? +Hath he not torn those gold wires from your head, +Wherewith Apollo would have strung his harp, +And kept them to play music to the gods? +Hath he not beat you, and with his rude fists +Upon that crimson temperature of your cheeks +Laid a lead colour with his boist'rous blows? + +ANS. And can you love him yet? + +FUL. Then did he not, +Either by poison or some other plot, +Send you to death where, by his providence, +God hath preserved you by that wond'rous miracle? +Nay, after death, hath he not scandalis'd +Your place with an immodest courtesan? + +ANS. And can you love him yet? + +MRS ART. And yet, and yet, +And still, and ever whilst I breathe this air: +Nay, after death, my unsubstantial soul, +Like a good angel, shall attend on him, +And keep him from all harm. +But is he married? much good do his heart! +Pray God, she may content him better far +Than I have done; long may they live in peace, +Till I disturb their solace; but because +I fear some mischief doth hang o'er his head, +I'll weep my eyes dry with my present care, +And for their healths make hoarse my tongue with prayer. + [_Exit_. + +FUL. Art sure she is a woman? if she be, +She is create of nature's purity. + +ANS. O yes, I too well know she is a woman; +Henceforth my virtue shall my love withstand, +And of my striving thoughts get th'upper hand. + +FUL. Then, thus resolv'd, I straight will drink to thee +A health thus deep, to drown thy melancholy. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT V., SCENE I. + + + _A Room in Mistress Mary's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS MARY, YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, + BRABO, _and_ MISTRESS SPLAY. + +MRS MA. Not have my will! yes, I will have my will; +Shall I not go abroad but when you please? +Can I not now and then meet with my friends, +But, at my coming home, you will control me? +Marry, come up! + +Y. ART. Where art thou, patience? +Nay, rather, where's become my former spleen? +I had a wife would not have us'd me so. + +MRS MA. Why, you Jacksauce! you cuckold! you what-not! +What, am I not of age sufficient +To go and come still, when my pleasure serves, +But must I have you, sir, to question me? +Not have my will! yes, I will have my will. + +Y. ART. I had a wife would not have us'd me so; +But she is dead. + +BRA. Not have her will, sir! she shall have her will: +She says she will, and, sir, I say she shall. +Not have her will! that were a jest indeed; +Who says she shall not? if I be dispos'd +To man her forth, who shall find fault with it? +What's he that dare say black's her eye?[21] +Though you be married, sir, yet you must know, +That she was ever born to have her will. + +MRS SPLAY. Not have her will! God's passion! I say still, +A woman's nobody that wants her will. + +Y. ART. Where is my spirit? what, shall I maintain +A strumpet with a Brabo and her bawd, +To beard me out of my authority? +What, am I from a master made a slave? + +MRS MA. A slave? nay, worse; dost thou maintain my man, +And this my maid? 'tis I maintain them both. +I am thy wife; I will not be dress'd so, +While thy gold lasts; but then most willingly +I will bequeath thee to flat beggary. +I do already hate thee; do thy worst; + [_He threatens her_. +Nay, touch me, if thou dar'st; what, shall he beat me? + +BRA. I'll make him seek his fingers 'mongst the dogs, +That dares to touch my mistress; never fear, +My sword shall smoothe the wrinkles of his brows, +That bends a frown upon my mistress. + +Y. ART. I had a wife would not have us'd me so: +But God is just. + +MRS MA. Now, Arthur, if I knew +What in this world would most torment thy soul, +That I would do; would all my evil usage +Could make thee straight despair and hang thyself! +Now, I remember:--where is Arthur's man, +Pipkin? that slave! go, turn him out of doors; +None that loves Arthur shall have house-room here. + + _Enter_ PIPKIN. + +Yonder he comes; Brabo, discard the fellow. + +Y. ART. Shall I be over-master'd in my own? +Be thyself, Arthur:--strumpet! he shall stay. + +MRS MA. What! shall he, Brabo? shall he, Mistress Splay? + +BRA. Shall he? he shall not: breathes there any living +Dares say he shall, when Brabo says he shall not? + +Y. ART. Is there no law for this? she is my wife; +Should I complain, I should be rather mock'd. +I am content; keep by thee whom thou list. +Discharge whom thou think'st good; do what thou wilt, +Rise, go to bed, stay at home, or go abroad +At thy good pleasure, keep all companies; +So that, for all this, I may have but peace. +Be unto me as I was to my wife; +Only give me, what I denied her then, +A little love, and some small quietness-- +If he displease thee, turn him out of doors. + +PIP. Who, me? Turn me out of doors? Is this all the wages I shall have +at the year's end, to be turned out of doors? You, mistress! you are a-- + +MRS SPLAY. A what? speak, a what? touch her and touch me, taint her and +taint me; speak, speak, a what? + +PIP. Marry, a woman that is kin to the frost.[22] + +MRS SPLAY. How do you mean that? + +PIP. And you are akin to the Latin word, to understand. + +MRS SPLAY. And what's that? + +PIP. _Subaudi, subaudi_? and, sir, do you not use to pink doublets? + +MRS SPLAY. And why? + +PIP. I took you for a cutter, you are of a great kindred; you are a +common cozener, everybody calls you cousin; besides, they say you are +a very good warrener, you have been an old coneycatcher: but, if I be +turned a-begging, as I know not what I am born to, and that you ever +come to the said trade, as nothing is unpossible, I'll set all the +commonwealth of beggars on your back, and all the congregation of vermin +shall be put to your keeping; and then if you be not more bitten than +all the company of beggars besides, I'll not have my will: zounds! +turned out of doors! I'll go and set up my trade; a dish to drink in, +that I have within; a wallet, that I'll make of an old shirt; then my +speech, For the Lord's sake, I beseech your worship; then I must have +a lame leg; I'll go to football and break my shins--and I am provided +for that. + +BRA. What! stands the villain prating? hence, you slave! + + [_Exit_ PIPKIN. + +Y. ART. Art thou yet pleas'd? + +MRS MA. When I have had my humour. + +Y. ART. Good friends, for manners' sake awhile withdraw. + +BRA. It is our pleasure, sir, to stand aside. + + [MISTRESS SPLAY _and_ BRABO _stand aside_. + +Y. ART. Mary, what cause hast thou to use me thus? +From nothing I have rais'd thee to much wealth; +'Twas more than I did owe thee: many a pound, +Nay, many a hundred pound, I spent on thee +In my wife's time; and once, but by my means, +Thou hadst been in much danger: but in all things +My purse and credit ever bare thee out. +I did not owe thee this. I had a wife, +That would have laid herself beneath my feet +To do me service; her I set at nought +For the entire affection I bare thee. +To show that I have lov'd thee, have I not, +Above all women, made chief choice of thee? +An argument sufficient of my love! +What reason then hast thou to wrong me thus? + +MRS MA. It is my humour. + +Y. ART. O, but such humours honest wives should purge: +I'll show thee a far greater instance yet +Of the true love that I have borne to thee. +Thou knew'st my wife: was she not fair? + +MRS MA. So, so. + +Y. ART. But more than fair: was she not virtuous? +Endued with the beauty of the mind? + +MRS MA. Faith, so they said. + +Y. ART. Hark, in thine ear: I'll trust thee with my life, +Than which what greater instance of my love: +Thou knew'st full well how suddenly she died? +T'enjoy thy love, even then I poison'd her! + +MRS MA. How! poison'd her? accursed murderer! +I'll ring this fatal 'larum in all ears, +Than which what greater instance of my hate? + +Y. ART. Wilt thou not keep my counsel? + +MRS MA. Villain, no! +Thou'lt poison me, as thou hast poison'd her. + +Y. ART. Dost thou reward me thus for all my love? +Then, Arthur, fly, and seek to save thy life! +O, difference 'twixt a chaste and unchaste wife! + [_Exit_. + +MRS MA. Pursue the murd'rer, apprehend him straight. + +BRA. Why, what's the matter, mistress? + +MRS MA. This villain Arthur poison'd his first wife, +Which he in secret hath confess'd to me; +Go and fetch warrants from the justices +T'attach the murd'rer; he once hang'd and dead, +His wealth is mine: pursue the slave that's fled. + +BRA. Mistress, I will; he shall not pass this land, +But I will bring him bound with this strong hand. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE II. + + + _The Street before the House of Anselm's Mother_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR, _poorly_. + +MRS ART. O, what are the vain pleasures of the world, +That in their actions we affect them so? +Had I been born a servant, my low life +Had steady stood from all these miseries. +The waving reeds stand free from every gust, +When the tall oaks are rent up by the roots. +What is vain beauty but an idle breath? +Why are we proud of that which so soon changes? +But rather wish the beauty of the mind, +Which neither time can alter, sickness change, +Violence deface, nor the black hand of envy +Smudge and disgrace, or spoil, or make deform'd. +O, had my riotous husband borne this mind, +He had been happy, I had been more blest, +And peace had brought our quiet souls to rest. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. + +Y. ART. O, whither shall I fly to save my life +When murder and despair dogs at my heels? +O misery! thou never found'st a friend; +All friends forsake men in adversity: +My brother hath denied to succour me, +Upbraiding me with name of murderer; +My uncles double-bar their doors against me; +My father hath denied to shelter me, +And curs'd me worse than Adam did vile Eve. +I that, within these two days, had more friends +Than I could number with arithmetic, +Have now no more than one poor cypher is, +And that poor cypher I supply myself: +All that I durst commit my fortunes to, +I have tried, and find none to relieve my wants. +My sudden flight and fear of future shame +Left me unfurnish'd of all necessaries, +And these three days I have not tasted food. + +MRS ART. It is my husband; O, how just is heaven! +Poorly disguis'd, and almost hunger-starv'd! +How comes this change? + +Y. ART. Doth no man follow me? +O, how suspicious guilty murder is! +I starve for hunger, and I die for thirst. +Had I a kingdom, I would sell my crown +For a small bit of bread: I shame to beg, +And yet, perforce, I must or beg or starve. +This house, belike, 'longs to some gentlewoman, +And here's a woman: I will beg of her. +Good mistress, look upon a poor man's wants. +Whom do I see? tush! Arthur, she is dead. +But that I saw her dead and buried, +I would have sworn it had been Arthur's wife; +But I will leave her; shame forbids me beg +Of one so much resembles her. + +MRS ART. Come hither, fellow! wherefore dost thou turn +Thy guilty looks and blushing face aside? +It seems thou hast not been brought up to this. + +Y. ART. You say true, mistress; then for charity, +And for her sake whom you resemble most. +Pity my present want and misery. + +MRS ART. It seems thou hast been in some better plight; +Sit down, I prythee: men, though they be poor, +Should not be scorn'd; to ease thy hunger, first +Eat these conserves; and now, I prythee, tell me +What thou hast been--thy fortunes, thy estate, +And what she was that I resemble most? + +Y. ART. First, look that no man see or overhear us: +I think that shape was born to do me good. [_Aside_.] + +MRS ART. Hast thou known one that did resemble me? + +Y. ART. Ay, mistress; I cannot choose but weep +To call to mind the fortunes of her youth. + +MRS ART. Tell me, of what estate or birth was she? + +Y. ART, Born of good parents, and as well brought up; +Most fair, but not so fair as virtuous; +Happy in all things but her marriage; +Her riotous husband, which I weep to think, +By his lewd life, made them both miscarry. + +MRS ART. Why dost thou grieve at their adversities? + +Y. ART. O, blame me not; that man my kinsman was, +Nearer to me a kinsman could not be; +As near allied was that chaste woman too, +Nearer was never husband to his wife; +He whom I term my friend, no friend of mine, +Proving both mine and his own enemy, +Poison'd his wife--O, the time he did so! +Joyed at her death, inhuman slave to do so! +Exchang'd her love for a base strumpet's lust; +Foul wretch! accursed villain! to exchange so. + +MRS ART. You are wise and blest, and happy to repent so: +But what became of him and his new wife? + +Y. ART. O, hear the justice of the highest heaven: +This strumpet, in reward of all his love, +Pursues him for the death of his first wife; +And now the woful husband languisheth, +And flies abroad,[23] pursu'd by her fierce hate; +And now too late he doth repent his sin, +Ready to perish in his own despair, +Having no means but death to rid his care. + +MRS ART. I can endure no more, but I must weep; +My blabbing tears cannot my counsel keep. [_Aside_. + +Y. ART. Why weep you, mistress? if you had the heart +Of her whom you resemble in your face-- +But she is dead, and for her death +The sponge of either eye +Shall weep red tears, till every vein is dry. + +MRS ART. Why weep you, friend? your rainy drops pray keep; +Repentance wipes away the drops of sin. +Yet tell me, friend--he did exceeding ill, +A wife that lov'd and honour'd him to kill. +Yet say one like her, far more chaste than fair, +Bids him be of good comfort, not despair. +Her soul's appeased with his repentant tears, +Wishing he may survive her many years. +Fain would I give him money to supply +His present wants, but fearing he should fly, +And getting over to some foreign shore, +These rainy eyes should never see him more. +My heart is full, I can no longer stay, +But what I am, my love must needs bewray. [_Aside_. +Farewell, good fellow, and take this to spend; +Say, one like her commends her to your friend. [_Exit_. + +Y. ART. No friend of mine. I was my own soul's foe, +To murther my chaste wife, that lov'd me so! +In life she lov'd me dearer than her life: +What husband here but would wish such a wife? +I hear the officers with hue and cry; +She saved my life but now, and now I die. +And welcome, death! I will not stir from hence; +Death I deserv'd, I'll die for this offence. + + _Enter_ BRABO, _with_ OFFICERS, MISTRESS SPLAY, _and_ HUGH. + +BRA. Here is the murderer; and, Reason's man, +You have the warrant: sirs, lay hands on him; +Attach the slave, and lead him bound to death. + +HUGH. No, by my faith, Master Brabo, you have the better heart, at +least you should have; I am sure you have more iron and steel than I +have; do you lay hands on him; I promise you I dare not. + +BRA. Constables, forward; forward, officers; +I will not thrust my finger in the fire. +Lay hands on him, I say: why step you back? +I mean to be the hindmost, lest that any +Should run away, and leave the rest in peril. +Stand forward: are you not asham'd to fear? + +Y. ART. Nay, never strive; behold, I yield myself. +I must commend your resolution +That, being so many and so weapon'd, +Dare not adventure on a man unarm'd. +Now, lead me to what prison you think best. +Yet use me well; I am a gentleman. + +HUGH. Truly, Master Arthur, we will use you as well as heart can think; +the justices sit to-day, and my master is chief: you shall command me. + +BRA. What! hath he yielded? if he had withstood us, +This curtle-axe of mine had cleft his head; +Resist he durst not, when he once spied me. +Come, lead him hence: how lik'st thou this, sweet witch? +This fellow's death will make our mistress rich. + +MRS SPLAY. I say, I care not who's dead or alive, +So by their lives or deaths we two may thrive. + +HUGH. Come, bear him away. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE III. + + + _A Room, in Justice Season's House_. + + _Enter_ JUSTICE REASON, OLD MASTER ARTHUR, + _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM. + +JUS. Old Master Arthur and Master Lusam, so +It is that I have heard both your complaints, +But understood neither, for, you know, +_Legere et non intelligere negligere est_. + +O. ART. I come for favour, as a father should, +Pitying the fall and ruin of his son. + +O. LUS. I come for justice, as a father should, +That hath by violent murder lost his daughter. + +JUS. You come for favour, and you come for justice: +Justice with favour is not partial, +And, using that, I hope to please you both. + +O. ART. Good Master Justice, think upon my son. + +O. LUS. Good Master Justice, think upon my daughter. + +JUS. Why, so I do; I think upon them both; +But can do neither of you good; +For he that lives must die, and she that's dead +Cannot be revived. + +O. ART. Lusam, thou seek'st to rob me of my son, +My only son. + +O. LUS. He robb'd me of my daughter, my only daughter. + +JUS. And robbers are flat felons by the law. + +O. ART. Lusam, I say thou art a blood-sucker, +A tyrant, a remorseless cannibal: +Old as I am, I'll prove it on thy bones. + +O. LUS. Am I a blood-sucker or cannibal? +Am I a tyrant that do thirst for blood? + +O. ART. Ay, if thou seek'st the ruin of my son, +Thou art a tyrant and a blood-sucker. + +O. LUS. Ay, if I seek the ruin of thy son, +I am indeed. + +O. ART. Nay, more, thou art a dotard; +And, in the right of my accused son, +I challenge thee the field. Meet me, I say, +To-morrow morning beside Islington, +And bring thy sword and buckler, if thou dar'st. + +O. LUS. Meet thee with my sword and buckler? +There's my glove. +I'll meet thee, to revenge my daughter's death. +Call'st thou me dotard? Though these threescore years +I never handled weapon but a knife, +To cut my meat, yet will I meet thee there. +God's precious! call me dotard? + +O. ART. I have cause, +Just cause, to call thee dotard, have I not? + +O. LUS. Nay, that's another matter; have you cause? +Then God forbid that I should take exceptions +To be call'd dotard of one that hath cause. + +JUS. My masters, you must leave this quarrelling, for quarrellers are +never at peace; and men of peace, while they are at quiet, are never +quarrelling: so you, whilst you fall into brawls, you cannot choose but +jar. Here comes your son accused, and his wife the accuser; stand forth +both. Hugh, be ready with your pen and ink to take their examinations +and confessions. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS MARY, BRABO, YOUNG MASTER + ARTHUR, MISTRESS SPLAY, HUGH, _and_ OFFICERS. + +Y. ART. It shall not need; I do confess the deed, +Of which this woman here accuseth me; +I poison'd my first wife, and for that deed +I yield me to the mercy of the law. + +O. LUS. Villain! thou mean'st my only daughter, +And in her death depriv'dst me of all joys. + +Y. ART. I mean her. I do confess the deed; +And though my body taste the force of law, +Like an offender, on my knee I beg +Your angry soul will pardon me her death. + +O. LUS. Nay, if he kneeling do confess the deed, +No reason but I should forgive her death. + +JUS. But so the law must not be satisfied; +Blood must have blood, and men must have death; +I think that cannot be dispens'd withal. + +MRS MA. If all the world else would forgive the deed, +Yet would I earnestly pursue the law. + +Y. ART. I had a wife would not have us'd me so; +The wealth of Europe could not hire her tongue +To be offensive to my patient ears; +But, in exchanging her, I did prefer +A devil before a saint, night before day, +Hell before heaven, and dross before tried gold; +Never was bargain with such damage sold. + +BRA. If you want witness to confirm the deed, +I heard him speak it; and that to his face, +Before this presence, I will justify; +I will not part hence, till I see him swing. + +MRS SPLAY. I heard him too: pity but he should die, +And like a murderer be sent to hell. +To poison her, and make her belly swell! + +MRS MA. Why stay you, then? give judgment on the slave, +Whose shameless life deserves a shameful grave. + +Y. ART. Death's bitter pangs are not so full of grief +As this unkindness: every word thou speak'st +Is a sharp dagger thrust quite through my heart. +As little I deserve this at thy hands, +As my kind patient wife deserv'd of me: +I was her torment, God hath made thee mine; +Then wherefore at just plagues should I repine? + +JUS. Where did'st thou buy this poison? for such drugs +Are felony for any man to sell. + +Y. ART. I had the poison of Aminadab: +But, innocent man, he was not accessory +To my wife's death; I clear him of the deed. + +JUS. No matter; fetch him, fetch him, bring him +To answer to this matter at the bar. +Hugh, take these officers and apprehend him. + +BRA. I'll aid him too; the schoolmaster, I see, +Perhaps may hang with him for company. + + _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +ANS. This is the day of Arthur's examination +And trial for the murder of his wife; +Let's hear how Justice Reason will proceed, +In censuring of his strict punishment. + +FUL. Anselm, content; let's thrust in 'mong the throng. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB, _brought in with_ OFFICERS. + +AMIN. _O Domine_! what mean these knaves, +To lead me thus with bills and glaves? +O, what example would it be +To all my pupils for to see, +To tread their steps all after me, +If for some fault I hanged be; +Somewhat surely I shall mar, +If you bring me to the bar. +But peace; betake thee to thy wits, +For yonder Justice Reason sits. + +JUS. Sir Dab, Sir Dab, here's one accuseth you, +To give him poison, being ill-employ'd: +Speak, how in this case you can clear yourself. + +AMIN. _Hei mihi_! what should I say? the poison given I deny; +He took it perforce from my hands, and, _Domine_, why not? +I got it of a gentleman; he most freely gave it, +As he knew me; my meaning was only to have it.[24] + +Y. ART. 'Tis true, I took it from this man perforce, +And snatch'd it from his hand by rude constraint, +Which proves him in this act not culpable. + +JUS. Ay, but who sold the poison unto him? +That must be likewise known; speak, schoolmaster. + +AMIN. A man _verbosus_, that was a fine _generosus_; +He was a great guller, his name I take to be Fuller; +See where he stands, that unto my hands convey'd a powder; +And, like a knave, sent her to her grave, obscurely to shroud her. + +JUS. Lay hands on him; are you a poison-seller? +Bring him before us: sirrah, what say you? +Sold you a poison to this honest man? + +FUL. I sold no poison, but I gave him one +To kill his rats? + +JUS. Ha, ha! I smell a rat. +You sold him poison then to kill his rats? +The word to kill argues a murd'rous mind; +And you are brought in compass of the murder +So set him by, we will not hear him speak: +That Arthur, Fuller, and the schoolmaster, +Shall by the judges be examined. + +ANS. Sir, if my friend may not speak for himself, +Yet let me his proceedings justify. + +JUS. What's he that will a murther justify? +Lay hands on him, lay hands on him, I say; +For justifiers are all accessories, +And accessories have deserved to die. +Away with him! we will not hear him speak; +They all shall to the High Commissioners. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR. + +MRS ART. Nay, stay them, stay them yet a little while! +I bring a warrant to the contrary; +And I will please all parties presently. + +Y. ART. I think my wife's ghost haunts me to my death; +Wretch that I was, to shorten her life's breath! + +O. ART. Whom do I see, my son's wife? + +O. LUS. What, my daughter? + +JUS. Is it not Mistress Arthur that we see, +That long since buried we suppos'd to be? + +MRS ART. This man's condemn'd for pois'ning of his wife; +His poison'd wife yet lives, and I am she; +And therefore justly I release his bands: +This man, for suff'ring him these drugs to take, +Is likewise bound, release him for my sake: +This gentleman that first the poison gave, +And this his friend, to be releas'd I crave: +Murther there cannot be where none is kill'd; +Her blood is sav'd, whom you suppos'd was spill'd. +Father-in-law, I give you here your son, +The act's to do which you suppos'd was done. +And, father, now joy in your daughter's life, +Whom heaven hath still kept to be Arthur's wife. + +O. ART. O, welcome, welcome, daughter! now I see +God by his power hath preserved thee. + +O. LUS. And 'tis my wench, whom I suppos'd was dead; +My joy revives, and my sad woe is fled. + +Y. ART. I know not what I am, nor where I am; +My soul's transported to an ecstasy, +For hope and joy confound my memory. + +MRS MA. What do I see? lives Arthur's wife again? +Nay then I labour for his death in vain. [_Aside_. + +BRA. What secret force did in her nature lurk, +That in her soul the poison would not work? [_Aside_. + +MRS SPLAY. How can it be the poison took no force? +She lives with that which would have kill'd a horse! [_Aside_. + +MRS ART. Nay, shun me not; be not asham'd at all; +To heaven, not me, for grace and pardon fall. +Look on me, Arthur; blush not at my wrongs. + +Y. ART. Still fear and hope my grief and woe prolongs. +But tell me, by what power thou didst survive? +With my own hands I temper'd that vile draught, +That sent thee breathless to thy grandsire's grave, +If that were poison I receiv'd of him. + +AMIN. That _ego nescio_, but this dram +Receiv'd I of this gentleman; +The colour was to kill my rats, +But 'twas my own life to despatch. + +FUL. Is it even so? then this ambiguous doubt +No man can better than myself decide; +That compound powder was of poppy made and mandrakes, +Of purpose to cast one into a sleep, +To ease the deadly pain of him whose leg +Should be saw'd off; +That powder gave I to the schoolmaster. + +AMIN. And that same powder, even that _idem_, +You took from me, the same, _per fidem_! + +Y. ART. And that same powder I commix'd with wine, +Our godly knot of wedlock to untwine. + +O. ART. But, daughter, who did take thee from thy grave? + +O. LUS. Discourse it, daughter. + +ANS. Nay, that labour save; +Pardon me, Master Arthur, I will now +Confess the former frailty of my love. +Your modest wife with words I tempted oft; +But neither ill I could report of you, +Nor any good I could forge for myself, +Would win her to attend to my request; +Nay, after death I lov'd her, insomuch +That to the vault where she was buried +My constant love did lead me through the dark, +There ready to have ta'en my last farewell. +The parting kiss I gave her I felt warm; +Briefly, I bare her to my mother's house, +Where she hath since liv'd the most chaste and true, +That since the world's creation eye did view. + +Y. ART. My first wife, stand you here: my second, there, +And in the midst, myself; he that will choose +A good wife from a bad, come learn of me, +That have tried both, in wealth and misery. +A good wife will be careful of her fame, +Her husband's credit, and her own good name; +And such art thou. A bad wife will respect +Her pride, her lust, and her good name neglect; +And such art thou. A good wife will be still +Industrious, apt to do her husband's will; +But a bad wife, cross, spiteful and madding, +Never keep home, but always be a-gadding; +And such art thou. A good wife will conceal +Her husband's dangers, and nothing reveal +That may procure him harm; and such art thou. +But a bad wife corrupts chaste wedlock's vow. +On this hand virtue, and on this hand sin; +This who would strive to lose, or this to win? +Here lives perpetual joy, here burning woe; +Now, husbands, choose on which hand you will go. +Seek virtuous wives, all husbands will be blest; +Fair wives are good, but virtuous wives are best. +They that my fortunes will peruse, shall find +No beauty's like the beauty of the mind. + + [_Exeunt_. + + +THE END. + + + + + + +THE RETURN FROM PARNASSUS. + + + + +_EDITION. + + +The Retvrne from Pernassvs: Or, The Scourge of Simony. Publiquely acted +by the Students in Saint Iohns Colledge in Cambridge. At London Printed +by G. Eld, for Iohn Wright, and are to bee sold at his shop at +Christchurch Gate_. 1606. 4to. + +[See Hazlitt's "Handbook," p. 470. Almost all the extant copies of this +drama--and no fewer than ten have been examined--appear to vary in +certain literal particulars. Of two copies in the Malone collection, one +presents additions which might bespeak it a later impression than the +other; and yet, on the other hand, has errors (some of a serious kind) +peculiar to itself. The text has now been considerably improved by the +collection of the quartos at Oxford. + +It was the intention of my kind acquaintance, the Rev. J.W. Ebsworth, +Vicar of Moldash, by Ashford, Kent, to have reprinted the "Return from +Parnassus" separately; but on learning that I intended to include it in +my series, Mr Ebsworth not only gave way, but obligingly placed the +annotated copy which he had prepared, at my free disposal. + +I have also to thank Dr Ingleby, of Valentines, near Ilford, Essex, for +lending me a copy of the play corresponding with one of those in the +Bodleian, as regards its occasionally various readings. + +A long account, and very favourable estimate, of this drama will be +found in Hazlitt's "Dramatic Literature of the Age of Elizabeth," 1820.] + + + + +[HAWKINS'S PREFACE.] + + +We can learn no more of the history of this play than what the +title-page gives us, viz., that it was "publickly acted by the students +in Saint John's College, Cambridge."[25] The merits and characters of +our old poets and actors are censured by the author with great freedom; +and the shameful prostitution of Church preferment, by the selling of +livings to the ignorant and unworthy, laid the foundation of Dr Wild's +"Benefice, a Comedy," 4to, 1689. + +[Hawkins himself elsewhere (in his "General Introduction") remarks:--] + +As the piece which follows, called "The Return from Parnassus," is, +perhaps, the most singular composition in our language, it may be proper +to give a succinct analysis of it. This satirical drama seems to have +been composed by the wits and scholars of Cambridge, where it was acted +at the opening of the last century. The design of it was to expose the +vices and follies of the rich in those days, and to show that little +attention was paid by that class of men to the learned and ingenious. +Several students of various capacities and dispositions leave the +university in hopes of advancing their fortunes in the metropolis. One +of them attempts to recommend himself by his publications; another, to +procure a benefice by paying his court to a young spark named Amoretto, +with whom he had been intimate at college; two others endeavour to gain +a subsistence by successively appearing as physicians, actors, and +musicians: but the Man of Genius is disregarded, and at last prosecuted +for his productions; the benefice is sold to an illiterate clown; and in +the end three of the scholars are compelled to submit to a voluntary +exile; another returns to Cambridge as poor as when he left it; and the +other two, finding that neither their medicines nor their music would +support them, resolve to turn shepherds, and to spend the rest of their +days on the Kentish downs. There is a great variety of characters in +this play, which are excellently distinguished and supported; and some +of the scenes have as much wit as can be desired in a perfect comedy. +The simplicity of its plan must naturally bring to our mind the old +species of comedy described by Horace, in which, before it was +restrained by a public edict, living characters were exposed by name +upon the stage, and the audience made merry at their expense without any +intricacy of plot or diversity of action: thus in the piece before us +Burbage and Kempe, two famous actors, appear in their proper persons; +and a number of acute observations are made on the poets of that age, of +whom the editor has given an account in the notes, and has added some +chosen specimens of their poetry. + +[The late Mr Bolton Corney thought that this play was from the pen of +John Day. We learn from the Prologue that a drama, of which nothing is +now known, preceded it, under the title of "The Pilgrimage to +Parnassus." The loss is perhaps to be regretted.] + + + + +THE PROLOGUE. + + + BOY, STAGEKEEPER, MOMUS, DEFENSOR. + +BOY. +Spectators, we will act a comedy: _non plus_. + +STAGEKEEPER. +A pox on't, this book hath it not in it: you would be whipped, thou +rascal; thou must be sitting up all night at cards, when thou should be +conning thy part. + +BOY. +It's all along on you; I could not get my part a night or two before, +that I might sleep on it. + + [STAGEKEEPER _carrieth the_ BOY _away under his arm_. + +MOMUS. +It's even well done; here is such a stir about a scurvy English show! + +DEFENSOR. +Scurvy in thy face, thou scurvy Jack: if this company were not,--you +paltry critic gentleman, you that know what it is to play at primero or +passage--you that have been student at post and pair, saint and loadam +--you that have spent all your quarter's revenues in riding post one +night in Christmas, bear with the weak memory of a gamester. + +MOMUS. +Gentlemen, you that can play at noddy, or rather play upon noddies--you +that can set up a jest at primero instead of a rest, laugh at the +prologue, that was taken away in a voider. + +DEFENSOR. +What we present, I must needs confess, is but slubber'd invention: if +your wisdom obscure the circumstance, your kindness will pardon the +substance. + +MOMUS. +What is presented here is an old musty show, that hath lain this +twelvemonth in the bottom of a coal-house amongst brooms and old shoes; +an invention that we are ashamed of, and therefore we have promised the +copies to the chandler to wrap his candles in. + +DEFENSOR. +It's but a Christmas toy; and may it please your courtesies to let it pass. + +MOMUS. +It's a Christmas toy, indeed! as good a conceit as sloughing[26] +hotcockles or blindman-buff. + +DEFENSOR. +Some humours you shall see aimed at, if not well-resembled. + +MOMUS. +Humours, indeed! Is it not a pretty humour to stand hammering upon two +_individuum vagum_, two scholars, some whole year? These same Philomusus +and Studioso have been followed with a whip and a verse, like a couple +of vagabonds, through England and Italy. The Pilgrimage to Parnassus and +the Return from Parnassus have stood the honest stagekeepers in many a +crown's expense for links and vizards; purchased a sophister a knock +with[27] a club; hindered the butler's box,[28] and emptied the college +barrels: and now, unless you know the subject well, you may return home +as wise as you came, for this last is the least part of the return from +Parnassus: that is both the first and last time that the author's wit +will turn upon the toe in this vein, and at this time the scene is not +at Parnassus, that is, looks not good invention in the face. + +DEFENSOR. +If the catastrophe please you not, impute it to the unpleasing fortunes +of discontented scholars. + +MOMUS. +For catastrophe, there's never a tale in Sir John Mandeville or Bevis +of Southampton, but hath a better turning. + +STAGEKEEPER. +What, you jeering ass! begone, with a pox! + +MOMUS. +You may do better to busy yourself in providing beer; for the show +will be pitiful dry, pitiful dry. [_Exit_. + +STAGEKEEPER. +No more of this: I heard the spectators ask for a blank verse. +What we show is but a Christmas jest; +Conceive of this, and guess of all the rest: +Full like a scholar's hapless fortune's penn'd, +Whose former griefs seldom have happy end. +Frame as well we might with easy strain, +With far more praise and with as little pain, +Stories of love, where forne[29] the wond'ring bench +The lisping gallant might enjoy his wench; +Or make some sire acknowledge his lost son: +Found, when the weary act is almost done.[30] +Nor unto this, nor unto that our scene is bent; +We only show a scholar's discontent. +In scholars' fortunes, twice forlorn and dead, +Twice hath our weary pen erst laboured; +Making them pilgrims in Parnassus' Hill, +Then penning their return with ruder quill. +Now we present unto each pitying eye +The scholars' progress in their misery: +Refined wits, your patience is our bliss; +Too weak our scene, too great your judgment is: +To you we seek to show a scholar's state, +His scorned fortunes, his unpity'd fate; +To you: for if you did not scholars bless, +Their case, poor case, were too-too pitiless. +You shade the muses under fostering, +And made[31] them leave to sigh, and learn to sing. + + + +THE NAMES OF THE ACTORS. + +INGENIOSO. +JUDICIO. +DANTER. +PHILOMUSUS. +STUDIOSO. +FUROR POETICUS. +PHANTASMA. +_Patient_. +RICARDETTO. +THEODORE, _a Physician_. +BURGESS, _a Patient_. +JAQUES, _a Studioso_. +ACADEMICO. +AMORETTO. +_Page_. +SIGNIOR IMMERITO. +STERCUTIO, _his Father_. +SIR RADERIC. +_Recorder_. +_Page_. +PRODIGO. +BURBAGE. +KEMP. +_Fiddlers_. +_Patient's man_. + + + + +THE RETURN FROM PARNASSUS. + + + +ACTUS I, SCAENA 1. + + + INGENIOSO, _with Juvenal in his hand_. + +INGENIOSO. +_Difficile est satyram non scribere. Nam quis iniquae +Tam patiens Urbis, tam ferreus,[32] ut teneat se_? +Ay, Juvenal, thy jerking hand is good, +Not gently laying on, but fetching blood; +So, surgeon-like, thou dost with cutting heal, +Where nought but lancing[33] can the wound avail: +O, suffer me, among so many men, +To tread aright the traces of thy pen, +And light my link at thy eternal flame, +Till with it I brand everlasting shame +On the world's forehead, and with thine own spirit +Pay home the world according to his merit. +Thy purer soul could not endure to see +Ev'n smallest spots of base impurity, +Nor could small faults escape thy cleaner hands. +Then foul-fac'd vice was in his swaddling-bands, +Now, like Anteus, grown a monster is, +A match for none but mighty Hercules: +Now can the world practise in plainer guise +Both sins of old and new-born villanies: +Stale sins are stole; now doth the world begin +To take sole pleasure in a witty sin: +Unpleasant as[34] the lawless sin has been, +At midnight rest, when darkness covers sin; +It's clownish, unbeseeming a young knight, +Unless it dare outface the glaring light: +Nor can it nought our gallant's praises reap, +Unless it be done in staring Cheap, +In a sin-guilty coach, not closely pent, +Jogging along the harder pavement. +Did not fear check my repining sprite, +Soon should my angry ghost a story write; +In which I would new-foster'd sins combine, +Not known erst by truth-telling Aretine. + + + +ACTUS I, SCAENA 2. + + + _Enter_ JUDICIO _and_ INGENIOSO. + +JUDICIO. +What, Ingenioso, carrying a vinegar bottle about thee, like a great +schoolboy giving the world a bloody nose?[35] + +INGENIOSO. +Faith, Judicio, if I carry the vinegar bottle, it's great reason I +should confer it upon the baldpated world: and again, if my kitchen +want the utensils[36] of viands, it's great reason other men should +have the sauce of vinegar; and for the bloody nose, Judicio, I may +chance, indeed, give the world a bloody nose, but it shall hardly give +me a crack'd crown, though it gives other poets French crowns. + +JUDICIO. +I would wish thee, Ingenioso, to sheathe thy pen, for thou canst not +be successful in the fray, considering thy enemies have the advantage +of the ground. + +INGENIOSO. +Or rather, Judicio, they have the grounds with advantage, and the +French crowns with a pox; and I would they had them with a plague too: +but hang them, swads, the basest corner in my thoughts is too gallant +a room to lodge them in. But say, Judicio, what news in your press? +did you keep any late corrections upon any tardy pamphlets? + +JUDICIO. +_Veterem jubes renovare dolorem_, Ingenioso: whate'er befalls thee, +keep thee from the trade of the corrector of the press. + +INGENIOSO. +Marry, so I will, I warrant thee; if poverty press not too much, I'll +correct no press but the press of the people. + +JUDICIO. +Would it not grieve any good spirits to sit a whole month knitting out +a lousy, beggarly pamphlet, and, like a needy physician, to stand whole +years tossing and tumbling the filth that falleth from so many draughty +inventions as daily swarm in our printing-house. + +INGENIOSO. +Come, I think we shall have you put finger in the eye, and cry, O +friends, no friends! Say, man, what new paper hobby-horses, what +rattle-babies, are come out in your late May morris-dance? + +JUDICIO. +Fly[37] my rhymes as thick as flies in the sun; I think there be never +an alehouse in England, not any so base a maypole on a country green, +but sets forth some poet's petronels or demi-lances to the paper wars +in Paul's Churchyard. + +INGENIOSO. +And well too may the issue of a strong hop learn to hop all over +England, when as better wits sit, like lame cobblers, in their studies. +Such barmy heads will always be working, when as sad vinegar wits sit +souring at the bottom of a barrel; plain meteors, bred of the +exhalation of tobacco and the vapours of a moist pot, that soar[38] up +into the open air, when as sounder wit keeps below. + +JUDICIO. +Considering the furies of the times, I could better endure to see those +young can-quaffing hucksters shoot off their pellets, so they would +keep them from these English _Flores poetarum_; but now the world is +come to that pass, that there starts up every day an old goose that +sits hatching up those eggs which have been filched from the nest of +crows and kestrels. Here is a book, Ingenioso; why, to condemn it to +clear [fire,][39] the usual Tyburn of all misliving papers, were too +fair a death for so foul an offender. + +INGENIOSO. +What's the name of it, I pray thee, Judicio? + +JUDICIO. +Look, it's here; "Belvidere."[40] + +INGENIOSO. +What, a bell-wether in Paul's Churchyard! so called because it keeps a +bleating, or because it hath the tinkling bell of so many poets about +the neck of it? What is the rest of the title? + +JUDICIO. "The Garden of the Muses." + +INGENIOSO. +What have we here, the poet garish, gaily bedecked, like fore-horses of +the parish? What follows? + +JUDICIO. +_Quem, referent musae, vivet, dum robora tellus, +Dum coelum stellas, dum vehit amnis aquas_. +Who blurs fair paper with foul bastard rhymes, +Shall live full many an age in latter times: +Who makes a ballad for an alehouse door, +Shall live in future times for evermore: +Then ( )[41] thy muse shall live so long, +As drafty ballads to thy praise are sung. +But what's his device? Parnassus with the sun and the laurel?[42] I +wonder this owl dares look on the sun; and I marvel this goose flies +not the laurel: his device might have been better, a fool going into +the market-place to be seen, with this motto: _Scribimus indocti_; or, +a poor beggar gleaning of ears in the end of harvest, with this word: +_Sua cuique gloria_. + +JUDICIO. +Turn over the leaf, Ingenioso, and thou shalt see the pains of this +worthy gentleman: _Sentences, gathered out of all kind of poets, +referred to certain methodical heads, profitable for the use of these +times, to rhyme upon any occasion at a little warning_. Read the names. + +INGENIOSO. +So I will, if thou wilt help me to censure them. + + Edmund Spenser. Thomas Watson. + Henry Constable. Michael Drayton. + Thomas Lodge. John Davis. + Samuel Daniel. John Marston. + Kit Marlowe. + +Good men and true; stand together; hear your censure. What's thy +judgment of Spenser? + +JUDICIO. +A sweeter[43] swan than ever sung in Po, +A shriller nightingale than ever bless'd +The prouder groves of self-admiring Rome. +Blithe was each valley, and each shepherd proud, +While he did chant his rural minstrelsy: +Attentive was full many a dainty ear, +Nay, hearers hung upon his melting tongue, +While sweetly of his Fairy Queen he sung; +While to the waters' fall he tun'd for fame, +And in each bark engrav'd Eliza's name: +And yet for all this unregarding soil +Unlac'd the line of his desired life, +Denying maintenance for his dear relief; +Careless care to prevent his exequy, +Scarce deigning to shut up his dying eye. + +INGENIOSO. +Pity it is that gentler wits should breed, +Where thickskin chuffs laugh at a scholar's need. +But softly may our honour's ashes rest, +That lie by merry Chaucer's noble chest. +But, I pray thee, proceed briefly in thy censure, that I may be proud +of myself; as in the first, so in the last, my censure may jump with +thine.--Henry Constable, Samuel Daniel,[44] Thomas Lodge, Thomas Watson. + +JUDICIO. +Sweet Constable[45] doth take the wond'ring ear, +And lays it up in willing prisonment: +Sweet honey-dropping Daniel doth wage +War with the proudest big Italian, +That melts his heart in sugar'd sonneting; +Only let him more sparingly make use +Of others' wit, and use his own the more, +That well may scorn base imitation. +For Lodge[46] and Watson,[47] men of some desert, +Yet subject to a critic's marginal; +Lodge for his oar in ev'ry paper boat, +He, that turns over Galen ev'ry day, +To sit and simper Euphues' Legacy.[48] + +INGENIOSO. +Michael Drayton? + +JUDICIO. +Drayton's sweet muse is like a sanguine dye, +Able to ravish the rash gazer's eye. + +INGENIOSO. +However, he wants one true note of a poet of our times, and that is +this: he cannot swagger it well in a tavern, nor domineer in a +hothouse. John Davis?[49] + +JUDICIO. +Acute John Davis, I affect thy rhymes, +That jerk in hidden charms these looser times; +Thy plainer verse, thy unaffected vein, +Is graced with a fair and sweeping[50] train. + +INGENIOSO. +Lock and Hudson?[51] + +JUDICIO. +Lock and Hudson, sleep, you quiet shavers, among the shavings of the +press, and let your books lie in some old nooks amongst old boots and +shoes; so you may avoid my censure. + +INGENIOSO. Why, then, clap a lock on their feet, and turn them to +commons. John Marston?[52] + +JUDICIO. +What, Monsieur Kinsayder, lifting up your leg, and pissing against the +world? put up, man, put up, for shame! +Methinks he is a ruffian in his style, +Withouten bands or garters' ornament: +He quaffs a cup of Frenchman's Helicon; +Then roister doister in his oily terms, +Cuts, thrusts, and foins, at whomsoever he meets, +And strews about Ram-Alley meditations. +Tut, what cares he for modest close-couch'd terms, +Cleanly to gird our looser libertines? +Give him plain naked words, stripp'd from their shirts, +That might beseem plain-dealing Aretine. +Ay, there is one, that backs a paper steed, +And manageth a penknife gallantly, +Strikes his poinardo at a button's breadth, +Brings the great battering-ram of terms to towns; +And, at first volley of his cannon-shot, +Batters the walls of the old fusty world. + +INGENIOSO. +Christopher Marlowe? + +JUDICIO. +Marlowe was happy in his buskin'd muse; +Alas! unhappy in his life and end: +Pity it is that wit so ill should dwell +Wit lent from heav'n, but vices sent from hell.[53] + +INGENIOSO. +Our theatre hath lost, Pluto hath got, +A tragic penman for a dreary plot. +Benjamin Jonson? + +JUDICIO. +The wittiest fellow of a bricklayer in England. + +INGENIOSO. +A mere empiric, one that gets what he hath by observation, and makes +only nature privy to what he indites; so slow an inventor, that he were +better betake himself to his old trade of bricklaying; a bold whoreson, +as confident now in making of[54] a book, as he was in times past in +laying of a brick. William Shakespeare? + +JUDICIO. +Who loves Adonis' love or Lucrece' rape, +His sweeter verse contains heart-robbing life, +Could but a graver subject him content, +Without love's foolish, lazy[55] languishment. + +INGENIOSO. +Churchyard?[56] +Hath not Shore's wife, although a light-skirts she, +Giv'n him a chaste, long-lasting memory? + +JUDICIO. +No; all light pamphlets once I finden shall, +A Churchyard and a grave to bury all! +Thomas Nash.[57] + +INGENIOSO. +Ay, here is a fellow, Judicio, that carried the deadly stock[58] in his +pen, whose muse was armed with a gag-tooth,[59] and his pen possessed +with Hercules' furies. + +JUDICIO. +Let all his faults sleep with his mournful chest, +And then for ever with his ashes rest: +His style was witty, though he had some gall, +Something he might have mended; so may all: +Yet this I say that, for a mother-wit, +Few men have ever seen the like of it. + + INGENIOSO _reads the rest of the names_. + +JUDICIO. +As for these, they have some of them been the old hedge-stakes of the +press; and some of them are, at this instant, the bots and glanders of +the printing-house: fellows that stand only upon terms to serve the +term,[60] with their blotted papers, write, as men go to stool, for +needs; and when they write, they write as a bear pisses, now and then +drop a pamphlet. + +INGENIOSO. +_Durum telum necessitas_. Good faith, they do, as I do--exchange words +for money. I have some traffic this day with Danter[61] about a little +book which I have made; the name of it is, A Catalogue of Cambridge +Cuckolds. But this Belvidere, this methodical ass, hath made me almost +forget my time; I'll now to Paul's Churchyard; meet me an hour hence at +the sign of the Pegasus in Cheapside, and I'll moist thy temples with a +cup of claret, as hard as the world goes. + + [_Exit_ JUDICIO. + + + +ACTUS I., SCAENA 3. + + + _Enter_ DANTER _the Printer_. + +INGENIOSO. +Danter, thou art deceived, wit is dearer than thou takest it to be: I +tell thee, this libel of Cambridge has much fat and pepper in the nose; +it will sell sheerly underhand, when all these books of exhortations and +catechisms lie moulding on thy shopboard. + +DANTER. +It's true: but, good faith, Master Ingenioso, I lost by your last book; +and, you know, there is many a one that pays me largely for the printing +of their inventions: but, for all this, you shall have forty shillings +and an odd bottle of wine. + +INGENIOSO. +Forty shillings! a fit reward for one of your rheumatic poets, that +beslavers all the paper he comes by, and furnishes all the chandlers +with waste-papers to wrap candles in; but as for me, I'll be paid dear +even for the dregs of my wit: little knows the world what belongs to the +keeping of a good wit in waters, diets, drinks, tobacco, &c. It is a +dainty and a costly creature; and therefore I must be paid sweetly. +Furnish me with money, that I may put myself in a new suit of clothes, +and I'll suit thy shop with a new suit of terms. It's the gallantest +child my invention was ever delivered of: the title is, A Chronicle of +Cambridge Cuckolds. Here a man may see what day of the month such a +man's commons were enclosed, and when thrown open; and when any entailed +some odd crowns upon the heirs of their bodies unlawfully begotten. +Speak quickly: else I am gone. + +DANTER. +O, this will sell gallantly; I'll have it, whatsoever it cost: will you +walk on, Master Ingenioso? We'll sit over a cup of wine, and agree on it. + +INGENIOSO. +A cup of wine is as good a constable as can be to take up the quarrel +betwixt us. + [_Exeunt_. + + + +ACTUS I., SCAENA 4. + + + PHILOMUSUS _in a physician's habit_: STUDIOSO, + _that is_, JAQUES _man, and_ PATIENT. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Tit, tit, tit, non point;[62] non debet fieri phlebotomia in coitu Lunae. +Here is a recipe. + +PATIENT. +A recipe? + +PHILOMUSUS. +Nos Galliâ non curamus quantitatem syllabarum: let me hear how many +stools you do make. Adieu, monsieur: adieu, good monsieur.--What, +Jaques, il n'y a personne apres ici? + +STUDIOSO. +Non. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Then let us steal time for this borrowed shape, +Recounting our unequal haps of late: +Late did the ocean grasp us in his arms; +Late did we live within a stranger air, +Late did we see the cinders of great Rome: +We thought that English fugitives there ate +Gold for restorative, if gold were meat. +Yet now we find by bought experience +That, wheresoe'er we wander up and down +On the round shoulders of this massy world, +Or our ill-fortunes or the world's ill-eye +Forespeak our good, procure[63] our misery. + +STUDIOSO. +So oft the northern wind with frozen wings +Hath beat the flowers that in our garden grew, +Thrown down the stalks of our aspiring youth; +So oft hath winter nipp'd our trees' fair rind, +That now we seem nought but two bared boughs, +Scorn'd by the basest bird that chirps in grove. +Nor Rome, nor Rhemes, that wonted are to give +A cardinal cap to discontented clerks, +That have forsook the home-bred, thatched[64] roofs, +Yielded us any equal maintenance: +And it's as good to starve 'mongst English swine, +As in a foreign land to beg and pine. + +PHILOMUSUS. +I'll scorn the world, that scorneth me again. + +STUDIOSO. +I'll vex the world, that works me so much pain. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Thy[65] lame revenging power the world well weens. + +STUDIOSO. +Flies have their spleen, each silly ant his teens. + +PHILOMUSUS. +We have the words, they the possession have. + +STUDIOSO. +We all are equal in our latest grave. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Soon then, O, soon may we both graved be. + +STUDIOSO. +Who wishes death doth wrong wise destiny. + +PHILOMUSUS. +It's wrong to force life-loathing men to breathe. + +STUDIOSO. +It's sin 'fore doomed day to wish thy death. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Too late our souls flit to their resting-place. + +STUDIOSO. +Why, man's whole life is but a breathing space. + +PHILOMUSUS. +A painful minute seems a tedious year. + +STUDIOSO. +A constant mind eternal woes will bear. + +PHILOMUSUS. +When shall our souls their wearied lodge forego? + +STUDIOSO. +When we have tired misery and woe. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Soon may then fates this gaol[66]-deliver send us: Small woes vex long, +[but] great woes quickly end us. But let's leave this capping of rhymes, +Studioso, and follow our late device, that we may maintain our heads in +caps, our bellies in provender, and our backs in saddle and bridle. +Hitherto we have sought all the honest means we could to live, and now +let us dare _aliqua brevibus gyris[67] et carcere dignum_; let us run +through all the lewd forms of lime-twig, purloining villanies; let us +prove coneycatchers, bawds, or anything, so we may rub out. And first my +plot for playing the French doctor--that shall hold; our lodging stands +here fitly[68] in Shoe Lane: for, if our comings-in be not the better, +London may shortly throw an old shoe after us; and with those shreds of +French that we gathered up in our host's house in Paris, we'll gull the +world, that hath in estimation foreign physicians: and if any of the +hidebound brethren of Cambridge and Oxford, or any of those stigmatic +masters of art that abused us in times pass'd, leave their own +physicians, and become our patients, we'll alter quite the style of +them; for they shall never hereafter write, Your lordship's most +bounden, but, Your lordship's most laxative. + +STUDIOSO. +It shall be so: see what a little vermin poverty altereth a whole milky +disposition. + +PHILOMUSUS. +So then myself straight with revenge I'll sate.[69] + +STUDIOSO. +Provoked patience grows intemperate. + + + + +ACTUS I, SCAENA 5. + + + _Enter_ RICHARDETTO, JAQUES, _Scholar learning French_. + +JAQUES. +How now, my little knave? Quelle nouvelle, monsieur? + +RICHARDETTO. +There's a fellow with a nightcap on his head, an urinal in his hand, +would fain speak with Master Theodore. + +JAQUES. +Parle François, mon petit garçon. + +RICHARDETTO.[70] +Ici un homme, avec le bonnet de nuit sur la tete, et un urinal en la +main, que veut parler avec Maistre Theodore. + +JAQUES. +Fort bien. + +THEODORE. +Jaques, a bonne heure. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +ACTUS I., SCAENA 6. + + + FUROR POETICUS; _and presently after enters_ PHANTASMA. + +FUROR POETICUS, _rapt with contemplation_. +Why, how now, pedant Phoebus?[71] are you smouching Thaly on her tender +lips? There, hoi! peasant, avaunt! Come, pretty short-nosed nymph. O +sweet Thalia, I do kiss thy foot. What, Clio? O sweet Clio! Nay, +prythee, do not weep, Melpomene. What, Urania, Polyhymnia, and Calliope! +let me do reverence to your deities. + [PHANTASMA _pulls him by the sleeve_. +I am your holy swain that, night and day, +Sit for your sakes, rubbing my wrinkled brow, +Studying a month for a epithet. +Nay, silver Cynthia, do not trouble me; +Straight will I thy Endymion's story write, +To which thou hastest me on day and night. +You light-skirt stars, this is your wonted guise, +By gloomy light perk out your doubtful heads; +But when Dan[72] Phoebus shows his flashing snout, +You are sky-puppies;[73] straight your light is out. + +PHANTASMA. +So ho, Furor! +Nay, prythee, good Furor, in sober sadness-- + +FUROR. +Odi profanum vulgus, et arceo. + +PHANTASMA. +Nay, sweet Furor,--ipsae te, Tityre, pinus-- + +FUROR. +Ipsi te fontes, ipsa haec arbusta vocarunt. +Who's that runs headlong on my quill's sharp point, +That, wearied of his life and baser breath, +Offers himself to an Iambic verse? + +PHANTASMA. +Si, quoties peccant homines, sua fulmina mittat +Jupiter, exiguo tempore inermis erit. + +FUROR. +What slimy, bold, presumptuous groom[74] is he, +Dares with his rude, audacious, hardy chat +Thus sever me from sky-bred[75] contemplation? + +PHANTASMA. +_Carmina vel coelo possunt deducere lunam_. + +FUROR. +O Phantasma! what, my individual[76] mate? + +PHANTASMA. +_O, mihi post nullos, Furor, memorande sodales_! + +FUROR. +Say, whence comest thou? sent from what deity? +From great Apollo or sly Mercury? + +PHANTASMA. +I come from the little Mercury Ingenioso: for, +_Ingenio pollet, cui vim natura negavit_. + +FUROR. +Ingenioso? +He is a pretty inventor of slight prose; +But there's no spirit in his grov'lling speech. +Hang him, whose verse cannot outbelch the wind, +That cannot beard and brave Dan Aeolus; +That, when the cloud of his invention breaks, +Cannot outcrack the scarecrow thunderbolt. +Hang him, I say![77] + +PHANTASMA. +_Pendo, pependi; tendo, tetendi; pedo, pepedi_. Will it please you, +Master Furor, to walk with me? I promise to bring you to a drinking-inn +in Cheapside, at the sign of the Nag's Head; for + + _Tempore lenta pati fraena docentur equi_. + +FUROR. +Pass thee before, I'll come incontinent. + +PHANTASMA. +Nay, faith, Master Furor, let's go together, _quoniam convenimus ambo_. + +FUROR. +Let us march on unto the house of fame; +There, quaffing bowls of Bacchus' blood full nimbly, +Indite a-tiptoe strutting poesy. + [_They offer the way one to the other_. + +PHANTASMA. +_Quo me, Bacche, rapis tui plenum? +Tu major: tibi me est aequum parere, Menalca_. + + + +ACTUS II., SCAENA 1. + + + _Enter_ PHILOMUSUS, THEODORE, _his patient, the_ + BURGESS, _and his man with his staff_. + +THEODORE. +[_Puts on his spectacles_.] Monsieur, here are _atomi natantes_, which +do make show your worship to be as lecherous as a bull. + +BURGESS. +Truly, Master Doctor, we are all men. + +THEODORE. +This vater is intention of heat: are you not perturbed with an ache in +your vace[78] or in your occipit? I mean your headpiece. Let me feel +the pulse of your little finger. + +BURGESS. +I'll assure you, Master Theodore, the pulse of my head beats +exceedingly; and I think I have disturbed myself by studying the penal +statutes. + +THEODORE. +Tit, tit, your worship takes care of your speeches. +_O, Curae leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent_: it is an aphorism in Galen. + +BURGESS. +And what is the exposition of that? + +THEODORE. +That your worship must take a gland, _ut emittatur sanguis_: the sign +is _fort_ excellent, _fort_ excellent. + +BURGESS. +Good Master Doctor, use me gently; for, mark you, sir, there is a double +consideration to be had of me: first, as I am a public magistrate; +secondly, as I am a private butcher; and but for the worshipful credit +of the place and office wherein I now stand and live, I would not hazard +my worshipful apparel with a suppository or a glister: but for the +countenancing of the place, I must go oftener to stool; for, as a great +gentleman told me, of good experience, that it was the chief note of a +magistrate not to go to the stool without a physician. + +THEODORE. +Ah, vous êtes un gentilhomme, vraiment.--What, ho, Jaques! Jaques, +donnez-vous un fort gentil purgation for Monsieur Burgess. + +JAQUES. +Votre très-humble serviteur, à votre commandment. + +THEODORE. +Donnez-vous un gentil purge à Monsieur Burgess.--I have considered of +the crasis and syntoma of your disease, and here is un fort gentil +purgation per evacuationem excrementorum, as we physicians use to +parley. + +BURGESS. +I hope, Master Doctor, you have a care of the country's officer. I tell +you, I durst not have trusted myself with every physician; and yet I am +not afraid for myself, but I would not deprive the town of so careful a +magistrate. + +THEODORE. +O Monsieur, I have a singular care of your _valetudo_. It is requisite +that the French physicians be learned and careful; your English +velvet-cap is malignant and envious. + +BURGESS. +Here is, Master Doctor, fourpence--your due, and eightpence--my bounty. +You shall hear from me, good Master Doctor; farewell, farewell, good +Master Doctor. + +THEODORE. +Adieu, good Monsieur; adieu, good sir Monsieur. _Exit_ BURGESS. +Then burst with tears, unhappy graduate; +Thy fortunes still wayward and backward been; +Nor canst thou thrive by virtue nor by sin. + +STUDIOSO. +O, how it grieves my vexed soul to see +Each painted ass in chair of dignity! +And yet we grovel on the ground alone, +Running through every trade, yet thrive by none: +More we must act in this life's tragedy. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Sad is the plot, sad the catastrophe. + +STUDIOSO. +Sighs are the chorus in our tragedy. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And rented thoughts continual actors be.[79] + +STUDIOSO. +Woe is the subject, Phil.;[80] earth the loath'd stage +Whereon we act this feigned personage; +Most like[81] barbarians the spectators be, +That sit and laugh at our calamity. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Bann'd be those hours when, 'mongst the learned throng, +By Granta's muddy bank we whilome sung! + +STUDIOSO. +Bann'd be that hill, which learned wits adore, +Where erst we spent our stock and little store! + +PHILOMUSUS. +Bann'd be those musty mews, where we have spent +Our youthful days in paled languishment! + +STUDIOSO. +Bann'd be those cos'ning arts that wrought our woe, +Making us wand'ring pilgrims to and fro. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And pilgrims must we be without relief; +And wheresoe'er we run, there meets us grief. + +STUDIOSO. +Where'er we toss upon this crabbed stage, +Griefs our companion; patience be our page. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Ah, but this patience is a page of ruth, +A tired lackey to our wand'ring youth! + + + +ACTUS II., SCAENA 2. + + +ACADEMICO, _solus_. +Fain would I have a living, if I could tell how +to come by it. _Echo_. Buy it. +Buy it, fond Echo? why, thou dost greatly +mistake it. _Echo_. Stake it. +Stake it? what should I stake at this game of +simony? _Echo_. Money. +What, is the world a game? are livings gotten +by paying?[82] _Echo_. Paying. +Paying? But say, what's the nearest way to +come by a living? _Echo_. Giving. +Must his worship's fists be needs then oiled with +angels? _Echo_. Angels. +Ought his gouty fists then first with gold to be +greased? _Echo_. Eased. +And is it then such an ease for his ass's back to +carry money? _Echo_. Ay. +Will, then, this golden ass bestow a vicarage +gilded? _Echo_. Gelded. +What shall I say to good Sir Raderic, that have +no[83] gold here? _Echo_. Cold cheer. +I'll make it my lone request, that he would be +good to a scholar. _Echo_. Choler. +Yea, will he be choleric to hear of an art or a +science? _Echo_. Hence. +Hence with liberal arts? What, then, will he +do with his chancel? _Echo_. Sell. +Sell it? and must a simple clerk be fain to compound +then? _Echo_. Pounds then. +What, if I have no pounds? must then my suit +be prorogued? _Echo_. Rogued. +Yea? given to a rogue? Shall an ass this +vicarage compass? _Echo_. Ass. +What is the reason that I should not be as fortunate +as he? _Echo_. Ass he. +Yet, for all this, with a penniless purse will I +trudge to his worship. _Echo_. Words cheap. +Well, if he give me good words, it's more than I +have from an Echo. _Echo_. Go. + + [_Exit_. + + + +ACTUS II, SCAENA 3. + + + AMORETTO _with an Ovid in his hand_, IMMERITO. + +AMORETTO. +Take it on the word of a gentleman, thou cannot have it a penny under; +think on it, think on it, while I meditate on my fair mistress-- +_Nunc sequor imperium, magne Cupido, tuum_. +Whate'er become of this dull, threadbare clerk, +I must be costly in my mistress' eye: +Ladies regard not ragged company. +I will with the revenues of my chaffer'd church +First buy an ambling hobby for my fair, +Whose measur'd pace may teach the world to dance, +Proud of his burden, when he 'gins to prance. +Then must I buy a jewel for her ear, +A kirtle of some hundred crowns or more. +With these fair gifts when I accompani'd go, +She'll give Jove's breakfast; Sidney terms it so. +I am her needle, she is my adamant, +She is my fair rose, I her unworthy prick. + +ACADEMICO. +Is there nobody here will take the pains to geld his mouth? [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +She's Cleopatra, I Mark Antony. + +ACADEMICO. +No, thou art a mere mark for good wits to shoot at: and in that suit +thou wilt make a fine man to dash poor crows out of countenance. + [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +She is my Moon, I her Endymion. + +ACADEMICO. +No, she is thy shoulder of mutton, thou her onion: or she may be thy +Luna, and thou her lunatic. [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +I her Aeneas, she my Dido is. + +ACADEMICO. +She is thy Io, thou her brazen ass, +Or she Dame Phantasy, and thou her gull; +She thy Pasiphae, and thou her loving bull.[84] + [_Aside_. + + + +ACTUS II, SCAENA 4. + + + _Enter_ IMMERITO _and_ STERCUTIO, _his father_. + +STERCUTIO. +Son, is this the gentleman that sells us the living? + +IMMERITO. +Fie, father! thou must not call it selling: thou must say, Is this the +gentleman that must have the _gratuito_? + +ACADEMICO. +What have we here? old truepenny come to town, to fetch away the living +in his old greasy slops? Then, I'll none: the time hath been when such a +fellow meddled with nothing but his ploughshare, his spade, and his +hobnails; and so to a piece of bread and cheese, and went his way. But +now these fellows are grown the only factors for preferment. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +O, is this the grating gentleman? And how many pounds must I pay? + +IMMERITO. +O, thou must not call them pounds, but thanks. And, hark thou, father; +thou must tell of nothing that is done, for I must seem to come clear +to it. + +ACADEMICO. +Not pounds, but thanks? See, whether this simple fellow that hath +nothing of a scholar, but that the draper hath blacked him over, hath +not gotten the style of the time. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +By my faith, son, look for no more portion. + +IMMERITO. +Well, father, I will not--upon this condition, that when thou have +gotten me the _gratuito_ of the living, thou wilt likewise disburse a +little money to the bishop's poser;[85] for there are certain questions +I make scruple to be posed in. + +ACADEMICO. +He means any question in Latin, which he counts a scruple. O. this +honest man could never abide this popish tongue of Latin. O, he is as +true an Englishman as lives. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +I'll take the gentleman, now he is in a good vein, for he smiles. + +AMORETTO. +Sweet Ovid, I do honour every page. + +ACADEMICO. +Good Ovid, that in his lifetime lived with the Getes; and now, after his +death, converseth with a barbarian. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +God be at your work, sir. My son told me you were the grating gentleman; +I am Stercutio his father, sir, simple as I stand here. + +AMORETTO. +Fellow, I had rather given thee an hundred pounds than thou shouldst +have put me out of my excellent meditation: by the faith of a gentleman, +I was wrapp'd in contemplation. + +IMMERITO. +Sir, you must pardon my father: he wants bringing up. + +ACADEMICO. +Marry, it seems he hath good bringing up, when he brings up so much +money. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +Indeed, sir, you must pardon me; I did not know you were a gentleman of +the Temple before. + +AMORETTO. +Well, I am content in a generous disposition to bear with country +education: but, fellow, what's thy name? + +STERCUTIO. +My name, sir? Stercutio, sir. + +AMORETTO. +Why then, Stercutio, I would be very willing to be the instrument to my +father, that this living might be conferred upon your son: marry, I +would have you know that I have been importuned by two or three several +lords, my kind cousins, in the behalf of some Cambridge man, and have +almost engaged my word. Marry, if I shall see your disposition to be +more thankful than other men, I shall be very ready to respect +kind-natured men; for, as the Italian proverb speaketh well, _chi ha, +havra_. + +ACADEMICO. +Why, here is a gallant young drover of livings. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +I beseech you, sir, speak English; for that is natural to me and to my +son, and all our kindred, to understand but one language. + +AMORETTO. +Why thus, in plain English, I must be respected with thanks. + +ACADEMICO. +This is a subtle tractive, when thanks may be felt and seen. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +And I pray you, sir, what is the lowest thanks that you will take? + +ACADEMICO. +The very same method that he useth at the buying of an ox. [_Aside_.] + +AMORETTO. +I must have some odd sprinkling of an hundred pounds; if so, so--I shall +think you thankful, and commend your son as a man of good gifts to my +father. + +ACADEMICO. +A sweet world! give an hundred pounds; and this is but counted +thankfulness! [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +Hark thou, sir; you shall have eighty thanks. + +AMORETTO. +I tell thee, fellow, I never opened my mouth in this kind so cheap +before in my life: I tell thee, few young gentlemen are found that would +deal so kindly with thee as I do. + +STERCUTIO. +Well, sir, because I know my son to be a toward thing, and one that has +taken all his learning on his own head, without sending to the +university, I am content to give you as many thanks as you ask, so you +will promise me to bring it to pass. + +AMORETTO. +I warrant you for that, if I say it once. Repair you to the place, and +stay there. For my father, he is walked abroad to take the benefit of +the air: I'll meet him, as he returns, and make way for your suit. +Gallant, i'faith.[86] + + [_Exeunt_ STERCUTIO _and_ IMMERITO. + + + +ACTUS II., SCAENA 5. + + + ACADEMICO, AMORETTO. + +ACADEMICO. +I see, we scholars fish for a living in these shallow fords without a +silver hook. Why, would it not gall a man to see a spruce gartered youth +of our college, a while ago, be a broker for a living and an old bawd +for a benefice? This sweet sir preferred me much kindness when he was of +our college, and now I'll try what wind remains in his bladder. God save +you, sir. + +AMORETTO. +By the mass, I fear me, I saw this _genus_ and _species_ in Cambridge +before now: I'll take no notice of him now. [_Aside_.] By the faith of a +gentleman, this is pretty elegy. Of what age is the day, fellow? Sirrah +boy, hath the groom saddled my hunting hobby? Can Robin hunter tell +where a hare sits? [_Soliloquising_. + +ACADEMICO. +See a poor Old friend of yours of S---- College in Cambridge. + +AMORETTO. +Good faith, sir, you must pardon me: I have forgotten you. + +ACADEMICO. +My name is Academico, sir; one that made an oration for you once on the +Queen's day, and a show that you got some credit by. + +AMORETTO. +It may be so, it may be so; but I have forgotten it. Marry, yet I +remember that there was such a fellow that I was beneficial unto in my +time. But, howsoever, sir, I have the courtesy of the town for you. +I am sorry you did not take me at my father's house; but now I am in +exceeding great haste, for I have vowed the death of a hare that we +found this morning musing on her meaze. + +ACADEMICO. +Sir, I am emboldened by that great acquaintance that heretofore I had +with you, as likewise it hath pleased you heretofore-- + +AMORETTO. +Look, sirrah, if you see my hobby come hitherward as yet. + +ACADEMICO. +--to make me some promises, I am to request your good mediation to the +worshipful your father in my behalf: and I will dedicate to yourself, +in the way of thanks, those days I have to live. + +AMORETTO. +O good sir, if I had known your mind before; for my father hath already +given the induction to a chaplain of his own--to a proper man--I know +not of what university he is. + +ACADEMICO. +Signior Immerito, they say, hath bidden fairest for it. + +AMORETTO. +I know not his name; but he is a grave, discreet man, I warrant him: +indeed, he wants utterance in some measure. + +ACADEMICO. +Nay, methinks he hath very good utterance for his gravity, for he came +hither very grave; but, I think, he will return light enough, when he +is rid of the heavy element he carries about him. [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +Faith, sir, you must pardon me: it is my ordinary custom to be too +studious; my mistress hath told me of it often, and I find it to hurt +my ordinary discourse: but say, sweet sir, do ye affect the most +gentlemanlike game of hunting? + +ACADEMICO. +How say you to the crafty gull? he would fain get me abroad to make +sport with me in their hunters' terms, which we scholars are not +acquainted with. [_Aside_.] Sir, I have loved this kind of sport; but +now I begin to hate it, for it hath been my luck always to beat the +bush, while another killed the hare. + +AMORETTO. +Hunters' luck, hunters' luck, sir; but there was a fault in your hounds, +that did spend well. + +ACADEMICO. +Sir, I have had worse luck always at hunting the fox. + +AMORETTO. +What, sir, do you mean at the unkennelling, untapezing, or earthing of +the fox? + +ACADEMICO. +I mean, earthing, if you term it so;--for I never found yellow earth +enough to cover the old fox your father. [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +Good faith, sir, there is an excellent skill in blowing for the terriers; +it is a word that we hunters use. When the fox is earthed, you must blow +one long, two short; the second wind, one long, two short. Now, sir, in +blowing, every long containeth seven quavers, one short containeth three +quavers. + +ACADEMICO. +Sir, might I find any favour in my suit, I would wind the horn, wherein +your boon[87] deserts should be sounded with so many minims, so many +quavers. + +AMORETTO. +Sweet sir, I would I could confer this or any kindness upon you:--I +wonder, the boy comes not away with my hobby. Now, sir, as I was +proceeding--when you blow the death of your fox in the field or covert, +then must you sound three notes with three winds, and recheat, mark you, +sir, upon the same with three winds. + +ACADEMICO. +I pray you, sir. + +AMORETTO. +Now, sir, when you come to your stately gate, as you sounded the recheat +before, so now you must sound the relief three times. + +ACADEMICO. +Relief, call you it? it were good, every patron would find the horn. + [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +O sir, but your relief is your sweetest note: that is, sir, when your +hounds hunt after a game unknown; and then you must sound one long and +six short; the second wind, two short and one long; the third wind, one +long and two short. + +ACADEMICO. +True, sir, it is a very good trade nowadays to be a villain; I am the +hound that hunts after a game unknown, and blows the villain. + [_Aside_.] + +AMORETTO. +Sir, I will bless your ears with a very pretty story: my father, out of +his own cost and charges, keeps an open table for all kind of dogs. + +ACADEMICO. +And he keeps one more by thee. [_Aside_.] + +AMORETTO. +He hath your greyhound, your mongrel, your mastiff, your levrier, your +spaniel, your kennets, terriers, butchers' dogs, bloodhounds, +dunghill-dogs, trundle-tails, prick-eared curs, small ladies' puppies, +raches,[88] and bastards. + +ACADEMICO. +What a bawdy knave hath he to his father, that keeps his Rachel, hath +his bastards, and lets his sons be plain ladies' puppies to bewray a +lady's chamber. [_Aside_.] + +AMORETTO. +It was my pleasure, two days ago, to take a gallant leash of greyhounds; +and into my father's park I went, accompanied with two or three noblemen +of my near acquaintance, desiring to show them some of the sport. I +caused the keeper to sever the rascal deer from the bucks of the first +head. Now, sir, a buck the first year is a fawn, the second year a +pricket, the third year a sorel, the fourth year a sore, the fifth a +buck of the first head, the sixth year a complete buck; as likewise your +hart is the first year a calf, the second year a brocket, the third year +a spade, the fourth year a stag, the fifth year a great stag, the sixth +year a hart; as likewise the roebuck is the first year a kid, the second +year a girl, the third year a hemuse: and these are your special beasts +for chase, or, as we huntsmen call it, for venery. + +ACADEMICO. +If chaste be taken for venery, thou art a more special beast than any in +thy father's forest. [_Aside_.] Sir, I am sorry I have been so +troublesome to you. + +AMORETTO. +I know this was the readiest way to chase away the scholar, by getting +him into a subject he cannot talk of for his life. [_Aside_.] Sir, I +will borrow so much time of you as to finish this my begun story. Now, +sir, after much travel we singled a buck; I rode that same time upon a +roan gelding, and stood to intercept from the thicket; the buck broke +gallantly; my great swift being disadvantaged in his slip was at the +first behind; marry, presently coted and outstripped them, when as the +hart presently descended to the river, and being in the water, proffered +and reproffered, and proffered again: and, at last, he upstarted at the +other side of the water, which we call soil of the hart, and there other +huntsmen met him with an adauntreley;[89] we followed in hard chase for +the space of eight hours; thrice our hounds were at default, and then we +cried _A slain_! straight, _So ho_; through good reclaiming my faulty +hounds found their game again, and so went through the wood with gallant +noise of music, resembling so many _viols de gambo_. At last the hart +laid him down, and the hounds seized upon him; he groaned, and wept, and +died. In good faith, it made me weep too, to think of Actaeon's fortune, +which my Ovid speaks of-- + [_He reads Ovid_. + + _Militat omnis amans, et habet sua castra Cupido_. + +ACADEMICO. +Sir, can you put me in any hope of obtaining my suit? + +AMORETTO. +In good faith, sir, if I did not love you as my soul, I would not make +you acquainted with the mysteries of my art. + +ACADEMICO. +Nay, I will not die of a discourse yet, if I can choose. + [_Exit unperceived_. + +AMORETTO. +So, sir, when we had rewarded our dogs with the small guts, and the +lights, and the blood, the huntsmen hallooed, _So ho! Venué_, a coupler; +and so coupled the dogs, and then returned homeward. Another company of +hounds, that lay at advantage, had their couples cast off, and we might +hear the huntsmen cry, _Horse, decouple, avant_; but straight we heard +him cry, _Le amond_, and by that I knew that they had the hare, and on +foot; and by and by I might see sore and resore, prick and reprick. +What, is he gone! ha, ha, ha, ha! these scholars are the simplest +creatures! + + + +ACTUS II., SCAENA 6. + + + _Enter Amoretto's_ PAGE. + +PAGE. +I wonder what is become of that Ovid _de arte amandi_.[90] My master, he +that for the practice of his discourse is wont to court his hobby abroad +and at home, in his chamber makes a set speech to his greyhound, +desiring that most fair and amiable dog to grace his company in a +stately galliard; and if the dog, seeing him practise his lusty points, +as his cross-point back-caper, chance to bewray the room, he presently +doft's his cap, most solemnly makes a low leg to his ladyship, taking it +for the greatest favour in the world that she would vouchsafe to leave +her civet-box or her sweet glove behind her. + + [_Enter_ AMORETTO, _reading Ovid_.] + +Not a word more. Sir, an't please you, your hobby will meet you at the +lane's end. + +AMORETTO. +What, Jack? i'faith, I cannot but vent unto thee a most witty jest of +mine. + +PAGE. +I hope my master will not break wind. [_Aside_.] Will't please you, sir, +to bless mine ears with the discourse of it? + +AMORETTO. +Good faith, the boy begins to have an elegant smack of my style. Why, +then, thus it was, Jack, a scurvy mere Cambridge scholar, I know not +how to define him-- + +PAGE. +Nay, master, let me define a mere scholar. I heard a courtier once +define a mere scholar to be _animal scabiosum_, that is, a living +creature that is troubled with the itch; or, a mere scholar is a +creature that can strike fire in the morning at his tinder-box, put on +a pair of lined slippers, sit rheuming[91] till dinner, and then go to +his meat when the bell rings: one that hath a peculiar gift in a cough, +and a licence to spit. Or, if you will have him defined by negatives, he +is one that cannot make a good leg; one that cannot eat a mess of broth +cleanly; one that cannot ride a horse without spur-galling; one that +cannot salute a woman, and look on her directly; one that cannot-- + +AMORETTO. +Enough, Jack; I can stay no longer; I am so great in childbirth with +this jest. Sirrah, this predicable, this saucy groom, because, when I +was in Cambridge, and lay in a trundlebed under my tutor, I was content, +in discreet humility, to give him some place at the table; and because I +invited the hungry slave sometimes to my chamber, to the canvassing of a +turkey-pie or a piece of venison which my lady grandmother sent me, he +thought himself therefore eternally possessed of my love, and came +hither to take acquaintance of me; and thought his old familiarity did +continue, and would bear him out in a matter of weight. I could not tell +how to rid myself better of the troublesome burr than by getting him +into the discourse of hunting; and then tormenting him a while with our +words of art, the poor scorpion became speechless, and suddenly +vanished![92] These clerks are simple fellows, simple fellows. + [_He reads Ovid_.] + +PAGE. +Simple, indeed, they are; for they want your courtly composition of a +fool and of a knave. [_Aside_.] Good faith, sir, a most absolute jest; +but, methinks, it might have been followed a little further. + +AMORETTO. +As how, my little knave? + +PAGE. +Why thus, sir; had you invited him to dinner at your table, and have put +the carving of a capon upon him, you should have seen him handle the +knife so foolishly, then run through a jury of faces, then wagging his +head and showing his teeth in familiarity, venture upon it with the same +method that he was wont to untruss an apple-pie, or tyrannise an egg and +butter: then would I have applied him all dinner-time with clean +trenchers, clean trenchers; and still when he had a good bit of meat, I +would have taken it from him by giving him a clean trencher, and so have +served him in kindness. + +AMORETTO. +Well said, subtle Jack; put me in mind, when I return again, that I may +make my lady mother laugh at the scholar. I'll to my game; for you, +Jack, I would have you employ your time, till my coming, in watching +what hour of the day my hawk mutes. [_Exit_. + +PAGE. +Is not this an excellent office, to be apothecary to his worship's hawk, +to sit scouting on the wall how the physic works? And is not my master +an absolute villain, that loves his hawk, his hobby, and his greyhound, +more than any mortal creature? Do but dispraise a feather of his hawk's +train, and he writhes his mouth, and swears (for he can do that only +with a good grace) that you are the most shallow-brained fellow that +lives. Do but say his horse stales with a good presence, and he's your +bondslave. When he returns, I'll tell twenty admirable lies of his hawk; +and then I shall be his little rogue and his white villain for a whole +week after. Well, let others complain; but I think there is no felicity +to the serving of a fool. + + + + +ACTUS III., SCAENA 1. + + + SIR RADERIC, RECORDER, PAGE, SIGNIOR IMMERITO. + +SIR RADERIC. +Signior Immerito, you remember my caution for the tithes, and my promise +for farming my tithes at such a rate? + +IMMERITO. +Ay, and please your worship, sir. + +SIR RADERIC. +You must put in security for the performance of it, in such sort as I +and Master Recorder shall like of. + +IMMERITO. +I will, an't please your worship. + +SIR RADERIC. +And because I will be sure that I have conferred this kindness upon a +sufficient man, I have desired Master Recorder to take examination of +you. + +PAGE. +My master, it seems, takes him for a thief; but he hath small reason for +it. As for learning, it's plain he never stole any; and for the living, +he knows himself how he comes by it; for let him but eat a mess of +furmenty this seven year, and yet he shall never be able to recover +himself. Alas, poor sheep, that hath fallen into the hands of such a +fox! [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +Good Master Recorder, take your place by me, and make trial of his +gifts: is the clerk there to record his examination? O, the page shall +serve the turn. + +PAGE. +Trial of his gifts! never had any gifts a better trial: why, Immerito's +gifts have appeared in as many colours as the rainbow; first, to Master +Amoretto, in colour of the satin suit he wears: to my lady, in the +similitude of a loose gown: to my master, in the likeness of a silver +basin and ewer: to us pages, in the semblance of new suits and points. +So Master Amoretto plays the gull in a piece of a parsonage; my master +adorns his cupboard with a piece of a parsonage; my mistress, upon good +days, puts on a piece of a parsonage; and we pages play at blowpoint for +a piece of a parsonage: I think here's trial enough for one man's gifts. + [_Aside_. + +RECORDER. +Forasmuch as nature hath done her part in making you a handsome likely +man-- + +PAGE. +He is a handsome young man indeed, and hath a proper gelded parsonage.[93] + [_Aside_. + +RECORDER. +In the next place, some art is requisite for the perfection of nature: +for the trial whereof, at the request of my worshipful friend, I will in +some sort propound questions fit to be resolved by one of your +profession. Say, what is a person that was never at the university? + +IMMERITO. +A person that was never in the university is a living creature that can +eat a tithe-pig. + +RECORDER. +Very well answered; but you should have added--and must be officious to +his patron. Write down that answer to show his learning in logic. + +SIR RADERIC. +Yea, boy, write that down. Very learnedly, in good faith. I pray now, +let me ask you one question that I remember: whether is the masculine +gender or the feminine more worthy? + +IMMERITO. +The feminine, sir. + +SIR RADERIC. +The right answer, the right answer. In good faith, I have been of that +mind always. Write, boy, that to show he is a grammarian. + +PAGE. +No marvel my master be against the grammar; for he hath always made +false Latin in the genders. [_Aside_. + +RECORDER. +What university are you of? + +IMMERITO. +Of none. + +SIR RADERIC. +He tells truth; to tell truth is an excellent virtue. Boy, make two +heads, one for his learning, another for his virtues; and refer this to +the head of his virtues, not of his learning. + +PAGE. +What, half a mess of good qualities referred to an ass' head? + [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +Now, Master Recorder, if it please you, I will examine him in an author +that will sound him to the depth--a book of astronomy, otherwise called +an almanac. + +RECORDER. +Very good, Sir Raderic; it were to be wished that there were no other +book of humanity, then there would not be such busy, state-frying +fellows as are nowadays. Proceed, good sir. + +SIR RADERIC. +What is the dominical letter? + +IMMERITO. +C, sir, and please your worship. + +SIR RADERIC. +A very good answer, a very good answer, the very answer of the book. +Write down that, and refer it to his skill in philosophy. + +PAGE. +C the dominical letter? It is true: Craft and Cunning do so domineer; +yet, rather C and D are dominical letters, that is, crafty duncery. + [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +How many days hath September? + +IMMERITO. +April, June, and November, February hath twenty-eight alone; and all +the rest hath thirty and one. + +SIR RADERIC. +Very learnedly, in good faith, he hath also a smack in poetry. Write +down that, boy, to show his learning in poetry. How many miles from +Waltham to London? + +IMMERITO. +Twelve, sir. + +SIR RADERIC, +How many from Newmarket to Grantham? + +IMMERITO. +Ten, sir. + +PAGE. +Without doubt, he hath been some carrier's horse. [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +How call you him that is cunning in 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and the cypher? + +IMMERITO. +A good arithmetician. + +SIR RADERIC. +Write down that answer of his, to show his learning in arithmetic. + +PAGE. +He must needs be a good arithmetician, that counted money so lately. + [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +When is the new moon? + +IMMERITO. +The last quarter the fifth day, at two of the clock and thirty-eight +minutes in the morning. + +SIR RADERIC. +Write that down. How call you him that is weatherwise? + +IMMERITO. +A good astronomer. + +SIR RADERIC. +Sirrah boy, write him down for a good astronomer. + +PAGE. +Ass colit ass-tra. [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +What day of the month lights the Queen's day on? + +IMMERITO. +The seventeenth of November.[94] + +SIR RADERIC. +Boy, refer this to his virtues, and write him down a good subject. + +PAGE. +Faith, he were an excellent subject for two or three good wits: he would +make a fine ass for an ape to ride upon. [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +And these shall suffice for the parts of his learning. Now it remains to +try whether you be a man of good utterance, that is, whether you can ask +for the strayed heifer with the white face, as also chide the boys in +the belfry, and bid the sexton whip out the dogs. Let me hear your +voice. + +IMMERITO. +If any man or woman-- + +SIR RADERIC. +That's too high. + +IMMERITO. +If any man or woman-- + +SIR RADERIC. +That's too low. + +IMMERITO. +If any man or woman can tell any tidings of a horse with four feet, two +ears, that did stray about the seventh hour, three minutes in the +forenoon the fifth day-- + +PAGE. +A book of[95] a horse, just as it were the eclipse of the moon. + [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +Boy, write him down for a good utterance. Master Recorder, I think he +hath been examined sufficiently. + +RECORDER. +Ay, Sir Raderic, 'tis so; we have tried him very throughly. + +PAGE. +Ay, we have taken an inventory of his good parts, and prized them +accordingly. + +SIR RADERIC. +Signior Immerito, forasmuch as we have made a double trial of thee--the +one of your learning, the other of your erudition--it is expedient also, +in the next place, to give you a few exhortations, considering the +greatest clerks are not the wisest men. This is therefore, first, to +exhort you to abstain from controversies; secondly, not to gird at men +of worship, such as myself, but to use yourself discreetly; thirdly, not +to speak when any man or woman coughs--do so, and in so doing, I will +persevere to be your worshipful friend and loving patron. + +IMMERITO. +I thank your worship, you have been the deficient cause of my preferment. + +SIR RADERIC. +Lead Immerito into my son, and let him despatch him; and remember--my +tithes to be reserved, paying twelvepence a year. I am going to +Moorfields to speak with an unthrift I should meet at the Middle-Temple +about a purchase; when you have done, follow us. + + [_Exeunt_ IMMERITO _and the_ PAGE. + + + +ACTUS III., SCAENA 2. + + + SIR RADERIC _and_ RECORDER. + +SIR RADERIC. +Hark you, Master Recorder: I have fleshed my prodigal boy notably, +notably, in letting him deal for this living; that hath done him much +good, much good, I assure you. + +RECORDER. +You do well, Sir Raderic, to bestow your living upon such an one as will +be content to share, and on Sunday to say nothing; whereas your proud +university princox thinks he is a man of such merit the world cannot +sufficiently endow him with preferment. An unthankful viper, an +unthankful viper, that will sting the man that revived him. +Why, is't not strange to see a ragged clerk +Some stamel weaver or some butcher's son, +That scrubb'd a-late within a sleeveless gown, +When the commencement, like a morris-dance, +Hath put a bell or two about his legs, +Created him a sweet clean gentleman; +How then he 'gins to follow fashions: +He, whose thin sire dwells in a smoky roof, +Must take tobacco, and must wear a lock; +His thirsty dad drinks in a wooden bowl, +But his sweet self is serv'd in silver plate. +His hungry sire will scrape you twenty legs +For one good Christmas meal on New-Year's day, +But his maw must be capon-cramm'd each day; +He must ere long be triple-beneficed, +Else with his tongue he'll thunderbolt the world, +And shake each peasant by his deaf man's ear. +But, had the world no wiser men than I, +We'd pen the prating parrots in a cage. +A chair, a candle, and a tinder-box, +A thacked[96] chamber and a ragged gown, +Should be their lands and whole possessions; +Knights, lords, and lawyers should be lodg'd and dwell +Within those over-stately heaps of stone, +Which doating sires in old age did erect. +Well, it were to be wished, that never a scholar in England might have +above forty pound a year. + +SIR RADERIC. +Faith, Master Recorder, if it went by wishing, there should never an one +of them all have above twenty a year--a good stipend, a good stipend, +Master Recorder. I in the meantime, howsoever I hate them all deadly, +yet I am fain to give them good words. O, they are pestilent fellows, +they speak nothing but bodkins, and piss vinegar. Well, do what I can +in outward kindness to them, yet they do nothing but bewray my house: +as there was one that made a couple of knavish verses on my country +chimney, now in the time of my sojourning here at London; and it was +thus-- +Sir Raderic keeps no chimney cavalier, +That takes tobacco above once a year. +And another made a couple of verses on my daughter, that learns to play +on the _viol-de-gambo_-- +Her _viol-de-gambo_ is her best content; +For 'twixt her legs she holds her instrument. +Very knavish, very knavish, if you look into it, Master Recorder. Nay, +they have played many a knavish trick beside with me. Well, 'tis a +shame, indeed, there should be any such privilege for proud beggars as +Cambridge and Oxford are. But let them go; and if ever they light in my +hands, if I do not plague them, let me never return home again to see +my wife's waiting-maid! + +RECORDER. +This scorn of knights is too egregious: +But how should these young colts prove amblers, +When the old, heavy, galled jades do trot? +There shall you see a puny boy start up, +And make a theme against common lawyers; +Then the old, unwieldy camels 'gin to dance, +This fiddling boy playing a fit of mirth; +The greybeards scrub, and laugh, and cry, _Good, good! +To them again, boy; scourge the barbarians_. +But we may give the losers leave to talk; +We have the coin, then tell them laugh for me. +Yet knights and lawyers hope to see the day, +When we may share here their possessions, +And make indentures of their chaffer'd skins, +Dice of their bones to throw in merriment. + +SIR RADERIC. +O, good faith, Master Recorder, if I could see that day once? + +RECORDER. +Well, remember another day what I say: scholars are pryed into of late, +and are found to be busy fellows, disturbers of the peace. I'll say no +more; guess at my meaning. I smell a rat. + +SIR RADERIC. +I hope at length England will be wise enough, I hope so, i'faith; then +an old knight may have his wench in a corner without any satires or +epigrams. But the day is far spent, Master Recorder; and I fear by this +time the unthrift is arrived at the place appointed in Moorfields. Let +us hasten to him. [_He looks on his watch_. + +RECORDER. +Indeed, this day's subject transported us too late: [but] I think we +shall not come much too late. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +ACTUS III., SCAENA 3. + + + _Enter_ AMORETTO, _and his Page_, IMMERITO _booted_. + +AMORETTO. +Master Immerito, deliver this letter to the poser in my father's name. +Marry, withal some sprinkling, some sprinkling; _verbum sapienti sat +est_. Farewell, Master Immerito. + +IMMERITO. +I thank your worship most heartily. + +PAGE. +Is it not a shame to see this old dunce learning his induction at these +years? But let him go, I lose nothing by him; for I'll be sworn, but for +the booty of selling the parsonage, I should have gone in mine old +clothes this Christmas. A dunce, I see, is a neighbour-like brute beast: +a man may live by him. [_Aside_. + + [_AMORETTO seems to make verse_. + +AMORETTO. +A pox on it, my muse is not so witty as she was wont to be: ---- _Her +nose is like_ ---- not yet; plague on these mathematics! they have +spoiled my brain in making a verse. + +PAGE. +Hang me, if he hath any more mathematics than will serve to count the +clock, or tell the meridian hour by rumbling of his paunch. + [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +_Her nose is like_ ---- + +PAGE. +A cobbler's shoeing-horn. + +AMORETTO. +_Her nose is like a beauteous maribone_. [_Aside_. + +PAGE. +Marry, a sweet snotty mistress! [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +Faith, I do not like it yet. Ass as I was, to read a piece of Aristotle +in Greek yesternight; it hath put me out of my English vein quite. + +PAGE. +O monstrous lie! let me be a point-trusser, while I live, if he +understands any tongue but English. [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +Sirrah boy, remember me when I come in Paul's Churchyard to buy a +Ronsard and [a] Dubartas in French, and Aretine in Italian; and our +hardest writers in Spanish; they will sharpen my wits gallantly. I do +relish these tongues in some sort. O, now I do remember, I hear a +report of a poet newly come out in Hebrew; it is a pretty harsh tongue, +and telleth[97] a gentleman traveller: but come, let's haste after my +father; the fields are fitter to heavenly meditations. + [_Exit_. + +PAGE. +My masters, I could wish your presence at an admirable jest: why +presently this great linguist my master will march through Paul's +Churchyard, come to a bookbinder's shop, and with a big Italian look and +a Spanish face ask for these books in Spanish and Italian; then, turning +(through his ignorance) the wrong end of the book upward, use action on +this unknown tongue after this sort: First, look on the title, and +wrinkle his brow; next make as though he read the first page, and bite +'s lip;[98] then with his nail score the margent, as though there were +some notable conceit; and, lastly, when he thinks he hath gulled the +standers-by sufficiently, throws the book away in a rage, swearing that +he could never find books of a true print since he was last in +Joadna;[99] inquire after the next mart, and so departs. And so must I; +for by this time his contemplation is arrived at his mistress's nose +end; he is as glad as if he had taken Ostend.[100] By this time he +begins to spit, and cry, Boy, carry my cloak: and now I go to attend on +his worship. + + [_Exit_. + + + +ACTUS III., SCAENA 4. + + + _Enter_ INGENIOSO, FUROR, PHANTASMA. + +INGENIOSO. +Come, lads; this wine whets your resolution in our design: it's a needy +world with subtle spirits; and there's a gentlemanlike kind of begging, +that may beseem poets in this age. + +FUROR. +Now by the wing of nimble Mercury, +By my Thalia's silver-sounding harp, +By that celestial fire within my brain, +That gives a living genius to my lines, +Howe'er my dulled intellectual +Capers less nimbly than it did afore; +Yet will I play a hunts-up to my muse, +And make her mount from out her sluggish nest. +As high as is the highest sphere in heaven. +Awake, you paltry trulls of Helicon, +Or, by this light, I'll swagger with you straight: +You grandsire Phoebus, with your lovely eye, +The firmament's eternal vagabond, +The heaven's promoter, that doth peep and pry +Into the acts of mortal tennis-balls, +Inspire me straight with some rare delicies,[101] +Or I'll dismount thee from thy radiant coach, +And make thee poor[102] Cutchy here on earth. + +PHANTASMA. +_Currus auriga paterni_. + +INGENIOSO. +Nay, prythee, good Furor, do not rove in rhymes before thy time; thou +hast a very terrible, roaring muse, nothing but squibs and fine jerks: +quiet thyself a while, and hear thy charge. + +PHANTASMA. +_Huc ades, haec animo concipe dicta tuo_. + +INGENIOSO. +Let us on to our device, our plot, our project. That old Sir Raderic, +that new printed compendium of all iniquity, that hath not aired his +country chimney once in three winters; he that loves to live in an old +corner here at London, and affect an old wench in a nook; one that loves +to live in a narrow room, that he may with more facility in the dark +light upon his wife's waiting-maid; one that loves alike a short sermon +and a long play; one that goes to a play, to a whore, to his bed, in +circle: good for nothing in the world but to sweat nightcaps and foul +fair lawn shirts, feed a few foggy servingmen, and prefer dunces to +livings--this old Sir Raderic, Furor, it shall be thy task to cudgel +with thy thick, thwart terms; marry, at the first, give him some +sugarcandy terms,[103] and then, if he will not untie purse-strings of +his liberality, sting him with terms laid in aquafortis and gunpowder. + +FUROR. +_In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas_. +The servile current of my sliding verse +Gentle shall run into his thick-skinn'd ears; +Where it shall dwell like a magnifico, +Command his slimy sprite to honour me +For my high, tiptoe, strutting poesy: +But if his stars hath favour'd him so ill, +As to debar him by his dunghill thoughts, +Justly to esteem my verses' lowting pitch, +If his earth-rooting snout shall 'gin to scorn +My verse that giveth immortality; +Then _Bella per Emathios_-- + +PHANTASMA. +_Furor arma ministrat_. + +FUROR. +I'll shake his heart upon my verses' point, +Rip out his guts with riving poniard, +Quarter his credit with a bloody quill. + +PHANTASMA. +_Calami, atramentum, charta, libelli, +Sunt semper studiis arma parata tuis_. + +INGENIOSO. +Enough, Furor, we know thou art a nimble swaggerer with a goose-quill. +Now for you, Phantasma: leave trussing your points, and listen. + +PHANTASMA. +_Omne tulit punctum_-- + +INGENIOSO. +Mark you, Amoretto, Sir Raderic's son, to him shall thy piping poetry +and sugar-ends of verses be directed: he is one that will draw out his +pocket-glass thrice in a walk; one that dreams in a night of nothing but +musk and civet, and talks of nothing all day long but his hawk, his +hound, and his mistress; one that more admires the good wrinkle of a +boot, the curious crinkling of a silk-stocking, than all the wit in the +world; one that loves no scholar but him whose tired ears can endure +half a day together his fly-blown sonnets of his mistress, and her +loving, pretty creatures, her monkey and her puppy.[104] It shall be thy +task, Phantasma, to cut this gull's throat with fair terms; and, if he +hold fast for all thy juggling rhetoric, fall at defiance with him and +the poking-stick he wears. + +PHANTASMA. +_Simul extulit ensem_. + +INGENIOSO. +Come, brave imps,[105] gather up your spirits, and let us march on, like +adventurous knights, and discharge a hundred poetical spirits upon them. + +PHANTASMA. +_Est deus in nobis: agitante calescimus illo_. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +ACTUS III., SCAENA 5. + + + _Enter_ PHILOMUSUS, STUDIOSO. + +STUDIOSO. +Well, Philomusus, we never 'scaped so fair a scouring: why, yonder are +pursuivants out for the French doctor, and a lodging bespoken for him +and his man in Newgate. It was a terrible fear that made us cast our +hair. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And canst thou sport at our calamities, +And count'st us happy to 'scape prisonment? +Why, the wide world, that blesseth some with weal,[106] +Is to our chained thoughts a darksome jail. + +STUDIOSO. +Nay, prythee, friend, these wonted terms forego; +He doubles grief, that comments on a woe. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Why do fond men term it impiety +To send a wearisome, sad, grudging ghost +Unto his home, his long-long, lasting home? +Or let them make our life less grievous be, +Or suffer us to end our misery. + +STUDIOSO. +O no; the sentinel his watch must keep, +Until his lord do licence him to sleep. + +PHILOMUSUS. +It's time to sleep within our hollow graves, +And rest us in the darksome womb of earth: +Dead things are grav'd, our[107] bodies are no less +Pin'd and forlorn, like ghostly carcases. + +STUDIOSO. +Not long this tap of loathed life can run; +Soon cometh death, and then our woe is done: +Meantime, good Philomusus, be content; +Let's spend our days in hopeful merriment. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Curs'd be our thoughts, whene'er they dream of hope, +Bann'd be those haps, that henceforth flatter us, +When mischief dogs us still and still for ay, +From our first birth until our burying day: +In our first gamesome age, our doting sires +Carked and cared to have us lettered, +Sent us to Cambridge, where our oil is spent; +Us our kind college from the teat did tear,[108] +And forc'd us walk, before we weaned were. +From that time since wandered have we still +In the wide world, urg'd by our forced will, +Nor ever have we happy fortune tried; +Then why should hope with our rent state abide? +Nay, let us run unto the baseful cave, +Pight in the hollow ribs of craggy cliff, +Where dreary owls do shriek the live-long night, +Chasing away the birds of cheerful light; +Where yawning ghosts do howl in ghastly wise, +Where that dull, hollow-eyed, that staring sire, +Yclep'd Despair, hath his sad mansion: +Him let us find, and by his counsel we +Will end our too much irked misery. + +STUDIOSO. +To wail thy haps, argues a dastard mind. + +PHILOMUSUS. +To bear[109] too long, argues an ass's kind. + +STUDIOSO. +Long since the worst chance of the die was cast. + +PHILOMUSUS. +But why should that word _worst_ so long time last? + +STUDIOSO. +Why dost thou now these sleepy plaints commence? + +PHILOMUSUS. +Why should I e'er be dull'd with patience? + +STUDIOSO. +Wise folk do bear with, struggling cannot mend. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Good spirits must with thwarting fates contend. + +STUDIOSO. +Some hope is left our fortunes to redress. + +PHILOMUSUS. +No hope but this--e'er to be comfortless. + +STUDIOSO. +Our life's remainder gentler hearts may find. + +PHILOMUSUS. +The gentlest hearts to us will prove unkind. + + + + +ACTUS IV., SCAENA 1. + + + SIR RADERIC _and_ PRODIGO _at one corner of the stage_; RECORDER + _and_ AMORETTO _at the other: two_ PAGES _scouring of tobacco-pipes_. + +SIR RADERIC. +Master Prodigo, Master Recorder hath told you law--your land is +forfeited; and for me not to take the forfeiture were to break the +Queen's law. For mark you, it's law to take the forfeiture; therefore +not to take[110] it is to break the Queen's law; and to break the +Queen's law is not to be a good subject, and I mean to be a good +subject. Besides, I am a justice of the peace; and, being justice of the +peace, I must do justice--that is, law--that is, to take the forfeiture, +especially having taken notice of it. Marry, Master Prodigo, here are a +few shillings over and besides the bargain. + +PRODIGO. +Pox on your shillings! 'Sblood, a while ago, before he had me in the +lurch, who but my cousin Prodigo? You are welcome, my cousin Prodigo. +Take my cousin Prodigo's horse. A cup of wine for my cousin Prodigo. +Good faith, you shall sit here, good cousin Prodigo. A clean trencher +for my cousin Prodigo. Have a special care of my cousin Prodigo's +lodging. Now, Master Prodigo with a pox, and a few shillings for a +vantage. A plague on your shillings! Pox on your shillings! If it were +not for the sergeant, which dogs me at my heels, a plague on your +shillings! pox on your shillings! pox on yourself and your shillings! +pox on your worship! If I catch thee at Ostend--I dare not stay for the +sergeant. [_Exit_. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Good faith, Master Prodigo is an excellent fellow. He takes the Gulan +Ebullitio so excellently. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +He is a good liberal gentleman: he hath bestowed an ounce of tobacco +upon us; and, as long as it lasts, come cut and long tail, we'll spend +it as liberally for his sake. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Come, fill the pipe quickly, while my master is in his melancholy +humour; it's just the melancholy of a collier's horse. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +If you cough, Jack, after your tobacco, for a punishment you shall kiss +the pantofle. + +SIR RADERIC. +It's a foul oversight, that a man of worship cannot keep a wench in his +house, but there must be muttering and surmising. It was the wisest +saying that my father ever uttered, that a wife was the name of +necessity, not of pleasure; for what do men marry for, but to stock +their ground, and to have one to look to the linen, sit at the upper end +of the table, and carve up a capon; one that can wear a hood like a +hawk, and cover her foul face with a fan. But there's no pleasure +always to be tied to a piece of mutton; sometimes a mess of stewed broth +will do well, and an unlaced rabbit is best of all. Well, for mine own +part, I have no great cause to complain, for I am well-provided of three +bouncing wenches, that are mine own fee-simple; one of them I am +presently to visit, if I can rid myself cleanly of this company. Let me +see how the day goes [_he pulls his watch out_]. Precious coals! the +time is at hand; I must meditate on an excuse to be gone. + +RECORDER. +The which, I say, is grounded on the statute I spake of before, enacted +in the reign of Henry VI. + +AMORETTO. +It is a plain case, whereon I mooted[111] in our Temple, and that was +this: put case, there be three brethren, John a Nokes, John a Nash, and +John a Stile. John a Nokes the elder, John a Nash the younger, and John +a Stile the youngest of all. John a Nash the younger dieth without issue +of his body lawfully begotten. Whether shall his lands ascend to John a +Nokes the elder, or descend to John a Stile the youngest of all? The +answer is, the lands do collaterally descend, not ascend. + +RECORDER. +Very true; and for a proof hereof I will show you a place in Littleton +which is very pregnant in this point. + + + +ACTUS IV., SCAENA 2. + + + _Enter_ INGENIOSO, FUROR, PHANTASMA. + +INGENIOSO. +I'll pawn my wits, that is, my revenues, my land, my money, and +whatsoever I have, for I have nothing but my wit, that they are at hand. +Why, any sensible snout may wind Master Amoretto and his pomander, +Master Recorder and his two neat's feet that wear no socks, Sir Raderic +by his rammish complexion; _Olet Gorgonius hircum, sicut Lupus in +fabula_. Furor, fire the touch-box of your wit: Phantasma, let your +invention play tricks like an ape: begin thou, Furor, and open like a +flap-mouthed hound: follow thou, Phantasma, like a lady's puppy: and as +for me, let me alone; I'll come after, like a water-dog, that will shake +them off when I have no use of them. My masters, the watchword is given. +Furor, discharge. + +FUROR to SIR RADERIC. +The great projector of the thunderbolts, +He that is wont to piss whole clouds of rain +Into the earth, vast gaping urinal, +Which that one-ey'd subsizer of the sky, +Dan Phoebus, empties by calidity; +He and his townsmen planets brings to thee +Most fatty lumps of earth's fecundity.[112] + +SIR RADERIC. +Why, will this fellow's English break the Queen's peace? +I will not seem to regard him. + +PHANTASMA _to_ AMORETTO. +[_Reads from a Horace, addressing himself_.] +_Mecaenas, atavis edite regibus, +O, et praesidium et dulce decus meum, +Dii faciant votis vela secunda tuis_. + +INGENIOSO. +God save you, good Master Recorder, and good fortunes follow your +deserts. +I think I have cursed him sufficiently in few words. [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +What have we here? three begging soldiers? +Come you from Ostend or from Ireland? + +PAGE. +_Cujum pecus? an Melibaei?_ I have vented all the Latin one man had. + +PHANTASMA. +_Quid dicam amplius? domini similis os_. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +Let him [not] alone, I pray thee. To him again: tickle him there! + +PHANTASMA. +_Quam dispari domino dominaris?_ + +RECORDER. +Nay, that's plain in Littleton; for if that fee-simple and fee-tail be +put together, it is called hotch-potch. Now, this word hotch-potch in +English is a pudding; for in such a pudding is not commonly one thing +only, but one thing with another. + +AMORETTO. +I think I do remember this also at a mooting in our Temple. So then this +hotch-potch seems a term of similitude? + +FUROR to SIR RADERIC. +Great Capricornus, of thy head take keep: +Good Virgo, watch, while that thy worship sleep; +And when thy swelling vents amain, +Then Pisces be thy sporting chamberlain. + +SIR RADERIC. +I think the devil hath sent some of his family to torment me. + +AMORETTO. +There is tail-general and tail-special, and Littleton is very copious in +that theme; for tail-general is when lands are given to a man and his +heirs of his body begotten; tail-special is when lands are given to a +man and to his wife, and to the heirs of their two bodies lawfully +begotten; and that is called tail-special. + +SIR RADERIC. +Very well; and for his oath I will give a distinction. There is a +material oath and a formal oath; the formal oath may be broken, the +material may not be broken: for mark you, sir, the law is to take place +before the conscience, and therefore you may, using me your councillor, +cast him in the suit. There wants nothing to be full meaning of this +place. + +PHANTASMA. +_Nihil hic nisi carmina desunt_. + +INGENIOSO. +An excellent observation, in good faith. See how the old fox teacheth +the young cub to worry a sheep; or rather sits himself, like an old +goose, hatching the addle brain of Master Amoretto. There is no fool to +the satin fool, the velvet fool, the perfumed fool; and therefore the +witty tailors of this age put them under colour of kindness into a pair +of cloth bags, where a voider will not serve the turn. And there is no +knave to the barbarous knave, the moulting knave, the pleading +knave.--What, ho! Master Recorder? Master _Noverint universi per +presentes_,--not a word he, unless he feels it in his fist. + +PHANTASMA. +_Mitto tibi merulas, cancros imitare legendo_. + +SIR RADERIC _to_ FUROR. +Fellow, what art thou, that art so bold? + +FUROR. +I am the bastard of great Mercury, +Got on Thalia when she was asleep: +My gaudy grandsire, great Apollo hight,[113] +Born was, I hear, but that my luck was ill, +To all the land upon the forked hill. + +PHANTASMA. +_O crudelis Alexi, nil mea carmina curas? +Nil nostri miserere? mori me denique coges?_ + +SIR RADERIC _to_ PAGE. +If you use them thus, my master is a justice of peace, and will send +you all to the gallows. + +PHANTASMA. +_Hei mihi, quod domino non licet ire tuo?_[114] + +INGENIOSO. +Good Master Recorder, let me retain you this term--for my cause, good +Master Recorder. + +RECORDER. +I am retained already on the contrary part. I have taken my fee; +begone, begone. + +INGENIOSO. +It's his meaning I should come off.[115] Why, here is the true style of +a villain, the true faith of a lawyer; it is usual with them to be +bribed on the one side, and then to take a fee of the other; to plead +weakly, and to be bribed and rebribed on the one side, then to be fee'd +and refee'd of the other; till at length, _per varios casus_, by putting +the case so often, they make their clients so lank, that they may case +them up in a comb-case, and pack them home from the term, as though they +had travelled to London to sell their horse only; and, having lost their +fleeces, live afterward like poor shorn sheep. + +FUROR. +The gods above, that know great Furor's fame, +And do adore grand poet Furor's name, +Granted long since at heaven's high parliament, +That whoso Furor shall immortalise, +No yawning goblins shall frequent his grave; +Nor any bold, presumptuous cur shall dare +To lift his leg against his sacred dust. +Where'er I have my rhymes, thence vermin fly, +All, saving that foul-fac'd vermin poverty. +This sucks the eggs of my invention, +Evacuates my wit's full pigeon-house. +Now may it please thy generous dignity +To take this vermin napping, as he lies +In the true trap of liberality, +I'll cause the Pleiades to give thee thanks; +I'll write thy name within the sixteenth sphere: +I'll make th'Antarctic pole to kiss thy toe. +And Cynthia to do homage to thy tail. + +SIR RADERIC. +Precious coals! thou a man of worship and justice too? It's even so, +he is either a madman or a conjuror. It were well if his words were +examined, to see if they be the Queen's or no. + +PHANTASMA. +_Nunc si nos audis, tu qui es divinus Apollo, +Dic mihi, qui nummos non habet, unde petat?_ + +AMORETTO. +I am still haunted with these needy Latinist fellows.--The best counsel +I can give is, to be gone. + +PHANTASMA. +_Quod peto da, Caie; non peto consilium_. + +AMORETTO. +Fellow, look to your brains; you are mad, you are mad. + +PHANTASMA. +_Semel insanivimus omnes_. + +AMORETTO. +Master Recorder, is it not a shame that a gallant cannot walk the street +quietly for needy fellows, and that, after there is a statute come out +against begging? [_He strikes his breast_. + +PHANTASMA. +_Pectora percussit, pectus quoque robora fiunt_. + +RECORDER. +I warrant you, they are some needy graduates; the university breaks wind +twice a year, and let's fly such as these are. + +INGENIOSO. +So ho, Master Recorder. You that are one of the devil's fellow-commoners; +one that sizeth the devil's butteries, sins, and perjuries very lavishly; +one that are so dear to Lucifer, that he never puts you out of commons +for nonpayment; you that live, like a sumner, upon the sins of the +people; you whose vocation serves to enlarge the territories of hell +that, but for you, had been no bigger than a pair of stocks or a +pillory; you, that hate a scholar because he descries your ass's ears; +you that are a plague-stuffed cloak-bag of all iniquity, which the +grand serving-man of hell will one day truss up behind him, and carry +to his smoky wardrobe. + +RECORDER. +What frantic fellow art thou, that art possessed with the spirit of +malediction? + +FUROR. +Vile, muddy clod of base, unhallowed clay, +Thou slimy-sprighted, unkind Saracen, +When thou wert born, Dame Nature cast her calf; +For age and time hath made thee a great ox, +And now thy grinding jaws devour quite +The fodder due to us of heavenly spright. + +PHANTASMA. +_Nefasto te posuit die, +Quicunque primum, et sacrilegâ manu +Produxit arbos in nepotum +Perniciem obpropriumque pugi_. + +INGENIOSO. +I pray you, Monsieur Ploidon, of what university was the first lawyer +of? None, forsooth: for your law is ruled by reason, and not by art; +great reason, indeed, that a Polydenist should be mounted on a trapped +palfry with a round velvet dish on his head, to keep warm the broth of +his wit, and a long gown that makes him look like a _Cedant arma togae_, +whilst the poor Aristotelians walk in a short cloak and a close Venetian +hose, hard by the oyster-wife; and the silly poet goes muffled in his +cloak to escape the counter. And you, Master Amoretto, that art the +chief carpenter of sonnets, a privileged vicar for the lawless marriage +of ink and paper, you that are good for nothing but to commend in a set +speech, to colour the quantity of your mistress's stool, and swear it is +most sweet civet; it's fine, when that puppet-player Fortune must put +such a Birchen-Lane post in so good a suit, such an ass in so good +fortune! + +AMORETTO. +Father, shall I draw? + +SIR RADERIC. +No, son; keep thy peace, and hold the peace. + +INGENIOSO. +Nay, do not draw, lest you chance to bepiss your credit. + +FUROR. +_Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo_. +Fearful Megaera, with her snaky twine, +Was cursed dam unto thy damned self; +And Hircan tigers in the desert rocks +Did foster up thy loathed, hateful life; +Base Ignorance the wicked cradle rock'd, +Vile Barbarism was wont to dandle thee; +Some wicked hellhound tutored thy youth. +And all the grisly sprights of griping hell +With mumming look hath dogg'd thee since thy birth: +See how the spirits do hover o'er thy head, +As thick as gnats in summer eveningtide. +Baleful Alecto, prythee, stay awhile, +Till with my verses I have rack'd his soul; +And when thy soul departs, a cock may be +No blank at all in hell's great lottery-- +Shame sits and howls upon thy loathed grave, +And howling, vomits up in filthy guise +The hidden stories of thy villanies. + +SIR RADERIC. +The devil, my masters, the devil in the likeness of a poet! Away, +my masters, away! + +PHANTASMA. +_Arma, virumque cano. +Quem fugis, ah demens_? + +AMORETTO. +Base dog, it is not the custom in Italy to draw upon every idle cur that +barks; and, did it stand with my reputation--O, well, go to; thank my +father for your lives. + +INGENIOSO. +Fond gull, whom I would undertake to bastinado quickly, though there +were a musket planted in thy mouth, are not you the young drover of +livings Academico told me of, that haunts steeple fairs? Base worm, +must thou needs discharge thy carbine[116] to batter down the walls +of learning? + +AMORETTO. +I think I have committed some great sin against my mistress, that I am +thus tormented with notable villains, bold peasants. I scorn, I scorn +them! [_Exit_. + +FUROR _to_ RECORDER. +Nay, prythee, good sweet devil, do not thou part; +I like an honest devil, that will show +Himself in a true hellish, smoky hue: +How like thy snout is to great Lucifer's? +Such talents[117] had he, such a gleering eye, +And such a cunning sleight in villany. + +RECORDER. +O, the impudency of this age! And if I take you in my quarters-- + [_Exit_. + +FUROR. +Base slave, I'll hang thee on a crossed rhyme, +And quarter-- + +INGENIOSO. +He is gone; Furor, stay thy fury. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +I pray you, gentlemen, give three groats for a shilling. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +What will you give me for a good old suit of apparel? + +PHANTASMA. +_Habet et musca splenem, et formicae sua bilis inest_. + +INGENIOSO. +Gramercy,[118] good lads. This is our share in happiness, to torment +the happy. Let's walk along and laugh at the jest; it's no staying here +long, lest Sir Raderic's army of bailiffs and clowns be sent to +apprehend us. + +PHANTASMA. +_Procul hinc, procul ite, profani_. +I'll lash Apollo's self with jerking hand, +Unless he pawn his wit to buy me land. + + + +ACTUS IV., SCAENA 3. + + + BURBAGE, KEMP. + +BURBAGE. +Now, Will Kemp, if we can entertain these scholars at a low rate, it +will be well; they have oftentimes a good conceit in a part. + +KEMP. +It's true, indeed, honest Dick, but the slaves are somewhat proud; and +besides, it's a good sport in a part to see them never speak in their +walk, but at the end of the stage; just as though, in walking with a +fellow, we should never speak but at a stile, a gate, or a ditch, where +a man can go no further. I was once at a comedy in Cambridge, and there +I saw a parasite make faces and mouths of all sorts on this fashion. + +BURBAGE. +A little teaching will mend these faults; and it may be, besides, they +will be able to pen a part. + +KEMP. +Few of the university pen play well; they smell too much of that writer +Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis, and talk too much of Proserpina and +Jupiter. Why, here's our fellow Shakespeare puts them all down--ay, and +Ben Jonson too. O, that Ben Jonson is a pestilent fellow; he brought up +Horace, giving the poets a pill;[119] but our fellow Shakespeare hath +given him a purge that made him bewray his credit. + +BURBAGE. +It's a shrewd fellow, indeed. I wonder these scholars stay so long; they +appointed to be here presently, that we might try them. O, here they +come. + +STUDIOSO. +Take heart, these lets our clouded thoughts refine; +The sun shines brightest when it 'gins decline. + +BURBAGE. +Master Philomusus and Master Studioso, God save you. + +KEMP. +Master Philomusus and Master Otioso,[120] well-met. + +PHILOMUSUS. +The same to you, good Master Burbage. What, Master Kemp, how doth the +Emperor of Germany?[121] + +STUDIOSO. +God save you, Master Kemp; welcome, Master Kemp, from dancing the morris +over the Alps. + +KEMP. +Well, you merry knaves, you may come to the honour of it one day. Is it +not better to make a fool of the world as I have done, than to be fooled +of the world, as you scholars are? But be merry, my lads; you have +happened upon the most excellent vocation in the world for money. They +come north and south to bring it to our playhouse; and for honours, who +of more report than Dick Burbage and Will Kemp? He is not counted a +gentleman that knows not Dick Burbage and Will Kemp. There's not a +country wench that can dance Sellenger's round,[122] but can talk of +Dick Burbage and Will Kemp. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Indeed, Master Kemp, you are very famous; but that is as well for works +in print, as your part in cue.[123] + +KEMP. +You are at Cambridge still with size cue, and be lusty humorous poets. +You must untruss; I rode this my last circuit purposely, because I would +be judge of your actions. + +BURBAGE. +Master Studioso, I pray you, take some part in this book, and act it, +that I may see what will fit you best. I think your voice would serve +for Hieronimo; observe how I act it, and then imitate me. + [_He recites_. + +STUDIOSO. +Who call Hieronimo from his naked bed? +And_, &c.[124] + +BURBAGE. +You will do well--after a while. + +KEMP. + +Now for you. Methinks you should belong to my tuition; and your face, +methinks, would be good for a foolish mayor or a foolish justice of +peace. Mark me:-- + +Forasmuch as there be two states of a commonwealth, the one of peace, +the other of tranquillity; two states of war, the one of discord, the +other of dissension; two states of an incorporation, the one of the +aldermen, the other of the brethren; two states of magistrates, the one +of governing, the other of bearing rule. Now, as I said even now--for a +good thing[125] cannot be said too often. Virtue is the shoeing-horn of +justice; that is, virtue is the shoeing-horn of doing well; that is, +virtue is the shoeing-horn of doing justly; it behoveth me, and is my +part to commend this shoeing-horn unto you. I hope this word +shoeing-horn doth not offend any of you, my worshipful brethren; for +you, being the worshipful headsmen of the town, know well what the horn +meaneth. Now therefore I am determined not only to teach, but also to +instruct, not only the ignorant, but also the simple; not only what is +their duty towards their betters, but also what is their duty towards +their superiors. + +Come, let me see how you can do; sit down in the chair. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Forasmuch as there be, &c. + +KEMP. +Thou wilt do well in time, if thou wilt be ruled by thy betters, that +is, by myself, and such grave aldermen of the playhouse as I am. + +BURBAGE. +I like your face, and the proportion of your body for Richard the Third. +I pray, Master Philomusus, let me see you act a little of it. + +PHILOMUSUS. +_Now is the winter of our discontent +Made glorious summer by the sun of York_. + +BURBAGE. +Very well, I assure you. Well, Master Philomusus and Master Studioso, we +see what ability you are of; I pray, walk with us to our fellows, and +we'll agree presently. + +PHILOMUSUS. +We will follow you straight, Master Burbage. + +KEMP. +It's good manners to follow us, Master Philomusus and Master Otioso. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And must the basest trade yield us relief? +Must we be practis'd to those leaden spouts, +That nought down vent but what they do receive? +Some fatal fire hath scorch'd our fortune's wing, +And still we fall, as we do upward spring? +As we strive upward on the vaulted sky, +We fall, and feel our hateful destiny. + +STUDIOSO. +Wonder it is, sweet friend, thy pleading breath, +So like the sweet blast of the south-west wind, +Melts not those rocks of ice, those mounts of snow,[126] +Congeal'd in frozen hearts of men below. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Wonder, as well thou may'st, why 'mongst the waves-- +'Mongst the tempestuous waves on raging sea, +The wailing merchant can no pity crave. +What cares the wind and weather for their pains? +One strikes the sail, another turns the same; +He shakes the main, another takes the oar, +Another laboureth and taketh pain +To pump the sea into the sea again: +Still they take pains, still the loud winds do blow, +Till the ship's prouder mast be laid below. + +STUDIOSO. +Fond world, that ne'er think'st on that aged man-- +That Ariosto's old swift-paced man, +Whose name is Time, who never lins to run, +Loaden with bundles of decayed names, +The which in Lethe's lake he doth entomb, +Save only those which swan-like scholars take, +And do deliver from that greedy lake. +Inglorious may they live, inglorious die, +That suffer learning live in misery. + +PHILOMUSUS. +What caren they what fame their ashes have, +When once they're coop'd up in the silent grave? + +STUDIOSO. +If for fair fame they hope not when they die. +Yet let them fear grave's staining infamy. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Their spendthrift heirs will those firebrands quench, +Swaggering full moistly on a tavern's bench. + +STUDIOSO. +No shamed sire, for all his glosing heir, +Must long be talk'd of in the empty air. +Believe me, thou that art my second self, +My vexed soul is not disquieted, +For that I miss is gaudy-painted state, +Whereat my fortunes fairly aim'd of late: +For what am I, the mean'st of many mo, +That, earning profit, are repaid with woe. +But this it is that doth my soul torment: +To think so many activable wits, +That might contend with proudest bards[127] of Po, +Sit now immur'd within their private cells, +Drinking a long lank watching candle's smoke, +Spending the marrow of their flow'ring age +In fruitless poring on some worm-eat leaf: +When their deserts shall seem of due to claim +A cheerful crop of fruitful swelling sheaf; +Cockle their harvest is, and weeds their grain, +Contempt their portion, their possession, pain. +Scholars must frame to live at a low sail. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Ill-sailing, where there blows no happy gale! + +STUDIOSO. +Our ship is ruin'd, all her tackling rent. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And all her gaudy furniture is spent. + +STUDIOSO. +Tears be the waves whereon her ruins bide. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And sighs the winds that waste her broken side. + +STUDIOSO. +Mischief the pilot is the ship to steer. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And woe the passenger this ship doth bear. + +STUDIOSO. +Come, Philomusus, let us break this chat. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And break, my heart! O, would I could break that! + +STUDIOSO. +Let's learn to act that tragic part we have. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Would I were silent actor in my grave! + + + + +ACTUS V., SCAENA 1. + + + PHILOMUSUS _and_ STUDIOSO _become fiddlers: with their concert_. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And tune, fellow-fiddlers; Studioso and I are ready. + + [_They tune_. + +STUDIOSO, _going aside, sayeth_, +Fair fell good Orpheus, that would rather be +King of a molehill than a keisar's slave: +Better it is 'mongst fiddlers to be chief, +Than at [a] player's trencher beg relief. +But is't not strange, this mimic ape should prize +Unhappy scholars at a hireling rate? +Vile world, that lifts them up to high degree, +And treads us down in groveling misery. +England affords those glorious vagabonds, +That carried erst their fardles on their backs, +Coursers to ride on through the gazing streets, +Sweeping[128] it in their glaring satin suits, +And pages to attend their masterships: +With mouthing words that better wits have framed, +They purchase lands, and now esquires are made.[129] + +PHILOMUSUS. +Whate'er they seem, being ev'n at the best, +They are but sporting fortune's scornful jest. + +STUDIOSO. +So merry fortune's wont from rags to take +Some ragged groom, and him a[130] gallant make. + +PHILOMUSUS. +The world and fortune hath play'd on us too long. + +STUDIOSO. +Now to the world we fiddle must a song. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Our life is a plain-song with cunning penn'd, +Whose highest pitch in lowest base doth end. +But see, our fellows unto play are bent; +If not our minds, let's tune our instrument. + +STUDIOSO. +Let's in a private song our cunning try, +Before we sing to stranger company. + + [PHILOMUSUS _sings. They tune_. + +How can he sing, whose voice is hoarse with care? +How can he play, whose heart-strings broken are? +How can he keep his rest, that ne'er found rest? +How can he keep his time, whom time ne'er bless'd? +Only he can in sorrow bear a part +With untaught hand and with untuned heart. +Fond hearts, farewell, that swallow'd have my youth; +Adieu, vain muses, that have wrought my ruth; +Repent, fond sire, that train'dst thy hapless son +In learning's lore, since bounteous alms are done. +Cease, cease, harsh tongue: untuned music, rest; +Entomb thy sorrows in thy hollow breast. + +STUDIOSO. +Thanks, Philomusus, for thy pleasant song. +O, had this world a touch of juster grief, +Hard rocks would weep for want of our relief. + +PHILOMUSUS. +The cold of woe hath quite untun'd my voice, +And made it too-too hard for list'ning ear: +Time was, in time of my young fortune's spring, +I was a gamesome boy, and learn'd to sing-- +But say, fellow-musicians, you know best whither we go: at what door +must we imperiously beg? + +JACK FIDDLERS. +Here dwells Sir Raderic and his son. It may be now at this good time of +new year he will be liberal. Let us stand near, and draw. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Draw, callest thou it? Indeed, it is the most desperate kind of service +that ever I adventured on. + + + +ACTUS V., SCAENA 2. + + + _Enter the two_ PAGES. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +My master bids me tell you that he is but newly fallen asleep, and you, +base slaves, must come and disquiet them! What, never a basket of +capons? mass, and if he comes, he'll commit you all. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +Sirrah Jack, shall you and I play Sir Raderic and Amoretto, and reward +these fiddlers? I'll my Master Amoretto, and give them as much as he +useth. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +And I my old Master Sir Raderic. Fiddlers, play. I'll reward you; faith, +I will. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +Good faith, this pleaseth my sweet mistress admirably. Cannot you play +_Twitty, twatty, fool_? or, _To be at her, to be at her_? + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Have you never a song of Master Dowland's making? + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +Or, _Hos ego versiculos feci_, &c. A pox on it! my Master Amoretto +useth it very often: I have forgotten the verse. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Sir Theon,[131] here are a couple of fellows brought before me, and I +know not how to decide the cause: look in my Christmas-book, who brought +me a present. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +On New-Year's day, goodman Fool brought you a present; but goodman Clown +brought you none. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Then the right is on goodman Fool's side. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +My mistress is so sweet, that all the physicians in the town cannot make +her stink; she never goes to the stool. O, she is a most sweet little +monkey. Please your worship, good father, yonder are some would speak +with you. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +What, have they brought me anything? If they have not, say I take +physic. [SIR RADERIC'S _voice within_.] Forasmuch, fiddlers, as I am of +the peace, I must needs love all weapons and instruments that are for +the peace, among which I account your fiddles, because they can neither +bite nor scratch. Marry, now, finding your fiddles to jar, and knowing +that jarring is a cause of breaking the peace, I am, by the virtue of +my office and place, to commit your quarrelling fiddles to close +prisonment in their cases. [_The fiddlers call within_.] Sha ho! +Richard! Jack! + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +The fool within mars our play without. Fiddlers, set it on my head. I +use to size my music, or go on the score for it: I'll pay it at the +quarter's end. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Farewell, good Pan! sweet Thamyras,[132] adieu! Dan Orpheus, a thousand +times farewell! + +JACK FIDDLERS. +You swore you would pay us for our music. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +For that I'll give Master Recorder's law, and that is this: there is a +double oath--a formal oath and a material oath; a material oath cannot +be broken, the formal oath may be broken. I swore formally. Farewell, +fiddlers. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Farewell, good wags, whose wits praiseworth I deem, +Though somewhat waggish; so we all have been. + +STUDIOSO. +Faith, fellow-fiddlers, here's no silver found in this place; no, not so +much as the usual Christmas entertainment of musicians, a black jack of +beer and a Christmas pie. + + [_They walk aside from their fellows_. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Where'er we in the wide world playing be, +Misfortune bears a part, and mars our melody; +Impossible to please with music's strain, +Our heart-strings broke are, ne'er to be tun'd again. + +STUDIOSO. +Then let us leave this baser fiddling trade; +For though our purse should mend, our credits fade. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Full glad am I to see thy mind's free course. +Declining from this trencher-waiting trade. +Well, may I now disclose in plainer guise +What erst I meant to work in secret wise; +My busy conscience check'd my guilty soul, +For seeking maintenance by base vassalage; +And then suggested to my searching thought +A shepherd's poor, secure, contented life, +On which since then I doated every hour, +And meant this same hour in [a] sadder plight, +To have stol'n from thee in secrecy of night. + +STUDIOSO. +Dear friend, thou seem'st to wrong my soul too much, +Thinking that Studioso would account +That fortune sour which thou accountest sweet; +Not[133] any life to me can sweeter be, +Than happy swains in plain of Arcady. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Why, then, let's both go spend our little store +In the provision of due furniture, +A shepherd's hook, a tar-box, and a scrip: +And haste unto those sheep-adorned hills, +Where if not bless our fortunes, we may bless our wills. + +STUDIOSO. +True mirth we may enjoy in thacked stall, +Nor hoping higher rise, nor fearing lower fall. + +PHILOMUSUS. +We'll therefore discharge these fiddlers. Fellow-musicians, we are sorry +that it hath been your ill-hap to have had us in your company, that are +nothing but screech-owls and night-ravens, able to mar the purest +melody: and, besides, our company is so ominous that, where we are, +thence liberality is packing. Our resolution is therefore to wish you +well, and to bid you farewell. Come, Studioso, let us haste away, +Returning ne'er to this accursed place. + + + +ACTUS V., SCAENA 3. + + + _Enter_ INGENIOSO, ACADEMICO. + +INGENIOSO. +Faith, Academico, it's the fear of that fellow--I mean, the sign of the +sergeant's head--that makes me to be so hasty to be gone. To be brief, +Academico, writs are out for me to apprehend me for my plays; and now I +am bound for the Isle of Dogs. Furor and Phantasma comes after, removing +the camp as fast they can. Farewell, _mea si quid vota valebunt_. + +ACADEMICO. +Faith, Ingenioso, I think the university is a melancholic life; for +there a good fellow cannot sit two hours in his chamber, but he shall be +troubled with the bill of a drawer or a vintner. But the point is, I +know not how to better myself, and so I am fain to take it. + + + +ACTUS V., SCAENA 4. + + + PHILOMUSUS, STUDIOSO, FUROR, PHANTASMA. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Who have we there? Ingenioso and Academico? + +STUDIOSO. +The very same; who are those? Furor and Phantasma? + + [FUROR _takes a louse off his sleeve_. + +FUROR. +And art thou there, six-footed Mercury? + + [PHANTASMA, _with his hand in his bosom_. + +Are rhymes become such creepers nowadays? +Presumptuous louse, that doth good manners lack, +Daring to creep upon poet Furor's back! + + _Multum refert quibuscum vixeris: + Non videmus manticae quod in tergo est_. + +PHILOMUSUS. +What, Furor and Phantasma too, our old college fellows? Let us encounter +them all. Ingenioso, Academico, Furor, Phantasma, God save you all. + +STUDIOSO. +What, Ingenioso, Academico, Furor, Phantasma, how do you, brave lads? + +INGENIOSO. +What, our dear friends Philomusus and Studioso? + +ACADEMICO. +What, our old friends Philomusus and Studioso? + +FUROR. +What, my supernatural friends? + +INGENIOSO. +What news with you in this quarter of the city? + +PHILOMUSUS. +We've run[134] through many trades, yet thrive by none, +Poor in content, and only rich in moan. +A shepherd's life, thou know'st I wont t'admire, +Turning a Cambridge apple by the fire: +To live in humble dale we now are bent, +Spending our days in fearless merriment. + +STUDIOSO. +We'll teach each tree, ev'n of the hardest kind, +To keep our woful name within their rind: +We'll watch our flock, and yet we'll sleep withal: +We'll tune our sorrows to the water's fall. +The woods and rocks with our shrill songs we'll bless; +Let them prove kind, since men prove pitiless. +But say, whither are you and your company jogging? it seems by your +apparel you are about to wander. + +INGENIOSO. +Faith we are fully bent to be lords of misrule in the world's wide +heath: our voyage is to the Isle of Dogs, there where the blatant beast +doth rule and reign, renting the credit of whom it please. +Where serpents' tongues the penmen are to write, +Where cats do wawl by day, dogs by night. +There shall engorged venom be my ink, +My pen a sharper quill of porcupine, +My stained paper this sin-loaden earth. +There will I write in lines shall never die, +Our seared lordings' crying villany. + +PHILOMUSUS. +A gentle wit thou hadst, nor is it blame +To turn so tart, for time hath wrong'd the same. + +STUDIOSO. +And well thou dost from this fond earth to flit, +Where most men's pens are hired parasites. + +ACADEMICO. +Go happily; I wish thee store of gall +Sharply to wound the guilty world withal. + +PHILOMUSUS. +But say, what shall become of Furor and Phantasma? + +INGENIOSO. +These my companions still with me must wend. + +ACADEMICO. +Fury and Fancy on good wits attend. + +FUROR. +When I arrive within the Isle of Dogs, +Dan Phoebus, I will make thee kiss the pump. +Thy one eye pries in every draper's stall, +Yet never thinks on poet Furor's need. +Furor is lousy, great Furor lousy is; +I'll make thee rue[135] this lousy case, i-wis. +And thou, my sluttish[136] laundress, Cynthia, +Ne'er think'st on Furor's linen, Furor's shirt. +Thou and thy squirting boy Endymion +Lies slav'ring still upon a lawless couch. +Furor will have thee carted through the dirt, +That mak'st great poet Furor want his shirt. + +INGENIOSO. +Is not here a trusty[137] dog, that dare bark so boldly at the moon? + +PHILOMUSUS. +Exclaiming want, and needy care and cark, +Would make the mildest sprite to bite and bark. + +PHANTASMA. +_Canes timidi vehementius latrant_. There are certain burrs in the Isle +of Dogs called, in our English tongue, men of worship; certain briars, +as the Indians call them; as we say, certain lawyers; certain great +lumps of earth, as the Arabians call them; certain grocers, as we term +them. _Quos ego--sed motos praestat componere fluctus_. + +INGENIOSO. +We three unto the snarling island haste, +And there our vexed breath in snarling waste. + +PHILOMUSUS. +We will be gone unto the downs of Kent, +Sure footing we shall find in humble dale; +Our fleecy flock we'll learn to watch and ward, +In July's heat, and cold of January. +We'll chant our woes upon an oaten reed, +Whiles bleating flock upon their supper feed. + +STUDIOSO. +So shall we shun the company of men, +That grows more hateful, as the world grows old. +We'll teach the murm'ring brooks in tears to flow, +And steepy rock to wail our passed woe. + +ACADEMICO. +Adieu, you gentle spirits, long adieu; +Your wits I love, and your ill-fortunes rue. +I'll haste me to my Cambridge cell again; +My fortunes cannot wax, but they may wain. + +INGENIOSO. +Adieu, good shepherds; happy may you live. +And if hereafter in some secret shade +You shall recount poor scholars' miseries, +Vouchsafe to mention with tear-swelling eyes +Ingenioso's thwarting destinies. +And thou, still happy Academico, +That still may'st rest upon the muses' bed, +Enjoying there a quiet slumbering, +When thou repair'st[138] unto thy Granta's stream, +Wonder at thine own bliss, pity our case, +That still doth tread ill-fortune's endless maze; +Wish them, that are preferment's almoners, +To cherish gentle wits in their green bud; +For had not Cambridge been to me unkind, +I had not turn'd to gall a milky mind. + +PHILOMUSUS. +I wish thee of good hap a plenteous store; +Thy wit deserves no less, my love can wish no more. +Farewell, farewell, good Academico; +Ne'er may'st thou taste of our fore-passed woe. +We wish thy fortunes may attain their due.-- +Furor and you, Phantasma, both adieu, + +ACADEMICO. +Farewell, farewell, farewell; O, long farewell! +The rest my tongue conceals, let sorrow tell. + +PHANTASMA. +_Et longum vale, inquit Iola_. + +FUROR. +Farewell, my masters; Furor's a masty dog, +Nor can with a smooth glosing farewell cog. +Nought can great Furor do but bark and howl, +And snarl, and grin, and carl, and touse the world, +Like a great swine, by his long, lean-ear'd lugs. +Farewell, musty, dusty, rusty, fusty London; +Thou art not worthy of great Furor's wit, +That cheatest virtue of her due desert, +And suffer'st great Apollo's son to want. + +INGENIOSO. +Nay, stay awhile, and help me to content +So many gentle wits' attention, +Who ken the laws of every comic stage, +And wonder that our scene ends discontent. +Ye airy wits subtle, +Since that few scholars' fortunes are content, +Wonder not if our scene ends discontent. +When that your fortunes reach their due content, +Then shall our scene end here in merriment. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Perhaps some happy wit with seely[139] hand +Hereafter may record the pastoral +Of the two scholars of Parnassus hill, +And then our scene may end, and have content. + +INGENIOSO. +Meantime, if there be any spiteful ghost, +That smiles to see poor scholars' miseries, +Cold is his charity, his wit too dull: +We scorn his censure, he's a jeering gull. +But whatsoe'er refined sprites there be, +That deeply groan at our calamity: +Whose breath is turn'd to sighs, whose eyes are wet, +To see bright arts bent to their latest set; +Whence never they again their heads shall rear, +To bless our art-disgracing hemisphere, +Let them. | + | +FUROR. | +Let them. | all give us a plaudite. + | +PHANTASMA. | +Let them. + +ACADEMICO. | +And none but them. | + | +PHILOMUSUS. | give us a plaudite. +And none but them. | + | +STUDIOSO. | +And none but them. | + + +FINIS. + + + + + + +WILY BEGUILED. + + + + +_EDITION. + + +A Pleasant Comedie, called Wily Begvilde. The Chiefe Actors be these: +A poore scholler, a rich Foole, and a Knaue at a shifte. At London, +Printed by H.L. for Clement Knight, and are to be solde at his Shop, +in Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the Holy Lambe_. 1606. 4to. + +[There were later editions in 1623, 1635, and 1638, all in 4to. That of +1606 is the most correct. + +Hawkins, who included this piece in his collection, observes: "_Wily +Beguiled_ is a regular and very pleasing Comedy; and if it were +judiciously adapted to the manners of the times, would make no +contemptible appearance on the modern stage."] + + + + +SPECTRUM, THE PROLOGUE. + +What, ho! where are these paltry players? still poring in their papers, +and never perfect? For shame, come forth; your audience stay so long, +their eyes wax dim with expectation. + + _Enter one of the_ PLAYERS. + +How now, my honest rogue? What play shall we have here to-night? + +PLAYER. +Sir, you may look upon the title. + +PROLOGUE. +What, _Spectrum_ once again? Why, noble Cerberus, nothing but patch-panel +stuff, old gallymawfries, and cotton-candle eloquence? Out, you bawling +bandog! fox-furred slave! you dried stock-fish, you, out of my sight! + + [_Exit the_ PLAYER. + +Well, 'tis no matter! I'll sit me down and see it; and, for fault of a +better, I'll supply the place of a scurvy prologue. + + Spectrum is a looking-glass, indeed, + Wherein a man a history may read + Of base conceits and damned roguery: + The very sink of hell-bred villany. + + _Enter a_ JUGGLER. + +JUGGLER. +Why, how now, humorous George? What, as melancholy as a mantle-tree? +Will you see any tricks of legerdemain, sleight of hand, cleanly +conveyance, or _deceptio visus_? What will you see, gentleman, to drive +you out of these dumps. + +PROLOGUE. +Out, you soused gurnet, you woolfist! Begone, I say, and bid the players +despatch, and come away quickly; and tell their fiery poet that, before +I have done with him I'll make him do penance upon a stage in a calf's +skin. + +JUGGLER. +O Lord, sir, ye are deceived in me, I am no tale-carrier; I am a +juggler. I have the superficial skill of all the seven liberal sciences +at my fingers' end. I'll show you a trick of the twelves, and turn him +over the thumbs with a trice; I'll make him fly swifter than meditation. +I'll show you as many toys as there be minutes in a month, and as many +tricks as there be motes in the sun. + +PROLOGUE. +Prythee, what tricks canst thou do? + +JUGGLER. +Marry, sir, I will show you a trick of cleanly conveyance--_Hei, fortuna +furim nunquam credo_--with a cast of clean conveyance. Come aloft, Jack, +for thy master's advantage. He's gone, I warrant ye. + + [SPECTRUM _is conveyed away, and_ WILY BEGUILED + _stands in the place of it_. + +PROLOGUE. + +Mass, and 'tis well done! Now I see thou canst do something. Hold thee; +there is twelvepence for thy labour. + +Go to that barm-froth poet, and to him say, +He quite hath lost the title of his play; +His calf-skin jests from hence are clean exil'd. +Thus once you see, that Wily is beguil'd. + + [_Exit the_ JUGGLER. + +Now, kind spectators, I dare boldly say, +You all are welcome to our author's play: +Be still awhile, and, ere we go, +We'll make your eyes with laughter flow. +Let Momus' mates judge how they list. +We fear not what they babble; +Nor any paltry poet's pen +Amongst that rascal rabble. +But time forbids me further speech, +My tongue must stop her race; +My time is come, I must be dumb, +And give the actors place. + + [_Exit_. + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + +GRIPE, _an Usurer_. +PLOD-ALL, _a Farmer_. +SOPHOS, _a Scholar_. +CHURMS, _a Lawyer_. +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +FORTUNATUS, _Gripe's son_. +LELIA, _Gripe's daughter_. +_Nurse_. +PETER PLOD-ALL, _Plod-all's son_. +PEG, _Nurse's daughter_. +WILL CRICKET. +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +_An Old Man_. +SYLVANUS. +_Clerk_. + + + +WILY BEGUILED.[140] + + + _Enter_ GRIPE, _solus_. + +A heavy purse makes a light heart. O, the consideration of this pouch, +this pouch! Why, he that has money has heart's ease, and the world in a +string. O, this rich chink and silver coin! it is the consolation of the +world. I can sit at home quietly in my chair, and send out my angels by +sea and by land, and bid--_Fly, villains, and fetch in ten in the +hundred_. Ay, and a better penny too. Let me see: I have but two +children in all the world to bestow my goods upon--Fortunatus, my son, +and Lelia, my daughter. For my son, he follows the wars, and that which +he gets with swaggering he spends in swaggering. But I'll curb him; his +allowance, whilst I live, shall be small, and so he shall be sure not to +spend much: and if I die, I will leave him a portion that, if he will be +a good husband, and follow his father's steps, shall maintain him like a +gentleman, and if he will not, let him follow his own humour till he be +weary of it, and so let him go. Now for my daughter, she is my only joy, +and the staff of my age; and I have bestowed good bringing-up upon her, +by'r Lady. Why, she is e'en modesty itself; it does me good to look on +her. Now, if I can hearken out some wealthy marriage for her, I have my +only desire. Mass, and well-remembered: here's my neighbour Plod-all +hard by has but one only son; and let me see--I take it, his lands are +better than five thousand pounds. Now, if I can make a match between his +son and my daughter, and so join his land and my money together--O, +'twill be a blessed union. Well, I'll in, and get a scrivener: I'll +write to him about it presently. But stay, here comes Master Churms the +lawyer; I'll desire him to do so much. + + _Enter_ CHURMS. + +CHURMS. +Good morrow, Master Gripe. + +GRIPE. +O, good morrow, Master Churms. What say my two debtors, that I lent two +hundred pound to? Will they not pay use and charges of suit? + +CHURMS. +Faith, sir, I doubt they are bankrouts: I would you had your principal. + +GRIPE. +Nay, I'll have all, or I'll imprison their bodies. But, Master Churms, +there is a matter I would fain have you do; but you must be very secret. + +CHURMS. +O sir, fear not that; I'll warrant you. + +GRIPE. +Why then, this it is: my neighbour Plod-all here by, you know, is a man +of very fair land, and he has but one son, upon whom he means to bestow +all that he has. Now I would make a match between my daughter Lelia and +him. What think you of it? + +CHURMS. +Marry, I think 'twould be a good match. But the young man has had very +simple bringing-up. + +GRIPE. +Tush! what care I for that? so he have lands and living enough, my +daughter has bringing up will serve them both. Now I would have you to +write me a letter to goodman Plod-all concerning this matter, and I'll +please you for your pains. + +CHURMS. +I'll warrant you, sir; I'll do it artificially. + +GRIPE. +Do, good Master Churms; but be very secret. I have some business this +morning, and therefore I'll leave you a while; and if you will come to +dinner to me anon, you shall be very heartily welcome. + +CHURMS. +Thanks, good sir; I'll trouble you. [_Exit_ GRIPE.] Now 'twere a good +jest, if I could cosen the old churl of his daughter, and get the wench +for myself. Zounds, I am as proper a man as Peter Plod-all: and though +his father be as good a man as mine, yet far-fetched and dear-bought is +good for ladies; and, I am sure, I have been as far as Cales[141] to +fetch that I have. I have been at Cambridge, a scholar; at Cales, a +soldier; and now in the country a lawyer; and the next degree shall be a +coneycatcher: for I'll go near to cosen old father share-penny[142] of +his daughter; I'll cast about, I'll warrant him: I'll go dine with him, +and write him his letter; and then I'll go seek out my kind companion +Robin Goodfellow: and, betwixt us, we'll make her yield to anything. +We'll ha' the common law o' the one hand, and the civil law o' the +other: we'll toss Lelia like a tennis-ball. [_Exit_. + + + _Enter old_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_ PETER, _an_ OLD MAN, + _Plod-all's tenant, and_ WILL CRICKET, _his son_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Ah, tenant, an ill-husband, by'r Lady: thrice at thy house, and never at +home? You know my mind: will you give ten shillings more rent? I must +discharge you else. + +OLD MAN. +Alas! landlord, will you undo me! I sit of a great rent already, and am +very poor. + +WILL CRICKET. +Very poor? you're a very ass. Lord, how my stomach wambles at the same +word _very poor_! Father, if you love your son William, never name that +same word, _very poor_; for, I'll stand to it, that it's petty larceny +to name _very poor_ to a man that's o' the top of his marriage. + +OLD MAN. +Why, son, art o' the top of thy marriage? To whom, I prythee? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, to pretty Peg, Mistress Lelia's nurse's daughter. O, 'tis the +dapp'rest wench that ever danced after a tabor and pipe-- + + For she will so heel it, + And toe it, and trip it;-- + O, her buttocks will quake like a custard. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Why, William, when were you with her? + +WILL CRICKET. +O Peter, does your mouth water at that? Truly, I was never with her; but +I know I shall speed: 'for t'other day she looked on me and laughed, and +that's a good sign, ye know. And therefore, old Silver-top, never talk +of charging or discharging: for I tell you, I am my father's heir; and +if you discharge me, I'll discharge my pestilence at you: for to let my +house before my lease be out, is cut-throatery; and to scrape for more +rent, is poll-dennery;[143] and so fare you well, good grandsire Usury. +Come, father, let's be gone. + + [_Exeunt_ WILL _and his father_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Well, I'll make the beggarly knaves to pack for this: I'll have it every +cross, income and rent too. + + _Enter_ CHURMS _with a letter_. + +But stay, here comes one. O, 'tis Master Churms: I hope he brings me +some good news. Master Churms, you're well-met; I am e'en almost starved +for money: you must take some damnable course with my tenants; they'll +not pay. + +CHURMS. +Faith, sir, they are grown to be captious knaves: but I'll move them +with a _habeas corpus_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Do, good Master Churms, or use any other villanous course shall please +you. But what news abroad? + +CHURMS. +Faith, little news; but here's a letter which Master Gripe desired me to +deliver you: and though it stand not with my reputation to be a carrier +of letters, yet, not knowing how much it might concern you, I thought it +better something to abase myself, than you should be anyways hindered. + +PLOD-ALL. +Thanks, good sir; and I'll in and read it. + + [_Exeunt_ PLOD-ALL _and his son. Manet_ CHURMS. + +CHURMS. +Thus men of reach must look to live: +I cry content, and murder where I kiss. +Gripe takes me for his faithful friend, +Imparts to me the secrets of his heart; +And Plod-all thinks I am as true a friend +To every enterprise he takes in hand, +As ever breath'd under the cope of heaven: +But damn me if they find it so. +All this makes for my [own] avail; +I'll ha' the wench myself, or else my wits shall fail. + + _Enter_ LELIA _and_ NURSE, _gathering of flowers_. + +LELIA. +See how the earth this fragrant spring is clad, +And mantled round in sweet nymph Flora's robes: +Here grows th'alluring rose, sweet marigolds +And the lovely hyacinth. Come, nurse, gather: +A crown of roses shall adorn my head, +I'll prank myself with flowers of the prime; +And thus I'll spend away my primrose-time. + +NURSE. +Rufty-tufty, are you so frolic? O, that you knew as much as I do; +'twould cool you. + +LELIA. +Why, what knowest thou, nurse I prythee, tell me. + +NURSE. +Heavy news, i' faith, mistress: you must be matched, and married to a +husband. Ha, ha, ha, ha! a husband, i' faith. + +LELIA. +A husband, nurse? why, that's good news, if he be a good one. + +NURSE. +A good one, quotha? ha, ha, ha, ha! why, woman, I heard your father say +that he would marry you to Peter Plod-all, that puck-fist, that +snudge-snout, that coal-carrierly clown. Lord! 'twould be as good as +meat and drink to me to see how the fool would woo you. + +LELIA. +No, no; my father did but jest: think'st thou, +That I can stoop so low to take a brown-bread crust, +And wed a clown, that's brought up at the cart? + +NURSE. +Cart, quotha? Ay, he'll cart you; for he cannot tell how to court you. + +LELIA. +Ah, nurse! sweet Sophos is the man, +Whose love is lock'd in Lelia's tender breast: +This heart hath vow'd, if heav'ns do not deny, +My love with his entomb'd in earth shall lie. + +NURSE. +Peace, mistress, stand aside; here comes somebody. + + _Enter_ SOPHOS. + +SOPHOS. +_Optatis non est spes ulla potiri_. +Yet, Phoebus, send down thy tralucent beams, +Behold the earth that mourns in sad attire; +The flowers at Sophos' presence 'gin to droop, +Whose trickling tears for Lelia's loss +Do turn the plains into a standing pool. +Sweet Cynthia, smile, cheer up the drooping flowers; +Let Sophos once more see a sunshine-day: +O, let the sacred centre of my heart-- +I mean fair Lelia, nature's fairest work-- +Be once again the object to mine eyes. +O, but I wish in vain, whilst her I wish to see: +Her father he obscures her from my sight, +He pleads my want of wealth, +And says it is a bar in Venus' court. +How hath fond fortune by her fatal doom +Predestin'd me to live in hapless hopes, +Still turning false her fickle, wavering wheel! +And love's fair goddess with her Circian cup +Enchanteth so fond Cupid's poison'd darts, +That love, the only loadstar of my life, +Doth draw my thoughts into a labyrinth. +But stay: +What do I see? what do mine eyes behold? +O happy sight! It is fair Lelia's face! +Hail, heav'n's bright nymph, the period of my grief, +Sole guidress of my thoughts, and author of my joy. + +LELIA. +Sweet Sophos, welcome to Lelia; +Fair Dido, Carthaginians' beauteous queen, +Not half so joyful was, when as the Trojan prince +Aeneas landed on the sandy shores +Of Carthage' confines, as thy Lelia is +To see her Sophos here arriv'd by chance. + +SOPHOS. +And bless'd be chance, that hath conducted me +Unto the place where I might see my dear, +As dear to me as is the dearest life. + +NURSE. +Sir, you may see that fortune is your friend. + +SOPHOS. +Yet fortune favours fools. + +NURSE. +By that conclusion you should not be wise. [_Aside_. + +LELIA. +Foul fortune sometimes smiles on virtue fair. + +SOPHOS. +'Tis then to show her mutability: +But since, amidst ten thousand frowning threats +Of fickle fortune's thrice-unconstant wheel, +She deigns to show one little pleasing smile, +Let's do our best false fortune to beguile, +And take advantage of her ever-changing moods. +See, see, how Tellus' spangled mantle smiles, +And birds do chant their rural sugar'd notes, +As ravish'd with our meeting's sweet delights: +Since then, there fits for love both time and place, +Let love and liking hand in hand embrace. + +NURSE. +Sir, the next way to win her love is to linger her leisure. I measure my +mistress by my lovely self: make a promise to a man, and keep it. I have +but one fault--I ne'er made promise in my life, but I stick to it tooth +and nail. I'll pay it home, i' faith. If I promise my love a kiss, I'll +give him two; marry, at first I will make nice, and cry _Fie, fie_; and +that will make him come again and again. I'll make him break his wind +with come-agains. + +SOPHOS. +But what says Lelia to her Sophos' love? + +LELIA. +Ah, Sophos, that fond blind boy, +That wrings these passions from my Sophos' heart, +Hath likewise wounded Lelia with his dart; +And force perforce, I yield the fortress up: +Here, Sophos, take thy Lelia's hand, +And with this hand receive a loyal heart. +High Jove, that ruleth heaven's bright canopy, +Grant to our love a wish'd felicity! + +SOPHOS. +As joys the weary pilgrim by the way, +When Phoebus wanes[144] unto the western deep, +To summon him to his desired rest; +Or as the poor distressed mariner, +Long toss'd by shipwreck on the foaming waves, +At length beholds the long-wish'd haven, +Although from far his heart doth dance for joy: +So love's consent at length my mind hath eas'd; +My troubled thoughts by sweet content are pleas'd. + +LELIA. +My father recks not virtue, +But vows to wed me to a man of wealth: +And swears his gold shall counterpoise his worth. +But Lelia scorns proud Mammon's golden mines, +And better likes of learning's sacred lore, +Than of fond fortune's glistering mockeries. +But, Sophos, try thy wits, and use thy utmost skill +To please my father, and compass his goodwill. + +SOPHOS. +To what fair Lelia wills doth Sophos yield content; +Yet that's the troublous gulf my silly ship must pass: +But, were that venture harder to atchieve +Than that of Jason for the golden fleece, +I would effect it for sweet Lelia's sake, +Or leave myself as witness of my thoughts. + +NURSE. +How say you by that, mistress? He'll do anything for your sake. + +LELIA. +Thanks, gentle love: +But, lest my father should suspect-- +Whose jealous head with more than Argus' eyes +Doth measure ev'ry gesture that I use-- +I'll in, and leave you here alone. +Adieu, sweet friend, until we meet again. +Come, nurse, follow me. + + [_Exeunt_ LELIA _and_ NURSE. + +SOPHOS. +Farewell, my love, fair fortune be thy guide! +Now, Sophos, now bethink thyself, how thou +May'st win her father's will to knit this happy knot. +Alas! thy state is poor, thy friends are few. +And fear forbids to tell my fate to friends:[145] +Well, I'll try my fortunes; +And find out some convenient time, +When as her father's leisure best shall serve +To confer with him about fair Lelia's love. + [_Exit_ SOPHOS. + + _Enter_ GRIPE, _old_ PLOD-ALL, CHURMS, _and_ WILL CRICKET. + +GRIPE. +Neighbour Plod-all and Master Churms, y'are welcome to my house. What +news in the country, neighbour? You are a good husband; you ha' done +sowing barley, I am sure? + +PLOD-ALL. +Yes, sir, an't please you, a fortnight since. + +GRIPE. +Master Churms, what say my debtors? can you get any money of them yet? + +CHURMS. +Not yet, sir; I doubt they are scarce able to pay. You must e'en forbear +them awhile; they'll exclaim on you else. + +GRIPE. +Let them exclaim, and hang, and starve, and beg. Let me ha' my money. + +PLOD-ALL. +Here's this good fellow too, Master Churms, I must e'en put him and his +father over into your hands; they'll pay me no rent. + +WILL CRICKET. +This good fellow, quotha? I scorn that base, broking, brabbling, +brawling, bastardly, bottle-nosed, beetle-browed, bean-bellied name. +Why, Robin Goodfellow is this same cogging, pettifogging, crackropes, +calf-skin companion. Put me and my father over to him? Old Silver-top, +and you had not put me before my father, I would ha'-- + +PLOD-ALL. +What wouldst ha' done? + +WILL CRICKET. +I would have had a snatch at you, that I would. + +CHURMS. +What, art a dog? + +WILL CRICKET. +No; if I had been a dog, I would ha' snapped off your nose ere this, and +so I should have cosened the devil of a maribone. + +GRIPE. +Come, come: let me end this controversy. Prythee, go thy ways in, and +bid the boy bring in a cup of sack here for my friends. + +WILL CRICKET. +Would you have a sack, sir? + +GRIPE. +Away, fool: a cup of sack to drink. + +WILL CRICKET. +O, I had thought you would have had a sack to have put this law-cracking +cogfoist in, instead of a pair of stocks. + +GRIPE. +Away, fool; get thee in, I say. + +WILL CRICKET. +Into the buttery, you mean? + +GRIPE. +I prythee, do. + +WILL CRICKET. +I'll make your hogshead of sack rue that word. [_Aside. Exit_.] + +GRIPE. +Neighbour Plod-all, I sent a letter to you by Master Churms; how like +you of the motion? + +PLOD-ALL. +Marry, I like well of the motion. My son, I tell you, is e'en all the +stay I have, and all my care is to have him take one that hath +something, for, as the world goes now, if they have nothing, they may +beg. But I doubt he's too simple for your daughter; for I have brought +him up hardly, with brown bread, fat bacon, puddings, and souse; and, +by'r Lady, we think it good fare too. + +GRIPE. +Tush, man! I care not for that. You ha' no more children; you'll make +him your heir, and give him your lands, will you not? + +PLOD-ALL. +Yes; he's e'en all I have; I have nobody else to bestow it upon. + +GRIPE. +You say well. + + _Enter_ WILL CRICKET _and a boy, with wine and a napkin_. + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, hear you; drink, afore you bargain. + +GRIPE. +Mass, and 'tis a good motion. Boy, fill some wine, [_He fills them wine, +and gives them the napkin_.] Here, neighbour and Master Churms, I drink +to you. + +BOTH. +We thank you, sir. + +WILL CRICKET. +Lawyer, wipe clean. Do you remember? + +CHURMS. +Remember? why? + +WILL CRICKET. +Why, since you know when. + +CHURMS. +Since when? + +WILL CRICKET. +Why, since you were bumbasted, that your lubberly legs would not carry +your lobcock body; when you made an infusion of your stinking excrements +in your stalking implements. O, you were plaguy frayed, and foully +rayed-- + +GRIPE. +Prythee, peace, Will! Neighbour Plod-all, what say you to this match? +shall it go forward? + +PLOD-ALL. +Sir, that must be as our children like. For my son, I think I can rule +him; marry, I doubt your daughter will hardly like of him; for, God wot, +he's very simple. + +GRIPE. +My daughter's mine to command; have I not brought her up to this? She +shall have him. I'll rule the roost for that. I'll give her pounds and +crowns, gold and silver. I'll weigh her down in pure angel gold. Say, +man, is't a match? + +PLOD-ALL. +Faith, I agree. + +CHURMS. +But, sir, if you give your daughter so large a dowry, you'll have some +part of his land conveyed to her by jointure? + +GRIPE. +Yes, marry, that I will, and we'll desire your help for conveyance. + +PLOD-ALL. +Ay, good Master Churms, and you shall be very well contented for your +pains. + +WILL CRICKET. +Ay, marry; that's it he looked for all this while. [_Aside_. + +CHURMS. +Sir, I will do the best I can. + +WILL CRICKET. +But, landlord, I can tell you news, i' faith. There is one Sophos, a +brave gentleman; he'll wipe your son Peter's nose of Mistress Lelia. I +can tell you, he loves her well. + +GRIPE. +Nay, I trow. + +WILL CRICKET. +Yes, I know, for I am sure I saw them close together at poop-noddy in +her closet. + +GRIPE. +But I am sure she loves him not. + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, I dare take it on my death she loves him, for he's a scholar, and +'ware scholars! they have tricks for love, i' faith; for with a little +logic and _Pitome colloquium_ they'll make a wench do anything. +Landlord, pray ye, be not angry with me for speaking my conscience. In +good faith, your son Peter's a very clown to him. Why, he's as fine a +man as a wench can see in a summer's day. + +GRIPE. +Well, that shall not serve his turn; I'll cross him, I warrant ye. I am +glad I know it. I have suspected it a great while. Sophos! Why, what's +Sophos? a base fellow. Indeed he has a good wit, and can speak well. +He's a scholar, forsooth--one that hath more wit than money--and I like +not that; he may beg, for all that. Scholars! why, what are scholars +without money? + +PLOD-ALL. +Faith, e'en like puddings without suet. + +GRIPE. +Come, neighbour, send your son to my house, for he shall be welcome to +me, and my daughter shall entertain him kindly. What? I can and will +rule Lelia. Come, let's in; I'll discharge Sophos from my house +presently. + + [_Exit_ GRIPE, PLOD-ALL, _and_ CHURMS. + +WILL CRICKET. + +A horn plague of this money, for it causeth many horns to bud; and for +money many men are horned; for when maids are forced to love where they +like not, it makes them lie where they should not. I'll be hanged, if +e'er Mistress Lelia will ha' Peter Plod-all; I swear by this button-cap +(do you mark?), and by the round, sound, and profound contents (do you +understand?) of this costly codpiece (being a good proper man, as you +see), that I could get her as soon as he myself. And if I had not a +month's mind in another place, I would have a fling at her, that's flat; +but I must set a good holiday-face on't, and go a wooing to pretty Peg: +well, I'll to her, i' faith, while 'tis in my mind. But stay; I'll see +how I can woo before I go: they say use makes perfectness. Look you now; +suppose this were Peg: now I set my cap o' the side on this fashion (do +ye see?); then say I, sweet honey, honey, sugar-candy Peg. + +Whose face more fair than Brock my father's cow; + + Whose eyes do shine, + Like bacon-rine; + Whose lips are blue, + Of azure hue; + +Whose crooked nose down to her chin doth bow. For, you know, I must +begin to commend her beauty, and then I will tell her plainly that I am +in love with her over my high shoes; and then I will tell her that I do +nothing of nights but sleep, and think on her, and specially of mornings: +and that does make my stomach so rise, that I'll be sworn I can turn me +three or four bowls of porridge over in a morning afore breakfast. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +How now, sirrah? what make you here, with all that timber in your neck? + +WILL CRICKET. +Timber? Zounds, I think he be a witch; how knew he this were timber? +Mass, I'll speak him fair, and get out on's company; for I am afraid on +him. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Speak, man; what, art afraid? what makest here? + +WILL CRICKET. +A poor fellow, sir: ha' been drinking two or three pots of ale at an +alehouse, and ha' lost my way, sir. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O! nay, then I see, thou art a good fellow: seest thou not Master +Churms the lawyer to-day? + +WILL CRICKET. +No, sir; would you speak with him? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Ay, marry, would I. + +WILL CRICKET. +If I see him, I'll tell him you would speak with him. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Nay, prithee, stay. Who wilt thou tell him would speak with him? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, you, sir. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +I? who am I? + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, sir, I know not. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +If thou seest him, tell him Robin Goodfellow would speak with him. + +WILL CRICKET. +O, I will sir. [Exit WILL CRICKET. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Mass, the fellow was afraid. I play the bugbear wheresoe'er I come, and +make them all afraid. But here comes Master Churms. + + _Enter_ CHURMS. + +CHURMS. +Fellow Robin, God save you: I have been seeking for you in every +alehouse in the town. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +What, Master Churms? What's the best news abroad? 'tis long since I +see you. + +CHURMS. +Faith, little news: but yet I am glad I have met with you. I have a +matter to impart to you wherein you may stand me in some stead, and make +a good benefit to yourself: if we can deal cunningly, 'twill be worth a +double fee to you, by the Lord. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +A double fee? speak, man; what is't? If it be to betray mine own father, +I'll do it for half a fee; and for cunning let me alone. + +CHURMS. +Why then, this it is: here is Master Gripe hard by, a client of mine, a +man of mighty wealth, who has but one daughter; her dowry is her weight +in gold. Now, sir, this old pennyfather would marry her to one Peter +Plod-all, rich Plod-all's son and heir; whom though his father means to +leave very rich, yet he's a very idiot and brownbread clown, and one I +know the wench does deadly hate: and though their friends have given +their full consent, and both agreed on this unequal match, yet I know +that Lelia will never marry him. But there's another rival in her +love--one Sophos; and he's a scholar, one whom I think fair Lelia dearly +loves, but her father hates him as he hates a toad; for he's in want, +and Gripe gapes after gold, and still relies upon the old-said saw, _Si +nihil attuleris_, &c. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +And wherein can I do you any good in this? + +CHURMS. +Marry, thus, sir: I am of late grown passing familiar with Master Gripe; +and for Plod-all, he takes me for his second self. Now, sir, I'll fit +myself to the old crummy churls' humours, and make them believe I'll +persuade Lelia to marry Peter Plod-all, and so get free access to the +wench at my pleasure. Now, o' the other side, I'll fall in with the +scholar, and him I'll handle cunningly too; I'll tell him that Lelia has +acquainted me with her love to him, and for +Because her father much suspects the same, +He mews her up as men do mew their hawks; +And so restrains her from her Sophos' sight. +I'll say, because she doth repose more trust +Of secrecy in me than in another man, +In courtesy she hath requested me +To do her kindest greetings to her love. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +An excellent device, i' faith! + +CHURMS. +Ay, sir, and by this means I'll make a very gull of my fine Diogenes: I +shall know his secrets even from the very bottom of his heart. Nay more, +sir; you shall see me deal so cunningly, that he shall make me an +instrument to compass his desire; when, God knows, I mean nothing less. +_Qui dissimulare nescit, nescit vivere_. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Why, this will be sport alone; but what would you have me do in this +action? + +CHURMS. +Marry, as I play with th'one hand, play you with t'other. Fall you +aboard with Peter Plod-all; make him believe you'll work miracles, and +that you have a powder will make Lelia love him. Nay, what will he not +believe, and take all that comes? you know my mind: and so we'll make a +gull of the one and a goose of the other. And if we can invent any +device to bring the scholar in disgrace with her, I do not doubt but +with your help to creep between the bark and the tree, and get Lelia +myself. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Tush! man. I have a device in my head already to do that. But they say +her brother Fortunatus loves him dearly. + +CHURMS. +Tut! he's out of the country; he follows the drum and the flag. He may +chance to be killed with a double cannon before he come home again. But +what's your device? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Marry, I'll do this: I'll frame an indictment against Sophos in manner +and form of a rape, and the next law-day you shall prefer it, that so +Lelia may loath him, her father still deadly hate him, and the young +gallant her brother utterly forsake him. + +CHURMS. +But how shall we prove it? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Zounds, we'll hire some strumpet or other to be sworn against him. + +CHURMS. +Now, by the substance of my soul, 'tis an excellent device. Well, let's +in. I'll first try my cunning otherwise, and if all fail, we'll try this +conclusion. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT, NURSE, _and_ PEG. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Y'faith, Marget, you must e'en take your daughter Peg home again, for +she'll not be ruled by me. + +NURSE. +Why, mother, what will she not do? + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Faith, she neither did, nor does, nor will do anything. Send her to the +market with eggs, she'll sell them, and spend the money. Send her to +make a pudding, she'll put in no suet. She'll run out o' nights +a-dancing, and come no more home till day-peep. Bid her come to bed, +she'll come when she list. Ah, 'tis a nasty shame to see her +bringing-up. + +NURSE. +Out, you rogue! you arrant, &c. What, knowest not thy granam? + +PEG. +I know her to be a testy old fool; She's never well, but grunting in a +corner. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Nay, she'll camp, I warrant ye. O, she has a tongue! But, Marget, e'en +take her home to your mistress, and there keep her, for I'll keep her no +longer. + +NURSE. +Mother, pray ye, take ye some pains with her, and keep her awhile +longer, and if she do not mend, I'll beat her black and blue. I' faith, +I'll not fail you, minion. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Faith, at thy request, I'll take her home, and try her a week longer. + +NURSE. +Come on, huswife; please your granam, and be a good wench, and you shall +ha' my blessing. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Come, follow us, good wench. + + [_Exeunt_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT _and_ NURSE. _Manet_ PEG. + +PEG. +Ay, farewell; fair weather after you. Your blessing, quotha? I'll not +give a single halfpenny for't. Who would live under a mother's nose and +a granam's tongue? A maid cannot love, or catch a lip-clip or a +lap-clap, but here's such tittle-tattle, and _Do not so_, and _Be not so +light_, and _Be not so fond_, and _Do not kiss_, and _Do not love_, and +I cannot tell what; and I must love, an I hang for't. + + [_She sings_. + + _A sweet thing is love, + That rules both heart and mind: + There is no comfort in the world + To women that are kind_. + +Well. I'll not stay with her; stay, quotha? To be yawled and jawled at, +and tumbled and thumbled, and tossed and turned, as I am by an old hag, +I will not: no, I will not, i' faith. + + + _Enter_ WILL CRICKET. + +But stay, I must put on my smirking looks and smiling countenance, for +here comes one makes 'bomination suit to be my sprused husband. + +WILL CRICKET. +Lord, that my heart would serve me to speak to her, now she talks of her +sprused husband! Well, I'll set a good face on't. Now I'll clap me as +close to her as Jone's buttocks of a close-stool, and come over her with +my rolling, rattling, rumbling eloquence. Sweet Peg, honey Peg, fine +Peg, dainty Peg, brave Peg, kind Peg, comely Peg; my nutting, my +sweeting, my love, my dove, my honey, my bunny, my duck, my dear, and my +darling: + + Grace me with thy pleasant eyes, + And love without delay; + And cast not with thy crabbed looks + A proper man away. + +PEG. +Why, William, what's the matter? + +WILL CRICKET. +What's the matter, quotha? Faith, I ha' been in a fair taking for you, a +bots on you! for t'other day, after I had seen you, presently my belly +began to rumble. What's the matter, thought I. With that I bethought +myself, and the sweet comportance of that same sweet round face of thine +came into my mind. Out went I, and, I'll be sworn, I was so near taken, +that I was fain to cut all my points. And dost hear, Peg? if thou dost +not grant me thy goodwill in the way of marriage, first and foremost +I'll run out of my clothes, and then out of my wits for thee. + +PEG. +Nay, William, I would be loth you should do so for me. + +WILL CRICKET. +Will you look merrily on me, and love me then? + +PEG. +Faith, I care not greatly if I do. + +WILL CRICKET. +Care not greatly if I do? What an answer's that? If thou wilt say, I, +Peg, take thee, William, to my spruse husband-- + +PEG. +Why, so I will. But we must have more company for witnesses first. + + [_Enter Dancers and Piper_.] + +WILL CRICKET. +That needs not. Here's good store of young men and maids here. + +PEG. +Why, then, here's my hand. + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, that's honestly spoken. Say after me: I, Peg Pudding, promise +thee, William Cricket, that I'll hold thee for my own sweet lily, while +I have a head in mine eye and a face on my nose, a mouth in my tongue +and all that a woman should have from the crown of my foot to the sole +of my head. I'll clasp thee and clip thee, coll thee and kiss thee, +till I be better than nought and worse than nothing. When thou art ready +to sleep, I'll be ready to snort; when thou art in health, I'll be in +gladness; when thou art sick, I'll be ready to die; when thou art mad, +I'll run out of my wits, and thereupon I strike thee good luck. Well +said, i' faith. O, I could find in my hose to pocket thee in my heart! +Come, my heart of gold, let's have a dance at the making up of this +match. Strike up, Tom Piper. [_They dance_. +Come, Peg, I'll take the pains to bring thee homeward; and at twilight +look for me again. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW _and_ PETER PLOD-ALL. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Come hither, my honest friend. Master Churms told me you had a suit to +me; what's the matter? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Pray ye, sir, is your name Robin Goodfellow? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +My name is Robin Goodfellow. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Marry, sir, I hear you're a very cunning man, sir, and sir reverence of +your worship, sir, I am going a-wooing to one Mistress Lelia, a +gentlewoman here hard by. Pray ye, sir, tell me how I should behave +myself, to get her to my wife, for, sir, there is a scholar about her; +now, if you can tell me how I should wipe his nose of her, I would +bestow a fee of you. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Let me see't, and thou shalt see what I'll say to thee. [_He gives him +money_.] Well, follow my counsel, and, I'll warrant thee, I'll give thee +a love-powder for thy wench, and a kind of _nux vomica_ in a potion +shall make her come off, i' faith. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Shall I trouble you so far as to take some pains with me? I am loth to +have the dodge. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Tush! fear not the dodge. I'll rather put on my flashing red nose and my +flaming face, and come wrapped in a calf's skin, and cry _Bo bo_. I'll +fray the scholar, I warrant thee. But first go to her, try what thou +canst do; perhaps she'll love thee without any further ado. But thou +must tell her thou hast a good stock, some hundred or two a year, and +that will set her hard, I warrant thee; for, by the mass, I was once in +good comfort to have cosened a wench, and wott'st thou what I told her? +I told her I had a hundred pound land a year in a place, where I have +not the breadth of my little finger. I promised her to enfeoff her in +forty pounds a year of it, and I think of my conscience, if I had had +but as good a face as thine, I should have made her have cursed the time +that ever she see it. And thus thou must do: crack and lie, and face, +and thou shalt triumph mightily. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +I need not do so, for I may say, and say true, I have lands and living +enough for a country fellow. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +By'r Lady, so had not I. I was fain to overreach, as many times I do; +but now experience hath taught me so much craft that I excel in cunning. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Well, sir, then I'll be bold to trust to your cunning, and so I'll bid +you farewell, and go forward. I'll to her, that's flat. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Do so, and let me hear how you speed. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +That I will, sir. [_Exit_ PETER. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Well, a good beginning makes a good end. Here's ten groats for doing +nothing. I con Master Churms thanks for this, for this was his device; +and therefore I'll go seek him out, and give him a quart of wine, and +know of him how he deals with the scholar. [_Exit_. + + _Enter_ CHURMS _and_ SOPHOS. + +CHURMS. +Why, look ye, sir; by the Lord, I can but wonder at her father; he knows +you to be a gentleman of good bringing up, and though your wealth be +not answerable to his, yet, by heavens, I think you are worthy to do far +better than Lelia--yet I know she loves you dearly. + +SOPHOS. +The great Tartarian emperor, Tamar Cham, +Joy'd not so much in his imperial crown, +As Sophos joys in Lelia's hoped-for love, +Whose looks would pierce an adamantine heart, +And makes the proud beholders stand at gaze, +To draw love's picture from her glancing eye. + +CHURMS. +And I will stretch my wits unto the highest strain, +To further Sophos in his wish'd desires. + +SOPHOS. +Thanks, gentle sir. +But truce awhile; here comes her father. + + _Enter_ GRIPE. + +I must speak a word or two with him. + +CHURMS. +Ay, he'll give you your answer, I warrant ye. [_Aside_. + +SOPHOS. +God save you, sir. + +GRIPE. +O Master Sophos, I have longed to speak with you a great while. I hear +you seek my daughter Lelia's love. I hope you will not seek to dishonest +me, nor disgrace my daughter. + +SOPHOS. +No, sir; a man may ask a yea; a woman may say nay. She is in choice to +take her choice, yet I must confess I love Lelia. + +GRIPE. +Sir, I must be plain with you. I like not of your love. Lelia's mine. +I'll choose for Lelia, and therefore I would wish you not to frequent my +house any more. It's better for you to ply your book, and seek for some +preferment that way, than to seek for a wife before you know how to +maintain her. + +SOPHOS. +I am not rich, I am not very poor; +I neither want, nor ever shall exceed: +The mean is my content; I live 'twixt two extremes. + +GRIPE. +Well, well; I tell ye I like not you should come to my house, and +presume so proudly to match your poor pedigree with my daughter Lelia, +and therefore I charge you to get off my ground, come no more at my +house. I like not this learning without living, I. + +SOPHOS. +He needs must go that the devil drives: +_Sic virtus sine censu languet_. [_Exit_ SOPHOS. + +GRIPE. +O Master Churms, cry you mercy, sir; I saw not you. I think I have sent +the scholar away with a flea in his ear. I trow, he'll come no more at +my house. + +CHURMS. +No; for if he do, you may indict him for coming of your ground. + +GRIPE. +Well, now I'll home, and keep in my daughter. She shall neither go to +him nor send to him; I'll watch her, I'll warrant her. Before God, +Master Churms, it is the peevishest girl that ever I knew in my life; +she will not be ruled, I doubt. Pray ye, sir, do you endeavour to +persuade her to take Peter Plod-all. + +CHURMS. +I warrant ye, I'll persuade her; fear not. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ LELIA _and_ NURSE. + +LELIA. +What sorrow seizeth on my heavy heart! +Consuming care possesseth ev'ry part: +Heart-sad Erinnis keeps his mansion here +Within the closure of my woful breast; +And black Despair with iron sceptre stands, +And guides my thoughts down to his hateful cell. +The wanton winds with whistling murmur bear +My piercing plaints along the desert plains; +And woods and groves do echo forth my woes: +The earth below relents in crystal tears, +When heav'ns above, by some malignant course +Of fatal stars, are authors of my grief. +Fond love, go hide thy shafts in folly's den, +And let the world forget thy childish force; +Or else fly, fly, pierce Sophos' tender breast, +That he may help to sympathise these plaints, +That wring these tears from Lelia's weeping eyes. + +NURSE. +Why, how now, mistress? what, is it love that makes you weep, and toss, +and turn so a-nights, when you are in bed? Saint Leonard grant you fall +not love-sick. + +LELIA. +Ay, that's the point that pierceth to the quick. +Would Atropos would cut my vital thread, +And so make lavish of my loathed life: +Or gentle heav'ns would smile with fair aspect, +And so give better fortunes to my love! +Why, is't not a plague to be a prisoner to mine own father? + +NURSE. +Yes, and 't's a shame for him to use you so too: +But be of good cheer, mistress; I'll go +To Sophos ev'ry day; I'll bring you tidings +And tokens too from him, I'll warrant ye; +And if he'll send you a kiss or two, I'll bring it. +Let me alone; I am good at a dead lift: +Marry, I cannot blame you for loving of Sophos; +Why, he's a man as one should picture him in wax. +But, mistress--out upon's! wipe your eyes, +For here comes another wooer. + + _Enter_ PETER PLOD-ALL. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Mistress Lelia, God speed you. + +LELIA. +That's more than we +Need at this time, for we are doing nothing. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +'Twere as good say a good word as a bad. + +LELIA. +But it's more wisdom to say nothing at all, +Than speak to no purpose. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +My purpose is to wive you. + +LELIA. +And mine is never to wed you. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Belike, you are in love with somebody else. + +NURSE. +No, but she's lustily promised. Hear you--you with [the] long rifle by +your side--do you lack a wife? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Call ye this [a] rifle? it's a good backsword. + +NURSE. +Why, then, you with [the] backsword, let's see your back. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Nay, I must speak with Mistress Lelia Before I go. + +LELIA. +What would you with me? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Marry, I have heard very well of you, and so has my father too; and he +has sent me to you a-wooing; and if you have any mind of marriage, I +hope I shall maintain you as well as any husbandman's wife in the +country. + +NURSE. +Maintain her? with what? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Marry, with my lands and livings my father has promised me. + +LELIA. +I have heard much of your wealth, but +I never knew you manners before now. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Faith, I have no manors, but a pretty home-stall; and we have great +store of oxen and horses, and carts and ploughs and household-stuff +'bomination, and great flocks of sheep, and flocks of geese and capons, +and hens and ducks. O, we have a fine yard of pullen! And, thank God, +here's a fine weather for my father's lambs. + +LELIA. +I cannot live content in discontent: +For as no music can delight the ears, +Where all the parts of discords are composed. +So wedlock-bands will still consist in jars, +Where in condition there's no sympathy; +Then rest yourself contented with this answer-- +I cannot love. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +It's no matter what you say: for my father told me thus much before I +came, that you would be something nice at first; but he bad me like you +ne'er the worse for that, for I were the liker to speed. + +LELIA. +Then you were best leave off your suit till +Some other time: and when my leisure serves me +To love you, I'll send you word. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Will you? well then I'll take my leave of you; and if I may hear from +you, I'll pay the messenger well for his pains. But stay--God's death! I +had almost forgot myself! pray ye, let me kiss your hand, ere I go. + +NURSE. +Faith, mistress, his mouth runs a-water for a kiss; a little would serve +his turn, belike: let him kiss your hand. + +LELIA. +I'll not stick for that. [_He kisseth her hand_. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Mistress Lelia, God be with you. + +LELIA. +Farewell, Peter. [_Exit_ PETER. +Thus lucre's set in golden chair of state, +When learning's bid stand by, and keeps aloof: +This greedy humour fits my father's vein, +Who gapes for nothing but for golden gain. + + _Enter_ CHURMS. + +NURSE. +Mistress, take heed you speak nothing that will bear action, for here +comes Master Churms the pettifogger. + +CHURMS. +Mistress Lelia, rest you merry: what's the reason you and your nurse +walk here alone? + +LELIA. +Because, sir, we desire no other company but our own. + +CHURMS. +Would I were then your own, that I might keep you company. + +NURSE. +O sir, you and he that is her own are far asunder. + +CHURMS. +But if she please, we may be nearer. + +LELIA. +That cannot be; mine own is nearer than myself: +And yet myself, alas! am not mine own. +Thoughts, fears, despairs, ten thousand dreadful dreams, +Those are mine own, and those do keep me company. + +CHURMS. +Before God, +I must confess, your father is too cruel, +To keep you thus sequester'd from the world, +To spend your prime of youth thus in obscurity, +And seek to wed you to an idiot fool, +That knows not how to use himself: +Could my deserts but answer my desires, +I swear by Sol, fair Phoebus' silver eye, +My heart would wish no higher to aspire, +Than to be grac'd with Lelia's love. +By Jesus, I cannot play the dissembler, +And woo my love with courting ambages, +Like one whose love hangs on his smooth tongue's end; +But, in a word, I tell the sum of my desires, +I love fair Lelia: +By her my passions daily are increas'd; +And I must die, unless by Lelia's love they be releas'd. + +LELIA. +Why, Master Churms, I had thought that you had been my father's great +councillor in all these actions. + +CHURMS. +Nay, damn me, if I be: by heav'ns, sweet nymph, I am not! + +NURSE. +Master Churms, you are one can do much with her father: and if you love +as you say, persuade him to use her more kindly, and give her liberty to +take her choice; for these made marriages prove not well. + +CHURMS. +I protest I will. + +LELIA. +So Lelia shall accept thee as her friend:-- +Meanwhile, nurse, let's in: +My long absence, I know, will make my father muse. + + [_Exeunt_ LELIA and NURSE. + +CHURMS. +_So Lelia shall accept thee as her friend_:--who can but ruminate upon +these words? Would she had said, her love: but 'tis no matter; first +creep, and then go; now her friend: the next degree is Lelia's love. +Well, I'll persuade her father to let her have a little more liberty. +But soft; I'll none of that neither: so the scholar may chance cosen me. +Persuade him to keep her in still: and before she'll have Peter +Plod-all, she'll have anybody; and so I shall be sure that Sophos shall +never come at her. Why, I'll warrant ye, she'll be glad to run away with +me at length. Hang him that has no shifts. I promised Sophos to further +him in his suit; but if I do, I'll be pecked to death with hens. I swore +to Gripe I would persuade Lelia to love Peter Plod-all; but, God forgive +me, 'twas the furthest end of my thought. Tut! what's an oath? every man +for himself: I'll shift for one, I warrant ye. + [_Exit_. + + _Enter_ FORTUNATUS _solus_. + +FORTUNATUS. +Thus have I pass'd the beating billows of the sea, +By Ithac's rocks and wat'ry Neptune's bounds: +And wafted safe from Mars his bloody fields, +Where trumpets sound tantara to the fight, +And here arriv'd for to repose myself +Upon the borders of my native soil. +Now, Fortunatus, bend thy happy course +Unto thy father's house, to greet thy dearest friends; +And if that still thy aged sire survive, +Thy presence will revive his drooping spirits, +And cause his wither'd cheeks be sprent with youthful blood, +Where death of late was portray'd to the quick. +But, soft; who comes here? [_Stand aside_. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +I wonder I hear not of Master Churms; I would fain know how he speeds, +and what success he has in Lelia's love. Well, if he cosen the scholar +of her, 'twould make my worship laugh; and if he have her, he may +say,--Godamercy, Robin Goodfellow: O, ware a good head as long as you +live. Why, Master Gripe, he casts beyond the moon, and Churms is the +only man he puts in trust with his daughter; and, I'll warrant, the old +churl would take it upon his salvation that he will persuade her to +marry Peter Plod-all. But I will make a fool of Peter Plod-all; I'll +look him in the face, and pick his purse, whilst Churms cosen him of his +wench, and my old grandsire Holdfast of his daughter: and if he can do +so, I'll teach him a trick to cosen him of his gold too. Now, for +Sophos, let him wear the willow garland, and play the melancholy +malcontent, and pluck his hat down in his sullen eyes, and think on +Lelia in these desert groves: 'tis enough for him to have her in his +thoughts, although he ne'er embrace her in his arms. But now there's a +fine device comes into my head to scare the scholar: you shall see, I'll +make fine sport with him. They say that every day he keeps his walk +amongst these woods and melancholy shades, and on the bark of every +senseless tree engraves the tenor of his hapless hope. Now when he's at +Venus' altar at his orisons, I'll put me on my great carnation-nose, and +wrap me in a rowsing calf-skin suit, and come like some hobgoblin, or +some devil ascended from the grisly pit of hell, and like a scarbabe +make him take his legs: I'll play the devil, I warrant ye. + + [_Exit_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW. + +FORTUNATUS. +And if you do, by this hand, I'll play the conjuror. +Blush, Fortunatus, at the base conceit! +To stand aloof, like one that's in a trance, +And with thine eyes behold that miscreant imp, +Whose tongue['s] more venom['s] than the serpent's sting, +Before thy face thus taunt thy dearest friends-- +Ay, thine own father--with reproachful terms! +Thy sister Lelia, she is bought and sold, +And learned Sophos, thy thrice-vowed friend, +Is made a stale by this base cursed crew +And damned den of vagrant runagates: +But here, in sight of sacred heav'ns, I swear +By all the sorrows of the Stygian souls, +By Mars his bloody blade, and fair Bellona's bowers, +I vow, these eyes shall ne'er behold my father's face, +These feet shall never pass these desert plains; +But pilgrim-like, I'll wander in these woods, +Until I find out Sopho's secret walks. +And sound the depth of all their plotted drifts. +Nor will I cease, until these hands revenge +Th'injurious wrong, that's offer'd to my friend, +Upon the workers of this stratagem. + [_Exit_. + + _Enter_ PEG _sola_. + +I' faith, i' faith, I cannot tell what to do; +I love, and I love, and I cannot tell who: +Out upon this love! for, wot you what? +I have suitors come huddle, twos upon twos, +And threes upon threes: and what think you +Troubles me? I must chat and kiss with all comers, +Or else no bargain. + + _Enter_ WILL CRICKET, _and kisses her_. + +WILL CRICKET. +A bargain, i' faith: ha, my sweet honey-sops! how dost thou? + +PEG. +Well, I thank you, William; now I see y'are a man of your word. + +WILL CRICKET. +A man o' my word, quotha? why, I ne'er broke promise in my life that +I kept. + +PEG. +No, William, I know you did not; but I had forgotten me. + +WILL CRICKET. +Dost hear, Peg? if e'er I forget thee, I pray God, I may never remember +thee. + +PEG. +Peace! here comes my granam Midnight. + + _Enter_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +What, Peg! what, ho! what, Peg, I say! what, Peg, my wench? where art +thou, trow? + +PEG. +Here, granam, at your elbow. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +What mak'st thou here this twatter light? I think thou'rt in a dream; +I think the fool haunts thee. + +WILL CRICKET. +Zounds, fool in your face! Fool? O monstrous intitulation. Fool? O, +disgrace to my person. Zounds, fool not me, for I cannot brook such a +cold rasher, I can tell you. Give me but such another word, and I'll be +thy tooth-drawer--even of thy butter-tooth, thou toothless trot, thou! + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Nay, William, pray ye, be not angry; you must bear with old folks, they +be old and testy, hot and hasty. Set not your wit against mine, William; +for I thought you no harm, by my troth. + +WILL CRICKET. +Well, your good words have something laid my choler. But, granam, shall +I be so bold to come to your house now and then to keep Peg company? + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Ay, and beshrew thy good heart, and thou dost not. Come, and we'll have +a piece of a barley bag-pudding or something, and thou shalt be very +heartily welcome, that thou shalt, and Peg shall bid thee welcome too. +Pray ye, maid, bid him welcome, and make much of him, for, by my vay, +he's a good proper springal.[146] + +PEG. +Granam, if you did but see him dance, 'twould do your heart good. Lord! +'twould make anybody love him, to see how finely he'll foot it. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +William, prythee, go home to my house with us, and take a cup of our +beer, and learn to know the way again another time. + +WILL CRICKET. +Come on, granam. I'll man you home, i' faith. +Come, Peg. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ GRIPE, _old_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_ PETER, _and_ + CHURMS _the lawyer_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Come hither, Peter; hold up your head. +Where's your cap and leg, sir boy, ha? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +By your leave, Master Gripe. + +GRIPE. +Welcome, Peter; give me thy hand: thou'rt welcome. By'r Lady, this is a +good, proper, tall fellow, neighbour; call you him a boy? + +PLOD-ALL. +A good, pretty, square springal,[147] sir. + +GRIPE. +Peter, you have seen my daughter, I am sure. +How do you like her? What says she to you? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Faith, I like her well, and I have broken my mind to her, and she would +say neither ay nor no. But, thank God, sir, we parted good friends, for +she let me kiss her hand, and bad, _Farewell, Peter_, and therefore I +think I am like enough to speed. How think you, Master Churms? + +CHURMS. +Marry, I think so too, for she did show no token of any dislike of your +motion, did she? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +No, not a whit, sir. + +CHURMS. +Why then, I warrant ye, for we hold in our law that, _idem est non +apparere et non esse_. + + +GRIPE. +Master Churms, I pray you, do so much as call my daughter hither. I will +make her sure here to Peter Plod-all, and I'll desire you to be a +witness. + +CHURMS. +With all my heart, sir. [_Exit_ CHURMS. + +GRIPE. +Before God, neighbour, this same Master Churms is a very good lawyer, +for, I warrant, you cannot speak anything, but he has law for it _ad +unguem_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Marry, even the more joy on him, and he's one that I am very much +beholding to: but here comes your daughter. + + _Enter_ CHURMS, LELIA, _and_ NURSE. + +LELIA. +Father, did you send for me? + +GRIPE. +Ay, wench, I did. Come hither, Lelia; give me thy hand. Master Churms, +I pray you, bear witness, I here give Lelia to Peter Plod-all. [_She +plucks away her hand_.] How now? + +NURSE. +She'll none, she thanks you, sir. + +GRIPE. +Will she none? Why, how now, I say? What, you puling, peevish thing, you +untoward baggage, will you not be ruled by your father? Have I taken +care to bring you up to this, and will you do as you list? Away, I say; +hang, starve, beg; begone, pack, I say; out of my sight! Thou never +gettest pennyworth of my goods for this. Think on't, I do not use to +jest. Begone, I say; I will not hear thee speak. + + [_Exeunt_ LELIA _and_ NURSE. + +CHURMS. +I pray you, sir, patient yourself; she's young. + +GRIPE. +I hold my life, this beggarly scholar hankers about her still, makes her +so untoward. But I'll home; I'll set her a harder task. I'll keep her +in, and look to her a little better than I ha' done. I'll make her have +little mind of gadding, I warrant her. Come, neighbour, send your son to +my house, for he's welcome thither, and shall be welcome; and I'll make +Lelia bid him welcome too, ere I ha' done with her. Come, Peter, follow +us. + [_Exeunt all but_ CHURMS. + +CHURNS. +Why, this is excellent: better and better still. This is beyond +expectation; why, now this gear begins to work. But, beshrew my heart, I +was afraid that Lelia would have yielded. When I saw her father take her +by the hand and call me for a witness, my heart began to quake; but, to +say the truth, she had little reason to take a cullian lug-loaf, milksop +slave, when she may have a lawyer, a gentleman that stands upon his +reputation in the country, one whose diminutive defect of law may +compare with his little learning. Well, I see that Churms must be the +man must carry Lelia, when all's done. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +How now, Master Churms? What news abroad? Methinks you look very spruce; +y'are very frolic now a-late. + +CHURMS. +What, fellow Robin? How goes the squares with you? Y'are waxen very +proud a-late; you will not know your own friends. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Faith, I even came to seek you, to bestow a quart of wine of you. + +CHURMS. +That's strange; you were never wont to be so liberal. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Tush, man; one good turn asks another; clear gains, man, clear gains! +Peter Plod-all shall pay for all. I have gulled him once, and I'll come +over him again and again, I warrant ye. + +CHURMS. +Faith, Lelia has e'en given him the doff[148] here, and has made her +father almost stark-mad. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O, all the better; then I shall be sure of more of his custom. But what +success have you in your suit with her? + +CHURMS. +Faith, all hitherto goes well. I have made the motion to her, but as yet +we are grown to no conclusion. But I am in very good hope. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +But do you think you shall get her father's goodwill? + +CHURMS. +Tut, if I get the wench, I care not for that; that will come afterward; +and I'll be sure of something in the meantime, for I have outlawed a +great number of his debtors, and I'll gather up what money I can amongst +them, and Gripe shall never know of it neither. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Ay, and of those that are scarce able to pay, take the one half, and +forgive them the other, rather than sit out at all. + +CHURMS. +Tush! let me alone for that; but, sirrah, I have brought the scholar +into a fool's paradise. Why, he has made me his spokesman to Mistress +Lelia, and, God's my judge, I never so much as name him to her. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O, by the mass, well-remembered. +I'll tell you what I mean to do: +I'll attire myself fit for the same purpose, +Like to some hellish hag or damned fiend, +And meet with Sophos wandering in the woods. +O, I shall fray him terribly. + +CHURMS. +I would thou couldst scare him out of his wits, then should I ha' the +wench, cocksure. I doubt nobody but him. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Well, let's go drink together, +And then I'll go put on my devilish robes-- +I mean, my Christmas calf-skin suit, +And then walk to the woods. +O, I'll terrify him, I warrant ye. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _A Wood_. + + _Enter_ SOPHOS _solus_. + +SOPHOS. +Will heavens still smile at Sophos' miseries, +And give no end to my incessant moans? +These cypress shades are witness of my woes; +The senseless trees do grieve at my laments; +The leafy branches drop sweet Myrrha's tears: +For love did scorn me in my mother's womb, +And sullen Saturn, pregnant at my birth, +With all the fatal stars conspir'd in one +To frame a hapless constellation, +Presaging Sophos' luckless destiny. +Here, here doth Sophos turn Ixion's restless wheel, +And here lies wrapp'd in labyrinths of love-- +Of his sweet Lelia's love, whose sole idea still +Prolongs the hapless date of Sophos' hopeless life. +Ah! said I life? a life far worse than death-- +Than death? ay, than ten thousand deaths. +I daily die, in that I live love's thrall; +They die thrice happy that once die for all. +Here will I stay my weary wand'ring steps, +And lay me down upon this solid earth, [_He lies down_. +The mother of despair and baleful thoughts. +Ay, this befits my melancholy moods. +Now, now, methinks I hear the pretty birds +With warbling tunes record Fair Lelia's name, +Whose absence makes warm blood drop from my heart, +And forceth wat'ry tears from these my weeping eyes. +Methinks I hear the silver-sounding stream +With gentle murmur summon me to sleep, +Singing a sweet, melodious lullaby. +Here will I take a nap, and drown my hapless hopes +In the ocean seas of _Never like to speed_. + [_He falls in a slumber, and music sounds_. + + _Enter_ SYLVANUS. + +SYLVANUS. +Thus hath Sylvanus left his leafy bowers, +Drawn by the sound of Echo's sad reports, +That with shrill notes and high resounding voice +Doth pierce the very caverns of the earth, +And rings through hills and dales the sad laments +Of virtue's loss and Sophos' mournful plaints. +Now, Morpheus, rouse thee from thy sable den, +Charm all his senses with a slumb'ring trance; +Whilst old Sylvanus send[s] a lovely train +Of satyrs, dryades, and water[149] nymphs +Out of their bowers to tune their silver strings, +And with sweet-sounding music sing +Some pleasing madrigals and roundelays, +To comfort Sophos in his deep distress. + [_Exit_ SYLVANUS. + + _Enter the Nymphs and Satyrs singing_. + + THE SONG. + + 1. + + _Satyrs, sing, let sorrow keep her cell, + Let warbling Echoes ring, + And sounding music yell[150] + Through hills, through dales, sad grief and care to kill + In him long since, alas! hath griev'd his fill_. + + 2. + + _Sleep no more, but wake and live content, + Thy grief the Nymphs deplore: + The Sylvan gods lament + To hear, to see thy moan, thy loss, thy love, + Thy plaints to tears the flinty rocks do move_. + + 3. + + _Grieve not, then; the queen of love is mild, + She sweetly smiles on men, + When reason's most beguil'd; + Her looks, her smiles are kind, are sweet, are fair: + Awake therefore, and sleep not still in care_. + + 4. + + _Love intends to free thee from annoy, + His nymphs Sylvanus sends + To bid thee live in joy, + In hope, in joy, sweet love, delight's embrace: + Fair love herself will yield thee so much grace_. + + [_Exeunt the Nymphs and Satyrs_. + +SOPHOS. +What do I hear? what harmony is this, +With silver sound that glutteth Sophos' ears. +And drives sad passions from his heavy heart, +Presaging some good future hap shall fall, +After these blust'ring blasts of discontent? +Thanks, gentle Nymphs, and Satyrs too, adieu; +That thus compassionate a loyal lover's woe, +When heav'n sits smiling at his dire mishaps. + + _Enter_ FORTUNATUS. + +FORTUNATUS. +With weary steps I trace these desert groves, +And search to find out Sophos' secret walks, +My truest vowed friend and Lelia's dearest love. + +SOPHOS. +What voice is this sounds Lelia's sacred name? [_He riseth_. +Is it some satyr that hath view'd her late, +And's grown enamour'd of her gorgeous hue? + +FORTUNATUS. +No satyr, Sophos; but thy ancient friend, +Whose dearest blood doth rest at thy command: +Hath sorrow lately blear'd thy wat'ry eyes, +That thou forgett'st the lasting league of love, +Long since was vowed betwixt thyself and me? +Look on me, man; I am thy friend. + +SOPHOS. +O, now I know thee, now thou nam'st my friend; +I have no friend, to whom I dare +Unload the burden of my grief, +But only Fortunatus, he's my second self: +_Mi Fortunate, ter fortunaté venis_.[151] + +FORTUNATUS. +How fares my friend? methinks you look not well; +Your eyes are sunk, your cheeks look pale and wan: +What means this alteration? + +SOPHOS. +My mind, sweet friend, is like a mastless ship, +That's hurl'd and toss'd upon the surging seas +By Boreas' bitter blast and Ae'lus' whistling winds, +On rocks and sands far from the wished port, +Whereon my silly ship desires to land: +Fair Lelia's love, that is the wished haven, +Wherein my wand'ring mind would take repose; +For want of which my restless thoughts are toss'd, +For want of which all Sophos' joys are lost. + +FORTUNATUS. +Doth Sophos love my sister Lelia? + +SOPHOS. +She, she it is, whose love I wish to gain, +Nor need I wish, nor do I love in vain: +My love she doth repay with equal meed-- +'Tis strange, you'll say, that Sophos should not speed. + +FORTUNATUS. +Your love repaid with equal meed, +And yet you languish still in love? 'tis strange. +From whence proceeds your grief, +Unfold unto your friend: a friend may yield relief. + +SOPHOS. +My want of wealth is author of my grief; +Your father says, my state is too-too low: +I am no hobby bred; I may not soar so high +As Lelia's love, +The lofty eagle will not catch at flies. +When I with Icarus would soar against the sun, +He is the only fiery Phaeton +Denies my course, and sears my waxen wings, +When as I soar aloft. +He mews fair Lelia up from Sophos' sight, +That not so much as paper pleads remorse. +Thrice three times Sol hath slept in Thetis' lap, +Since these mine eyes beheld sweet Lelia's face: +What greater grief, what other hell than this, +To be denied to come where my beloved is? + +FORTUNATUS. +Do you alone love Lelia? +Have you no rivals with you in your love? + +SOPHOS. +Yes, only one; and him your father backs: +'Tis Peter Plod-all, rich Plod-all's son and heir, +One whose base, rustic, rude desert +Unworthy far to win so fair a prize; +Yet means your father for to make a match +For golden lucre with this Coridon, +And scorns at virtue's lore: hence grows my grief. + +FORTUNATUS. +If it be true I hear, there is one Churms beside +Makes suit to win my sister to his bride. + +SOPHOS. +That cannot be; Churms is my vowed friend, +Whose tongue relates the tenor of my love +To Lelia's ears: I have no other means. + +FORTUNATUS. +Well, trust him not: the tiger hides his claws, +When oft he doth pretend[152] the greatest guiles. +But stay: here comes Lelia's nurse. + + _Enter_ NURSE. + +SOPHOS. +Nurse, what news? How fares my love? + +NURSE. +How fares she, quotha? marry, she may fare how she will for you. Neither +come to her nor send to her of a whole fortnight! Now I swear to you by +my maidenhead, if my husband should have served me so when he came a +wooing me, I would never have looked on him with a good face, as long as +I had lived. But he was as kind a wretch as ever laid lips of a woman: +he would a'come through the windows, or doors, or walls, or anything, +but he would have come to me. Marry, after we had been married a while, +his kindness began to slack, for I'll tell you what he did: he made me +believe he would go to Green-goose fair; and I'll be sworn he took his +legs, and ran clean away. And I am afraid you'll prove e'en such another +kind piece to my mistress; for she sits at home in a corner weeping for +you: and, I'll be sworn, she's ready to die upward for you. And her +father o' the other side, he yawls at her, and jawls at her; and she +leads such a life for you, it passes: and you'll neither come to her, +nor send to her. Why, she thinks you have forgotten her. + +SOPHOS. +Nay, then let heav'ns in sorrow end my days, +And fatal fortune never cease to frown: +And heav'n and earth, and all conspire to pull me down, +If black oblivion seize upon my heart, +Once to estrange my thoughts from Lelia's love. + +FORTUNATUS. +Why, nurse, I am sure that Lelia hears +From Sophos once a day at least by Churms +The lawyer, who is his only friend. + +NURSE. +What, young master! God bless mine eyesight. Now, by my maidenhead, +y'are welcome home: I am sure my mistress will be glad to see you. But +what said you of Master Churms? + +FORTUNATUS. +Marry, I say he's a well-wisher to my sister Lelia, +And a secret friend to Sophos. + +NURSE. +Marry, the devil he is! trust him, and hang him. Why, he cannot speak a +good word on him to my old master; and he does so ruffle before my +mistress with his barbarian eloquence,[153] and strut before her in a +pair of Polonian legs, as if he were a gentleman-usher to the great Turk +or to the devil of Dowgate. And if my mistress would be ruled by him, +Sophos might go snick-up: but he has such a butter-milk face, that +she'll never have him. + +SOPHOS. +Can falsehood lurk in those enticing looks! +And deep dissemblance lie, where truth appears? + +FORTUNATUS. +Injurious villain, to betray his friend! + +NURSE. +Sir, do you know the gentleman? + +FORTUNATUS. +Faith, not well. + +NURSE. +Why, sir, he looks like a red herring at a nobleman's table on +Easter-day, and he speaks nothing but almond-butter and sugarcandy. + +FORTUNATUS. +That's excellent. + +SOPHOS. +This world's the chaos of confusion; +No world at all, but mass of open wrongs, +Wherein a man, as in a map, may see +The highroad way from woe to misery. + +FORTUNATUS. +Content yourself, and leave these passions: +Now do I sound the depth of all their drifts, +The devil's[154] device and Churms his knavery; +On whom this heart hath vow'd to be reveng'd. +I'll scatter them: the plot's already in my head. +Nurse, hie thee home, commend me to my sister; +Bid her this night send for Master Churms: +To him she must recount her many griefs, +Exclaim against her father's hard constraint, and so +Cunningly temporise with this cunning Catso, +That he may think she loves him as her life; +Bid her tell him that, if by any means +He can convey her forth her father's gate +Unto a secret friend of hers, +The way to whom lies by this forest-side; +That none but he shall have her to his bride. +For her departure let her 'ppoint the time +To-morrow night, when Vesper 'gins to shine; +Here will I be when Lelia comes this way, +Accompani'd with her gentleman-usher, +Whose am'rous thoughts do dream on nought but love: +And if this bastinado hold, I'll make +Him leave his wench with Sophos for a pawn. +Let me alone to use him in his kind; +This is the trap which for him I have laid, +Thus craft by cunning once shall be betray'd: +And, for the devil,[155] I will conjure him. +Good nurse, begone; bid her not fail: +And for a token bear to her this ring, +Which well she knows; for, when I saw her last, +It was her favour, and she gave it me. + +SOPHOS. +And bear her this from me, +And with this ring bid her receive my heart-- +My heart! alas, my heart I cannot give; +How should I give her that which is her own? + +NURSE. +And your heart be hers, her heart is yours, and so change is no robbery. +Well, I'll give her your tokens, and tell her what ye say. + +FORTUNATUS. +Do, good nurse; but in any case let not my father know that I am here, +until we have effected all our purposes. + +NURSE. +I'll warrant you, I will not play with you, as Master Churms does with +Sophos; I would ha' my ears cut from my head first. + [_Exit_ NURSE. + +FORTUNATUS. +Come, Sophos, cheer up yourself, man; +Let hope expel these melancholy dumps. +Meanwhile, let's in, expecting +How the events of this device will fall, +Until to-morrow at th'appointed time, +When we'll expect the coming of your love. +What, man, I'll work it through the fire, +But you shall have her. + +SOPHOS. +And I will study to deserve this love. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ WILLIAM CRICKET _solus_. + +WILL CRICKET. +Look on me, and look of Master Churms, a good, proper man. Marry, Master +Churms has something a better pair of legs indeed, but for a sweet face, +a fine beard, comely corpse, and a carousing codpiece. + + All England, if it can, + Show me such a man, + To win a wench, by Gis, + To clip, to coll, to kiss, + As William Cricket is. + +Why, look you now: if I had been such a great, long, large, lobcocked, +loselled lurden, as Master Churms is, I'll warrant you, I should never +have got Peg as long as I had lived, for, do you mark, a wench will +never love a man that has all his substance in his legs. But stay: here +comes my landlord; I must go salute him. + + _Enter old_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_ PETER. + +PLOD-ALL. +Come hither, Peter. When didst thou see Robin Goodfellow? He's the man +must do the fact. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Faith, father, I see him not this two days, but I'll seek him out, for +I know he'll do the deed, and she were twenty Leilas. For, father, he's +a very cunning man for give him but ten groats, and he'll give me a +powder that will make Lelia come to bed to me, and when I have her there, +I'll use her well enough. + +PLOD-ALL. +Will he so? Marry, I will give him vorty shillings, if he can do it. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Nay, he'll do more than that too, for he'll make himself like a devil, +and fray the scholar that hankers about her out on's wits. + +PLOD-ALL. +Marry, Jesus bless us! will he so? Marry, thou shalt have vorty +shillings to give him, and thy mother shall bestow a hard cheese +on him beside. + +WILL CRICKET. +Landlord, a pox on you, this good morn! + +PLOD-ALL. +How now, fool? what, dost curse me? + +WILL CRICKET. +How now, fool! How now, caterpillar? It's a sign of death, when such +vermin creep hedges so early in the morning. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Sirrah foul manners, do you know to whom you speak? + +WILL CRICKET. +Indeed, Peter, I must confess I want some of your wooing manners, or +else I might have turned my fair bushtail to you instead of your father, +and have given you the ill salutation this morning. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Let him alone, Peter; I'll temper him well enough. Sirrah, I hear say, +you must be married shortly. I'll make you pay a sweet fine for your +house for this. Ha, sirrah! am not I your landlord? + +WILL CRICKET. +Yes, for fault of a better; but you get neither sweet fine nor sour +fine of me. + +PLOD-ALL. +My masters, I pray you bear witness I do discharge him then. + +WILL CRICKET. +My masters, I pray you bear witness my landlord has given me a general +discharge. I'll be married presently. My fine's paid; I have a discharge +for it. [_He offers to go away_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Nay, prythee, stay. + +WILL CRICKET. +No, I'll not stay. I'll go call the clerk. I'll be cried out upon i' the +church presently. What, ho! what, clerk, I say? where are you? + + _Enter_ CLERK. + +CLERK. +Who calls me? what would you with me? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, sir, I would have you to make proclamation that, if any manner of +man, o' the town or the country, can lay any claim to Peg Pudding, let +him bring word to the crier, or else William Cricket will wipe his nose +of her. + +CLERK. +You mean, you would be asked i' the church? + +WILL CRICKET. +Ay, that's it. A bots on't, I cannot hit of these marrying terms yet. +And I'll desire my landlord here and his son to be at the celebration of +my marriage too. I' faith, Peter, you shall cram your guts full of +cheesecakes and custards there; and, sirrah clerk, if thou wilt say amen +stoutly, i' faith, my powder-beef-slave, I'll have a rump of beef for +thee, shall make thy mouth stand o' the tother side. + +CLERK. +When would you have it done? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, e'en as soon as may be. Let me see; I will be asked i' the church +of Sunday morning prayer, and again at evening prayer, and the next +holyday that comes, I will be asked i' the forenoon and married i' the +afternoon, for, do you mark, I am none of these sneaking fellows that +will stand thrumming of caps and studying upon a matter, as long as +Hunks with the great head has been about to show his little wit in the +second part of his paltry poetry,[156] but if I begin with wooing, I'll +end with wedding, and therefore, good clerk, let me have it done with +all speed; for, I promise you, I am very sharp-set. + +CLERK. +Faith, you may be asked i' the church on Sunday at morning prayer, but +Sir John cannot 'tend[157] to do it at evening prayer, for there comes a +company of players to the town on Sunday i' the afternoon, and Sir John +is so good a fellow that I know he'll scarce leave their company to say +evening prayer; for, though I say it, he's a very painful man, and takes +so great delight in that faculty, that he'll take as great pain about +building of a stage or so, as the basest fellow among them. + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, if he have so lawful an excuse, I am content to defer it one day +the longer; and, landlord, I hope you and your son Peter will make bold +with us, and trouble us. + +PLOD-ALL. +Nay, William, we would be loth to trouble you; but you shall have our +company there. + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, you shall be very heartily welcome, and we will have good merry +rogues there, that will make you laugh till you burst. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Why, William, what company do you mean to have? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, first and foremost, there will be an honest Dutch cobbler, that +will sing _I will noe meare to Burgaine[158] go_, the best that ever you +heard. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +What, must a cobbler be your chief guest? Why, he's a base fellow. + +WILL CRICKET. +A base fellow! You may be ashamed to say so, for he's an honest fellow +and a good fellow; and he begins to carry the very badge of +good-fellowship upon his nose, that I do not doubt but in time he will +prove as good a cup-companion as Robin Goodfellow himself. Ay, and he's +a tall fellow, and a man of his hands too, for, I'll tell you what--tie +him to the bull-ring, and for a bag-pudding, a custard, a cheesecake, a +hog's cheek, or a calf's head, turn any man i' the town to him, and if +he do not prove himself as tall a man as he, let blind Hugh bewitch him, +and turn his body into a barrel of strong ale, and let his nose be the +spigot, his mouth the faucet, and his tongue a plug for the bunghole. +And then there will be Robin Goodfellow, as good a drunken rogue as +lives, and Tom Shoemaker; and I hope you will not deny that he's an +honest man, for he was constable o' the town; and a number of other +honest rascals which, though they are grown bankrouts, and live at the +reversion of other men's tables, yet, thanks be to God, they have a +penny amongst them at all times at their need. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Nay, if Robin Goodfellow be there, you shall be sure to have our +company; for he's one that we hear very well of, and my son here has +some occasion to use him, and therefore, if we may know when 'tis, +we'll make bold to trouble you. + +WILL CRICKET. +Yes, I'll send you word. + +PLOD-ALL. +Why then farewell, till we hear from you. + + [_Exeunt_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_. + +WILL CRICKET. +Well, clerk, you'll see this matter bravely performed; let it be +done as it should be. + +CLERK. +I'll warrant ye; fear it not. + +WILL CRICKET. +Why, then, go you to Sir John, and I'll to my wench, and bid her give +her maidenhead warning to prepare itself; for the destruction of it is +at hand. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ LELIA _sola_. + +LELIA. +How love and fortune both with eager mood, +Like greedy hounds, do hunt my tired heart, +Rous'd forth the thickets of my wonted joys! +And Cupid winds his shrill-note buglehorn, +For joy my silly heart so near is spent: +Desire, that eager cur, pursues the chase, +And fortune rides amain unto the fall; +Now sorrow sings, and mourning bears a part, +Playing harsh descant on my yielding heart. + + _Enter_ NURSE. + +Nurse, what news? + +NURSE. +Faith, a whole sackful of news. You love Sophos, and Sophos loves you, +and Peter Plod-all loves you, and you love not him, and you love not +Master Churms, and he loves you; and so, here's love and no love, and I +love and I love not, and I cannot tell what; but of all and of all +Master Churms must be the man you must love. + +LELIA. +Nay, first I'll mount me on the winged wind, +And fly for succour to the furthest Ind. +Must I love Master Churms? + +NURSE. +Faith, you must, and you must not. + +LELIA. +As how, I pray thee? + +NURSE. +Marry, I have commendations to you. + +LELIA. +From whom? + +NURSE. +From your brother Fortunatus. + +LELIA. +My brother Fortunatus! + +NURSE. +No, from Sophos. + +LELIA. +From my love? + +NURSE. +No, from neither. + +LELIA. +From neither? + +NURSE. +Yes, from both. + +LELIA. +Prythee, leave thy foolery, and let me know thy news. + +NURSE. +Your brother Fortunatus and your love to-morrow night will meet you by +the forest-side, there to confer about I know not what: but it is like +that Sophos will make you of his privy council, before you come again. + +LELIA. +Is Fortunatus then returned from the wars? + +NURSE. +He is with Sophos every day: but in any case you must not let your +father know; for he hath sworn he will not be descried, until he have +effected your desires; for he swaggers and swears out of all cry, that +he will venture all, + + Both fame and blood, and limb and life, + But Lelia shall be Sophos' wedded wife. + +LELIA. +Alas! nurse, my father's jealous brain +Doth scarce allow me once a month to go +Beyond the compass of his watchful eyes, +Nor once afford me any conference +With any man, except with Master Churms, +Whose crafty brain beguiles my father so, +That he reposeth trust in none but him: +And though he seeks for favour at my hands, +He takes his mark amiss, and shoots awry; +For I had rather see the devil himself +Than Churms the lawyer. Therefore +How I should meet them by the forest-side +I cannot possibly devise. + +NURSE. +And Master Churms must be the man must work the means: you must this +night send for him; make him believe you love him mightily; tell him you +have a secret friend dwells far away beyond the forest, to whom, if he +can secretly convey you from your father, tell him, you will love him +better than ever God loved him: and when you come to the place +appointed, let them alone to discharge the knave of clubs: and that you +must not fail, here receive this ring, which Fortunatus sent you for a +token, that this is the plot that you must prosecute; and this from +Sophos, as his true love's pledge. + +LELIA. +This ring my brother sent, I know right well: +But this my true love's pledge I more esteem +Than all the golden mines the solid earth contains-- +And see, in happy time, here comes Master Churms. + + _Enter_ CHURMS. + +Now love and fortune both conspire, +And sort their drifts to compass my desire. +Master Churms, y'are well met; I am glad to see you. + +CHURMS. +And I as glad to see fair Lelia, +As ever Paris was to see his dear; +For whom so many Trojans' blood was spilt: +Nor think I would do less than spend my dearest blood +To gain fair Lelia's love, although by loss of life. + +NURSE. +'Faith, mistress, he speaks like a gentleman. Let me persuade you; be +not hard-hearted. Sophos? Why, what's he? If he had loved you but half +so well, he would ha' come through stone walls, but he would have come +to you ere this. + +LELIA. +I must confess, I once lov'd Sophos well; +But now I cannot love him, whom +All the world knows to be a dissembler. + +CHURMS. +Ere I would wrong my love with one day's absence, +I would pass the boiling Hellespont, +As once Leander did for Hero's love, +Or undertake a greater task than that, +Ere I would be disloyal to my love. +And if that Lelia give her free consent, +That both our loves may sympathise in one, +My hand, my heart, my love, my life, and all, +Shall ever tend on Lelia's fair command. + +LELIA. +Master Churms, +Methinks 'tis strange you should make such a motion: +Say, I should yield and grant you love, +When most you did expect a sunshine day, +My father's will would mar your hop'd-for hay; +And when you thought to reap the fruits of love, +His hard constraint would blast it in the bloom: +For he so doats on Peter Plod-all's pelf, +That none but he forsooth must be the man: +And I will rather match myself +Unto a groom of Pluto's grisly den, +Than unto such a silly golden ass. + +CHURMS. +Bravely resolved, i' faith! + +LELIA. +But, to be short-- +I have a secret friend, that dwells from hence +Some two days' journey, that's the most; +And if you can, as well I know you may, +Convey me thither secretly-- +For company I desire no other than your own-- +Here take my hand: +That once perform'd, my heart is next. + +CHURMS. +If on th'adventure all the dangers lay, +That Europe or the western world affords; +Were it to combat Cerberus himself, +Or scale the brazen walls of Pluto's court, +When as there is so fair a prize propos'd; +If I shrink back, or leave it unperform'd, +Let the world canonise me for a coward: +Appoint the time, and leave the rest to me. + +LELIA. +When night's black mantle overspreads the sky, +And day's bright lamp is drenched in the west-- +To-morrow night I think the fittest time, +That silent shade[s] may give us[159] safe convoy +Unto our wished hopes, unseen of living eye. + +CHURMS. +And at that time I will not fail +In that, or ought may make for our avail. + +NURSE. +But what if Sophos should meet you by the forest-side, and encounter +you with his single rapier? + +CHURMS. +Sophos? a hop of my thumb! +A wretch, a wretch! Should Sophos meet +Us there accompani'd with some champion +With whom 'twere any credit to encounter, +Were he as stout as Hercules himself, +Then would I buckle with them hand to hand, +And bandy blows, as thick as hailstones fall, +And carry Lelia away in spite of all their force. +What? love will make cowards fight-- +Much more a man of my resolution. + +LELIA. +And on your resolution I'll depend. +Until to-morrow at th'appointed time, +When I look for you: till when I leave you, +And go make preparation for our journey. + +CHURMS. +Farewell, fair love, until we meet again. Why so: did I not tell you she +would be glad to run away with me at length? Why, this falls out, e'en +as a man would say, thus I would have it. But now I must go cast about +for some money too. Let me see, I have outlawed three or four of Gripe's +debtors; and I have the bonds in mine own hands. The sum that is due to +him is some two or three hundred pounds. Well, I'll to them; if I can +get but one half, I'll deliver them their bonds, and leave the other +half to their own consciences: and so I shall be sure to get money to +bear charges. When all fails, well fare a good wit! But soft; no more of +that. Here comes Master Gripe. + + _Enter_ GRIPE. + +GRIPE. +What, Master Churms? what, all alone? How fares your body? + +CHURMS. +Faith, sir, reasonable well: I am e'en walking here to take the +fresh air. + +GRIPE. +'Tis very wholesome, this fair weather. But, Master Churms, how like you +my daughter? Can you do any good on her? Will she be ruled yet? How +stands she affected to Peter Plod-all? + +CHURMS. +O, very well, sir; I have made her very conformable. O, let me alone to +persuade a woman. I hope you shall see her married within this week at +most,--(_Aside_) I mean to myself. + +GRIPE. +Master Churms, I am so exceedingly beholding to you, I cannot tell how I +shall requite your kindness. But, i' the meantime, here's a brace of +angels for you to drink for your pains. This news hath e'en lightened my +heart. O sir, my neighbour Plod-all is very wealthy. Come, Master +Churms, you shall go home with me: we'll have good cheer, and be merry +for this to-night, i' faith. + +CHURMS. +Well, let them laugh that win. [_Aside. Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ PEG _and her_ GRANAM. + +PEG. +Granam, give me but two crowns of red gold, and I'll give you twopence +of white silver, if Robin the devil be not a water-witch. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Marry, Jesus bless us! why, prythee? + +PEG. +Marry, I'll tell you why. Upon the morrow after the blessed new year, I +came trip, trip, trip, over the market hill, holding up my petticoat to +the calves of my legs, to show my fine coloured stockings, and how +finely I could foot it in a pair of new corked shoes I had bought; and +there I spied this Monsieur Muffe lie gaping up into the skies, to know +how many maids would be with child in the town all the year after. O, +'tis a base vexation slave! How the country talks of the large-ribbed +varlet! + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Marry, out upon him. What a Friday-faced slave it is: I think in my +conscience, his face never keeps holiday. + +PEG. +Why, his face can never be at quiet. He has such a choleric nose, I +durst ha' sworn by my maidenhead (God forgive me, that I should take +such an oath), that if William had had such a nose, I would never ha' +loved him. + + _Enter_ WILLIAM CRICKET. + +WILL CRICKET. +What a talking is here of noses? Come, Peg, we are toward marriage; let +us talk of that may do us good. Granam, what will you give us toward +housekeeping? + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Why, William, we are talking of Robin Goodfellow. What think you of him? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, I say, he looks like a tankard-bearer that dwells in Petticoat +Lane at the sign of the Mermaid; and I swear by the blood of my +codpiece, and I were a woman, I would lug off his lave[160] ears, or +run him to death with a spit. And, for his face, I think 'tis pity there +is not a law made, that it should be felony to name it in any other +places than in bawdy-houses. But, Granam, what will you give us? + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Marry, I will give Peg a pot and a pan, two platters, a dish and a +spoon, a dog and a cat. I trow, she'll prove a good huswife, and love +her husband well too. + +WILL CRICKET. +If she love me, I'll love her. I' faith, my sweet honeycomb, I'll love +thee _A per se A_. We must be asked in church next Sunday; and we'll be +married presently. + +PEG. +I' faith, William, we'll have a merry day on't. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +That we will, i' faith, Peg; we'll have a whole noise of fiddlers there. +Come, Peg, let's hie us home; we'll make a bag-pudding to supper, and +William shall go and sup with us. + +WILL CRICKET. +Come on, i' faith. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ FORTUNATUS _and_ SOPHOS. + +FORTUNATUS. +Why, how now, Sophos? all _amort_? still languishing in love? +Will not the presence of thy friend prevail, +Nor hope expel these sullen fits? +Cannot mirth wring if but a forged smile +From those sad drooping looks of thine? +Rely on hope, whose hap will lead thee right +To her, whom thou dost call thy heart's delight: +Look cheerly, man; the time is near at hand, +That Hymen, mounted on a snow-white coach, +Shall tend on Sophos and his lovely bride. + +SOPHOS. +'Tis impossible: her father, man, her father-- +He's all for Peter Plod-all. + +FORTUNATUS. +Should I but see that Plod-all offer love, +This sword should pierce the peasant's breast, +And chase his soul from his accursed corpse +By an unwonted way unto the grisly lake. +But now th'appointed time is near, +That Churms should come with his supposed love: +Then sit we down under these leafy shades, +And wait the time of Lelia's wish'd approach. + + [_They sit down_. + +SOPHOS. +Ay, here I'll wait for Lelia's wish'd approach; +More wish'd to me than is a calm at sea[161] +To shipwreck'd souls, when great god Neptune frowns. +Though sad despair hath almost drown'd my hopes, +Yet would I pass the burning vaults of Ork[162], +As erst did Hercules to fetch his love, +If I might meet my love upon the strond, +And but enjoy her love one minute of an hour. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW. + +But stay; what man or devil, or hellish fiend comes here, +Transformed in this ugly, uncouth shape? + +FORTUNATUS. +O, peace a while; you shall see good sport anon. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Now I am clothed in this hellish shape, +If I could meet with Sophos in these woods, +O, he would take me for the devil himself: +I should ha' good laughing, beside the forty +Shillings Peter Plod-all has given me; and if +I get no more, I'm sure of that. But soft; +Now I must try my cunning, for here he sits.-- +The high commander of the damned souls, +Great Dis, the duke of devils, and prince of Limbo lake, +High regent of Acheron, Styx, and Phlegeton, +By strict command from Pluto, hell's great monarch, +And fair Proserpina, the queen of hell, +By full consent of all the damned hags, +And all the fiends that keep the Stygian plains, +Hath sent me here from depth of underground +To summon thee to appear at Pluto's court. + +FORTUNATUS. +A man or devil, or whatsoe'er thou art, +I'll try if blows will drive thee down to hell: +Belike, thou art the devil's parator, +The basest officer that lives in hell; +For such thy words import thee for to be. +'Tis pity you should come so far without a fee; +And because I know money goes low with Sophos, +I'll pay you your fees: [_He beats him_. +Take that and that, and that, upon thee. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O good sir, I beseech you; I'll do anything. + +FORTUNATUS. +Then down to hell; for sure thou art a devil. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O, hold your hands; I am not a devil, by my troth. + +FORTUNATUS. +Zounds, dost thou cross me? I say thou art a devil. + [_Beats him again_. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O Lord! sir, save my life, and I'll say as you say, +Or anything else you'll ha' me do. + +FORTUNATUS. +Then stand up, +And make a preachment of thy pedigree, +And how at first thou learn'dst this devilish trade: +Up, I say. [_Beats him_. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O, I will, sir: although in some places [_Stands upon a stool_. +I bear the title of a scurvy gentleman, +By birth I am a boat-wright's son of Hull, +My father got me of a refus'd hag, +Under the old ruins of Booby's barn; +Who, as she liv'd, at length she likewise died, +And for her good deeds went unto the devil: +But, hell not wont to harbour such a guest, +Her fellow-fiends do daily make complaint +Unto grim Pluto and his lady queen +Of her unruly misbehaviour; +Entreating that a passport might be drawn +For her to wander till the day of doom +On earth again, to vex the minds of men, +And swore she was the fittest fiend in hell +To drive men to desperation. +To this intent her passport straight was drawn, +And in a whirlwind forth of hell she came: +O'er hills she hurls, and scours along the plains; +The trees flew up by th'roots, the earth did quake for fear; +The houses tumble down; she plays the devil and all: +At length, not finding any one so fit +To effect her devilish charge as I, +She comes to me, as to her only child, +And me her instrument on earth she made: +And by her means I learn'd that devilish trade. + +SOPHOS. +O monstrous villain! + +FORTUNATUS. +But tell me, what's thy course of life, +And how thou shift'st for maintenance in the world? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Faith, sir, I am in a manner a promoter, +Or (more fitly term'd) a promoting knave; +I creep into the presence of great men, +And, under colour of their friendships, +Effect such wonders in the world, +That babes will curse me that are yet unborn. +Of the best men I raise a common fame, +And honest women rob of their good name: +Thus daily tumbling in comes all my thrift; +That I get best, is got but by a shift: +But the chief course of all my life +Is to set discord betwixt man and wife. + +FORTUNATUS. +Out upon thee, cannibal! [_He beats him_. +Dost thou think thou shalt ever come to heaven? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +I little hope for heav'n or heavenly bliss: +But if in hell doth any place remain +Of more esteem than is another room, +I hope, as guerdon for my just desert, +To have it for my detestable acts. + +FORTUNATUS. +Were't not thy tongue condemns thy guilty soul, +I could not think that on this living earth +Did breathe a villain more audacious. +Go, get thee gone, and come not in my walk; [_Beats him_. +For, if thou dost, thou com'st unto thy woe. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +The devil himself was never conjur'd so. + [_Exit_ ROBIN. + +SOPHOS. +Sure, he's no man, but an incarnate devil, +Whose ugly shape bewrays his monstrous mind. + +FORTUNATUS. +And if he be a devil, I am sure he's gone: +But Churms the lawyer will be here anon, +And with him comes my sister Lelia; +'Tis he I am sure you look for. + +SOPHOS. +Nay, she it is that I expect so long. + +FORTUNATUS. +Then sit we down, until we hear more news, +This but a prologue to our play ensues. + + [_They sit down_. + + _Enter_ CHURMS _and_ LELIA. + +But see where Churms and Lelia comes along: +He walks as stately as the great baboon. +Zounds, he looks as though his mother were a midwife. + +SOPHOS. +Now, gentle Jove, great monarch of the world, +Grant good success unto my wand'ring hopes. + +CHURMS. +Now Phoebus' silver eye is drench'd in western deep, +And Luna 'gins to show her splendent rays, +And all the harmless quiristers of woods +Do take repose, save only Philomel; +Whose heavy tunes do evermore record +With mournful lays the losses of her love. +Thus far, fair love, we pass in secret sort +Beyond the compass of thy father's bounds, +Whilst he on down-soft bed securely sleeps, +And not so much as dreams of our depart +The dangers pass'd, now think on nought but love; +I'll be thy dear, be thou my heart's delight. + +SOPHOS. +Nay, first I'll send thy soul to coal-black night. [_Aside_.] + +CHURMS. +Thou promis'dst love, now seal it with a kiss. + +FORTUNATUS. +Nay, soft, sir; your mark is at the fairest. +Forswear her love, and seal it with a kiss +Upon the burnish'd splendour of this blade, +Or it shall rip the entrails of thy peasant heart. + +SOPHOS. +Nay, let me do it, that's my part. + +CHURMS. +You wrong me much, to rob me of my love. + +SOPHOS. +Avaunt, base braggard! Lelia's mine. + +CHURMS. +She lately promis'd love to me. + +FORTUNATUS. +Peace, night-raven, peace! I'll end this controversy. +Come, Lelia, stand between them both, +As equal judge to end this strife: +Say which of these shall have thee to his wife. +I can devise no better way than this. +Now choose thy love, and greet him with a kiss. + +LELIA. +My choice is made, and here it is. + [_She kisses Sophos_. + +SOPHOS. +See here the mirror of true constancy, +Whose steadfast love deserves a prince's worth. + +LELIA. +Master Churms, are you not well? +I must confess I would have chosen you, +But that I ne'er beheld your legs till now; +Trust me, I never look'd so low before. + +CHURMS. +I know, you use to look aloft. + +LELIA. +Yet not so high as your crown. + +CHURMS. +What, if you had? + +LELIA. +Faith, I should ha' spied but a calf's head. + +CHURMS. +Zounds, cosen'd of the wench, and scoff'd at too! +'Tis intolerable; and shall I lose her thus? +How it mads me, that I brought not my sword +And buckler with me. + +FORTUNATUS. +What, are you in your sword-and-buckler terms? +I'll put you out of that humour. +There, Lelia sends you that by me, +And that, to recompense your love's desires; +And that, as payment for your well-earn'd hire. [_Beats him_. +Go, get thee gone, and boast of Lelia's love. + +CHURMS. +Where'er I go, I'll leave with her my curse, +And rail on you with speeches vild. + +FORTUNATUS. +A crafty knave was never so beguil'd. +Now Sophos' hopes have had their lucky haps, +And he enjoys the presence of his love: +My vow's perform'd, and I am full reveng'd +Upon this hell-bred race of cursed imps. +Now rests nought but my father's free consent, +To knit the knot that time can ne'er untwist, +And that, as this, I likewise will perform. +No sooner shall Aurora's pearled dew +O'erspread the mantled earth with silver drops, +And Phoebus bless the orient with a blush, +To chase black night to her deformed cell, +But I'll repair unto my father's house, +And never cease with my enticing words, +To work his will to knit this Gordian knot: +Till when I'll leave you to your am'rous chat. +Dear friend, adieu; fair sister, too, farewell: +Betake yourselves unto some secret place, +Until you hear from me how things fall out. + [_Exit_ FORTUNATUS. + +SOPHOS. +We both do wish a fortunate good-night. + +LELIA. +And pray the gods to guide thy steps aright. + +SOPHOS. +Now come, fair Lelia, let's betake ourselves +Unto a little hermitage hereby, +And there to live obscured from the world, +Till fates and fortune call us thence away, +To see the sunshine of our nuptial day. +See how the twinkling stars do hide their borrow'd shine, +As half-asham'd their lustre is so stain'd +By Lelia's beauteous eyes, that shine more bright +Than twinkling stars do in a winter's night-- +In such a night did Paris win his love. + +LELIA. +In such a night Aeneas prov'd unkind. + +SOPHOS. +In such a night did Troilus court his dear. + +LELIA. +In such a night fair Phillis was betray'd. + +SOPHOS. +I'll prove as true as ever Troilus was. + +LELIA. +And I as constant as Penelope. + +SOPHOS. +Then let us solace, and in love's delight +And sweet embracings spend the livelong night; +And whilst love mounts her on her wanton wings, +Let descant run on music's silver strings. + + [_Exeunt_. + + A SONG. + + 1. + _Old Triton must forsake his dear, + The lark doth chant her cheerful lay; + Aurora smiles with merry cheer, + To welcome in a happy day_. + + 2. + _The beasts do skip, + The sweet birds sing; + The wood-nymphs dance, + The echoes ring_. + + 3. + _The hollow caves with joy resounds, + And pleasure ev'rywhere abounds; + The Graces, linking hand in hand, + In love have knit a glorious band_. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW, _old_ PLOD-ALL, _and his son_ PETER. + +PLOD-ALL. +Hear you, Master Goodfellow, how have you sped? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Ha' you played the devil bravely, and feared the scholar out on's wits? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +A pox of the scholar! + +PLOD-ALL. +Nay, hark you: I sent you vorty shillings, and you shall have the cheese +I promised you too. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +A plague of the vorty shillings, and the cheese too! + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Hear you, will you give me the powder you told me of? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +How you vex me! Powder, quotha? zounds, I have been powdered. + +PLOD-ALL. +Son, I doubt he will prove a crafty knave, and cosen us of our money. +We'll go to Master Justice, and complain on him, and get him whipped out +o' the country for a coneycatcher. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Ay, or have his ears nailed to the pillory. Come, let's go. + + [_Exeunt_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_. + + _Enter_ CHURMS. + +CHURMS. +Fellow Robin, what news? how goes the world? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Faith, the world goes, I cannot tell how. How sped you with your wench? + +CHURMS. +I would the wench were at the devil! A plague upon't, I never say my +prayers; and that makes me have such ill-luck. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +I think the scholar be hunted with some demi-devil. + +CHURMS. +Why, didst thou fray him? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Fray him? a vengeance on't! all our shifting knavery's known; we are +counted very vagrants. Zounds, I am afraid of every officer for +whipping. + +CHURMS. +We are horribly haunted: our behaviour is so beastly, that we are grown +loathsome; our craft gets us nought but knocks. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +What course shall we take now? + +CHURMS. +Faith, I cannot tell: let's e'en run our country; for here's no staying +for us. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Faith, agreed: let's go into some place where we are not known, and +there set up the art of knavery with the second edition. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ GRIPE _solus_. + +GRIPE. +Every one tells me I look better than I was wont: my heart's lightened, +and my spirits are revived. Why, methinks I am e'en young again. It joys +my heart that this same peevish girl, my daughter, will be ruled at the +last yet; but I shall never be able to make Master Churms amends for the +great pains he hath taken. + + _Enter_ NURSE. + +NURSE. +Master, now out upon's. Well-a-day! we are all undone. + +GRIPE. +Undone! what sudden accident hath chanced? Speak! what's the matter? + +NURSE. +Alas! that ever I was born! My mistress and Master Churms are run away +together. + +GRIPE. +'Tis not possible; ne'er tell me: I dare trust Master Churms with a +greater matter than that. + +NURSE. +Faith, you must trust him, whether you will or no; for he's gone. + + _Enter_ WILL CRICKET. + +WILL CRICKET. +Master Gripe, I was coming to desire that I might have your absence at +my wedding; for I hear say you are very liberal grown o' late. For I +spake with three or four of your debtors this morning, that ought you +hundred pounds a piece; and they told me that you sent Master Churms to +them, and took of some ten pounds, and of some twenty, and delivered +them their bonds, and bad them pay the rest when they were able. + +GRIPE. +I am undone, I am robbed! My daughter! my money! Which way are they +gone? + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, sir, it's all to nothing, but your daughter and Master Churms are +gone both one way. Marry, your money flies, some one way, and some +another; and therefore 'tis but a folly to make hue and cry after it. + +GRIPE. +Follow them, make hue and cry after them. My daughter! my money! all's +gone! what shall I do? + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, if you will be ruled by me, I'll tell you what you shall do. Mark +what I say; for I'll teach you the way to come to heaven, if you stumble +not--give all you have to the poor but one single penny, and with that +penny buy you a good strong halter; and when you ha' done so, come to +me, and I'll tell you what you shall do with it. [_Aside_. + +GRIPE. +Bring me my daughter: that Churms, that villain! I'll tear him with my +teeth. + +NURSE. +Master, nay, pray you, do not run mad: I'll tell you good news; my young +Master Fortunatus is come home: and see where he comes. + + _Enter_ FORTUNATUS. + +GRIPE. +If thou hadst said Lelia, it had been something. + +FORTUNATUS. +Thus Fortunatus greets his father, +And craves his blessing on his bended knee. + +GRIPE. +Ay, here's my son; but Lelia she'll not come. +Good Fortunatus, rise: wilt thou shed tears, +And help thy father moan? +If so, say ay; if not, good son, begone. + +FORTUNATUS. +What moves my father to these uncouth fits? + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, sir, he's almost mad; I think he cannot tell you: and therefore +I--presuming, sir, that my wit is something better than his at this +time--do you mark, sir?--out of the profound circumambulation of my +supernatural wit, sir--do you understand?--will tell you the whole +superfluity of the matter, sir. Your sister Lelia, sir, you know, is a +woman, as another woman is, sir. + +FORTUNATUS. +Well, and what of that? + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, nothing, sir; but she fell in love with one Sophos, a very proper, +wise young man, sir. Now, sir, your father would not let her have him, +sir; but would have married her to one, sir, that would have fed her +with nothing but barley bag-puddings and fat bacon. Now, sir, to tell +you the truth, the fool, ye know, has fortune to land; but Mistress +Lelia's mouth doth not hang for that kind of diet. + +FORTUNATUS. +And how then? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry then, there was a certain cracking, cogging, pettifogging, +butter-milk slave, sir, one Churms, sir, that is the very quintessence +of all the knaves in the bunch: and if the best man of all his kin had +been but so good as a yeoman's son, he should have been a marked knave +by letters patents. And he, sir, comes me sneaking, and cosens them both +of their wench, and is run away with her. And, sir, belike, he has +cosened your father here of a great deal of his money too. + +NURSE. +Sir, your father did trust him but too much; but I always thought he +would prove a crafty knave. + +GRIPE. +My trust's betray'd, my joy's exil'd: +Grief kills the heart, my hope's beguil'd. + +FORTUNATUS. +Where golden gain doth blear a father's eyes, +That precious pearl, fetch'd from Parnassus' mount, +Is counted refuse, worse than bull'on brass; +Both joys and hopes hang of a silly twine, +That still is subject unto flitting time, +That turns joy into grief, and hope to sad despair, +And ends his days in wretched worldly care. +Were I the richest monarch under heaven, +And had one daughter thrice as fair +As was the Grecian Menelaus' wife, +Ere I would match her to an untaught swain, +Though one whose wealth exceeded Croesus' store, +Herself should choose, and I applaud her choice +Of one more poor than ever Sophos was, +Were his deserts but equal unto his. +If I might speak without offence, +You were to blame to hinder Lelia's choice; +As she in nature's graces doth excel, +So doth Minerva grace him full as well. + +NURSE. +Now, by cock and pie, you never spake a truer word in your life. He's a +very kind gentleman, for, last time he was at our house, he gave me +three-pence. + +WILL CRICKET. +O, nobly spoken: God send Peg to prove as wise a woman as her mother, +and then we shall be sure to have wise children. Nay, if he be so +liberal, old grandsire, you shall give him the goodwill of your +daughter. + +GRIPE. +She is not mine, I have no daughter now: +That I should say--I had, thence comes my grief. +My care of Lelia pass'd a father's love; +My love of Lelia makes my loss the more; +My loss of Lelia drowns my heart in woe; +My heart's woe makes this life a living death: +Care, love, loss, heart's woe, living death, +Join all in one to stop this vital breath. +Curs'd be the time I gap'd for golden gain, +I curse the time I cross'd her in her choice; +Her choice was virtuous, but my will was base: +I sought to grace her from the Indian mines, +But she sought honour from the starry mount. +What frantic fit possess'd my foolish brain? +What furious fancy fired so my heart, +To hate fair virtue, and to scorn desert? + +FORTUNATUS. +Then, father, give desert his due; +Let nature's graces and fair virtue's gifts +One sympathy and happy consort make +'Twixt Sophos' and my sister Lelia's love: +Conjoin their hands, whose hearts have long been one. +And so conclude a happy union. + +GRIPE. +Now 'tis too late: +What fates decree can never be recall'd; +Her luckless love is fall'n to Churms his lot, +And he usurps fair Lelia's nuptial bed. + +FORTUNATUS. +That cannot be; fear of pursuit +Must needs prolong his nuptial rights: +But if you give your full consent, +That Sophos may enjoy his long-wish'd love, +And have fair Lelia to his lovely bride, +I'll follow Churms whate'er betide; +I'll be as swift as is the light-foot roe, +And overtake him ere his journey's end, +And bring fair Lelia back unto my friend. + +GRIPE. +Ay, here's my hand; I do consent, +And think her happy in her happy choice; +Yet half forejudge my hopes will be deceiv'd. +But, Fortunatus, I must needs commend +Thy constant mind thou bear'st unto thy friend: +The after-ages, wond'ring at the same, +Shall say 't's a deed deserveth lasting fame. + +FORTUNATUS. +Then rest you here, till I return again; +I'll go to Sophos, ere I go along, +And bring him here to keep you company. +Perhaps he hath some skill in hidden arts, +Of planets' course, or secret magic spells, +To know where Lelia and that fox lies hid, +Whose craft so cunningly convey'd her hence. + [_Exit_ FORTUNATUS. + +GRIPE. +Ay, here I'll rest an hour or twain, +Till Fortunatus do return again. + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, sir, this same Churms is a very scurvy lawyer; for once I put a +case to him, and methought his law was not worth a pudding. + +GRIPE. +Why, what was your case? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, sir, my case was a goose's case; for my dog wearied[163] my +neighbour's sow, and the sow died. + +NURSE. +And he sued you upon wilful murder? + +WILL CRICKET. +No; but he went to law with me, and would make me either pay for his +sow, or hang my dog. Now, sir, to the same returna[164] I went. + +NURSE. +To beg a pardon for your dog? + +WILL CRICKET. +No; but to have some of his wit for my money. I gave him his fee, and +promised him a goose beside for his counsel. Now, sir, his counsel was +to deny all was asked me, and to crave a longer time to answer, though I +knew the case was plain. So, sir, I take his counsel; and always when he +sends to me for his goose, I deny it, and crave a longer time to answer. + +NURSE. +And so the case was yours, and the goose was his: and so it came to be a +goose's case. + +WILL CRICKET. +True: but now we are talking of geese, see where Peg and my granam +Midnight comes. + + _Enter_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT _and_ PEG. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Come, Peg, bestir your stumps, make thyself smug, wench; thou must be +married to-morrow: let's go seek out thy sweetheart, to prepare all +things in readiness. + +PEG. +Why, granam, look where he is. + +WILL CRICKET. +Ha, my sweet tralilly: I thought thou couldst spy me amongst a hundred +honest men. A man may see that love will creep where it cannot go. Ha, +my sweet and too sweet: shall I say the tother sweet? + +PEG. +Ay, say it and spare not. + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, I will not say it: I will sing it. + + _Thou art mine own sweetheart, + From thee I'll never depart; + Thou art my Ciperlillie, + And I thy Trangdidowne-dilly: + And sing, Hey ding a ding ding, + And do the tother thing: + And when 'tis done, not miss + To give my wench a kiss: + And then dance_, Canst thou not hit it? + _Ho, brave William Cricket_! + +How like you this, granam? + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Marry, God's benison light o' thy good heart for't. Ha, that I were +young again! i' faith, I was an old doer at these love-songs when I was +a girl. + +NURSE. +Now, by the Mary matins, Peg, thou hast got the merriest wooer in all +womanshire. + +PEG. +Faith, I am none of those that love nothing but _tum, dum, diddle_. If +he had not been a merry shaver, I would never have had him. + +WILL CRICKET. + + But come, my nimble lass, + Let all these matters pass, + And in a bouncing bravation, + Let's talk of our copulation. + +What good cheer shall we have to-morrow? Old grandsire Thickskin, you +that sit there as melancholy as a mantle-tree, what will you give us +toward this merry meeting? + +GRIPE. +Marry, because you told me a merry goose case, I'll bestow a fat goose +on ye, and God give you good luck. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Marry, well-said, old master: e'en God give them joy indeed; for, by my +vay, they are a good, sweet young couple. + +WILL CRICKET. +Granam, stand out o' the way; for here come gentlefolk will run o'er +you else. + + _Enter_ FORTUNATUS, SOPHOS, _and_ LELIA. + +NURSE. +Master, here comes your son again. + +GRIPE. +Is Fortunatus there? Welcome, Fortunatus: Where's Sophos? + +FORTUNATUS. +Here Sophos is, as much o'erworn with love, +As you with grief for loss of Lelia. + +SOPHOS. +And ten times more, if it be possible: +The love of Lelia is to me more dear, +Than is a kingdom or the richest crown +That e'er adorn'd the temples of a king. + +GRIPE. +Thou welcome, Sophos--thrice more welcome now, +Than any man on earth--to me or mine: +It is not now with me as late it was; +I low'r'd at learning, and at virtue spurn'd: +But now my heart and mind, and all, is turn'd. +Were Lelia here, I soon would knit the knot +'Twixt her and thee, that time could ne'er untie, +Till fatal sisters victory had won, +And that your glass of life were quite outrun. + +WILL CRICKET. +Zounds, I think he be spurblind; why, Lelia stands hard by him. + +LELIA. +And Lelia here falls prostrate on her knee, +And craves a pardon for her late offence. + +GRIPE. +What, Lelia my daughter? Stand up, wench: +Why, now my joy is full; +My heart is lighten'd of all sad annoy: +Now fare well, grief, and welcome home, my joy.-- +Here, Sophos, take thy Lelia's hand: +Great God of heav'n your hearts combine, +In virtue's lore to raise a happy line. + +SOPHOS. +Now Phaeton hath check'd his fiery steeds, +And quench'd his burning beams that late were wont +To melt my waxen wings, when as I soar'd aloft; +And lovely Venus smiles with fair aspect +Upon the spring-time of our sacred love. +Thou great commander of the circled orbs, +Grant that this league of lasting amity +May lie recorded by eternity. + +LELIA. +Then wish'd content knit up our nuptial right; +And future joys our former griefs requite. + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, and you be good at that, I'll tell you what we'll do: Peg and I +must be married to-morrow; and if you will, we'll go all to the church +together, and so save Sir John a labour. + +ALL. +Agreed. + +FORTUNATUS. +Then march along, and let's be gone, +To solemnise two marriages in one. + + [_Exeunt omnes_. + + +FINIS. + + + + + + +LINGUA. + + + + +_EDITIONS_. + + +(1.) _Lingva: Or, The Combat of the Tongue, And the fiue Senses for +Superiority. A pleasant Comoedie, At London Printed by G. Eld, for Simon +Waterson_, 1607, 4to[165]. + +(2.) _Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Senses, for +Superiority. A pleasant Comoedie. London, Printed by N. Okes, for Simon +Waterson_, [circâ 1610], 4to. + +(3.) _Lingua; or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Senses, for +Superiority. A pleasant Comoedie. London, Printed by Nicholas Okes, for +Simon Waterson_, 1617, 4to. + +(4.) _Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Sences, for +Superiority. A pleasant Comedy. London, Printed by Nicholas Okes, for +Simon Waterson_, 1622, 4to. + +(5.) _Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Sences, for +Superioritie. A pleasant Comoedie. London, Printed by Augustine +Matthewes, for Simon Waterson_, 1632, 4to. + +(6.) _Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Senses, for +Superiority. A pleasant Comoedy. London, Printed for Simon Miller, at +the Starre in St Paul's Churchyard_, 1657, 8vo. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +[Of the author of "Lingua" nothing is known. By some of our earlier +bibliographers the play was ascribed, without the slightest authority, +to Anthony Brewer. + +In the former edition it was pointed out that Winstanley gave to the +same writer (among other pieces which he probably did _not_ write) +"Pathomachia; or, Love's Loadstone," published in 1630, upon which +point Reed observes:--"Whoever was the real author of 'Lingua,' there +is some plausibility in assigning to him also 'Pathomachia; or, Love's +Lodestone,' for they are certainly written upon the same plan, and very +much in the same stile, although the former is considerably superior +to the latter, both in design and execution. The first scene of +'Pathomachia' contains an allusion by Pride, one of the characters, to +'Lingua,' where it is said, 'Methinks it were fit now to renew the claim +to our old title of Affections, which we have lost, as sometimes Madame +Lingua did to the title of a Sense, for it is good fishing in troubled +waters.' + +"'Pathomachia' was not printed until 1630, and most likely was not +written until some years after 'Lingua,' from the allusion it contains +in act ii. to the stile of the stage, and the mention in act i. of +Coriat, the traveller, who did not become notorious until after the +publication of his 'Crudities' in 1611.... + +"The first edition of 'Lingua' is dated 1607, but from a passage in act +iv. sc. 7, it is evident that it was produced before the death of +Elizabeth. The last edition, in 1657, is rendered curious by the +circumstance that the bookseller, Simon Miller, asserts that it was +acted by Oliver Cromwell, the late usurper. This fact is not stated on +the title-page to the play, but in a list of works printed for the same +stationer, placed at the end of Heath's 'New Book of Loyal Martyrs' +[12mo, 1663][166].... Winstanley adds that the late usurper Cromwell +[when a young man] had therein the part of _Tactus_; and this mock +ambition for the Crown is said to have swollen his ambition so high, +that afterwards he contended for it in earnest...." + +The present text is taken from the 4to of 1607.] + + + +PROLOGUE + +Our Muse describes no lover's passion, +No wretched father, no unthrifty son! +No craving, subtle whore or shameless bawd, +Nor stubborn clown or daring parasite, +No lying servant or bold sycophant. +We are not wanton or satirical. +These have their time and places fit, but we +Sad hours and serious studies to reprieve, +Have taught severe Philosophy to smile, +The Senses' rash contentions we compose, +And give displeas'd ambitious Tongue her due: +Here's all; judicious friends, accept what is not ill. +Who are not such, let them do what they will. + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + +LINGUA, _Comoedus. Tragoedus_. +AUDITUS, _Comoedus. Tragoedus_. +MENDACIO, _Lingua's page_. +TACTUS, | _Odor_. +OLFACTUS, | _Tobacco_. +VISUS, | _Lumen_, + | _Coelum_, + | _Terra_, + | _Heraldry_, + | _Colour_. +GUSTUS; _Bacchus, Ceres, Beer_. +APPETITUS, _a parasite_. +PHANTASTES. +HEURESIS, _Phantastes's page_. +CRAPULA, _Gustus's follower_. +COMMUNIS SENSUS. +MEMORIA. +ANAMNESTES, _Memoria's page_. +SOMNUS. +Personae quarum mentio tantum fit. | _Psyche_, + | _Acrasia_, + | _Veritas_, + | _Oblivio_. + +_The scene is Microcosmus[167] in a grove. +The time from morning till night_. + + + + +LINGUA. + + + +ACTUS PRIMUS, SCAENA PRIMA. + + + LINGUA _apparelled in a crimson satin gown, a dressing of + white roses, a little skene[168] tied in a purple scarf, + a pair of white buskins[169] drawn with white ribbon, silk + garters, gloves, &c_. AUDITUS _in a garland of bays + intermingled with red and white roses upon a false hair, + a cloth of silver mantle upon a pair of satin bases, wrought + sleeves, buskins, gloves, &c_. + + LINGUA, AUDITUS. + +LIN. Nay, good Auditus, do but hear me speak. + +AUD. Lingua, thou strik'st too much upon one string, +Thy tedious plain-song[170] grates my tender ears. + +LIN. 'Tis plain indeed, for truth no descant needs; +Una's her name, she cannot be divided. + +AUD. O, but the ground[171] itself is naught, from whence +Thou canst not relish out a good division: +Therefore at length surcease, prove not stark-mad, +Hopeless to prosecute a hapless suit: +For though (perchance) thy first strains pleasing are, +I dare engage mine ear the close[172] will jar. + +LIN. If then your confidence esteem my cause +To be so frivolous and weakly wrought, +Why do you daily subtle plots devise, +To stop me from the ears of common sense? +Whom since our great queen Psyche hath ordain'd, +For his sound wisdom, our vice-governor, +To him and to his two so wise assistants, +Nimble Phantastes and firm Memory, +Myself and cause I humbly do commit. +Let them but hear and judge; I wish no more. + +AUD. Should they but know thy rash presumption, +They would correct it in the sharpest sort: +Good Jove! what sense hast thou to be a sense! +Since from the first foundation of the world, +We never were accounted more than five. +Yet you, forsooth, an idle prating dame, +Would fain increase the number, and upstart +To our high seats, decking your babbling self +With usurp'd titles of our dignity. + +LIN. An idle prating dame! know, fond Auditus, +Records affirm my title full as good, +As his amongst the five is counted best. + +AUD. Lingua, confess the truth: thou'rt wont to lie. + +LIN. I say so too, therefore I do not lie. +But now, spite of you all, I speak the truth. +You five among us subjects tyrannise; +Making the sacred name of Common Sense +A cloak to cover your enormities: +He bears the rule; he's judge, but judgeth still, +As he's inform'd by your false evidence: +So that a plaintiff cannot have access, +But through your gates. He hears, but what? nought else, +But what thy crafty ears to him conveys: +And all he sees is by proud Visus show'd him: +And what he touches is by Tactus' hand; +And smells, I know, but through Olfactus' nose; +Gustus begins to him whate'er he tastes: +By these quaint tricks free passage hath been barr'd, +That I could never equally be heard. +But well, 'tis well. + +AUD. Lingua, thy feeble sex +Hath hitherto withheld my ready hands, +That long'd to pluck that nimble instrument. + +LIN. O horrible ingratitude! that thou-- +That thou of all the rest should'st threaten me: +Who by my means conceiv'st as many tongues, +As Neptune closeth lands betwixt his arms: +The ancient Hebrew clad with mysteries: +The learned Greek rich in fit epithets, +Bless'd in the lovely marriage of pure words: +The Chaldee wise, th'Arabian physical, +The Roman eloquent and Tuscan grave, +The braving Spanish and the smooth-tongu'd French: +These precious jewels that adorn thine ears, +All from my mouth's rich cabinet are stolen. +How oft hast thou been chain'd unto my tongue, +Hang'd at my lips, and ravish'd with my words; +So that a speech fair-feather'd could not fly, +But thy ear's pitfall caught it instantly? +But now, O heavens! + +AUD. O heavens! thou wrong'st me much, +Thou wrong'st me much thus falsely to upbraid me: +Had not I granted thee the use of hearing, +That sharp-edged tongue whetted against her master, +Those puffing lungs, those teeth, those drowsy lips, +That scalding throat, those nostrils full of ire, +Thy palate, proper instrument of speech, +Like to the winged chanters of the wood, +Uttering nought else but idle sifflements,[173] +Tunes without sense, words inarticulate, +Had ne'er been able t' have abus'd me thus. +Words are thy children, but of my begetting. + +LIN. Perfidious liar, how can I endure thee! +Call'st my unspotted chastity in question? +O, could I use the breath mine anger spends, +I'd make thee know-- + +AUD. Heav'ns look on my distress, +Defend me from this railing viperess! +For if I stay, her words' sharp vinegar +Will fret me through. Lingua, I must be gone: +I hear one call me more than earnestly. + [_Exit_ AUDITUS. + +LIN. May the loud cannoning of thunderbolts, +Screeking of wolves, howling of tortur'd ghosts, +Pursue thee still, and fill thy amaz'd ears +With cold astonishment and horrid fears! +O, how these senses muffle Common Sense! +And more and more with pleasing objects strive +To dull his judgment and pervert his will +To their behests: who, were he not so wrapp'd +I'the dusky clouds of their dark policies, +Would never suffer right to suffer wrong. +Fie, Lingua, wilt thou now degenerate? +Art not a woman? dost not love revenge? +Delightful speeches, sweet persuasions, +I have this long time us'd to get my right. +My right--that is, to make the senses six; +And have both name and power with the rest. +Oft have I season'd savoury periods +With sugar'd words, to delude Gustus' taste, +And oft embellish'd my entreative phrase +With smelling flow'rs of vernant rhetoric, +Limning and flashing it with various dyes, +To draw proud Visus to me by the eyes; +And oft perfum'd my petitory[174] style +With civet-speech, t'entrap Olfactus' nose; +And clad myself in silken eloquence, +To allure the nicer touch of Tactus' hand. +But all's become lost labour, and my cause +Is still procrastinated: therefore now, +Hence, ye base offspring of a broken mind, +Supple entreaties and smooth flatteries: +Go kiss the love-sick lips of puling gulls,[175] +That 'still their brain to quench their love's disdain: +Go gild the tongues of bawds and parasites; +Come not within my thoughts. But thou, deceit, +Break up the pleasure of my brimful breast, +Enrich my mind with subtle policies. +Well then, I'll go; whither? nay, what know I? +And do, in faith I will, the devil knows what. +What, if I set them all at variance, +And so obtain to speak? it must be so. +It must be so, but how? there lies the point: +How? thus: tut, this device will never prove, +Augment it so: 'twill be too soon descried; +Or so, nor so; 'tis too-too dangerous. +Pish, none of these! what, if I take this course? ha! +Why, there it goes; good, good; most excellent! +He that will catch eels must disturb the flood; +The chicken's hatch'd, i' faith; for they are proud, +And soon will take a cause of disagreement. + + + +SCAENA SECUNDA. + + + MENDACIO, _attired in a taffeta suit of a light colour + changeable, like an ordinary page_.[176] + + LINGUA, MENDACIO. + +LIN. I see the heavens nurse my new-born device; +For lo, my page Mendacio comes already, +To file and burnish that I hammer'd out. +Never in better time, Mendacio, +What! hast thou done? + +MEN. Done? yes, long ago. + +LIN. Is't possible thou shouldst despatch so soon? + +MEN. Madam, I had no sooner told +Tactus that Gustus would fain speak with him, +But I spied Visus, Gustus, and the rest, +And serv'd them all with sauce of several lies. +Now the last sense I spake with was Olfactus +Who, having smelt the meaning of my message, +Straight blew his nose, and quickly puff'd me hither; +But in the whirlwind of his furious blast, +Had not by chance a cobweb held me fast, +Mendacio had been with you long ere this. + +LIN. Witness this lie, Mendacio's with me now; +But, sirrah, out of jesting will they come? + +MEN. Yes, and it like your ladyship, presently; +Here may you have me prest[177] to flatter them. + +LIN. I'll flatter no such proud companions, +'Twill do no good, therefore I am determin'd +To leave such baseness. + +MEN. Then shall I turn and bid them stay at home? + +LIN. No; for their coming hither to this grove +Shall be a means to further my device. +Therefore I pray thee, Mendacio, go presently; +Run, you vile ape. + +MEN. Whither? + +LIN. What, dost thou stand? + +MEN. Till I know what to do. + +LIN. 'Sprecious, 'tis true, +So might'st thou finely overrun thine errand. +Haste to my chest. + +MEN. Ay, ay. + +LIN. There shalt thou find +A gorgeous robe and golden coronet; +Convey them hither nimbly, let none see them. + +MEN. Madam, I fly, I fly. [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + +LIN. But hear you, sirrah? +Lock up your fellow-servant Veritas. + +MEN. I warrant you, +You need not fear so long as I am with you. + [_He goes out, and comes in presently_. +What colour is the robe? + +LIN. There is but one. + + [MENDACIO, _going, turns in haste_. + +MEN. The key, madam, the key. + +LIN. By Juno, how forgetful +Is sudden speed! Here, take it, run. + +MEN. I'll be here instantly. + + [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + + + +SCAENA TERTIA. + + + LINGUA _sola_. + +LIN. Whilome this crown and gorgeous ornament +Were the great prize for which five orators +With the sharp weapons of their tongues contended: +But all their speeches were so equal wrought +And alike gracious,[178] that, if his were witty, +His was as wise; the third's fair eloquence +Did parallel the fourth's firm gravity; +The last's good gesture kept the balance even +With all the rest; so that the sharpest eye +And most judicious censor could not judge, +To whom the hanging victory should fall. +Therefore with one consent they all agreed +To offer up both crown and robe to me, +As the chief patroness of their profession, +Which heretofore I holily have kept, +Like to a miser's gold, to look on only. +But now I'll put them to a better use, +And venture both, in hope to-- + + + +SCAENA QUARTA. + + + MENDACIO, LINGUA. + +MEN. Have I not hied me, madam? look you here, +What shall be done with these temptations? + +LIN. They say a golden Ball +Bred enmity betwixt three goddesses; +So shall this crown be author of debate +Betwixt five senses. + +MEN. Where shall it be laid! + +LIN. There, there, there; 'tis well; so, so, so. + +MEN. A crown's a pleasing bait to look upon; +The craftiest fox will hardly 'scape this trap. + +LIN. Come, let us away, and leave it to the chance. + +MEN. Nay, rather let me stand close hereabouts, +And see the event. + +LIN. Do so, and if they doubt, +How it came there, feign them some pretty fable, +How that some god-- + +MEN. Tut, tut, tut, let me alone: +I that have feign'd so many hundred gods, +Can easily forge some fable for the turn: +Whist, madam; away, away: you fright the fowl; +Tactus comes hard by, look you. + +LIN. Is't he for certain? + +MEN. Yes, yes, yes, 'tis he. + +LIN. 'Tis he indeed. + + [_Exit_ LINGUA. + + + +SCAENA QUINTA. + + + TACTUS, _in a dark-coloured satin mantle over a pair + of silk bases, a garland of bays, mixed with white and + red roses, upon a black grogram, a falchion, wrought + sleeves, buskins, &c_. + + MENDACIO, TACTUS. + +MEN. Now, chaste Diana, grant my nets to hold. + +TAC. The blushing[179] childhood of the cheerful morn +Is almost grown a youth, and overclimbs[180] +Yonder gilt eastern hills; about which time +Gustus most earnestly importun'd me +To meet him hereabouts, what cause I know not. + +MEN. You shall do shortly, to your cost, I hope. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. Sure by the sun it should be nine o'clock. + +MEN. What, a star-gazer! will you ne'er look down? [Aside.] + +TAC. Clear is the sun and blue the firmament; +Methinks the heavens do smile-- [TACTUS _sneezeth_. + +MEN. At thy mishap! +To look so high, and stumble in a trap. + [_Aside_. TACTUS _stumbleth at the robe and crown_. + +TAC. High thoughts have slipp'ry feet, I had well-nigh fallen. + +MEN. Well doth he fall that riseth with a fall. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. What's this? + +MEN. O, are you taken? 'tis in vain to strive. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. How now? + +MEN. You'll be so entangled straight-- [_Aside_.] + +TAC. A crown! + +MEN. That it will be hard-- [_Aside_.] + +TAC. And a robe. + +MEN. To loose yourself. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. A crown and a robe. + +MEN. It had been fitter for you to have found a fool's coat and a +bauble[181], eh, eh? [_Aside_.] + +TAC. Jupiter, Jupiter, how came this here? + +MEN. O sir, Jupiter is making thunder, he hears you not: here's one +knows better. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. 'Tis wondrous rich, ha! but sure it is not so, ho! +Do I not sleep and dream of this good luck, ha? +No, I am awake and feel it now; +Whose should it be? [_He takes it up_. + +MEN. Set up a _si quis_ for it. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. Mercury! all's mine own; here's none to cry half's mine. + +MEN. When I am gone. + + [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + + + +SCAENA SEXTA. + + + TACTUS _solus_. + +TAC. Tactus, thy sneezing somewhat did portend. +Was ever man so fortunate as I? +To break his shins at such a stumbling-block! +Roses and bays, pack hence[182]: this crown and robe +My brows and body circles and invests; +How gallantly it fits me! sure the slave +Measur'd my head that wrought this coronet. +They lie that say complexions cannot change: +My blood's ennobled, and I am transform'd +Unto the sacred temper of a king. +Methinks I hear my noble parasites +Styling me Caesar or great Alexander; +Licking my feet, and wondering where I got +This precious ointment. How my pace is mended! +How princely do I speak! how sharp I threaten! +Peasants, I'll curb your headstrong impudence, +And make you tremble when the lion roars, +Ye earth-bred worms. O, for a looking-glass! +Poets will write whole volumes of this scorce[183]; +Where's my attendants? Come hither, sirrah, quickly; +Or by the wings of Hermes-- + + + +SCAENA SEPTIMA. + + + OLFACTUS, _in a garland of bays intermingled with + white and red roses upon a false hair, his sleeves + wrought with flowers under a damask mantle, over a + pair of silk bases; a pair of buskins drawn with + ribbon, a flower in his hand_. + + TACTUS, OLFACTUS. + +TAC. Ay me! Olfactus comes; I call'd too soon, +He'll have half part, I fear; what shall I do! +Where shall I run? how shall I shift him off? + [TACTUS _wraps up the robe and crown, and sits upon them_. + +OLF. This is the time, and this the place appointed, +Where Visus promis'd to confer with me. +I think he's there--no, no, 'tis Tactus sure. +How now? what makes you sit so nicely? + +TAC. 'Tis past imagination, 'tis so indeed. + +OLF. How fast his hands[184] are fixed, and how melancholy he looks! +Tactus! Tactus! + +TAC. For this is true, man's life is wondrous brittle. + +OLF. He's mad, I think, he talks so idly. So ho, Tactus! + +TAC. And many have been metamorphosed +To stranger matters and more uncouth forms. + +OLF. I must go nearer him; he doth not hear. + +TAC. And yet methinks, I speak as I was wont; +And-- + +OLF. Tactus, Tactus! + +TAC. Olfactus, as thou lov'st me, come not near me. + +OLF. Why, art thou hatching eggs? th'art afeard[185] to break them? + +TAC. Touch me not, lest thou chance to break my life. + +OLF. What's this under thee? + +TAC. If thou meddle with me, I am utterly undone. + +OLF. Why, man, what ails thee? + +TAC. Let me alone, and I'll tell thee; +Lately I came from fine Phantastes' house. + +OLF. So I believe, for thou art very foolish. + +TAC. No sooner had I parted out of doors[186], +But up I held my hands before my face, +To shield mine eyes from th'light's piercing beams; +When I protest I saw the sun as clear +Through these my palms, as through a perspective. +No marvel; for when I beheld my fingers, +I saw my fingers were transform'd to glass; +Opening my breast, my breast was like a window, +Through which I plainly did perceive my heart: +In whose two concaves[187] I discern'd my thoughts +Confus'dly lodged in great multitudes. + +OLF. Ha, ha, ha, ha! why, this is excellent, +Momus himself can find no fault with thee, +Thou'dst make a passing live anatomy; +And decide the question much disputed +Betwixt the Galenists and Aristotle. + +TAC. But when I had arriv'd, and set me down +Viewing myself--myself, ay me! was changed, +As thou now seest, to a perfect urinal. + +OLF. T'a perfect urinal? O monstrous, monstrous! +Art not mad to think so? + +TAC. I do not think so, but I say I am so, +Therefore, Olfactus, come not near, I advise you. + +OLF. See the strange working of dull melancholy! +Whose drossy thoughts, drying the feeble brain, +Corrupts the sense, deludes the intellect, +And in the soul's fair table falsely graves +Whole squadrons of fantastical chimeras +And thousand vain imaginations, +Making some think their heads as big as horses, +Some that th'are dead[188], some that th'are turn'd to wolves[189], +As now it makes him think himself all glass. +Tactus, dissuade thyself; thou dost but think so. + +TAC. Olfactus, if thou lov'st me, get thee gone; +I am an urinal, I dare not stir +For fear of cracking in the bottom. + +OLF. Wilt thou sit thus all day? + +TAC. Unless thou help me. + +OLF. Bedlam must help thee. What wouldst have me do? + +TAC. Go to the city, make a case for me; +Stuff it with wool, then come again and fetch me. + +OLF. Ha, ha, ha! +Thou'lt be laughed out of case and countenance. + +TAC. I care not. So it must be, or I cannot stir. + +OLF. I had best leave troubling him; he's obstinate. Urinal, I leave you, +but above all things take heed Jupiter sees you not; for, if he do, he'll +ne'er make water in a sieve again; thou'lt serve his turn so fit, to +carry his water unto Esculapius. Farewell, Urinal, farewell. + [_Exit_ OLFACTUS. + +TAC. Speak not so loud; the sound's enough to crack me. What, is he +gone? I an urinal! ha, ha, ha! I protest I might have had my face washed +finely if he had meant to abuse me. I an urinal! ha, ha, ha! Go to, +Urinal; you have 'scaped a fair scouring. Well, I'll away, and get me to +mine own house; there I'll lock up myself fast, playing the chemic, +Augmenting this one crown to troops of angels, +With which gold-winged messengers I mean +To work great wonders, as to build and purchase; +Fare daintily; tie up men's tongues and loose them; +Command their lives, their goods, their liberties, +And captive all the world with chains of gold. +Hey, hey, tery, linkum tinkum. + [_He offers to go out, but comes in suddenly amazed_. +O Hercules! +Fortune, the queen, delights to play with me, +Stopping my passage with the sight of Visus: +But as he makes hither, I'll make hence, +There's more ways to the wood than one[190]. +What, more devils to affright me? +O Diabolo! Gustus comes here to vex me. +So that I, poor wretch, am like +A shuttlecock betwixt two battledoors. +If I run there, Visus beats me to Scylla; +If here, then Gustus blows me to Charybdis. +Neptune hath sworn my hope shall suffer shipwreck. +What shall I say? mine Urinal's too thin +To bide the fury of such storms as these. + + + +SCAENA OCTAVA. + + + VISUS _in a garland of bays, mixed with white and + red roses, a light-coloured taffeta mantle striped + with silver, and fringed upon green silk bases, + buskins, &c_. GUSTUS _in the same fashion, differing + only in colour_. TACTUS _in a corner of the stage_. + + VISUS, GUSTUS, TACTUS. + +VIS. Gustus, good day. + +GUS. I cannot have a bad, +Meeting so fair an omen as yourself. + +TAC. Shall I? will't prove? ha! well, 'tis best to venture. + [TACTUS _puts on the robes_. + +GUS. Saw you not Tactus? I should speak with him. + +TAC. Perchance so; a sudden lie hath best luck. + +VIS. That face is his, or else mine eye's deceiv'd. +Why, how now, Tactus! what, so gorgeous? + +GUS. Where didst thou get these fair habiliments? + +TAC. Stand back, I charge you, as you love your lives; +By Styx, the first that toucheth me shall die. + +VIS. I can discern no weapons. Will he kill us? + +TAC. Kill you? not I, but come not near me, +You had best. + +VIS. Why, art thou mad? + +TAC. Friends, as you love your lives, +Venture not once to come within my reach. + +GUS. Why dost threaten so? + +TAG. I do not threaten, +But in pure love advise you for the best: +Dare not to touch me, but hence fly apace; +Add wings unto your feet, and save your lives. + +VIS. Why, what's the matter, Tactus? prythee, tell me? + +TAC. If you will needs jeopard your lives so long, +As hear the ground of my amazedness, +Then for your better safety stand aside. + +GUS. How full of ceremonies! sure he'll conjure; +For such like robes magicians use to wear. + +VIS. I'll see the end, though he should unlock hell, +And set th'infernal hags at liberty. + +TAC. How rash is man on hidden harms[191] to rush! +It was my chance--O chance most miserable!-- +To walk that way that to Crumena leads. + +GUS. You mean Cremona, a little town hard-by. + +TAC. I say Crumena, called Vacua, +A town which doth, and always hath belong'd, +Chiefly to scholars. From Crumena walls +I saw a man come stealing craftily, +Apparell'd in this vesture which I wear; +But, seeing me, eftsoons[192] he took his heels, +And threw his garment from him all in haste, +Which I perceiving to be richly wrought, +Took it me up; but, good, now get you gone, +Warn'd by my harms, and 'scape my misery. + +VIS. I know no danger: leave these circumstances. + +TAC. No sooner had I put it on my back, +But suddenly mine eyes began to dim, +My joints wex[193] sore, and all my body burn['d] +With most intestine torture, and at length +It was too evident, I had caught the plague. + +VIS. The plague! away, good Gustus, let's be gone; +I doubt 'tis true, now I remember me, +Crumena Vacua never wants the plague. + +GUS. Tactus, I'll put myself in jeopardy +To pleasure thee. + +TAC. No, gentle Gustus, +Your absence is the only thing I wish, +Lest I infect you with my company. + +GUS. Farewell. [_Exit_ GUSTUS. + +VIS. I willingly would stay to do thee good. + +TAC. A thousand thanks; but since I needs must die, +Let it suffice, death only murders me. +O, 'twould augment the dolour of my death, +To know myself the most unhappy bow, +Through which pale death should aim his shafts at you. + +VIS. Tactus, farewell; yet die with this good hope, +Thy corpse shall be interred as it ought. + [_Exit_ VISUS. + +TAC. Go, make my tomb, provide my funerals; ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! +Excellent asses thus to be deluded, +Bewail his death and cruel destinies, +That lives, and laughs your fooleries to scorn. +But where's my crown! O, here: I well deserve +Thus to be crown'd for two great victories! +Ha, ha, ha! +Visus, take care my corpse be well interr'd: +Go make my tomb, and write upon the stone, + + _Here lies the Sense that living[194] gull'd them all + With a false plague and feigned urinal_. + + + +SCAENA NONA. + + + AUDITUS, TACTUS. + +AUD. Tactus, Tactus! + +TAC. O Jupiter, 'tis Auditus, all's marred, I doubt: the sly knave +hears so far; but yet I'll grope him. How now, Ears[195], what make +you here, ha? + +AUD. Nay, what make you here, I pray? What were you talking even now +of an ass, and a crown, and an urinal, and a plague? + +TAC. A plague on you! what, I? + +AUD. O, what you! + +TAC. O, I had well-nigh forgot; nothing; but I say-- + +AUD. What? + +TAC. That if a man (do you mark, sir?), being sick of the plague (do you +see, sir?), had a, a, a--hem, hem (this cold troubles me; it makes me +cough sometimes extremely)--had a French crown, sir, (you understand +me?) lying by him, and (come hither, come hither), and would not bestow +twopence (do you hear?) to buy an urinal (do you mark me?) to carry his +water to the physician, hem! + +AUD. What of all this? + +TAC. I say such a one was a very ass. This was all. I use to speak to +myself, when I am alone; but, Auditus, when shall we hear a new set of +singing-books? Or the viols? Or the concert of instruments? + +AUD. This was not all, for I heard mention of a tomb and an epitaph. + +TAC. True, true, I made myself merry with this epitaph upon such a +fool's tomb thus a--thus, thus: plague brought this man--foh, I have +forgotten--O, thus, plague brought this man (so, so, so), unto his +burial, because, because, because (hem, hem)--because he would not buy +an urinal. Come, come, Auditus, shall we hear thee play the lyreway or +the luteway, shall we? Or the cornet, or any music? I am greatly +revived, when I hear. + +AUD. Tactus, Tactus, this will not serve; I heard all. You have not +found a crown, you? no, you have not! + + + +SCAENA ULTIMA. + + + TACTUS, AUDITUS, VISUS, GUSTUS, MENDACIO. + +TAC. Peace, peace, faith, peace; come hither, hark thee, +Good [Auditus], now. + +AUD. I cannot hold, I must needs tell. + +TAC. O, do not, do not, do not; come hither. +Will you be a fool? + +VIS. Had he not wings upon his feet and shoulders? + +MEN. Yes, yes, and a fine wand in his hand, +Curiously wrapped with a pair of snakes. + +TAC. Will half content you? pish, 'twill ne'er be known. + +GUS. My life, 'twas Mercury. + +MEN. I do not know his name; +But this I'm sure, his hat had wings upon't. + +VIS. Doubtless 'twas he; but say, my boy, what did he? + +MEN. First I beheld him hovering in the air, +And then down stooping with an hundred gyres:[196] +His feet he fixed on Mount Cephalon;[197] +From whence he flew and lighted on that plain, +And with disdainful steps soon glided thither: +Whither arrived, he suddenly unfolds +A gorgeous robe and glittering ornament, +And lays them all upon that hillock: +This done, he wafts his wand, took wing again, +And in a moment vanish'd out of sight. +With that mine eyes 'gan stare, and heart grew cold, +And all my quiv'ring joints with sweat bedew'd: +My heels (methought) had wings as well as his, +And so away I ran; but by the way +I met a man, as I thought, coming thither. + +GUS. What marks had he? + +MEN. He had a great--what! this is he, this is he. + +VIS. What, Tactus? + +GUS. This was the plague vex'd him so: +Tactus, your grave gapes for you; are you ready? + +VIS. Since you must needs die, do as others do, +Leave all your goods behind you; bequeath +The crown and robe to your executors. + +TAC. No such matter; I, like the Egyptian kings,[198] +For the more state will be buried in them. + +VIS. Come, come, deliver. + [VISUS _snatcheth the crown, and sees letters graven in it_. + +TAC. What, will you take my purse from me? + +VIS. No, but a crown, that's just more than your own. +Ha, what's this? 'tis a very small hand, +What inscription is this? + + _He of the five that proves himself the best, + Shall have his temples with this coronet blest_. + +This crown is mine, and mine this garment is; +For I have always been accounted best-- + +TAC. Next after me--high[199] as yourself at any time: +Besides, I found it first, therefore 'tis mine. + +GUS. Neither of yours, but mine as much as both. + +AUD. And mine the most of any of you all. + +VIS. Give me it, or else-- + +TAC. I'll make you late repent it-- + +GUS. Presumptuous as you are-- + +AUD. Spite of your teeth-- + +MEN. Never till now. Ha, ha! it works apace. [_Aside_. +Visus, I know 'tis yours; and yet methinks, +Auditus, you should have some challenge to it; +But that your title, Tactus, is so good, +Gustus, I would swear the coronet were yours: +What, will you all go brawl about a trifle? +View but the pleasant coast of Microcosm, +Is't not great pity to be rent with wars? +Is't not a shame to stain with brinish tears +The smiling cheeks of ever-cheerful peace? +Is't not far better to live quietly, +Than broil in fury of dissension? +Give me the crown, ye shall not disagree, +If I can please you. I'll play Paris' part, +And, most impartial, judge the controversy. + +VIS. Sauce-box! go meddle with your lady's fan, +And prate not here. + +MEN. I speak not for myself, +But for my country's sole[200] commodity. + +VIS. Sirrah, be still. + +MEN. Nay, and you be so hot, the devil part you! +I'll to Olfactus, and send him amongst you. +O, that I were Alecto for your sakes! +How liberally would I bestow my snakes! + [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + +VIS. Tactus, upon thine honour, +I challenge thee to meet me here, +Strong as thou canst provide, in th'afternoon. + +TAC. I undertake the challenge, and here's my hand, +In sign thou shalt be answered. + +GUS. Tactus, I'll join with thee, on this condition +That, if we win, he that fought best of us +Shall have the crown, the other wear the robe. + +TAC. Give me your hand: I like the motion. + +VIS. Auditus, shall we make our forces double +Upon the same terms? + +AUD. Very willingly. + +VIS. Come, let's away: fear not the victory; +Right's more advantage than an host of soldiers. + + [_Exeunt omnes_. + + + + +ACTUS SECUNDUS, SCAENA PRIMA. + + + APPETITUS, _a long, lean, raw-boned fellow, + in a soldier's coat, a sword, &c_. + + MENDACIO, APPETITUS. + +MEN. I long to see those hotspur Senses at it: they say they have +gallant preparations, and not unlikely, for most of the soldiers are +ready in arms, since the last field fought against their yearly enemy +Meleager[201] and his wife Acrasia; that conquest hath so fleshed them, +that no peace can hold them. But had not Meleager been sick, and +Acrasia drunk, the Senses might have whistled for the victory. + +APP. Foh, what a stink of gunpowder is yonder! + +MEN. Who's this? O, O, 'tis Appetitus, Gustus's hungry parasite. + [_Aside_.] + +APP. I cannot endure the smoking of guns, the thundering of drums: I +had rather hear the merry hacking of pot-herbs, and see the reeking of +a hot capon. If they would use no other bucklers in war but shields of +brawn, brandish no swords but sweards of bacon,[202] trail no spears +but spare-ribs of pork, and instead of arquebuss pieces discharge +artichoke-pies: toss no pikes but boiled pickrels, then Appetitus would +rouse up his crest, and bear up himself with the proudest. + +MEN. Ah! here's a youth stark naught at a trench, but an old dog at a +trencher, a tall squire at a square table. [_Aside_.] + +APP. But now my good masters must pardon me; I am not one for their +service, for their service is without service, and indeed their service +is too hot for my diet. But what, if I be not myself, but only this be +my spirit that wanders up and down, and Appetitus be killed in the camp? +the devil he is as soon. How's that possible? tut, tut, I know I am. I +am Appetitus, and alive, too--by this infallible token, that I feel +myself hungry. + +MEN. Thou mightest have taken a better token of thyself, by knowing thou +art a fool. [_Aside_.] + +APP. Well, then, though I made my fellow-soldiers admire the beauty of +my back, and wonder at the nimbleness of my heels, yet now will I, at +safety at home, tell in what dangers they are in abroad. I'll speak +nothing but guns and glaves,[203] and staves and phalanges,[204] and +squadrons and barricadoes, ambuscadoes, palmedoes, blank-point, +demi-point,[205] counterpoint, counterscarp, sallies and lies, saladoes, +tarantantaras, ranta, tara, tara, hey. + +MEN. I must take the fife out of his mouth, or he'll ne'er ha' done. + [_Aside_.] + +APP. But, above all, I'll be sure on my knees to thank the great-- + + [MENDACIO _blinds him_. + +MEN. Who am I, who am I, who I? + +APP. By the blood-stained falchion of Mavors,[206] I am on your side. + +MEN. Why, who am I? + +APP. Are you a soldier? + +MEN. No. + +APP. Then you are Master Helluo the bearward. + +MEN. No, no; he's dead. + +APP. Or Gulono the gutty serjeant, or Delphino the vintner, or else I +know you not; for these are all my acquaintance. + +MEN. Would I were hanged, if I be any of these! + +APP. What, Mendacio! By the faith of a knight, thou art welcome; I must +borrow thy whetstone, to sharpen the edges of my martial compliments. + +MEN. By the faith of a knight! What a pox, where are thy spurs?[207] + +APP. I need no spurs; I ride, like Pegasus, on a winged horse--on a +swift jennet, my boy, called Fear. + +MEN. What shouldst thou fear in the wars? He's not a good soldier that +hath not a good stomach. + +APP. O, but the stink of powder spoils Appetitus's stomach, and then +thou knowest, when 'tis gone, Appetitus is dead; therefore I very +manfully drew my sword, and flourished it bravely about mine ears, +hist![208] and finding myself hurt, most manfully ran away. + +MEN. All heart indeed, for thou rann'st like a hart out of the field. It +seems, then, the Senses mean to fight it out. + +APP. Ay, and outfight themselves, I think; and all about a trifle, a +paltry bauble found, I know not where. + +MEN. Thou art deceived: they fight for more than that; a thing called +superiority, of which the crown is but an emblem. + +APP. Mendacio, hang this superiority; crown me no crown, but Bacchus's +crown of roses; give me no sceptre but a fat capon's leg, to show that I +am the great king of Hungary! Therefore, I prythee, talk no more of +state-matters: but in brief, tell me, my little rascal, how thou hast +spent thy time this many a day. + +MEN. Faith, in some credit, since thou sawest me last. + +APP. How so? where? + +MEN. Everywhere. In the court your gentlewomen hang me at their +apron-strings, and that makes them answer so readily. In the city I am +honoured like a god; none so well acquainted with your tradesmen. Your +lawyers, all the termtime, hire me of my lady; your gallants, if they +hear my name abused, they stab for my sake; your travellers so doat upon +me as passes.[209] O, they have good reason; for I have carried them to +many a good meal under the countenance of my familiarity. Nay, your +statesmen have oftentimes closely conveyed me under their tongues, to +make their policies more current. As for old men, they challenge my +company by authority. + +APP. I am exceeding glad of your great promotion. + +MEN. Now, when I am disposed, I can philosophy it in the university with +the subtlest of them all. + +APP. I cannot be persuaded that thou art acquainted with scholars, ever +since thou wert pressed to death in a printing-house. + +MEN. No? why, I was the first founder of the three sects of philosophy, +except one of the Peripatetics, who acknowledge Aristotle, I confess, +their great grandfather. + +APP. Thou boy! how is this possible? Thou art but a child, and there +were sects of philosophy, before thou wert born. + +MEN. Appetitus, thou mistakest me. I tell thee, three thousand years ago +was Mendacio born in Greece,[210] nursed in Crete, and ever since +honoured everywhere. I'll be sworn I held old Homer's pen, when he writ +his Iliads and his Odysseys. + +APP. Thou hadst need, for I hear say he was blind. + +MEN. I helped Herodotus to pen some part of his "Muses";[211] lent Pliny +ink to write his history; rounded Rabelais in the ear,[212] when he +historified Pantagruel: as for Lucian, I was his genius. O, those two +books "De Vera Historia," howsoever they go under his name, I'll be +sworn I writ them every tittle. + +APP. Sure as I am hungry, thou'st have it for lying. But hast thou +rusted this latter time for want of exercise? + +MEN. Nothing less. I must confess I would fain have jogged Stow and +great Hollingshed on their elbows, when they were about their +chronicles; and, as I remember, Sir John Mandeville's "Travels" and a +great part of the "Decads"[213] were of my doing. But for the "Mirror of +Knighthood," "Bevis of Southampton," "Palmerin of England," "Amadis of +Gaul," "Huon de Bordeaux," "Sir Guy of Warwick," "Martin Marprelate," +"Robin Hood," "Garragantua," "Gerileon," and a thousand such exquisite +monuments as these, no doubt but they breathe in my breath up and down. + +APP. Downwards, I'll swear, for there's stinking lies in them. + +MEN. But what, should I light a candle to the bright sunshine of my +glorious renown? The whole world is full of Mendacio's fame. + +APP. And so it will be so long as the world is full of fame. + +MEN. But, sirrah, how hast thou done this long time? + +APP. In as much request as thyself. To begin with the court, as thou +didst: I lie with the ladies all night, and that's the reason they call +for cullies and gruellies so early before their prayers. Your gallants +never sup, breakfast, or bever[214] without me. + +MEN. That's false, for I have seen them eat with a full stomach. + +APP. True, but because they know a little thing drives me from them, +therefore in midst of meat they present me with some sharp sauce or a +dish of delicate anchovies, or a caviare,[215] to entice me back again. +Nay, more: your old sires, that hardly go without a prop, will walk a +mile or two every day to renew their acquaintance with me. As for the +academy, it is beholding to me for adding the eighth province unto the +noble Heptarchy of the liberal sciences.[216] + +MEN. What's that, I prythee? + +APP. The most desired and honourable art of cookery. Now, sirrah, in the +city I am------'st, 'st! O, the body of a louse! + +MEN. What, art a louse in the city? + +APP. Not a word more; for yonder comes Phantastes and somebody else. + +MEN. What a pox can Phantastes do? + +APP. Work a miracle, if he would prove wise. + +MEN. 'Tis he indeed, the vilest nup.[217] Yet the fool loves me +exceedingly; but I care not for his company, for if he once catch me, +I shall never be rid of him. + + [_Exeunt_ APPETITUS _and_ MENDACIO. + + + +SCAENA SECUNDA. + + + PHANTASTES, _a swart-complexioned fellow, but quick-eyed, in a + white satin doublet of one fashion, green velvet hose of another, + a fantastical hat with a plume of feathers of several colours, a + little short taffeta cloak, a pair of buskins cut, drawn out with + sundry-coloured ribbands, with scarfs hung about him after all + fashions and of all colours, rings, jewels, a fan, and in every + place other odd complements_.[218] HEURESIS, _a nimble-sprited + page in the newest fashion, with a garland of bays, &c_. + + PHANTASTES, HEURESIS. + +PHA. Sirrah boy! Heuresis! boy! how now, biting your nails? + +HEU. Three things have troubled my brain this many a day, and just now, +when I was laying hold on the invention of them, your sudden call made +them, like Tantalus's apples, fly from my fingers. + +PHA. Some great matters, questionless; what were they? + +HEU. The quadrature of a circle, the philosopher's stone, and the next +way to the Indies. + +PHA. Thou dost well to meditate on these three things at once, for +they'll be found out altogether--_ad Graecas Calendas_; but let them +pass, and carry the conceit I told you this morning to the party you wot +of. In my imagination 'tis capricious; 'twill take, I warrant thee. + +HEU. I will, sir. But what say you to the gentleman that was with you +yesterday? + +PHA. O, I think thou meanest him that made nineteen sonnets of his +mistress's busk-point.[219] + +HEU. The same, the same, sir. You promised to help him out with the +twentieth. + +PHA. By Jupiter's cloven pate, 'tis true. But we witty fellows are so +forgetful; but stay, Heu, Heu,[220] carry him this. + + _The Gordian knot, which Alexander great + Did whilom, cut with his all-conquering sword, + Was nothing like thy busk-point, pretty peat,[221] + Nor could so fair an augury afford_. + +Then to conclude, let him pervert Catullas's _Zonam solvit diu ligatum_ +thus, thus-- + + _Which if I chance to cut, or else untie, + Thy little world I'll conquer presently_. + +'Tis pretty, pretty, tell him 'twas extemporal. + +HEU. Well, sir, but now for Master Inamorato's love-letter. + +PHA. Some nettling stuff, i'faith; let him write thus: _Most +heart-commanding-faced gentlewoman, even as the stone in India, called +Basaliscus, hurts all that looks on it, and as the serpent in Arabia, +called Smaragdus, delighteth the sight, so does thy celestial +orb-assimilating eyes both please, and in pleasing wound my love-darted +heart_. + +HEU. But what trick shall I invent for the conclusion? + +PHA. Pish, anything, love will minister ink for the rest. He that [hath] +once begun well, hath half done; let him begin again, and there's all. + +HEU. Master Gullio spoke for a new fashion; what for him? + +PHA. A fashion for his suit! Let him button it down the sleeve with four +elbows, and so make it the pure hieroglyphic of a fool. + +HEU. Nay, then let me request one thing of you. + +PHA. What's that, boy? By this fair hand, thou shalt have it. + +HEU. Mistress Superbia, a gentlewoman of my acquaintance, wished me to +devise her a new set for her ruff and an odd tire. I pray, sir, help me +out with it. + +PHA. Ah, boy, in my conceit 'tis a hard matter to perform. These women +have well-nigh tired me with devising tires for them, and set me at a +nonplus for new sets. Their heads are so light, and their eyes so coy, +that I know not how to please them. + +HEU. I pray, sir, she hath a bad face, and fain would have suitors. +Fantastical and odd apparel would perchance draw somebody to look on +her. + +PHA. If her face be nought, in my opinion, the more view it the worse. +Bid her wear the multitude of her deformities under a mask, till my +leisure will serve to devise some durable and unstained blush of +painting. + +HEU. Very good, sir. + +PHA. Away, then, hie thee again; meet me at the court within this hour +at the farthest. [_Exit_ HEURESIS.] O heavens! how have I been troubled +these latter times with women, fools, babes, tailors, poets, swaggerers, +gulls, ballad-makers! They have almost disrobed me of all the toys and +trifles I can devise. Were it not that I pity the multitude of printers, +these sonnet-mongers should starve for conceits for all Phantastes. But +these puling lovers--I cannot but laugh at them, and their encomiums of +their mistresses. They make, forsooth, her hair of gold, her eyes of +diamond, her cheeks of roses, her lips of rubies, her teeth of pearl, +and her whole body of ivory; and when they have thus idoled her like +Pygmalion, they fall down and worship her.[222] Psyche, thou hast laid a +hard task upon my shoulders to invent at every one's ask. Were it not +that I refresh my dulness once a day with thy most angelical presence, +'twere impossible for me to undergo it. + + + +SCAENA TERTIA. + + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, _a grave man, in a black velvet cassock + like a councillor, speaks coming out of the door_. + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, PHANTASTES. + +COM. SEN. I cannot stay, I tell you. 'Tis more than time I were at +court. I know my sovereign Psyche hath expected me this hour. + +PHA. In good time; yonder comes Common Sense. I imagine it should be +he by his voice. + +COM. SEN. Crave my counsel! Tell me what manner of man he is? Can he +entertain a man in his house? Can he hold his velvet cap in one hand, +and vail[223] his bonnet with the other? Knows he how to become a +scarlet gown? Hath he a pair of fresh posts at his door?[224] + +PHA. He's about some hasty state matters. He talks of posts, methinks. + +COM. SEN. Can he part a couple of dogs brawling in the street? Why, +then, choose him mayor. Upon my credit, he'll prove a wise officer. + +PHA. Save you, my lord; I have attended your leisure this hour. + +COM. SEN. Fie upon't! What a toil have I had to choose them a mayor +yonder? There's a fusty currier will have this man; there's a chandler +wipes his nose on his sleeve, and swears it shall not be so; there's a +mustard-maker looks as keen as vinegar will have another. O, this +many-headed multitude, 'tis a hard matter to please them! + +PHA. Especially where the multitude is so well-headed. But I pray you, +where's Master Memory? Hath he forgotten himself, that he is not here? + +COM. SEN. 'Tis high time he were at court. I would he would come. + + + + +SCAENA QUARTA. + + + MEMORY, _an old decrepit man, in a black velvet cassock,[225] + a taffeta gown furred with white grogram, a white beard, velvet + slippers, a watch, staff, &c_. ANAMNESTES, _his page, in a grave + satin suit, purple buskins, a garland of bays and rosemary, a + gimmal ring[226] with one link hanging, ribbons and threads tied + to some of his fingers; in his hand a pair of table-books, &c_. + + MEMORY, ANAMNESTES, PHANTASTES, COMMUNIS SENSUS. + +MEM. How soon a wise man shall have his wish! + +COM. SEN. Memory, the season of your coming is very ripe. + +PHA. Had you stayed a little longer, 'twould have been stark rotten. + +MEM. I am glad I saved it from the swine. 'Sprecious, I have forgot +something. O, my purse, my purse! Why, Anamnestes, Remembrance? that +wild boy is always gadding. I remember he was at my heels even now, and +now the vile rascal is vanished. + +PHA. Is he not here? Why, then in my imagination he's left behind. +Hollo! Anamnestes, Remembrance! + +ANA. [_Running in haste_.] Anon, anon, sir; anon, anon, sir; anon, +anon, sir; anon, anon, sir. + +MEM. Ha, sirrah, what a brawling's here? + +ANA. I do but give you an answer with, anon, sir. + +MEM. You answer sweetly; I have called you three or four times one +after another. + +ANA. Sir, I hope I answered you three or four times, one in the neck of +another. But if your good worship have lent me any more calls, tell me, +and I'll repay them, as I'm a gentleman. + +MEM. Leave your tattle. Had you come at first, I had not spent so much +breath in vain. + +ANA. The truth is, sir, the first time you called I heard you not: the +second, I understood you not: the third, I knew not whether it were you +or no: the fourth, I could not tell where you were, and that's the +reason I answered so suddenly. + +MEM. Go, sirrah: run: seek everywhere. I have lost my purse somewhere. + +ANA. I go, sir. _Go, sirrah, seek, run; I have lost; bring_! here's a +dog's life, with a pox! Shall I be always used like a water-spaniel? + [_Exit_ ANAMNESTES. + +COM. SEN. Come, good Master Register, I wonder you be so late now-a-days. + +MEM. My good lord, I remember that I knew your grandfather in this your +place, and I remember your grandfather's great grandfather's +grandfather's father's father; yet in those days I never remember that +any of them could say that Register Memory ever broke one minute of his +appointment. + +COM. SEN. Why, good father, why are you so late now-a-days? + +MEM. Thus 'tis; the most customers I remember myself to have, are, as +your lordship knows, scholars; and now-a-days the most of them are +become critics, bringing me home such paltry things to lay up for them, +that I can hardly find them again. + +PHA. Jupiter, Jupiter, I had thought these flies had bit none but +myself: do critics tickle you, i'faith? + +MEM. Very familiarly: for they must know of me, forsooth, how every idle +word is written in all the musty moth-eaten manuscripts, kept in all the +old libraries in every city betwixt England and Peru. + +COM. SEN. Indeed, I have noted these times to affect antiquities more +than is requisite. + +MEM. I remember, in the age of Assaracus and Ninus, and about the wars +of Thebes and the siege of Troy, there were few things committed to my +charge, but those that were well worthy the preserving; but now every +trifle must be wrapped up in the volume of eternity. A rich pudding-wife +or a cobbler cannot die but I must immortalise his name with an epitaph; +a dog cannot piss in a nobleman's shoe, but it must be sprinkled into +the chronicles; so that I never could remember my treasure more full, +and never emptier of honourable and true heroical actions. + +PHA. By your leave, Memory, you are not alone troubled; chronologers +many of them are so fantastic, as when they bring a captain to the +combat, lifting up his revengeful arm to dispart the head of his enemy, +they'll hold up his arms so long, till they have bestowed three or four +pages in describing the gold hilts of his threatening falchion: so that +in my fancy the reader may well wonder his adversary stabs him not, +before he strikes. Moreover, they are become most palpable flatterers, +always begging at my gates for invention. + +COM. SEN. This is a great fault in a chronologer to turn parasite: an +absolute historian should be in fear of none;[227] neither should he +write anything more than truth for friendship, or less for hate; but +keep himself equal and constant in all his discourses. But, for us, we +must be contented; for, as our honours increase, so must the burthen of +the cares of our offices urge us to wax heavy. + +PHA. But not till our backs break; 'slud, there was never any so haunted +as I am: this day there comes a sophister to my house, knocks at my +door; his errand being asked, forsooth his answer was to borrow a fair +suit of conceits out of my wardrobe, to apparel a show he had in hand: +and what think you is the plot? + +COM. SEN. Nay, I know not, for I am little acquainted with such toys. + +PHA. Meanwhile, he's somewhat acquainted with you, for he's bold to +bring your person upon the stage. + +COM. SEN. What, me? I can't remember that I was ever brought upon the +stage before. + +PHA. Yes, you, and you, and myself with all my fantastical tricks and +humours: but I trow I have fitted him with fooleries: I trust he'll +never trouble me again. + +COM. SEN. O times! O manners! when boys dare to traduce men in +authority; was ever such an attempt heard? + +MEM. I remember there was: for, to say the truth, at my last being at +Athens--it is now, let me see, about one thousand eight hundred years +ago--I was at a comedy of Aristophanes' making.[228] I shall never +forget it; the arch-governor of Athens took me by the hand, and placed +me; and there, I say, I saw Socrates abused most grossly, himself being +then a present spectator: I remember he sat full against me, and did not +so much as show the least countenance of discontent. + +COM. SEN. In those days it was lawful; but now the abuse of such liberty +is insufferable. + +PHA. Think what you will of it, I think 'tis done, and I think it is +acting by this time: hark, hark; what drumming's yonder! I'll lay my +life they are come to present the show I spake of. + +COM. SEN. It may be so; stay, we'll see what 'tis. + + + +SCAENA QUINTA. + + + LINGUA, MENDACIO, COMMUNIS SENSUS, _and the rest_. + +LIN. Feign thyself in great haste. + +MEN. I warrant you, madam: I doubt 'tis in vain to run, by this they are +all past overtaking. + +COM. SEN. Is not this Lingua, that is in such haste? + +PHA. Yes, yes, stand still. + +MEN. I must speak with him. + +COM. SEN. With whom? + +MEN. Assure yourself they are all at court ere this. + +LIN. Run after them, for, unless he know it-- + +COM. SEN. Lingua! + +LIN. O, is't your lordship? I beseech you, pardon me. Haste and fear, I +protest, put out mine eyes: I looked so long for you, that I knew not, +when I had found you. + +PHA. In my conceit that's like the man that inquired who saw his ass, +when himself rid on him. + +LIN. O, my heart beats so! fie, fie, fie, fie! + +MEN. I am so weary; so, so, so, so. + +COM. SEN. I prythee, Lingua, make an end. + +LIN. Let me begin first, I beseech you; but if you will needs have the +end first--thus 'tis: the commonwealth of Microcosm at this instant +suffers the pangs of death, 'tis gasping for breath. Will you have all? +'tis poisoned. + +PHA. What apothecary durst be so bold as make such a confection? ha, +what poison is't? + +LIN. A golden crown. + +MEN. I mistake; or else Galen, in his book "De Sanitate Tuenda," +commends gold as restorative. + +COM. SEN. Lingua, express yourself. + +MEN. Madam, if you want breath, let me help you out. + +LIN. I prythee do, do. + +MEN. My lord, the report is that Mercury, coming late into this country, +in this very place left a coronet with this inscription, _that the best +of the five should have it_, which the Senses thinking to belong unto +them-- + +LIN. Challenge each other, and are now in arms, and't like your +lordship. + +COM. SEN. I protest it likes not me. + +LIN. Their battles are not far hence; ready ranged. + +COM. SEN. O monstrous presumption! what shall we do? + +MEM. My lord, in your great grandfather's time there was, I remember, +such a breach amongst them; therefore my counsel is that, after his +example, by the strength of your authority you convene them before you. + +COM. SEN. Lingua, go presently; command the Senses, upon their +allegiance to our dread sovereign Queen Psyche, to dismiss their +companies, and personally to appear before me without any pretence of +excuse. + +LIN. I go, my lord. + +PHA. But hear you, madam? I pray you, let your Tongue's page[229] walk +with us a little, till you return again. + +LIN. With all my heart. [_Exit_ LINGUA. + +PHA.[230] Hot youths, I protest: saw you those warlike preparations? + +MEN, Lately, my lords, I sped into the army; +But O, 'tis far beyond my reach of wit +Or strength of utterance to describe their forces. + +COM. SEN. Go to; speak what thou canst. + +MEN. Upon the right hand of a spacious hill +Proud Visus marshalleth a puissant army, +Three thousand eagles strong, whose valiant captain +Is Jove's swift thunder-bearer, that same bird, +That hoist up Ganymede from the Trojan plains. +The vanguard strengthened with a wondrous flight +Of falcons, haggards, hobbies, terselets,[231] +Lanards and goshawks, sparhawks, and ravenous birds. +The rearward granted to Auditus' charge, +Is stoutly follow'd with an impetuous herd +Of stiff-neck'd bulls and many horn-mad stags, +Of the best head the forest can afford. + +PHA. I promise you, a fearful troop of soldiers. + +MEN. Right opposite stands Tactus, strongly mann'd +With three thousand bristled urchens[232] for his pikemen, +Four hundred tortoises for elephants; +Besides a monstrous troop of ugly spiders, +Within an ambushment he hath commanded +Of their own guts to spin a cordage fine, +Whereof t'have fram'd a net (O wondrous work!) +That, fastened by the concave of the moon, +Spreads down itself to th'earth's circumference. + +MEM. 'Tis very strange; I cannot remember the like engine at any time. + +MEN. Nay more, my lord, the masks[233] are made so strong, +That I myself upon them scal'd the heavens, +And boldly walk'd about the middle region, +Where, in the province of the meteors, +I saw the cloudy shops of hail and rain, +Garners of snow, and crystals full of dew; +Rivers of burning arrows, dens of dragons, +Huge beams of flames, and spears like firebrands. +Where I beheld hot Mars and Mercury, +With rackets made of spheres and balls of stars, +Playing at tennis for a tun of Nectar. +And that vast gaping of the firmament +Under the southern pole is nothing else +But the great hazard[234] of their tennis-court; +The Zodiac is the line; the shooting stars, +Which in an eye-bright evening seem to fall, +Are nothing but the balls they lose at bandy. +Thus, having took my pleasure with those sights, +By the same net I went up I descended. + +COM. SEN. Well, sirrah, to what purpose tends this stratagem? + +MEN. None know directly; but I think it is +T'entrap the eagles, when the battles join. + +PHA. Who takes Tactus his part? + +MEN. Under the standard of thrice-hardy Tactus, +Thrice-valiant Gustus leads his warlike forces; +An endless multitude of desperate apes; +Five hundred marmosets and long-tail'd monkeys, +All trained to the field, and nimble gunners. + +PHA. I imagine there's old moving[235] amongst them: methinks a handful +of nuts would turn them all out of their soldiers' coats. + +MEN. Ramparts of pasty-crust and forts of pies, +Entrench'd with dishes full of custard stuff, +Hath Gustus made, and planted ordinance-- +Strange ordinance, cannons of hollow canes, +Whose powder's rape-seed, charg'd with turnip-shot. + +MEM. I remember, in the country of Utopia[236] they use no other kind of +artillery. + +COM. SEN. But what's become of Olfactus? + +MEN. He politicly leans to neither part, +But stands betwixt the camps as at receipt, +Having great swine[237] his pioneers to entrench them. + +PHA. In my foolish imagination Olfactus is very like the Goddess of +Victory, that never takes any part but the conqueror's. + +MEN. And in the woods be[238] placed secretly +Two hundred couple of hounds and hungry mastiffs; +And o'er his head hover at his command +A cloud of vultures, which o'erspread the light, +Making a night before the day be done: +But to what end not known, but fear'd of all. + +PHA. I conjecture he intends to see them fight, and after the battle to +feed his dogs, hogs, and vultures upon the murdered carcases. + +MEN. My lord, I think the fury of their anger will not be obedient to +the message of Lingua; for otherwise, in my conceit, they should have +been here ere this. With your lordship's good liking, we'll attend upon +you to see the field for more certainty. + +COM. SEN. It shall be so; come, Master Register, let's walk. + + [_Exeunt omnes_. + + + + +ACTUS TERTIUS, SCAENA PRIMA. + + + ANAMNESTES, _with a purse in his hand_. + +ANA. Forsooth, Oblivio, shut the door upon me; I could come no sooner: +ha! is he not here? O excellent! would I were hanged, but I looked for a +sound rap on the pate, and that made me beforehand to lift up this +excuse for a buckler. I know he's not at court, for here is his purse, +without which warrant there's no coming thither; wherefore now, +Anamnestes, sport thyself a little, while thou art out of the prison of +his company. What shall I do? by my troth, anatomise his purse in his +absence. Plutus send there be jewels in it, that I may finely geld it of +the stones--the best, sure, lies in the bottom; pox on't, here's nothing +but a company of worm-eaten papers: what's this? Memorandum that Master +Prodigo owes me four thousand pounds, and that his lands are in pawn for +it. Memorandum that I owe. That he owes? 'Tis well the old slave hath +some care of his credit; to whom owes he, trow I? that I owe Anamnestes; +what, me? I never lent him anything; ha, this is good, there's something +coming to me more than I looked for. Come on; what is't? Memorandum that +I owe Anamnestes------a breeching;[239] i'faith, sir, I will ease you +of that payment. [_He rends the bill_.] Memorandum that, when I was a +child, Robusto tripped up my heels at football: what a revengeful +dizard[240] is this? + + + +SCAENA SECUNDA. + + + MENDACIO, _with cushions under his arms, + trips up_ ANAMNESTES' _heels_. + + MENDACIO, ANAMNESTES. + +ANA. How now? + +MEN. Nothing, but lay you upon the cushion, sir, or so. + +ANA. Nothing, but lay the cushion upon you, sir. + +MEN, What, my little Nam? By this foot, I am sorry I mistook thee. + +ANA. What, my little Men? By this hand, it grieves me I took thee so +right. But, sirrah, whither with these cushions? + +MEN. To lay them here, that the judges may sit softly, lest my Lady +Lingua's cause go hard with her. + +ANA. They should have been wrought with gold; these will do nothing. But +what makes my lady with the judges? + +MEN. Pish! know'st not? She sueth for the title of a Sense, as well as +the rest that bear the name of the Pentarchy. + +ANA. Will Common Sense and my master leave their affairs to determine +that controversy? + +MEN. Then thou hear'st nothing. + +ANA. What should I hear? + +MEN. All the Senses fell out about a crown fallen from heaven, and +pitched a field for it; but Vicegerent Common Sense, hearing of it, took +upon him to umpire the contention, in which regard he hath appointed +them (their arms dismissed) to appear before him, charging every one to +bring, as it were in a show, their proper objects, that by them he may +determine of their several excellencies. + +ANA. When is all this? + +MEN. As soon as they can possibly provide. + +ANA. But can he tell which deserves best by their objects? + +MEN. No, not only; for every Sense must describe his instrument, that +is, his house, where he performs his daily duty, so that by the object +and the instrument my lord can with great ease discern their place and +dignities. + +ANA. His lordship's very wise. + +MEN. Thou shalt hear all anon. Fine Master Phantastes and thy master +will be here shortly. But how is't, my little rogue? methinks thou +look'st lean upon't! + +ANA. Alas! how should I do otherwise, that lie all night with such a +raw-boned skeleton as Memory, and run all day on his errands? The +churl's grown so old and forgetful, that every hour he's calling, +Anamnestes, Remembrance; where art, Anamnestes? Then presently +something's lost. Poor I must run for it, and these words, _Run, boy; +come, sirrah, quick, quick, quick_! are as familiar with him as the +cough, never out on's mouth. + +MEN. Alack, alack! poor rogue, I see my fortunes are better. My lady +loves me exceedingly; she's always kissing me, so that I tell thee, Nam, +Mendacio's never from betwixt her lips. + +ANA. Nor I out of Memory's mouth,[241] but in a worse sort, always +exercising my stumps, and, which is more, when he favours best, then I +am in the worst taking. + +MEN. How so? + +ANA. Thus: when we are friends, then must I come and be dandled upon his +palsy-quaking knees, and he'll tell me a long story of his acquaintance +with King Priamus and his familiarity with Nestor, and how he played at +blowpoint[242] with Jupiter, when he was in his sidecoats, and how he +went to look bird-nests with Athous,[243] and where he was at +Deucalion's flood, and twenty such old wives' tales. + +MEN. I wonder he, being so old, can talk so much. + +ANA. Nature, thou know'st, knowing what an unruly engine the tongue is, +hath set teeth round about for watchmen. Now, sir, my master's old age +hath coughed out all his teeth, and that's the cause it runs so much at +liberty. + +MEN. Philosophical! + +ANA. O, but there's one thing stings me to the very heart--to see an +ugly, foul, idle, fat, dusty cloghead, called Oblivio, preferred before +me. Dost know him? + +MEN. Who, I? Ay, but care not for his acquaintance. Hang him, blockhead! +I could never abide him. Thou, Remembrance, are the only friend that the +arms of my friendship shall embrace. Thou hast heard _Oportet mendacem +esse memorem_. But what of Oblivio? + +ANA. The very naming of him hath made me forget myself. O, O, O, O, that +rascal is so made of everywhere! + +MEN. Who, Oblivio? + +ANA. Ay, for our courtiers hug him continually in their ungrateful +bosoms, and your smooth-bellied,[244] fat-backed, barrel-paunched, +tun-gutted drones are never without him. As for Memory, he's a +false-hearted fellow; he always deceives them; they respect not him, +except it be to play a game at chests,[245] primero,[246] saunt,[247] +maw,[248] or such like. + +MEN. I cannot think such fellows have to do with Oblivio, since they +never got anything to forget. + +ANA. Again, these prodigal swaggerers that are so much bound to their +creditors, if they have but one cross about them, they'll spend it in +wine upon Oblivio. + +MEN. To what purpose, I prythee? + +ANA. Only in hope he'll wash them in the Lethe of their cares. + +MEN. Why, then, no man cares for thee. + +ANA. Yes, a company of studious paperworms and lean scholars, and +niggarly scraping usurers, and a troop of heart-eating, envious persons, +and those canker-stomached, spiteful creatures that furnish up +commonplace books with other men's faults. The time hath been, in those +golden days when Saturn reigned, that, if a man received a benefit of +another, I was presently sent for to put him in mind of it; but now, in +these iron afternoons, save your friend's life, and Oblivio will be more +familiar with him than you. + + + +SCAENA TERTIA. + + + HEURESIS, MENDACIO, ANAMNESTES. + +HEU. Phantastes not at court? Is't possible? 'Tis the strangest accident +that ever was heard of. I had thought the ladies and gallants would +never lie without him. + +ANA. Hist, hist, Mendacio; I prythee observe Heuresis. It seems he +cannot find his master, that's able to find out all things. And art thou +now at a fault? Canst not find out thine own master? + +HEU. I'll try one more way. O yes![249] + +MEN. What a proclamation for him? + +ANA. Ay, ay, his nimble head is always full of proclamations. + +HEU. O yes! + +MEN. But doth he cry him in the wood? + +ANA. O good sir, and good reason, for every beast hath Phantasy at his +pleasure. + +HEU. O yes! If any man can tell any tidings of a spruce, neat, apish, +nimble, fine, foolish, absurd, humorous, conceited, fantastic gallant, +with hollow eyes, sharp look, swart complexion, meagre face, wearing as +many toys in his apparel as fooleries in his looks and gesture, let him +come forth and certify me thereof, and he shall have for his +reward-- + +ANA. I can tell you where he is. What shall he have? + +HEU. A box o' the ear, sirrah. [_Snap_.] + +ANA. How now, Invention, are you so quick-fingered? I'faith, there's +your principal, sirrah, [_snap_], and here's the interest ready in my +hand [_snap. They fall together by the ears_.] Yea, have you found out +scratching? Now I remember me-- + +HEU. Do you bite me, rascal? + +MEN. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Here's the lively picture of this axiom, +_A quick invention and a good memory can never agree_. Fie, fie, fie: +Heuresis! beat him, when he's down? + +ANA. Prythee, let's alone: proud jackanapes, I'll-- + +HEU. What will you do? + +ANA. Untruss thy points, and whip thee, thou paltry ----. Let me go, +Mendacio, if thou lov'st me. Shall I put up the-- + +MEN. Come, come, come, you shall fight no more, in good faith. Heuresis, +your master will catch you anon. + +HEU. My master! where is he? + +MEN. I'll bring you to him; come away. + +HEU. Anamnestes, I scorn that thou shouldst think I go away for fear of +anything thou canst do unto me. Here's my hand, as soon as thou canst +pick the least occasion, put up thy finger, I am for thee. + +ANA. When thou dar'st, Heuresis, when thou dar'st, I'll be as ready as +thyself at any time. [_Exeunt_ MENDACIO _and_ HEURESIS.] This Heuresis, +this Invention, is the proudest jackanapes, the pertest, self-conceited +boy that ever breathed. Because, forsooth, some odd poet or some such +fantastic fellows make much on him, there's no ho with him.[250] The +vile dandi-prat will overlook the proudest of his acquaintance; but well +I remember me, I learned a trick t'other day to bring a boy o'er the +thigh finely. If he come, i'faith, I'll tickle him with it. + + [MENDACIO _comes running back in great haste_. + +MEN. As I am a rascal, Nam, they are all coming. I see Master Register +trudging hither as fast as his three feet will carry up his four ages. + + [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + + + +SCAENA QUARTA. + + + MEMORIA, ANAMNESTES. + +MEM. Ah, you leaden-heeled rascal! + +ANA. Here 'tis, sir; I have it, I have it. + +MEM. Is this all the haste you make? + +ANA. An't like your worship, your cloghead Oblivio went before me, and +foiled the trail of your footsteps, that I could hardly undertake the +quest of your purse, forsooth. + +MEM. You might have been here long ere this. Come hither, sirrah, come +hither: what, must you go round about? Goodly, goodly, you are full of +circumstances. + +ANA. In truth, sir, I was here before, and missing you, went back into +the city, sought you in every alehouse, inn, tavern, dicing-house, +tennis-court, stews, and such like places, likely to find your worship +in. + +MEM. Ha, villain! am I a man likely to be found in such places, ha? + +ANA. No, no, sir; but I was told by my Lady Lingua's page that your +worship was seeking me; therefore I inquired for you in those places, +where I knew you would ask for me, an it please your worship. + +MEM. I remember another quarrel, sirrah; but--well, well, I have no +leisure. + + + +SCAENA QUINTA. + + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, LINGUA, PHANTASTES, MEMORY, ANAMNESTES. + +COM. SEN. Lingua, the Senses, by our appointment, anon are to present +their objects before us. Seeing, therefore, they be not in readiness, we +license you in the meanwhile, either in your own person or by your +advocate, to speak what you can for yourself. + +LIN. My lord, if I should bring before your honour all my friends, ready +to importune you in my behalf, I should have so many rhetoricians, +logicians, lawyers, and (which is more) so many women, to attend me, +that this grove would hardly contain the company; wherefore, to avoid +the tediousness, I will lay the whole cause upon the tip of mine own +tongue. + +COM. SEN. Be as brief as the necessity of our short time requires. + +LIN. My lord, though the _imbecillitas_ of my feeble sex might draw me +back from this tribunal, with the _habenis_, to wit _timoris_ and the +_Catenis pudoris_, notwithstanding being so fairly led on with the +gracious [Greek: epiecheia] of your _justissime_ [Greek: dikaiosynaes]. +Especially so _aspremente spurd' con gli sproni di necessita mia +pugente_, I will without the help of orators commit the _totam salutem_ +of my action to the _volutabilitati_ [Greek: ton gynaicheion logon], +which _avec vostre bonne plaisir_, I will finish with more than +_Laconicâ brevitate_. + +COM. SEN. What's this? here's a gallimaufry of speech indeed. + +MEM. I remember about the year 1602 many used this skew kind of language +which, in my opinion, is not much unlike the man Platony,[251] the son +of Lagus, king of Egypt, brought for a spectacle, half-white, half-black. + +COM. SEN. I am persuaded these same language-makers have the very +quality of cold in their wit, that freezeth all heterogeneal languages +together, congealing English tin, Grecian gold, Roman latten[252] all in +a lump. + +PHA. Or rather, in my imagination, like your fantastical gull's apparel, +wearing a Spanish felt, a French doublet, a Granado stocking, a Dutch +slop, an Italian cloak, with a Welsh freeze jerkin. + +COM. SEN. Well, leave your toying: we cannot pluck the least feather +from the soft wing of time. Therefore, Lingua, go on, but in a less +formal manner. You know an ingenious oration must neither swell above +the banks with insolent words, nor creep too shallow in the ford with +vulgar terms; but run equally, smooth and cheerful, through the clean +current of a pure style. + +LIN. My lord, this one thing is sufficient to confirm my worth to be +equal or better than the Senses, whose best operations are nothing till +I polish them with perfection; for their knowledge is only of things +present, quickly sublimed with the deft[253] file of time: whereas the +tongue is able to recount things past, and often pronounce things to +come, by this means re-edifying such excellences as time and age do +easily depopulate. + +COM. SEN. But what profitable service do you undertake for our dread +queen Psyche? + +LIN. O, how I am ravished to think how infinitely she hath graced me +with her most acceptable service! But above all (which you, Master +Register, well remember), when her highness, taking my mouth for her +instrument, with the bow of my tongue struck so heavenly a touch upon my +teeth, that she charmed the very tigers asleep, the listening bears and +lions to couch at her feet, while the hills leaped, and the woods danced +to the sweet harmony of her most angelical accents. + +MEM. I remember it very well. Orpheus played upon the harp, while she +sung, about some four years after the contention betwixt Apollo and Pan, +and a little before the excoriation of Marsyas. + +ANA. By the same token the river Alpheus, at that time pursuing his +beloved Arethusa, dischannelled himself of his former course, to be +partaker of their admirable consort[254], and the music being ended, +thrust himself headlong into earth, the next way to follow his amorous +chace. If you go to Arcadia, you shall see his coming up again. + +COM. SEN. Forward, Lingua, with your reason. + +LIN. How oft hath her excellency employed me as ambassador in her most +urgent affairs to foreign kings and emperors--I may say to the gods +themselves? How many bloodless battles have my persuasions attained, +when the Senses' forces have been vanquished? how many rebels have I +reclaimed, when her sacred authority was little regarded? Her laws +(without exprobation be it spoken) had been altogether unpublished, her +will unperformed, her illustrious deeds unrenowned, had not the silver +sound of my trumpet filled the whole circuit of the universe with her +deserved fame. Her cities would dissolve, traffic would decay, +friendships be broken, were not my speech the knot, mercury, and mastic, +to bind, defend, and glue them together. What should I say more? I can +never speak enough of the unspeakable praise of speech, wherein I can +find no other imperfection at all, but that the most exquisite power and +excellency of speech cannot sufficiently express the exquisite power and +excellency of speaking. + +COM. SEN. Lingua, your service and dignity we confess to be great; +nevertheless these reasons prove you not to have the nature of a Sense. + +LIN. By your ladyship's favour, I can soon prove that a Sense is a +faculty, by which our queen sitting in her privy chamber hath +intelligence of exterior occurrences. That I am of this nature, I prove +thus. The object which I challenge is-- + + _Enter_ APPETITUS _in haste_. + +APP. Stay, stay, my lord; defer, I beseech you, defer the judgment. + +COM. SEN. Who's this that boldly interrupts us thus? + +APP. My name is Appetitus, common servant to the pentarchy of the Senses +who, understanding that your honour was handling this action of +Lingua's, sent me hither thus hastily, most humbly requesting the Bench +to consider these articles they allege against her, before you proceed +to judgment. + +COM. SEN. Hum, here's good stuff; Master Register, read them. Appetitus, +you may depart, and bid your mistress make convenient speed. + +APP. At your lordship's pleasure. [_Exit_ APPETITUS. + +MEM. I remember that I forgot my spectacles; I left them in the 349th +page of Hall's "Chronicles," where he tells a great wonder of a +multitude of mice, which had almost destroyed the country, but that +there resorted a great mighty flight of owls, that destroyed them. +Anamnestes, read these articles distinctly. + +ANA. Art. 1. Imprimis, We accuse Lingua of high treason and sacrilege +against the most honourable commonwealth of letters; for, under pretence +of profiting the people with translations, she hath most vilely +prostituted the hard mysteries of unknown languages to the profane ears +of the vulgar. + +PHA. This is as much as to make a new hell in the upper world; for in +hell they say Alexander is no better than a cobbler, and now by these +translations every cobbler is as familiar with Alexander as he that +wrote his life. + +ANA. Art. 2. Item, that she hath wrongfully imprisoned a lady called +Veritas. + +Art. 3. Item, That she's a witch, and exerciseth her tongue in exorcisms. + +Art. 4. Item, That she's a common whore, and lets every one lie with her. + +Art. 5. Item, that she rails on men in authority, depraving their honours +with bitter jests and taunts; and that she's a backbiter, setting strife +betwixt bosom friends. + +Art. 6. Item, that she lends wives weapons to fight against their +husbands. + +Art. 7. Item, that she maintains a train of prating pettifoggers, +prowling sumners[255], smooth-tongued bawds, artless[256] empirics, +hungry parasites, newscarriers, janglers[257], and such like idle +companions, that delude the commonalty. + +Art. 8. Item, that she made rhetoric wanton, logic to babble, astronomy +to lie. + +Art. 9. Item that she's an incontinent tell-tale. + +Art. 10. Item (which is the last and worst), that she's a woman in every +respect, and for these causes not to be admitted to the dignity of a +Sense. That these articles be true, we pawn our honours, and subscribe +our names. + + 1. VISUS. 4. OLFACTUS. + 3. GUSTUS. + 2. AUDITUS. 5. TACTUS. + +COM. SEN. Lingua, these be shrewd allegations, and, as I think, +unanswerable. I will defer the judgment of your cause, till I have +finished the contention of the Senses. + +LIN. Your lordship must be obeyed. But as for them, most ungrateful and +perfidious wretches-- + +COM. SEN. Good words become you better; you may depart, if you will, +till we send for you. Anamnestes, run, remember Visus; 'tis time he were +ready. + +ANA. I go. [_Exit_ ANAMNESTES _et redit_.] He stays here, expecting your +lordship's pleasure. + + + +SCAENA SEXTA. + + + _A page carrying a scutcheon argent, charged with an eagle displayed + proper: then_ VISUS, _with a fan of peacock's feathers: next_ LUMEN, + _with a crown of bays and a shield with a bright sun in it, + apparelled in tissue: then a page bearing a shield before_ COELUM, + _clad in azure taffeta, dimpled with stars, a crown of stars on his + head, and a scarf resembling the zodiac overthwart the shoulders: + next a page clad in green, with a terrestrial globe before_ TERRA, + _in a green velvet gown stuck with branches and flowers, a crown of + turrets upon her head, in her hand a key: then a herald, leading in + his hand_ COLOUR, _clad in changeable silk, with a rainbow out of a + cloud on her head: last, a boy_. VISUS _marshalleth his show about + the stage, and presents it before the Bench_. + + VISUS, LUMEN, COELUM, PHANTASTES, COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORY. + +VIS. Lo, here the objects that delight the sight! +The goodliest objects that man's heart can wish! +For all things, that the orb first movable +Wraps in the circuit of his large-stretch'd arms, +Are subject to the power of Visus' eyes. +That you may know what profit light doth bring, +Note Lumen's words, that speaks next following. + +LUM. Light, the fair grandchild to the glorious sun, +Opening the casements of the rosy morn, +Makes the abashed heavens soon to shun +The ugly darkness it embrac'd beforn;[258] +And, at his first appearance, puts to flight +The utmost relics of the hell-born night. +This heavenly shield, soon as it is display'd, +Dismays the vices that abhor the light; +To wanderers by sea and land gives aid; +Conquers dismay, recomforteth affright; +Rouseth dull idleness, and starts soft sleep, +And all the world to daily labour keep. +This a true looking-glass impartial, +Where beauty's self herself doth beautify +With native hue, not artificial, +Discovering falsehood, opening verity: +The day's bright eye colours distinction, +Just judge of measure and proportion. +The only means by which each mortal eye +Sends messengers to the wide firmament, +That to the longing soul brings presently +High contemplation and deep wonderment; +By which aspirement she her wings displays, +And herself thither, whence she came, upraise. + +PHA. What blue thing's that, that's dappled so with stars. + +VIS. He represents the heaven. + +PHA. In my conceit +'Twere pretty, if he thundered when he speaks. + +VIS. Then none could understand him. + +COEL. Tropic, colures, the equinoctial, +The zodiac, poles, and line ecliptical, +The nadir, zenith, and anomalies, +The azimuth and ephimerides, +Stars, orbs, and planets, with their motions, +The oriental regradations, +Eccentrics, epicyctes, and--and--and-- + +PHA. How now, Visus, is your heaven at a stay, +Or is it his _motus trepidationis_ that makes him stammer? +I pray you, Memory, set him a-gate[259] again. + +MEM. I remember, when Jupiter made Amphitryo cuckold, and lay with his +wife Alcmena, Coelum was in this taking for three days space, and stood +still just like him at a nonplus. + +COM. SEN. Leave jesting; you'll put the fresh actor out of countenance. + +COEL. Eccentrics, epicyctes, and aspects +In sextile, trine and quadrate, which effects +Wonders on earth: also the oblique part +Of signs, that make the day both long and short, +The constellations, rising cosmical, +Setting of stars, chronic, and heliacal, +In the horizon or meridional, +And all the skill in deep astronomy, +Is to the soul derived by the eye. + +PHA. Visus, you have made Coelum a heavenly speech, past earthly +capacity; it had been as good for him he had thundered. But I pray +you, who taught him to speak and use no action? methinks it had been +excellent to have turned round about in his speech. + +VIS. He hath so many motions, he knows not which to begin withal. + +PHA. Nay, rather it seems he's of Copernicus' opinion, and that makes +him stand still. + + [TERRA _comes to the midst of the stage, stands still + a while, saith nothing, and steps back_. + +COM. SEN. Let's hear what Terra can say--just nothing? + +VIS. And't like your lordship, 'twere an indecorum Terra should speak. + +MEM. You are deceived; for I remember, when Phaeton ruled the sun (I +shall never forget him, he was a very pretty youth), the Earth opened +her mouth wide, and spoke a very good speech to Jupiter. + +ANA. By the same token Nilus hid his head then, he could never find it +since. + +PHA. You know, Memory, that was an extreme hot day, and 'tis likely +Terra sweat much, and so took cold presently after, that ever since she +hath lost her voice. + +HER. A canton ermine added to the field +Is a sure sign the man that bore these arms +Was to his prince as a defensive shield, +Saving him from the force of present harms[260]. + +PHA. I know this fellow of old, 'tis a herald: many a centaur, +chimaera[261], barnacle[262], crocodile, hippopotame, and such like +toys hath he stolen out of the shop of my Invention, to shape new coats +for his upstart gentlemen. Either Africa must breed more monsters,[263] +or you make fewer gentlemen, Master Herald, for you have spent all my +devices already. But since you are here, let me ask you a question in +your own profession: how comes it to pass that the victorious arms of +England, quartered with the conquered coat of France, are not placed on +the dexter side, but give the flower-de-luce the better hand? + +HER. Because that the three lions are one coat made of two French +dukedoms, Normandy and Aquitain. + +[PHA.][264] But I pray you, Visus, what joy is that, that follows him? + +VIS. 'Tis Colour, an object of mine, subject to his commandment. + +PHA. Why speaks he not? + +VIS. He is so bashful, he dares not speak for blushing: +What thing is that? tell me without delay. + +BOY. That's nothing of itself, yet every way +As like a man as a thing like may be: +And yet so unlike as clean contrary, +For in one point it every way doth miss, +The right side of it a man's left side is; +'Tis lighter than a feather, and withal +It fills no place nor room, it is so small. + +COM. SEN. How now, Visus, have you brought a boy with a riddle to pose +us all? + +PHA. Pose us all, and I here? That were a jest indeed. My lord, if he +have a Sphinx, I have an Oedipus, assure yourself; let's hear it once +again. + +BOY. What thing is that, sir, &c. + +PHA. This such a knotty enigma? Why, my lord, I think 'tis a woman, for +first a woman is nothing of herself, and, again, she is likest a man of +anything. + +COM. SEN. But wherein is she unlike? + +PHA. In everything: in peevishness, in folly. 'St, boy? + +HEU. In pride, deceit, prating, lying, cogging, coyness, spite, hate, +sir. + +PHA. And in many more such vices. Now, he may well say, the left side a +man's right side is, for a cross wife is always contrary to her husband, +ever contradicting what he wisheth for, like to the verse in Martial, +_Velle tuum_. + +MEM. _Velle tuum nolo, Dindyme, nolle volo_. + +PHA. Lighter than a feather--doth any man make question of that? + +MEM. They need not, for I remember I saw a cardinal weigh them once, and +the woman was found three grains lighter. + +COM. SEN. 'Tis strange, for I have seen gentlewomen wear feathers +oftentimes. Can they carry heavier things than themselves? + +MEM. O, sir, I remember, 'tis their only delight to do so. + +COM. SEN. But how apply you the last verse? it fills no place, sir. + +PHA. By my faith, that spoils all the former, for these farthingales +take up all the room now-a-days; 'tis not a woman, questionless. Shall I +be put down with a riddle? Sirrah Heuresis, search the corners of your +conceit, and find it me quickly. + +HEU. Eh, [Greek: heureka, heureka] I have it: 'tis a man's face in a +looking-glass. + +PHA. My lord, 'tis so indeed. Sirrah let's see it, for do you see my +right eye here? + +COM. SEN. What of your eye? + +PHA. O lord, sir, this kind of frown is excellent, especially when 'tis +sweetened with such a pleasing smile. + +COM. SEN. Phantastes! + +PHA. O sir, my left eye is my right in the glass, do you see? By these +lips, my garters hang so neatly, my gloves and shoes become my hands and +feet so well. Heuresis, tie my shoe-strings with a new knot--this point +was scarce well-trussed, so, 'tis excellent. Looking-glasses were a +passing invention. I protest the fittest books for ladies to study on-- + +MEM. Take heed you fall not in love with yourself. Phantastes, as I +remember--Anamnestes, who was't that died of the looking disease? + +ANA. Forsooth, Narcissus: by the same token he was turned to a daffodil, +and as he died for love of himself, so, if you remember, there was an +old ill-favoured, precious-nosed, babber-lipped, beetle-browed, +blear-eyed, slouch-eared slave that, looking himself by chance in a +glass, died for pure hate. + +PHA. By the lip of my ---- I could live and die with this face. + +COM. SEN. Fie, fie, Phantastes, so effeminate! for shame, leave off. +Visus, your objects I must needs say, are admirable, if the house and +instrument be answerable. Let's hear therefore in brief your +description. + +VIS. Under the forehead of Mount Cephalou,[265] +That overpeers the coast of Microcosm, +All in the shadow of two pleasant groves, +Stand by two mansion-houses, both as round +As the clear heavens: both twins, as like each other +As star to star, which by the vulgar sort, +For their resplendent composition, +Are named the bright eyes of Mount Cephalon: +With four fair rooms those lodgings are contrived, +Four goodly rooms in form most spherical, +Closing each other like the heavenly orbs: +The first whereof, of nature's substance wrought, +As a strange moat the other to defend, +Is trained movable by art divine, +Stirring the whole compacture of the rest: +The second chamber is most curiously +Compos'd of burnish'd and transparent horn. + +PHA. That's a matter of nothing. I have known many have such +bed-chambers. + +MEM. It may be so, for I remember, being once in the town's library, I +read such a thing in their great book of monuments, called "Cornucopia," +or rather their "Copiacornu." + +VIS. The third's a lesser room of purest glass; +The fourth's smallest, but passeth all the former +In worth of matter: built most sumptuously, +With walls transparent of pure crystalline. +This the soul's mirror and the body's guide, +Love's cabinet, bright beacons of the realm, +Casements of light, quiver of Cupid's shafts, +Wherein I sit, and immediately receive +The species of things corporeal, +Keeping continual watch and sentinel; +Lest foreign hurt invade our Microcosm, +And warning give (if pleasant things approach), +To entertain them. From this costly room +Leadeth, my lord, an entry to your house, +Through which I hourly to yourself convey +Matters of wisdom by experience bred: +Art's first invention, pleasant vision, +Deep contemplation, that attires the soul +In gorgeous robes of flowing literature: +Then, if that Visus have deserved best, +Let his victorious brow with crown be blest. + +COM. SEN. Anamnestes, see who's to come next. + +ANA. Presently, my lord. + +PHA. Visus, I wonder that amongst all your objects, you presented us +not with Plato's idea, or the sight of Nineveh,[266] Babylon, London, or +some Stourbridge-fair monsters; they would have done passing well. Those +motions, in my imagination, are very delightful. + +VIS. I was loth to trouble your honours with such toys, neither could I +provide them in so short a time. + +COM. SEN. We will consider your worth; meanwhile, we dismiss you. + + [VISUS _leads his show about the stage, and so goeth out with it_. + + + +SCAENA ULTIMA. + + + AUDITUS, _&c_. + +AUD. Hark, hark, hark, hark! peace, peace, O, peace! O sweet, admirable, +swanlike, heavenly! hark, O most mellifluous strain! O, what a pleasant +close was there! O fall[267] most delicate! + +COM. SEN. How now, Phantastes! is Auditus mad? + +PHA. Let him alone, his musical head is always full of old crotchets. + +AUD. Did you mark the dainty driving of the last point, an excellent +maintaining of the song; by the choice timpan of mine ear, I never heard +a better! hist, 'st, 'st, hark! why, there's a cadence able to ravish +the dullest stoic. + +COM. SEN. I know not what to think on him. + +AUD. There how sweetly the plain-song was dissolved into descant, and +how easily they came off with the last rest. Hark, hark, the +bitter'st[268] sweetest achromatic. + +COM. SEN. Auditus! + +AUD. Thanks, good Apollo, for this timely grace, +Never couldst thou in fitter hour indulge it: +O more than most musical harmony! +O most admirable concert! have you no ears? +Do you not hear this music? + +PHA. It may be good; but, in my opinion, they rest too long in the +beginning. + +AUD. Are you then deaf? do you not yet perceive +The wondrous sound the heavenly orbs do make +With their continual motion? hark, hark, +O honey-sweet! + +COM. SEN. What tune do they play? + +AUD. Why such a tune as never was, nor ever shall be heard. +Mark now, now mark: now, now! + +PHA. List, list, list. + +AUD. Hark! O sweet, sweet, sweet. + +PHA. List! how my heart envies my happy ears. +Hist, by the gold-strung harp of Apollo, +I hear the celestial music of the spheres, +As plainly as ever Pythagoras did. +O most excellent diapason! good, good. +It plays _Fortune my foe_,[269] as distinctly as may be. + +COM. SEN. As the fool thinketh, so the bell clinketh. I protest I hear +no more than a post. + +PHA. What, the Lavolta![270] eh? nay, if the heavens fiddle, Fancy must +needs dance. + +COM. SEN. Prythee, sit still, thou must dance nothing but the passing +measures[271]. Memory, do you hear this harmony of the spheres? + +MEM. Not now, my lord; but I remember about some four thousand years +ago, when the sky was first made, we heard very perfectly. + +ANA. By the same token, the first tune the planets played, I remember +Venus the treble ran sweet division upon Saturn the bass. The first tune +they played was Sellenger's round[272], in memory whereof ever since it +hath been called "the beginning of the world." + +COM. SEN. How comes it we cannot hear it now? + +MEM. Our ears are so well acquainted with the sound, that we never mark +it. As I remember, the Egyptian Catadupes[273] never heard the roaring +of the fall of Nilus, because the noise was so familiar unto them. + +COM. SEN. Have you no other objects to judge by than these, Auditus? + +AUD. This is the rarest and most exquisite: +Most spherical, divine, angelical; +But since your duller ears cannot perceive it, +May it please your lordship to withdraw yourself +Unto this neighbouring grove: there shall you see +How the sweet treble of the chirping birds, +And the soft stirring of the moved leaves, +Running delightful descant to the sound +Of the base murmuring of the bubbling brook[274], +Becomes a concert of good instruments; +While twenty babbling echoes round about, +Out of the stony concave of their mouths, +Restore the vanished music of each close, +And fill your ears full with redoubled pleasure. + +COM. SEN. I will walk with you very willingly, for I grow weary of +sitting. Come, Master Register and Master Phantastes. + + [_Exeunt_ OMNES. + + + + +ACTUS QUARTUS, SCAENA PRIMA. + + + MENDACIO, ANAMNESTES, HEURESIS. + +MEN. Prythee, Nam, be persuaded: is't not better to go to a feast, than +stay here for a fray? + +ANA. A feast? dost think Auditus will make the judges a feast? + +MEN. Faith, ay. Why should he carry them to his house else? + +ANA. Why, sirrah, to hear a set or two of songs: 'slid, his banquets are +nothing but fish, all sol, sol, sol.[275] I'll teach thee wit, boy; +never go thee to a musician's house for junkets, unless thy stomach lies +in thine ears; for there is nothing but commending this song's delicate +air, that ode's dainty air, this sonnet's sweet air, that madrigal's +melting air, this dirge's mournful air: this church air, that chamber +air: French air, English air, Italian air. Why, lad, they be pure +camelions; they feed only upon air. + +MEN. Camelions? I'll be sworn some of your fiddlers be rather camels, +for by their good wills they will never leave eating. + +ANA. True, and good reason, for they do nothing all the day but stretch +and grate their small guts. But, O, yonder's the ape Heuresis; let me +go, I prythee. + +MEN. Nay, good-now, stay a little, let's see his humour. + +HEU. I see no reason to the contrary, for we see the quintessence of +wine will convert water into wine; why therefore should not the elixir +of gold turn lead into pure gold? [_Soliloquises_.] + +MEN. Ha, ha, ha, ha! He is turned chemic, sirrah; it seems so by his +talk. + +HEU. But how shall I devise to blow the fire of beechcoals with a +continual and equal blast? ha? I will have my bellows driven with a +wheel, which wheel shall be a self-mover. + +ANA. Here's old turning[276]; these chemics, seeking to turn lead into +gold, turn away all their own silver. + +HEU. And my wheel shall be geometrically proportioned into seven or nine +concave encircled arms, wherein I will put equal poises: ay, ay; [Greek: +heureka, heureka] I have it, I have it, I have it. + +MEN. Heuresis! + +HEU. But what's best to contain the quicksilver, ha? + +ANA. Do you remember your promise, Heuresis? + +HEU. It must not be iron; for quicksilver is the tyrant of metals, and +will soon fret it. + +ANA. Heuresis? Heuresis? + +HEU. Nor brass, nor copper, nor mastlin[277], nor mineral: [Greek: +heureka, heureka] I have it, I have it, it must be-- + +ANA. You have, indeed, sirrah, and thus much more than you looked for. + [_Snap_. + + [HEURESIS _and_ ANAMNESTES _about to fight, + but_ MENDACIO _parts them_. + +MEN. You shall not fight; but if you will always disagree, let us have +words and no blows. Heuresis, what reason have you to fall out with him? + +HEU. Because he is always abusing me, and takes the upper hand of me +everywhere. + +ANA. And why not, sirrah? I am thy better in any place. + +HEU. Have I been the author of the seven liberal sciences, and +consequently of all learning, have I been the patron of all mechanical +devices, to be thy inferior? I tell thee, Anamnestes, thou hast not so +much as a point, but thou art beholding to me for it. + +ANA. Good, good; but what had your invention been, but for my +remembrance? I can prove that thou, belly-sprung invention, art the most +improfitable member in the world; for ever since thou wert born, thou +hast been a bloody murderer; and thus I prove it: In the quiet years of +Saturn (I remember Jupiter was then but in his swathe-bands), thou +rentest the bowels of the earth, and broughtest gold to light, whose +beauty, like Helen, set all the world by the ears. Then, upon that, thou +foundest out iron, and puttest weapons in their hands, and now in the +last populous age thou taughtest a scabshin friar the hellish invention +of powder and guns. + +HEU. Call'st it hellish? thou liest! It is the admirablest invention of +all others, for whereas others imitate nature, this excels nature +herself. + +MEM. True; for a cannon will kill as many at one shot as thunder doth +commonly at twenty. + +ANA. Therefore more murdering art thou than the light-bolt[278]. + +HEU. But to show the strength of my conceit, I have found out a means to +withstand the stroke of the most violent culverin. Mendacio, thou saw'st +it, when I demonstrated the invention. + +ANA. What, some woolpacks or mud walls, or such like? + +HEU. Mendacio, I prythee tell it him, for I love not to be a trumpeter +of mine own praises. + +MEN. I must needs confess this device to pass all that ever I heard or +saw, and thus it was--first he takes a falcon, and charges it (without +all deceits) with dry powder well-camphired[279], then did he put in a +single bullet, and a great quantity of drop-shot both round and +lachrymal. This done, he sets me a boy sixty paces off, just point blank +over against the mouth of the piece. Now in the very midst of the direct +line he fastens a post, upon which he hangs me in a cord a siderite of +Herculean stone[280]. + +ANA. Well, well, I know it well, it was found out in Ida, in the year of +the world ---- by one Magnes, whose name it retains, though vulgarly +they call it the Adamant. + +MEN. When he had hanged this adamant in a cord, he comes back, and gives +fire to the touchhole: now the powder consumed to a void vacuum-- + +HEU. Which is intolerable in nature, for first shall the whole machine +of the world, heaven, earth, sea, and air, return to the misshapen house +of Chaos, than the least vacuum be found in the universe. + +MEN. The bullet and drop-shot flew most impetuously from the fiery +throat of the culverin; but, O, strange, no sooner came they near the +adamant in the cord, but they were all arrested by the serjeant of +nature, and hovered in the air round about it, till they had lost the +force of their motion, clasping themselves close to the stone in most +lovely manner, and not any one flew to endanger the mark; so much did +they remember their duty to nature, that they forgot the errand they +were sent of. + +ANA. This is a very artificial lie. + +MEN. Nam, believe it, for I saw it, and which is more, I have practised +this device often. Once when I had a quarrel with one of my lady +Veritas' naked knaves, and had 'ppointed him the field, I conveyed into +the heart of my buckler an adamant, and when we met, I drew all the +foins of his rapier, whithersoever he intended them, or howsoever I +guided mine arm, pointed still to the midst of my buckler, so that by +this means I hurt the knave mortally, and myself came away untouched, to +the wonder of all the beholders. + +ANA. Sirrah, you speak metaphorically, because thy wit, Mendacio, always +draws men's objections to thy forethought excuses. + +HEU. Anamnestes, 'tis true, and I have an addition to this, which is to +make the bullet shot from the enemy to return immediately upon the +gunner. But let all these pass, and say the worst thou canst against me. + +ANA. I say, guns were found out for the quick despatch of mortality; and +when thou sawest men grow wise, and beget so fair a child as Peace of so +foul and deformed a mother as War, lest there should be no murder, thou +devisedst poison. + +MEN. Nay, fie, Nam, urge him not too far. + +ANA. And last and worst, thou foundest out cookery, that kills more than +weapons, guns, wars, or poisons, and would destroy all, but that thou +invented'st physic, that helps to make away some. + +HEU. But, sirrah, besides all this, I devised pillories for such forging +villains as thyself. + +ANA. Call'st me villain? + + [_They fight, and are parted by_ MENDACIO. + +MEN. You shall not fight as long as I am here. Give over, I say. + +HEU. Mendacio, you offer me great wrong to hold me: in good faith, +I shall fall out with you. + +MEN. Away, away, away; you are Invention, are you not? + +HEU. Yes, sir; what then? + +MEN. And you Remembrance? + +ANA. Well, sir, well? + +MEN. Then I will be Judicium, the moderator betwixt you, and make you +both friends; come, come, shake hands, shake hands. + +HEU. Well, well, if you will needs have it so. + +ANA. I am in some sort content. + + [MENDACIO _walks with them, holding them by the hands_. + +MEN. Why, this is as it should be; when Mendacio hath Invention on the +one hand, and Remembrance on the other, as he'll be sure never to be +found with truth in his mouth, so he scorns to be taken in a lie. Eh, +eh, eh, my fine wags? Whist! + + [COMMUNIS SENSUS _and the rest are seen to approach_.] + +ANA. Whist! + +HEU. Whist! + + + +SCAENA SECUNDA. + + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORY, PHANTASTES, HEURESIS, ANAMNESTES, + _take their places on the bench as before_, AUDITUS _on the + stage, a page before him, bearing his target, the field Sable, + a heart Or; next him_ TRAGEDUS _apparelled in black velvet, fair + buskins, a falchion, &c.; then_ COMEDUS, _in a light-coloured + green taffeta robe, silk stockings, pumps, gloves, &c_. + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORY, PHANTASTES, HEURESIS, ANAMNESTES, &c. + +COM. SEN. They had some reason that held the soul a harmony, for it is +greatly delighted with music; how fast we were tied by the ears to the +consort of Voice's power! but all is but a little pleasure; what +profitable objects hath he? + +PHA. Your ears will teach you presently, for now he is coming. That +fellow in the bays, methinks I should have known him; O, 'tis Comedus, +'tis so; but he has become nowadays something humorous, and too-too +satirical up and down, like his great grandfather Aristophanes. + +ANA. These two, my lord, Comedus and Tragedus, +My fellows both, both twins, but so unlike, +As birth to death, wedding to funeral. +For this, that rears himself in buskins quaint, +Is pleasant at the first, proud in the midst, +Stately in all, and bitter death at end. +That in the pumps doth frown at first acquaintance, +Trouble in the midst, but in the end concludes, +Closing up all with a sweet catastrophe. +This grave and sad, distain'd with brinish tears; +That light and quick with wrinkled laughter[281] painted; +This deals with nobles, kings, and emperors, +Full of great fears, great hopes, great enterprises. +This other trades with men of mean condition: +His projects small, small hopes, and dangers little. +This gorgeous-broider'd with rich sentences: +That fair and purfled round with merriments. +Both vice detect and virtue beautify, +By being death's mirror, and life's looking-glass. + +COM[282]. _Salutem primum jam a principio propitiam. +Mihi atque vobis, spectatores, nuntio_[283]-- + +PHA. Pish, pish, this is a speech with no action; let's hear Terence, +_Quid igitur faciam, &c_. + +COM. _Quid igitur faciam? non eam? ne nunc quidem, +Cum arcessor ultro?[284] + +PHA. Fie, fie, fie, no more action! lend me your bays, do it thus--_Quid +igitur, &c_. + [_He acts it after the old kind of pantomimic action_. + +COM. SEN. I should judge this action, Phantastes, most absurd, unless we +should come to a comedy, as gentlewomen to the Commencement[285], only +to see men speak. + +PHA. In my imagination, 'tis excellent; for in this kind the hand, you +know, is harbinger to the tongue, and provides the words a lodging in +the ears of the auditors. + +COM. SEN. Auditus, it is now time you make us acquainted with the +quality of the house you keep in, for our better help in judgment. + +AUD. Upon the sides of fair mount Cephalon +Have I two houses passing human skill: +Of finest matter by Dame Nature wrought, +Whose learned fingers have adorn'd the same +With gorgeous porches of so strange a form, +That they command the passengers to stay. +The doors whereof in hospitality +Nor day nor night are shut, but, open wide, +Gently invite all comers; whereupon +They are named the open ears of Cephalon. +But lest some bolder sound should boldly rush, +And break the nice composure of the work, +The skilful builder wisely hath enrang'd +An entry from each port with curious twines +And crook'd meanders, like the labyrinth +That Daedalus fram'd t'enclose the Minotaur; +At th'end whereof is plac'd a costly portal, +Resembling much the figure of a drum, +Granting slow entrance to a private closet. +Where daily, with a mallet in my hand, +I set and frame all words and sounds that come +Upon an anvil, and so make them fit +For the periwinkling porch[286], that winding leads +From my close chamber to your lordship's cell. +Thither do I, chief justice of all accents, +Psyche's next porter, Microcosm's front, +Learning's rich treasure, bring discipline, +Reason's discourse, knowledge of foreign states, +Loud fame of great heroes' virtuous deeds; +The marrow of grave speeches, and the flowers +Of quickest wits, neat jests, and pure conceits; +And oftentimes, to ease the heavy burthen +Of government your lordship's shoulders bear, +I thither do conduce the pleasing nuptials +Of sweetest instruments with heavenly noise. +If then Auditus have deserv'd the best, +Let him be dignified before the rest. + +COM. SEN. Auditus, I am almost a sceptic in this matter, scarce knowing +which way the balance of the cause will decline. When I have heard the +rest, I will despatch judgment; meanwhile, you may depart. + + [AUDITUS _leads his show about the stage, and then goes out_. + + + +SCAENA TERTIA. + + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORIA, PHANTASTES, ANAMNESTES, HEURESIS, + _as before_; OLFACTUS _in a garment of several flowers, a + page before him, bearing his target, his field Vert, a hound + Argent, two boys with casting-bottles[287], and two censers + with incense[288], another with a velvet cushion stuck with + flowers, another with a basket of herbs, another with a box + of ointment_. OLFACTUS _leads them about, and, making obeisance, + presents them before the Bench_. + +1ST BOY. Your only way to make a good pomander[289] is this:--Take an +ounce of the purest garden mould, cleansed and steeped seven days in +change of motherless rosewater; then take the best ladanum, benzoine, +both storaxes, ambergris, civet, and musk: incorporate them together, +and work them into what form you please. This, if your breath be not too +valiant, will make you smell as sweet as my lady's dog. + +PHA. This boy, it should seem, represents Odour, he is so perfect a +perfumer. + +ODOUR. I do, my lord, and have at my command +The smell of flowers and odoriferous drugs, +Of ointments sweet and excellent perfumes, +And courtlike waters, which if once you smell, +You in your heart would wish, as I suppose, +That all your body were transform'd to nose. + +PHA. Olfactus, of all the Senses, your objects have the worst luck; they +are always jarring with their contraries; for none can wear civet, but +they are suspected of a proper bad scent[290]; whence the proverb +springs, He smelleth best, that doth of nothing smell. + + + +SCAENA QUARTA. + + + _The Bench and_ OLFACTUS, _as before_. TOBACCO, _apparelled in a + taffeta mantle, his arms brown and naked, buskins made of the + peeling of osiers, his neck bare, hung with Indian leaves, his + face brown, painted with blue stripes, in his nose swines' teeth, + on his head a painted wicker crown with tobacco-pipes set in it, + plumes of tobacco leaves, led by two Indian boys naked, with + tapers in their hands, tobacco-boxes, and pipes lighted_. + +PHA. Foh, foh, what a smell is here! Is this one of your delightful +objects? + +OLF. It is your only scent in request, sir. + +COM. SEN. What fiery fellow is that, which smokes so much in the mouth? + +OLF. It is the great and puissant God of Tobacco. + +TOB. _Ladoch guevarroh pufuer shelvaro baggon, +Olfia di quanon, Indi cortilo vraggon_. + +PHA. Ha, ha, ha, ha! this, in my opinion, is the tongue of the +Antipodes. + +MEM. No, I remember it very well, it was the language the Arcadians +spake that lived long before the moon. + +COM. SEN. What signifies it, Olfactus? + +OLF. This is the mighty Emperor Tobacco, king of Trinidado, that, in +being conquered, conquered all Europe, in making them pay tribute for +their smoke. + +TOB. _Erfronge inglues conde hesingo, +Develin floscoth ma pu cocthingo_. + +OLF. Expeller of catarrhs, banisher of all agues, your guts' only salve +for the green wounds of a _non-plus_. + +TOB. _All vulcam vercu, I parda pora si de gratam, ka famala mora, che +Bauho respartera, quirara_. + +OLF. Son to the god Vulcan and Tellus, kin to the father of mirth, +called Bacchus. + +TOB. _Viscardonok, pillostuphe, pascano tinaromagas, +Pagi dagon stollisinfe, carocibato scribas_. + +OLF. Genius of all swaggerers, professed enemy to physicians, sweet +ointment for sour teeth, firm knot of good fellowship, adamant of +company, swift wind to spread the wings of time, hated of none but +those that know him not, and of so great deserts that, whoso is +acquainted with him can hardly forsake him. + +PHA. It seems these last words were very significant. I promise you, +a god of great denomination; he may be my Lord Tappes for his large +titles[291]. + +COM. SEN. But forward, Olfactus, as they have done before you, with your +description? + +OLF. Just in the midst of Cephalon's round face, +As 'twere a frontispiece unto the hill, +Olfactus' lodging built in figure long, +Doubly disparted with two precious vaults, +The roofs whereof most richly are enclos'd +With orient pearls and sparkling diamonds +Beset at th'end with emerauds and turchis[292], +And rubies red and flaming chrysolites, +At upper end whereof, in costly manner, +I lay my head between two spongeous pillows, +Like fair Adonis 'twixt the paps of Venus, +Where I, conducting in and out the wind, +Daily examine all the air inspir'd +By my pure searching, if that it be pure, +And fit to serve the lungs with lively breath: +Hence do I likewise minister perfume[s] +Unto the neighbour brain--perfumes of force +To cleanse your head, and make your fancy bright, +To refine wit and sharp[293] invention, +And strengthen memory: from whence it came, +That old devotion incense did ordain +To make man's spirit more apt for things divine. +Besides a thousand more commodities, +In lieu whereof your lordships I request, +Give me the crown, if I deserve it best. + + [OLFACTUS _leads his company about the stage, and goes out_. + + + +SCAENA QUINTA. + + + _The Bench as before. A page with a shield Argent, an ape proper + with an apple; then_ GUSTUS _with a cornucopia in his hand_. + BACCHUS _in a garland of leaves and grapes, a white suit, and + over it a thin sarcenet to his foot, in his hand a spear wreathed + with vine leaves, on his arm a target with a tiger_. CERES _with a + crown of ears of corn, in a yellow silk robe, a bunch of poppy in + her hand, a scutcheon charged with a dragon_. + +COM. SEN. In good time, Gustus. Have you brought your objects? + +GUS. My servant Appetitus followeth with them. + +APP. Come, come, Bacchus, you are so fat; enter, enter. + +PHA. Fie, fie, Gustus! this is a great indecorum to bring Bacchus alone; +you should have made Thirst lead him by the hand. + +GUS. Right, sir; but men nowadays drink often when they be not dry; +besides, I could not get red herrings and dried neats' tongues enough to +apparel him in. + +COM. SEN. What, never a speech of him? + +GUS. I put an octave of iambics in his mouth, and he hath drunk it down. + +APP. Well done, muscadine and eggs stand hot. What, buttered claret? go +thy way, thou hadst best; for blind men that cannot see how wickedly +thou look'st--How now, what small, thin fellow are you here? ha? + +BOY. Beer, forsooth: Beer, forsooth. + +APP. Beer forsooth, get you gone to the buttery, till I call for you; +you are none of Bacchus's attendants, I am sure; he cannot endure the +smell of malt. Where's Ceres? O, well, well, is the march-pane broken? +Ill luck, ill luck! Come hang't, never stand to set it together again. +Serve out fruit there. + + [_Enter boys with a banquet, marmalade, sweets, &c.; + deliver it round among the gentlewomen, and go out_.] + +What, do you come with roast-meat after apples? Away with it. Digestion, +serve out cheese. What, but a pennyworth! It is just the measure of his +nose that sold it! Lamb's wool, the meekest meat in the world; 'twill +let any man fleece it. Snapdragon there! + +MEM. O, I remember this dish well: it was first invented by Pluto, to +entertain Proserpina withal. + +PHA. I think not so, Memory; for when Hercules had killed the flaming +dragon of Hesperia with the apples of that orchard, he made this fiery +meat; in memory whereof he named it Snapdragon. + +COM. SEN. Gustus, let's hear your description? + +GUS. Near to the lowly base of Cephalon, +My house is plac'd not much unlike a cave: +Yet arch'd above by wondrous workmanship, +With hewen stones wrought smoother and more fine +Than jet or marble fair from Iceland brought. +Over the door directly doth incline +A fair percullis of compacture strong, +To shut out all that may annoy the state +Or health of Microcosm; and within +Is spread a long board like a pliant tongue, +At which I hourly sit, and trial take +Of meats and drinks needful and delectable: +Twice every day do I provision make +For the sumptuous kitchen of the commonwealth; +Which, once well-boil'd, is soon distributed +To all the members, well refreshing them +With good supply of strength-renewing food. +Should I neglect this nursing[294] diligence, +The body of the realm would ruinate; +Yourself, my lord, with all your policies +And wondrous wit, could not preserve yourself: +Nor you, Phantastes; nor you, Memory. +Psyche herself, were't not that I repair +Her crazy house with props of nourishment, +Would soon forsake us: for whose dearest sake +Many a grievous pain have I sustain'd +By bitter pills and sour purgations; +Which if I had not valiantly abiden, +She had been long ere this departed. +Since the whole Microcosm I maintain, +Let me, as Prince, above the Senses reign. + +COM. SEN. The reasons you urge, Gustus, breed a new doubt, whether it +be commodious or necessary, the resolution whereof I refer to your +judgment, licensing you meanwhile to depart. + + [GUSTUS _leads his show about the stage, and goes out_. + + + +SCAENA SEXTA. + + + _The Bench as before_; TACTUS, _a page before him + bearing his scutcheon, a tortoise Sable_. + +TAC. Ready anon, forsooth! the devil she will! +Who would be toil'd with wenches in a show? + +COM. SEN. Why in such anger, Tactus? what's the matter? + +TAC. My lord, I had thought, as other Senses did, +By sight of objects to have prov'd my worth; +Wherefore considering that, of all the things +That please me most, women are counted chief, +I had thought to have represented in my show +The queen of pleasure, Venus and her son, +Leading a gentleman enamoured +With his sweet touching of his mistress' lips, +And gentle griping of her tender hands, +And divers pleasant relishes of touch, +Yet all contained in the bounds of chastity. + +PHA. Tactus, of all I long to see your objects; +How comes it we have lost those pretty sports? + +TAC. Thus 'tis: five hours ago I set a dozen maids to attire a boy like +a nice gentlewoman; but there is such doing with their looking-glasses, +pinning, unpinning, setting, unsetting, formings and conformings; +painting blue veins and cheeks; such stir with sticks and combs, +cascanets, dressings, purls, falls, squares, busks, bodies, scarfs, +necklaces, carcanets, rebatoes, borders, tires, fans, palisadoes, puffs, +ruffs, cuffs, muffs, pusles, fusles, partlets, frislets, bandlets, +fillets, crosslets, pendulets, amulets, annulets, bracelets, and so many +lets, that yet she's scarce dressed to the girdle; and now there is such +calling for fardingales, kirtles, busk-points, shoe-ties, &c., that +seven pedlars' shops--nay, all Stourbridge fair, will scarce furnish +her. A ship is sooner rigged by far, than a gentlewoman made ready. + +PHA. 'Tis strange that women, being so mutable, +Will never change in changing their apparel. + +COM. SEN. Well, let them pass; Tactus, we are content +To know your dignity by relation. + +TAC. The instrument of instruments, the hand, +Courtesy's index, chamberlain to nature, +The body's soldier, and mouth's caterer, +Psyche's great secretary, the dumb's eloquence, +The blind man's candle, and his forehead's buckler, +The minister of wrath, and friendship's sign, +This is my instrument: nevertheless my power +Extends itself far as our queen commands, +Through all the parts and climes of Microcosm. +I am the root of life, spreading my virtue +By sinews, that extend from head to foot +To every living part. +For as a subtle spider, closely sitting +In centre of her web that spreadeth round, +If the least fly but touch the smallest thread, +She feels it instantly; so doth myself, +Casting my slender nerves and sundry nets +O'er every particle of all the body, +By proper skill perceive the difference +Of several qualities, hot, cold, moist, and dry; +Hard, soft, rough, smooth, clammy, and slippery: +Sweet pleasure and sharp pain profitable, +That makes us (wounded) seek for remedy. +By these means do I teach the body fly +From such bad things as may endanger it. +A wall of brass can be no more defence +Unto a town than I to Microcosm. +Tell me what Sense is not beholden to me? +The nose is hot or cold, the eyes do weep, +The ears do feel, the taste's a kind of touching: +Thus, when I please, I can command them all, +And make them tremble, when I threaten them. +I am the eldest and biggest of all the rest, +The chiefest note and first distinction +Betwixt a living tree and living beast; +For though one hear and see, and smell and taste, +If he wants touch, he is counted but a block. +Therefore, my lord, grant me the royalty; +Of whom there is such great necessity. + +COM. SEN. Tactus, stand aside. You, sirrah Anamnestes, +tell the Senses we expect their appearance. + +ANA. At your lordship's pleasure. + + [_Exit_ ANAMNESTES. + + + +SCAENA SEPTIMA. + + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, PHANTASTES, MEMORIA, HEURESIS, ANAMNESTES, + _upon the Bench consulting among themselves. _VISUS, AUDITUS, + TACTUS, GUSTUS, _and_ OLFACTUS, _every one with his shield + upon his arm_. LINGUA, _and_ MENDACIO _with them_. + +COM. SEN. Though you deserve no small punishment for these uproars, yet +at the request of these my assistants I remit it; and by the power of +judgment our gracious sovereign Psyche hath given me, thus I determine +of your controversies: hum! By your former objects, instruments and +reasons, I conceive the state of sense to be divided into two parts; one +of commodity, the other of necessity; both which are either for our +queen or for our country; but as the soul is more excellent than the +body, so are the Senses that profit the soul to be estimated before +those that are needful for the body. Visus and Auditus, serve +yourselves. Master Register, give me the crown; because it is better to +be well, than simply to be, therefore I judge the crown by right to +belong to you of the commodity's part, and the robe to you of the +necessity's side: and since you, Visus, are the author of invention, and +you, Auditus, of increase and addition to the same, seeing it is more +excellent to invent than to augment, I establish you, Visus, the better +of the two, and chief of all the rest: in token whereof I bestow upon +you this crown, to wear at your liberty. + +VIS. I most humbly thank your lordships. + +COM. SEN. But lest I should seem to neglect you, Auditus, I here choose +you to be the lord intelligencer to Psyche her majesty: and you, +Olfactus, we bestow upon you the chief priesthood of Microcosm, +perpetually to offer incense in her majesty's temple. As for you, +Tactus, upon your reasons alleged I bestow upon you the robe. + +TAC. I accept it most gratefully at your just hands, and will wear it in +the dear remembrance of your good lordship. + +COM. SEN. And lastly, Gustus, we elect you Psyche's only taster, and +great purveyor for all her dominions both by sea and land, in her realm +of Microcosm. + +GUS. We thank your lordship, and rest well content with equal +arbitrament. + +COM. SEN. Now for you, Lingua. + +LIN. I beseech your honour, let me speak; I will neither trouble the +company, nor offend your patience. + +COM. SEN. I cannot stay so long; we have consulted about you, and find +your cause to stand upon these terms and conditions. The number of the +Senses in this world is answerable to the first[295] bodies in the great +world: now, since there be but fire in the universe, the four elements +and the pure substance of the heavens, therefore there can be but five +Senses in our Microcosm, correspondent to those; as the sight to the +heavens, hearing to the air, touching to the earth, smelling to the +fire, tasting to the water, by which five means only the understanding +is able to apprehend the knowledge of all corporeal substances: +wherefore we judge you to be no sense simply: only thus much we from +henceforth pronounce, that all women for your sake shall have six +senses--that is, seeing hearing, tasting, smelling, touching, and the +last and feminine sense, the sense of speaking. + +GUS. I beseech your lordship and your assistants (the only cause of our +friendship) to grace my table with your most welcome presence this night +at supper. + +COM. SEN. I am sorry I cannot stay with you: you know we may by no means +omit our daily attendance at the court, therefore I pray you pardon us. + +GUS. I hope I shall not have the denial at your hands, my masters, and +you, my Lady Lingua. Come, let us drown all our anger in a bowl of +hippocras[296]. + + [_Exeunt_ SENSUS _omnes exteriores_. + +COM. SEN. Come, Master Register, shall we walk? + +MEM. I pray you, stay a little. Let me see! ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! + +PHA. How now, Memory, so merry? what, do you trouble yourself with two +palsies at once, shaking and laughing? + +MEM. 'Tis a strange thing that men will so confidently oppose themselves +against Plato's great year. + +PHA. Why not? + +MEM. 'Tis as true an opinion as need be; for I remember it very readily +now, that this time 49,000 years ago all we were in this very place, and +your lordship judged the very same controversy, after the very same +manner, in all respects and circumstances alike. + +COM. SEN. 'Tis wondrous strange. + +ANA. By the same token you held your staff in your right hand, just as +you do now; and Master Phantastes stood wondering at you, gaping as wide +as you see him. + +PHA. Ay, but I did not give you a box on the ear, sirrah, 49,000 years +ago, did I? [_Snap_.] + +ANA. I do not remember that, sir. + +PHA. This time Plato's twelvemonth to come, look you save your cheeks +better. + +COM. SEN. But what entertainment had we at court for our long staying? + +MEM. Let's go, I'll tell you as we walk. + +PHA. If I do not seem pranker[297] now than I did in those days, I'll be +hanged. + + [_Exeunt omnes interiores Sensus: manet_ LINGUA. + + + +SCAENA OCTAVA. + + + LINGUA, MENDACIO. + +LIN. Why, this is good. By Common Sense's means, +Lingua, thou hast fram'd a perfect comedy. +They are all good friends, whom thou mad'st enemies; +And I am half a Sense: a sweet piece of service, +I promise you, a fair step to preferment! +Was this the care and labour thou hast taken +To bring thy foes together to a banquet, +To lose thy crown, and be deluded thus! +Well, now I see my cause is desperate, +The judgment's pass'd, sentence irrevocable, +Therefore I'll be content and clap my hands, +And give a plaudite to their proceedings. +What, shall I leave my hate begun unperfect? +So foully vanquish'd by the spiteful Senses! +Shall I, the embassadress of gods and men, +That pull'd proud Phoebe from her brightsome sphere, +And dark'd Apollo's countenance with a word, +Raising at pleasure storms, and winds, and earthquakes, +Be overcrow'd, and breathe without revenge? +Yet they forsooth, base slaves, must be preferred, +And deck themselves with my right ornaments. +Doth the all-knowing Phoebus see this shame +Without redress? will not the heavens help me? +Then shall hell do it; my enchanting tongue +Can mount the skies, and in a moment fall +From the pole arctic to dark Acheron. +I'll make them know mine anger is not spent; +Lingua hath power to hurt, and will to do it. +Mendacio, come hither quickly, sirrah. + +MEN. Madam. + +LIN. Hark, hither in thine ear. + +MEN. Why do you whisht[298] thus? here's none to hear you. + +LIN. I dare not trust these secrets to the earth, +E'er since she brought forth reeds, whose babbling noise +Told all the world of Midas' ass's ears. +[_She whispers him in the ear_.] Dost understand me? + +MEN. Ay, ay, ay--never fear that--there's a jest indeed-- +Pish, pish--madam--do you think me so foolish?--Tut, tut, doubt not. + +LIN. Tell her, if she do not-- + +MEN. Why do you make any question of it?--what a stir is here--I +warrant you--presently! + [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + +LIN. Well, I'll to supper, and so closely cover +The rusty canker of mine iron spite +With golden foil of goodly semblances. +But if I do not trounce them-- + + [_Exit_ LINGUA. + + + + +ACTUS QUINTUS, SCAENA PRIMA. + + + MENDACIO, _with a bottle in his hand_. + +MEN. My Lady Lingua is just like one of these lean-witted comedians +who, disturbing all to the fifth act, bring down some Mercury or Jupiter +in an engine to make all friends: so she, but in a contrary manner, +seeing her former plots dispurposed, sends me to an old witch called +Acrasia to help to wreak her spite upon the Senses. The old hag, after +many an encircled circumstance, and often naming of the direful Hecate +and Demogorgon. gives me this bottle of wine, mingled with such hellish +drugs and forcible words that, whosoever drinks of it shall be presently +possessed with an enraged and mad kind of anger. + + + +SCAENA SECUNDA. + + + MENDACIO, CRAPULA, APPETITUS _crying_. + +MEN. What's this, Crapula beating Appetitus out of doors? ha? + +CRA. You filthy long crane, you mean slave, will you kill your guests +with blowing continual hunger in them? The Senses have overcharged their +stomachs already, and you, sirrah, serve them up a fresh appetite with +every new dish. They had burst their guts if thou hadst stayed but a +thought longer. Begone, or I'll set thee away; begone, ye gnaw-bone, +raw-bone rascal![299] [_Beats him_. + +MEN. Then my device is clean spoiled. Appetitus should have been as the +bowl to present this medicine to the Senses, and now Crapula hath beaten +him out of doors; what shall I do? [_Aside_.] + +CRA. Away, sirrah. [_Beats him_. + +APP. Well, Crapula, well; I have deserved better at your hands than so. +I was the man, you know, first brought you into Gustus's service. I +lined your guts there, and you use me thus? but grease a fat sow, &c. + +CRA. Dost thou talk? Hence, hence; avaunt, cur; avaunt, you dog! + [_Exit_ CRAPULA. + +APP. The belching gorbelly[300] hath well-nigh killed me; I am shut out +of doors finely. Well, this is my comfort, I may walk now in liberty at +my own pleasure. + +MEN. Appetitus, Appetitus! + +APP. Ah, Mendacio, Mendacio! + +MEN. Why, how now, man, how now? how is't? canst not speak? + +APP. Faith, I am like a bagpipe, that never sounds but when the belly +is full. + +MEN. Thou empty, and com'st from a feast? + +APP. From a fray. I tell thee, Mendacio, I am now just like the ewe that +gave suck to a wolf's whelp; I have nursed up my fellow Crapula so long, +that he's grown strong enough to beat me. + +MEN. And whither wilt thou go, now thou art banished out of service? + +APP. Faith, I'll travel to some college or other in an university. + +MEN. Why so? + +APP. Because Appetitus is well-beloved amongst scholars, for there I can +dine and sup with them, and rise again as good friends as we sat down. +I'll thither, questionless. + +MEN. Hear'st thou? give me thy hand. By this, I love thee: go to, then. +Thou shalt not forsake thy masters thus, I say thou shalt not. + +APP. Alas! I am very loth; but how should I help it? + +MEN. Why, take this bottle of wine, come on; go thy ways to them again. + +APP. Ha, ha, ha! what good will this do? + +MEN. This is the Nepenthe that reconciles the gods. Do but let the +Senses taste of it, and fear not, they'll love thee as well as ever +they did. + +APP. I pray thee, where hadst it? + +MEN. My lady gave it me to bring her. Mercury stole it from Hebe for +her. Thou knowest there were some jars betwixt her and thy masters, and +with this drink she would gladly wash out all the relics of their +disagreement. Now, because I love thee, thou shalt have the grace of +presenting it to them, and so come in favour again. + +APP. It smells well. I would fain begin to them. + +MEN. Nay, stay no longer, lest they have supped before thou come. + +APP. Mendacio, how shall I requite thy infinite courtesy? + +MEN. Nay, pray thee leave, go catch occasion by the foretop. But hear'st +thou? As soon as it is presented, round[301] my Lady Lingua in the ear, +and tell her of it. + +APP. I will, I will: adieu, adieu, adieu. + + [_Exit_ APPETITUS. + + + +SCAENA TERTIA. + + + MENDACIO _solus_. + +MEN. Why. this is better than I could have wish'd it; +Fortune, I think, is fallen in love with me, +Answering so right my expectation. +By this time Appetite is at the table, +And with a lowly cringe presents the wine +To his old master Gustus; now he takes it, +And drinks, perchance, to Lingua; she craftily +Kisses the cup, but lets not down a drop, +And gives it to the rest: 'tis sweet, they'll swallow it: +But when 'tis once descended to the stomach, +And sends up noisome vapours to the brain, +'Twill make them swagger gallantly; they'll rage +Most strangely, or Acrasia's art deceives her; +When if my lady stir her nimble tongue, +And closely sow contentious words amongst them, +O, what a stabbing there will be! what bleeding! + + + +SCAENA QUARTA. + + + LINGUA, MENDACIO. + +LIN. What, art thou there, Mendacio? pretty rascal! +Come let me kiss thee for thy good deserts. + +MEN. Madam, does't take? Have they all tasted it? + +LIN. All, all, and all are well-nigh mad already. +O, how they stare and swear, and fume, and brawl! +Wrath gives them weapons; pots and candlesticks, +Joint stools and trenchers, fly about the room, +Like to the bloody banquet of the centaurs. +But all the sport's to see what several thoughts +The potion works in their imaginations. +For Visus thinks himself a ----, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! + + + +SCAENA QUINTA. + + + APPETITUS, MENDACIO, LINGUA. + +APP. So ho, Mendacio! so ho, so ho! + +MEN. Madam, I doubt they come; yonder is Appetitus. You had best be +gone, lest in their outrage they should injure you. [_Exit_ LINGUA.] +How now, Hunger? How dost thou, my fine maypole, ha? + +APP. I may well be called a maypole, for the Senses do nothing but dance +a morrice about me. + +MEN. Why, what ails them? Are they not (as I promised thee) friends with +thee? + +APP. Friends with me! nay, rather frenzy. I never knew them in such a +case in all my life. + +MEN. Sure, they drank too much, and are mad for love of thee. + +APP. They want Common Sense amongst them. There's such a hurlyburly. +Auditus is stark deaf, and wonders why men speak so softly that he +cannot hear them. Visus hath drunk himself stark blind, and therefore +imagineth himself to be Polyphemus. Tactus is raging mad, and cannot be +otherwise persuaded but he is Hercules _furens_. There's such conceits +amongst them. + + + +SCAENA SEXTA. + + + VISUS, APPETITUS, MENDACIO. + +VIS. O, that I could but find the villain Outis[302], +Outis the villain, that thus blinded me! + +MEN. Who is this? Visus? + +APP. Ay, ay, ay; otherwise called Polyphemus. + +VIS. By heaven's bright sun, the day's most glorious eye, +That lighteneth all the world but Polypheme. +And by mine eye, that once was answerable +Unto that sun, but now's extinguished-- + +MEN. He can see to swear, methinks. + +VIS. If I but once lay hands upon the slave, +That thus hath robb'd me of my dearest jewel, +I'll rend the miscreant to a thousand pieces, +And gnash his trembling members 'twixt my teeth, +Drinking his live-warm blood to satisfy +The boiling thirst of pain and furiousness, +That thus exasperates great Polypheme. + +MEN. Pray thee, Appetitus, see how he grasps for that he would be loth +to find. + +APP. What's that? a stumblingblock? + +VIS. These hands, that whilom tore up sturdy oaks, +And rent the rock that dash'd out Acis' brains, +Bath'd[303] in the stole bliss of my Galatea, +Serve now (O misery!) to no better use, +But for bad guides to my unskilful feet, +Never accustom'd thus to be directed. + +MEN. As I am a rogue, he wants nothing but a wheel to make him the true +picture of fortune; how say'st? what, shall we play at blind-man's-buff +with him? + +APP. Ay, if thou wilt; but first I'll try whether he can see? + +VIS. Find me out Outis, search the rocks and woods, +The hills and dales, and all the coasts adjoining, +That I may have him, and revenge my wrong. + +APP. Visus, methinks your eyes are well enough. + +VIS. What's he that calls me Visus? dost not know-- + + [_They run about him, playing with him, and abusing him_. + +APP. To him, Mendacio, to him, to him. + +MEN. There, there, Appetitus, he comes, he comes; ware, ware, he comes; +ha, ha, ha, ha! + + [VISUS _stumbles, falls down, and sits still_. + + + +SCAENA SEPTIMA. + + + MENDACIO, APPETITUS, TACTUS, _with a great blackjack in his hand_. + +MEN. Is this he that thinks himself Hercules? + +APP. Ay, wilt see me outswagger him? + +MEN. Ay, do, do; I love not to sport with such mad playfellows: tickle +him, Appetitus; tickle him, tickle him. [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + +TAC. Have I not here the great and puissant club, +Wherewith I conquer'd three-chapp'd Cerberus? + +APP. Have I not here the sharp and warlike teeth, +That at one breakfast quail'd thrice-three hogs' faces? + +TAC. And are not these Alcides' brawny arms, +That rent the lion's jaws, and kill'd the boar? + +APP. And is not this the stomach that defeated +Nine yards of pudding and a rank[304] of pies? + +TAC. Did not I crop the sevenfold hydra's crest, +And with a river cleans'd Augaea's stable? + +APP. Did not I crush a sevenfold custard's crust, +And with my tongue swept a well-furnish'd table? + +TAC. Did not these feet and hands o'ertake and slay +The nimble stag and fierce impetuous bull? + +APP. Did not this throat at one good meal devour +That stag's sweet venison and that strong bull's beef? + +TAC. Shall Hercules be thus disparaged? +Juno! you pouting quean, you louring trull, +Take heed I take you not; for by Jove's thunder +I'll be reveng'd. + + [APPETITUS _draws_ VISUS _backward from_ TACTUS. + +APP. Why, Visus, Visus, will you be kill'd? away, away. + + [_Exit_ VISUS. + +TAC. Who have we here? see, see, the giant Cacus +Draws an ox backward to his thievish den. +Hath this device so long deluded me? +Monster of men, Cacus, restore my cattle, +Or instantly I'll crush thy idle coxcomb, +And dash thy doltish brains against thy cave. + +APP. Cacus! I Cacus? ha, ha, ha! Tactus, you mistake me; +I am yours to command, Appetitus. + +TAC. Art Appetitus? Th'art so; run quickly, villain; +Fetch a whole ox to satisfy my stomach. + +APP. Fetch an ass to keep you company. + +TAC. Then down to hell: tell Pluto, prince of devils, +That great Alcides wants a kitchen wench +To turn his spit. Command him from myself +To send up Proserpine; she'll serve the turn. + +APP. I must find you meat, and the devil find you cooks! +Which is the next[305] way? + +TAC. Follow the beaten path, thou canst not miss it. +'Tis a wide causeway that conducteth thither, +An easy track, and down-hill all the way. +But if the black prince will not send her quickly, +But still detain her for his bedfellow, +Tell him I'll drag him from his iron chair +By the steel tresses, and then sew him fast +With the three furies in a leathern bag, +And thus will drown them in the ocean. + _He pours the jack of beer upon_ APPETITUS. + +APP. You had better keep him alive to light tobacco-pipes, or to sweep +chimneys. + +TAC. Art thou not gone? nay, then I'll send thy soul +Before thee; 'twill do thy message sooner. [_Beats him_. + +APP. Hercules, Hercules, Hercules! do not you hear Omphale? hark how she +calls you, hark! + +TAC. 'Tis she indeed, I know her sugar'd voice: +Omphale, dear commandress of my life, +My thoughts' repose, sweet centre of my cares, +Where all my hopes and best desires take rest. +Lo! where the mighty son of Jupiter +Throws himself captive at your conquering feet! +Do not disdain my voluntary humbleness: +Accept my service, bless me with commanding. +I will perform the hardest imposition, +And run through twelve new labours for thy sake. +Omphale, dear commandress of my life. + +APP. Do you not see how she beckons to you to follow her? Look how she +holds her distaff, look ye? + +TAC. Where is she gone, that I may follow her? +Omphale, stay, stay, take thy Hercules! + +APP. There, there, man, you are right. + + [_Exit_ TACTUS. + + + +SCAENA OCTAVA. + + + APPETITUS _solus_. + +APP. What a strange temper are the Senses in! +How come their wits thus topsy-turvy turn'd? +Hercules Tactus, Visus Polypheme! +Two goodly surnames have they purchased. +By the rare ambrosia[306] of an oyster-pie, +They have got such proud imaginations, +That I could wish I were mad for company: +But since my fortunes cannot stretch so high, +I'll rest contented with this wise estate. + + + +SCAENA NONA. + + + APPETITUS: [_to him enter_] AUDITUS _with a candlestick_. + +APP. What, more anger? Auditus got abroad too? + +AUD. Take this abuse at base Olfactus' hands? +What, did he challenge me to meet me here, +And is not come? well, I'll proclaim the slave +The vilest dastard that e'er broke his word. +But stay, yonder's Appetitus. + +APP. I pray you, Auditus, what ails you? + +AUD. Ha, ha! + +APP. What ails you? + +AUD. Ha! what say'st thou? + +APP. Who hath abused you thus? + +AUD. Why dost thou whisper thus? Canst not speak out? + +APP. Save me, I had clean forgotten. Why are you so angry, Auditus? + +AUD. Bite us! who dare bite us? + +APP. I talk of no biting; I say, what's the matter between Olfactus +and you? + +AUD. Will Olfactus bite me? do, if he dares; would he would meet me here +according to his promise! Mine ears are somewhat thick of late; I pray +thee, speak out louder. + +APP. Ha, ha, ha, ha! this is fine, i'faith: ha, ha, ha! Hear you, have +you lost your ears at supper? + +AUD. Excellent cheer at supper, I confess it; +But when 'tis sauc'd with sour contentions, +And breeds such quarrels, 'tis intolerable. + +APP. Pish, pish, this is my question: hath your supper spoiled your +hearing? + +AUD. Hearing at supper? tell not me of hearing? +But if thou saw'st Olfactus, bring me to him. + +APP. I ask you, whether you have lost your hearing? + +AUD. O, dost thou hear them ring? what a grief is this +Thus to be deaf, and lose such harmony. +Wretched Auditus, now shalt thou never hear +The pleasing changes that a well-tun'd chord +Of trolling bells will make, when they are rung. + +APP. Here's ado indeed! I think he's mad, as well as drunk or deaf. + +AUD. Ha, what's that? + +APP. I say you have made me hoarse with speaking so loud. + +AUD. Ha, what say'st thou of a creaking crowd?[307] + +APP. I am hoarse, I tell you, and my head aches. + +AUD. O, I understand thee! the first crowd was made of a horse-head. +'Tis true, the finding of a dead horse-head +Was the first invention of string instruments, +Whence rose the gittern, viol, and the lute: +Though others think the lute was first devis'd +In imitation of a tortoise-back, +Whose sinews, parched by Apollo's beams, +Echo'd about the concave of the shell: +And seeing the shortest and smallest gave shrill'st sound, +They found out frets, whose sweet diversity +(Well-touched by the skilful learned fingers) +Raiseth so strange a multitude of chords. +Which their opinion many do confirm, +Because Testado signifies a lute. +But if I by no means-- + +APP. Nay, if you begin to critic once, we shall never have done. + + [_Exit_ APPETITUS, _and carries away_ AUDITUS _perforce_. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA. + + + CRAPULA, _a fat-bellied slave, clothed in a light veil of + sarsanet, a garland of vine-leaves on his head, &c_. SOMNUS + _in a mantle of black cobweb lawn down to the foot, over a + dusky-coloured taffeta coat, and a crown of poppy-tops on + his head, a company of dark-coloured silk scarfs in one hand, + a mace of poppy in the other, leaving his head upon a pillow + on_ CRAPULA'S _shoulders_. + +CRA. Somnus, good Somnus, sweet Somnus, come apace! + +SOM. Eh, O, O; are you sure they be so? oho, oho, oho; eh, waw? +What good can I do? ou, hoh, haw. + +CRA. Why, I tell you, unless you help-- + [SOMNUS _falls down and sleeps_. +Soft son of night, right heir to quietness, +Labour's repose, life's best restorative, +Digestion's careful nurse, blood's comforter, +Wit's help, thought's charm, the stay of Microcosm, +Sweet Somnus, chiefest enemy to care: +My dearest friend, lift up thy lumpish head, +Ope thy dull eyes, shake off this drowsiness, +Rouse up thyself. + +SOM. O Crapula, how now, how now! O, O, how; who's there? +Crapula, speak quickly, what's the matter? + +CRA. As I told you, the noble Senses, peers of Microcosm, +Will eftsoon fall to ruin perpetual. +Unless your ready helping-hand recure them. +Lately they banqueted at Gustus' table, +And there fell mad or drunk, I know not whether; +So that it's doubtful in these outrageous fits, +That they'll murder one another. + +SOM. Fear it not. +If they have 'scap'd already, bring me to them +Or them to me; I'll quickly make them know +The power of my large-stretched authority. +These cords of sleep, wherewith I wont to bind +The strongest arm that e'er resisted me, +Shall be the means whereby I will correct +The Senses' outrage and distemperature. + +CRA. Thanks, gentle Somnus, I'll go seek them out, +And bring them to you soon as possible. + +SOM. Despatch it quickly, lest I fall asleep for want of work. + +CRA. Stand still, stand still! Visus, I think, comes yonder. +If you think good, begin and bind him first; +For, he made fast, the rest will soon be quiet. + + [_Exit_ CRAPULA. + + + +SCAENA UNDECIMA. + + + VISUS, SOMNUS. + +VIS. Sage Telemus, I now too late admire +Thy deep foresight and skill in prophecy, +Who whilom told'st me, that in time to come +Ulysses should deprive me of my sight. +And now the slave, that march'd in Outis' name, +Is prov'd Ulysses; and by this device +Hath 'scap'd my hands, and fled away by sea, +Leaving me desolate in eternal night. +Ah, wretched Polypheme! where's all thy hope, +And longing for thy beauteous Galatea? +She scorn'd thee once, but now she will detest +And loathe to look upon thy dark'ned face; +Ah me, most miserable Polyphemus! +But as for Ulysses, heaven and earth +Send vengeance ever on thy damned head, +In just revenge of my great injury! + [SOMNUS _binds him_. +Who is he that dares to touch me? Cyclops, come, +Come, all ye Cyclops, help to rescue me. + [SOMNUS _charms him; he sleeps_. + +SOM. There rest thyself, and let thy quiet sleep +Restore thy weak imaginations. + + + +SCAENA DUODECIMA. + + + LINGUA, SOMNUS, VISUS. + +LIN. Ha, ha, ha! O, how my spleen is tickled with this sport +The madding Senses make about the woods! +It cheers my soul, and makes my body fat, +To laugh at their mischances: ha, ha, ha, ha! +Heigho, the stitch hath caught me: O, my heart! +Would I had one to hold my sides awhile, +That I might laugh afresh: O, how they run, +And chafe, and swear, and threaten one another! + [SOMNUS _binds her_. +Ay me, out, alas! ay me, help, help, who's this that binds me? +Help, Mendacio! Mendacio, help! Here's one will ravish me. + +SOM. Lingua, content yourself, you must be bound. + +LIN. What a spite's this? Are my nails pared so near? Can I not scratch +his eyes out? What have I done? What, do you mean to kill me? Murder, +murder, murder! + + [_She falls asleep_. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA TERTIA. + + + GUSTUS, _with a voiding knife[308] in his hand_. + SOMNUS, LINGUA, VISUS. + +GUS. Who cries out murder? What, a woman slain! +My Lady Lingua dead? O heavens unjust! +Can you behold this fact, this bloody fact, +And shower not fire upon the murderer? +Ah, peerless Lingua! mistress of heavenly words, +Sweet tongue of eloquence, the life of fame, +Heart's dear enchantress! What disaster, fates, +Hath reft this jewel from our commonwealth? +Gustus, the ruby that adorns the ring, +Lo, here defect, how shalt thou lead thy days, +Wanting the sweet companion of thy life, +But in dark sorrow and dull melancholy? +But stay, who's this? inhuman wretch! +Bloodthirsty miscreant! is this thy handiwork? +To kill a woman, a harmless lady? +Villain, prepare thyself; +Draw, or I'll sheathe my falchion in thy sides. +There, take the guerdon[309] fit for murderers. + + [GUSTUS _offers to run at_ SOMNUS, _but being + suddenly charmed, falls asleep_. + +SOM. Here's such a stir, I never knew the Senses in such disorder. + +LIN. Ha, ha, ha! Mendacio, Mendacio! See how Visus hath broke his +forehead against the oak yonder, ha, ha, ha! + +SOM. How now? is not Lingua bound sufficiently? I have more trouble +to make one woman sleep than all the world besides; they are so full +of tattle. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA QUARTA. + + + SOMNUS, CRAPULA, LINGUA, VISUS, GUSTUS, AUDITUS _pulling_ OLFACTUS + _by the nose, and_ OLFACTUS _wringing_ AUDITUS _by the ears_. + +AUD. O, mine ears, mine ears, mine ears! + +OLF. O, my nose, my nose, my nose! + +CRA. Leave, leave, at length, these base contentions: +Olfactus, let him go. + +OLF. Let him first loose my nose. + +CRA. Good Auditus, give over. + +AUD. I'll have his life that sought to kill me. + +SOM. Come, come, I'll end this quarrel; bind them[310], Crapula. + + [_They bind them both_. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA QUINTA. + + + TACTUS, _with the robe in his hand_, SOMNUS, + CRAPULA, LINGUA, GUSTUS, OLFACTUS VISUS, AUDITUS. + +TAC. Thanks, Dejanira, for thy kind remembrance, +'Tis a fair shirt: I'll wear it for thy sake. + +CRA. Somnus, here's Tactus, worse than all his fellows: +Stay but awhile, and you shall see him rage! + +SOM. What will he do? see that he escapes us not. + +TAC. 'Tis a good shirt: it fits me passing well: +'Tis very warm indeed: but what's the matter? +Methinks I am somewhat hotter than I was, +My heart beats faster than 'twas wont to do, +My brain's inflam'd, my temples ache extremely; O, O! +O, what a wildfire creeps among my bowels! +Aetna's within my breast, my marrow fries, +And runs about my bones; O my sides! O my sides! +My sides, my reins: my head, my reins, my head! +My heart, my heart: my liver, my liver, O! +I burn, I burn, I burn; O, how I burn +With scorching heat of implacable fire! +I burn extreme with flames insufferable. + +SOM. Sure he doth but try how to act Hercules. + +TAC. Is it this shirt that boils me thus? O heavens! +It fires me worse, and heats more furiously +Than Jove's dire thunderbolts! O miserable! +They bide less pain that bathe in Phlegeton! +Could not the triple kingdom of the world, +Heaven, earth, and hell, destroy great Hercules? +Could not the damned spite[311] of hateful Juno, +Nor the great dangers of my labours kill me? +Am I the mighty son of Jupiter, +And shall this poison'd linen thus consume me? +Shall I be burnt? Villains, fly up to heaven, +Bid Iris muster up a troop of clouds, +And shower down cataracts of rain to cool me; +Or else I'll break her speckled bow in pieces. +Will she not? no, she hates me like her mistress. +Why then descend, you rogues, to the vile deep. +Fetch Neptune hither: charge him bring the sea +To quench these flames, or else the world's fair frame +Will be in greater danger to be burnt, +Than when proud Phaeton rul'd the sun's rich chariot. + +SOM. I'll take that care the world shall not be burnt, +If Somnus' cords can hold you. [SOMNUS _binds him_. + +TAC. What Vulcan's this that offers to enchain +A greater soldier than the god of war?[312] + +SOM. He that each night with bloodless battle conquers +The proudest conqueror that triumphs by wars. + +CRA. Now, Somnus, there's but only one remaining, +That was the author of these outrages. + +SOM. Who's that? is he under my command? + +CRA. Yes, yes, 'tis Appetitus; if you go that way and look about those +thickets, I'll go hither, and search this grove. I doubt not but to +find him. + +SOM. Content. + + [_Exeunt_ SOMNUS _et_ CRAPULA. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA SEXTA. + + + APPETITUS IRASCIBILIS _with a willow in his hand, pulled up + by the roots_, SOMNUS, CRAPULA. _The Senses all asleep_. + +APP. So now's the time that I would gladly meet +These madding Senses that abus'd me thus; +What, haunt me like an owl? make an ass of me? +No, they shall know I scorn to serve such masters, +As cannot master their affections. +Their injuries have chang'd my nature now; +I'll be no more call'd hungry parasite, +But henceforth answer to the wrathful name +Of Angry Appetite. My choler's up. +Zephyrus, cool me quickly with thy fan, +Or else I'll cut thy cheeks. Why this is brave, +Far better than to fawn at Gustus' table +For a few scraps; no, no such words as these-- +By Pluto, stab the villain, kill the slave: +By the infernal hags I'll hough[313] the rogue, +And paunch the rascal that abus'd me thus. +Such words as these fit angry Appetite. + + _Enter_ CRAPULA. + +CRA. Somnus, Somnus, come hither, come hither quickly, he's here, +he's here! + +APP. Ay, marry is he, sirrah, what of that base miscreant Crapula? + +CRA. O gentle Appetitus! + +APP. You muddy gulch[314], dar'st look me in the face, +While mine eyes sparkle with revengeful fire? [_Beats him_. + +CRA. Good Appetitus! + +APP. Peace, you fat bawson[315], peace, +Seest not this fatal engine of my wrath? +Villain, I'll maul thee for thine old offences, +And grind thy bones to powder with this pestle! +You, when I had no weapons to defend me, +Could beat me out of doors; but now prepare: +Make thyself ready, for thou shalt not 'scape. +Thus doth the great revengeful Appetite +Upon his fat foe wreak his wrathful spite. + + [APPETITUS _heaveth up his club to brain_ CRAPULA; _but_ + SOMNUS _in the meantime catcheth him behind, and binds him_. + +SOM. Why, how now, Crapula? + +CRA. Am I not dead? is not my soul departed? + +SOM. No, no, see where he lies, +That would have hurt thee: fear nothing. + + [SOMNUS _lays the Senses all in a circle, feet to feet, + and wafts his wand over them_. + +So rest you all in silent quietness; +Let nothing wake you, till the power of sleep, +With his sweet dew cooling your brains enflam'd, +Hath rectified the vain and idle thoughts, +Bred by your surfeit and distemperature; +Lo, here the Senses, late outrageous, +All in a round together sleep like friends; +For there's no difference 'twixt the king and clown, +The poor and rich, the beauteous and deform'd, +Wrapp'd in the veil of night and bonds of sleep; +Without whose power and sweet dominion +Our life were hell, and pleasure painfulness. +The sting of envy and the dart of love, +Avarice' talons, and the fire of hate, +Would poison, wound, distract, and soon consume +The heart, the liver, life, and mind of man. +The sturdy mower, that with brawny arms +Wieldeth the crooked scythe, in many a swath +Cutting the flowery pride on velvet plain, +Lies down at night, and in the weird[316] folds +Of his wife's arms forgets his labour past. +The painful mariner and careful smith, +The toiling ploughman, all artificers, +Most humbly yield to my dominion: +Without due rest nothing is durable. +Lo, thus doth Somnus conquer all the world +With his most awful wand, and half the year +Reigns o'er the best and proudest emperors. +Only the nurslings of the Sisters nine +Rebel against me, scorn my great command; +And when dark night from her bedewed[317] wings +Drops sleepy silence to the eyes of all, +They only wake, and with unwearied toil +Labour to find the _Via Lactea_, +That leads to the heaven of immortality; +And by the lofty towering of their minds, +Fledg'd with the feathers of a learned muse, +They raise themselves unto the highest pitch, +Marrying base earth and heaven in a thought. +But thus I punish their rebellion: +Their industry was never yet rewarded: +Better to sleep, than wake and toil for nothing. + + [_Exeunt_ SOMNUS _and_ CRAPULA. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA SEPTIMA. + + + _The five Senses_, LINGUA, APPETITUS, _all asleep + and dreaming_; PHANTASTES, HEURESIS. + +AUD. So ho, Rockwood;[318] so ho, Rockwood; Rockwood, your organ: eh, +Chanter, Chanter; by Acteon's head-tire, it's a very deep-mouthed dog, +a most admirable cry of hounds. Look here, again, again: there, there, +there! ah, ware counter![319] + +VIS. Do you see the full moon yonder, and not the man in it? why, +methinks 'tis too-too evident: I see his dog very plain, and look you, +just under his tail is a thorn-bush of furze. + +GUS. 'Twill make a fine toothpick, that lark's heel there: O, do not +burn it. + +PHA. Boy Heuresis, what think'st thou I think, when I think nothing? + +HEU. And it please you, sir, I think you are devising how to answer a +man that asks you nothing. + +PHA. Well-guessed, boy; but yet thou mistook'st it, for I was thinking +of the constancy of women[320]. [APPETITUS _snores aloud_.] Beware, +sirrah, take heed; I doubt me there's some wild boar lodged hereabout. +How now? methinks these be the Senses; ha? in my conceit the elder +brother of death has kissed them. + +TAC. O, O, O, I am stabbed, I am stabbed; hold your hand, O, O, O. + +PHA. How now? do they talk in their sleep? are they not awake, Heuresis? + +HEU. No, questionless, they be all fast asleep. + +GUS. Eat not too many of those apples, they be very flative[321]. + +OLF. Foh, beat out this dog here; foh, was it you, Appetitus? + +AUD. In faith, it was most sweetly-winded, whosoever it was; the warble +is very good, and the horn is excellent. + +TAC. Put on, man, put on; keep your head warm, 'tis cold. + +PHA. Ha, ha, ha, ha? 'st: Heuresis, stir not, sirrah. + +APP. Shut the door, the pot runs over, sirrah. Cook, that will be a +sweet pasty, if you nibble the venison so. + +GUS. Say you so? is a marrow-pie the Helena of meats? give me't; if I +play not Paris, hang me. Boy, a clean trencher. + +APP. Serve up, serve up; this is a fat rabbit, would I might have the +maidenhead of it: come, give me the fish there; who hath meddled with +these maids, ha? + +OLF. Fie, shut your snuffers closer for shame; 'tis the worst smell that +can be. + +TAC. O, the cramp, the cramp, the cramp: my leg, my leg! + +LIN. I must abroad presently: reach me my best necklace presently. + +PHA. Ah, Lingua, are you there? + +AUD. Here take this rope, and I'll help the leader close with the second +bell. Fie, fie, there's a goodly peal clean-spoiled. + +VIS. I'll lay my life that gentlewoman is painted: well, well, I know +it; mark but her nose: do you not see the complexion crack out? I must +confess 'tis a good picture. + +TAC. Ha, ha, ha! fie, I pray you leave, you tickle me so: oh, ha, ha, +ha! take away your hands, I cannot endure; ah, you tickle me, ha, ha, +ha, ha, ha! + +VIS. Hai, Rett, Rett, Rett, now, bird, now,--look about that bush, she +trussed her thereabout.--Here she is, ware wing, Cater,[322] ware wing, +avaunt. + +LIN. Mum, mum, mum, mum. + +PHA. Hist, sirrah, take heed you wake her not. + +HEU. I know, sir, she is fast asleep, for her mouth is shut. + +LIN. This 'tis to venture upon such uncertainties; to lose so rich a +crown to no end, well, well. + +PHA. Ha, ha, ha! we shall hear anon where she lost her maidenhead: 'st, +boy, my Lord Vicegerent and Master Register are hard by: run quickly; +tell them of this accident, wish them come softly. + + [_Exit_ HEURESIS. + +LIN. Mendacio, never talk farther, I doubt 'tis past recovery, and my +robe likewise: I shall never have them again. Well, well. + +PHA. How? her crown and her robe, never recover them? hum, was it not +said to be left by Mercury, ha? I conjecture here's some knavery,--fast +locked with sleep, in good faith. Was that crown and garment yours, +Lingua? + +LIN. Ay, marry were they, and that somebody hath felt, and shall feel +more, if I live. + +PHA. O, strange, she answers in her sleep to my question: but how come +the Senses to strive for it? + +LIN. Why, I laid it on purpose in their way, that they might fall +together by the ears. + +PHA. What a strange thing is this! + + + +SCAENA DECIMA OCTAVA. + + + _The Senses_, APPETITUS, _and_ LINGUA, _asleep_. + PHANTASTES, COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORIA, ANAMNESTES. + +PHA. Hist, my lord: softly, softly! here's the notablest piece of +treason discovered; how say you? Lingua set all the Senses at odds, she +hath confessed it to me in her sleep. + +COM. SEN. Is't possible, Master Register? did you ever know any talk in +their sleep. + +MEM. I remember, my lord, many have done so very oft; but women are +troubled especially with this talking disease; many of them have I heard +answer in their dreams, and tell what they did all day awake. + +ANA. By the same token, there was a wanton maid, that being asked by her +mother what such a one did with her so late one night in such a room, +she presently said that-- + +MEM. Peace, you vile rake-hell, is such a jest fit for this company? no +more, I say, sirrah. + +PHA. My lord, will you believe your own ears? you shall hear her answer +me as directly and truly as may be. Lingua, what did you with the crown +and garments? + +LIN. I'll tell thee, Mendacio. + +PHA. She thinks Mendacio speaks to her; mark now, mark how truly she +will answer. What say you, madam? + +LIN. I say Phantastes is a foolish, transparent gull; a mere fanatic +napson[323], in my imagination not worthy to sit as a judge's assistant. + +COM. SEN. Ha, ha, ha! how truly and directly she answers. + +PHA. Faw, faw, she dreams now; she knows not what she says. I'll try her +once again. Madam, what remedy can you have for your great losses? + +LIN. O, are you come, Acrasia? welcome, welcome! boy, reach a cushion, +sit down, good Acrasia: I am so beholding to you, your potion wrought +exceedingly; the Senses were so mad: did not you see how they raged +about the woods? + +COM. SEN. Hum, Acrasia? is Acrasia her confederate? my life, that witch +hath wrought some villainy. [LINGUA _riseth in her sleep, and walketh_.] +How is this? is she asleep? have you seen one walk thus before? + +MEM. It is a very common thing; I have seen many sick of the peripatetic +disease. + +ANA. By the same token, my lord, I knew one that went abroad in his +sleep, bent his bow, shot at a magpie, killed her, fetched his arrow, +came home, locked the doors, and went to bed again. + +COM. SEN. What should be the reason of it? + +MEM. I remember Scaliger told me the reason once, as I think thus: the +nerves that carry the moving faculty from the brains to the thighs, +legs, feet, and arms, are wider far than the other nerves; wherefore +they are not so easily stopped with the vapours of sleep, but are night +and day ready to perform what fancy shall command them. + +COM. SEN. It may be so. But, Phantastes, inquire more of Acrasia. + +PHA. What did you with the potion Acrasia made you? + +LIN. Gave it to the Senses, and made them as mad as--well, if I cannot +recover it--let it go. I'll not leave them thus. + [_She lies down again_. + +COM. SEN. Boy, awake the Senses there. + +ANA. Ho, ho, Auditus, up, up; so ho, Olfactus, have at your nose; up, +Visus, Gustus, Tactus, up: what, can you not feel a pinch? have at you +with a pin. + +TAC. O, you stab me, O! + +COM. SEN. Tactus, know you how you came hither? + +TAC. No, my lord, not I; this I remember, +We supp'd with Gustus, and had wine good store, +Whereof I think I tasted liberally. +Amongst the rest, we drunk a composition +Of a most delicate and pleasant relish, +That made our brains somewhat irregular. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA NONA. + + + _The Senses awake_, LINGUA _asleep_, COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORY, + PHANTASTES, ANAMNESTES, HEURESIS _drawing_ CRAPULA. + +HEU. My lord, here's a fat rascal was lurking in a bush very +suspiciously: his name, he says, is Crapula. + +COM. SEN. Sirrah, speak quickly what you know of these troubles. + +CRA. Nothing, my lord, but that the Senses were mad, and that Somnus, at +my request, laid them asleep, in hope to recover them. + +COM. SEN. Why then, 'tis too evident Acrasia, at Lingua's request, +bewitched the Senses: wake her quickly, Heuresis. + +LIN. Heigho, out alas, ah me, where am I? how came I here? +where am I? ah! + +COM. SEN. Lingua, look not so strangely upon the matter; you have +confessed in your sleep, that with a crown and a robe you have disturbed +the Senses, using a crafty help to enrage them: can you deny it? + +LIN. Ah me, most miserable wretch! I beseech your lordship forgive me. + +COM. SEN. No, no, 'tis a fault unpardonable. + [_He consults with_ MEMORY. + +PHA. In my conceit, Lingua, you should seal up your lips when you go to +bed, these feminine tongues be so glib. + +COM. SEN. Visus, Tactus, and the rest, our former sentence concerning +you we confirm as irrevocable, and establish the crown to you, Visus, +and the robe to you, Tactus; but as for you, Lingua-- + +LIN. Let me have mine own, howsoever you determine, I beseech you. + +COM. SEN. That may not be: your goods are fallen into our hands; my +sentence cannot be recalled: you may see, those that seek what is not +theirs, oftentimes lose what's their own: therefore, Lingua, granting +you your life, I commit you to close prison in Gustus's house, and +charge you, Gustus, to keep her under the custody of two strong doors, +and every day, till she come to eighty years of age, see she be +well-guarded with thirty tall watchmen, without whose licence she shall +by no means wag abroad. Nevertheless, use her ladylike, according to her +estate. + +PHA. I pray you, my lord, add this to the judgment--that, whensoever +she obtaineth licence to walk abroad, in token the tongue was the cause +of her offence, let her wear a velvet hood, made just in the fashion of +a great tongue. In my conceit, 'tis a very pretty emblem of a woman. + +TAC. My lord, she hath a wild boy to her page, a chief agent in this +treason: his name's Mendacio. + +COM. SEN. Ha! well, I will inflict this punishment on him for this time: +let him be soundly whipped, and ever after, though he shall strengthen +his speeches with the sinews of truth, yet none shall believe him. + +PHA. In my imagination, my lord, the day is dead to the great toe, and +in my conceit it grows dark, by which I conjecture it will be cold; and +therefore, in my fancy and opinion, 'tis best to repair to our lodgings. + + [_Exeunt omnes, praeter_ ANAMNESTES _et_ APPETITUS. + + + +SCAENA VIGESSIMA. + + + ANAMNESTES, APPETITUS, _asleep in a corner_. + +ANA. What's this? a fellow whispering so closely with the earth? so ho, +so ho, Appetitus? faith, now I think Morpheus himself hath been here. +Up, with a pox to you; up, you lusk[324]? I have such news to tell thee, +sirrah: all the Senses are well, and Lingua is proved guilty: up, up, +up; I never knew him so fast asleep in my life. [APPETITUS _snorts_.] +Nay, then, have at you afresh. [_Jogs him_. + +APP. Jog me once again, and I'll throw this whole mess of pottage into +your face; cannot one stand quiet at the dresser for you. + +ANA. Ha, ha, ha! I think 'tis impossible for him to sleep longer than +he dreams of his victuals. What, Appetitus, up quickly: quickly up, +Appetitus, quickly, sirrah. [_Jogs him_. + +APP. I'll come presently; but I hope you'll stay till they be roasted: +will you eat them raw? + +ANA. Roasted? ha, ha, ha, ha! up, up, up, away! + +APP. Reach the sauce quickly; here's no sugar: whaw, whaw, O, O, O! + +ANA. What, never wake? [_Jogs him_.] Wilt never be? Then I must try +another way, I see. + + + +EPILOGUE + +Judicious friends, it is so late at night, +I cannot waken hungry Appetite: +Then since the close upon his rising stands, +Let me obtain this at your courteous hands; +Try, if this friendly opportunity +Of your good-will and gracious plaudite, +With the thrice-welcome murmur it shall keep, +Can beg this prisoner from the bands of sleep. + +[_Upon the plaudite_ APPETITUS _awakes, and runs in after_ ANAMNESTES. + + + + + + +THE MISERIES OF ENFORCED MARRIAGE. + + + + +_EDITIONS_. + + +(1.) _The Miseries of Inforst Mariage. As it is now playd by his +Maiesties Servants. Qui alios (seipsum) docet. By George Wilkins. +London. Printed for George Vincent, and are to be sold at his shop +in Woodstreete_. 1607, 4to. + +(2.) _The Miseries of Inforst Marriage. Playd by his Maiesties +Seruantes. Qui Alios, (seipsum) docet. By George Wilkins. London +Printed for George Vincent, and are to be sold at his Shoppe in +Woodstreete_. 1611. 4to. + +(3.) _The Miseries of Inforst Marriage. Playd by his Maiesties Servants. +Qui alios (seipsum) docet. By George Wilkins. London, Printed by Aug. +Mathewes for Richard Thrale, and are to bee sold at his Shop at Pauls +gate, next to Cheape-side_. 1629. 4to. + +(4.) _The Miseries of Inforst Marriage. Playd by his Majesties Servants. +Qui alios (seipsum) docet. By George Wilkins. London, Printed by I.N. +for Richard Thrale, and are to be sold at his Shop at Pauls gate; next +to Cheape-side_. M.DC.XXXVII. 4to. + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +George Wilkins, like many other minor poets of his time, has had no +memorials concerning him transmitted to us. He wrote no play alone, +except that which is here reprinted; but he joined with John Day and +William Rowley in "The Travels of the Three English Brothers, Sir +Thomas, Sir Anthony, and Sir Robert Shirley," an historical play, +printed in 4to, 1607[325]. He was also the author of "Three Miseries +of Barbary: Plague, Famine, Civill warre." [1603.] 4to. B.L.[326] + +[There was a second writer of both these names, probably a son, +who published in 1608 a prose novel, founded on the play of +"Pericles."[327]] + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE[328]. + +SIR FRANCIS ILFORD. +WENTLOE. +BARTLEY. +WILLIAM SCARBOROW. +THOMAS SCARBOROW, | _his brothers_ +JOHN SCARBOROW, | +SIR JOHN HARCOP. +LORD FALCONBRIDGE. +SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW. +DOCTOR BAXTER. +GRIPE, _the usurer_. +_Butler_. +_Clown_. +_Secretary_. +_Steward_. +_Page_. +_Children_. +CLARE, _daughter to Sir John Harcop_. +KATHERINE, _wife to William Scarborow_. +_Sister to William Scarborow_. + + + + +THE MISERIES OF ENFORCED MARRIAGE[329]. + + + + _Enter_ SIR FRANCIS ILFORD, WENTLOE, _and_ BARTLEY. + +BAR. But Frank, Frank, now we are come to the house, what shall we make +to be our business? + +ILF. Tut, let us be impudent enough, and good enough. + +WEN. We have no acquaintance here, but young Scarborow. + +ILF. How no acquaintance? Angels guard me from thy company. I tell thee, +Wentloe, thou art not worthy to wear gilt spurs[330], clean linen, nor +good clothes. + +WEN. Why, for God's sake? + +ILF. By this hand, thou art not a man fit to table at an ordinary, keep +knights company to bawdy-houses, nor beggar thy tailor. + +WEN. Why, then, I am free from cheaters, clear from the pox, and escape +curses. + +ILF. Why, dost thou think there is any Christians in the world? + +WEN. Ay, and Jews too, brokers, puritans, and sergeants. + +ILF. Or dost thou mean to beg after charity, that goes in a cold suit +already, that thou talkest thou hast no acquaintance here? I tell thee, +Wentloe, thou canst not live on this side of the world, feed well, drink +tobacco[331], and be honoured into the presence, but thou must be +acquainted with all sorts of men; ay, and so far in too, till they +desire to be more acquainted with thee. + +BAR. True, and then you shall be accounted a gallant of good credit. + + _Enter_ CLOWN. + +ILF. But stay, here is a scrape-trencher arrived: +How now, blue-bottle,[332] are you of the house? + +CLOWN. I have heard of many black-jacks, sir, but never of a +blue-bottle. + +ILF. Well, sir, are you of the house? + +CLOWN. No, sir, I am twenty yards without, and the house stands +without me. + +BAR. Prythee, tell's who owes[333] this building? + +CLOWN. He that dwells in it, sir. + +ILF. Who dwells in it, then? + +CLOWN. He that owes it. + +ILF. What's his name? + +CLOWN. I was none of his god-father. + +ILF. Does Master Scarborow lie here? + +CLOWN. I'll give you a rhyme for that, sir-- +Sick men may lie, and dead men in their graves. +Few else do lie abed at noon, but drunkards, punks, and knaves. + +ILF. What am I the better for thy answer? + +CLOWN. What am I the better for thy question? + +ILF. Why, nothing. + +CLOWN. Why, then, of nothing comes nothing. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +WEN. 'Sblood, this is a philosophical fool. + +CLOWN. Then I, that am a fool by art, am better than you, that are fools +by nature. [_Exit_. + +SCAR. Gentlemen, welcome to Yorkshire. + +ILF. And well-encountered, my little villain of fifteen hundred a year. +'Sfoot, what makest thou here in this barren soil of the North, when +thy honest friends miss thee at London? + +SCAR. Faith, gallants, 'tis the country where my father lived, where +first I saw the light, and where I am loved. + +ILF. Loved! ay, as courtiers love usurers, and that is just as long as +they lend them money. Now, dare I lay-- + +WEN. None of your land, good knight, for that is laid to mortgage +already. + +ILF. I dare lay with any man, that will take me up. + +WEN. _Who list to have a lubberly load_. [_Sings this_.[334] + +ILF. Sirrah wag, this rogue was son and heir to Antony Now-now[335] and +Blind Moon. And he must needs be a scurvy musician, that hath two +fiddlers to his fathers: but tell me, in faith, art thou not--nay, I +know thou art, called down into the country here by some hoary knight or +other who, knowing thee a young gentleman of good parts and a great +living, hath desired thee to see some pitiful piece of his workmanship +--a daughter, I mean. Is't not so? + +SCAR. About some such preferment I came down. + +ILF. Preferment's a good word. And when do you commence into the +cuckold's order--the preferment you speak of? when shall we have +gloves;[336] when, when? + +SCAR. Faith, gallants, I have been guest here but since last night. + +ILF. Why, and that is time enough to make up a dozen marriages, as +marriages are made up nowadays. For look you, sir; the father, according +to the fashion, being sure you have a good living, and without +encumbrance, comes to you thus:--takes you by the hand thus:--wipes his +long beard thus:--or turns up his moustachio thus:--walks some turn or +two thus:--to show his comely gravity thus:--and having washed his foul +mouth thus: at last breaks out thus.---- + +WEN. O God! let us hear no more of this? + +ILF.----Master Scarborow, you are a young gentleman; I knew your +father well, he was my worshipful good neighbour, for our demesnes lay +near together. Then, sir, you and I must be of more near acquaintance, +at which you must make an eruption thus:--O God (sweet sir)-- + +BAR. 'Sfoot, the knight would have made an excellent Zany in an Italian +comedy. + +ILF. When he goes forward thus: Sir, myself am lord of some thousand a +year, a widower (Master Scarborow). I have a couple of young gentlewomen +to my daughters: a thousand a year will do well divided among them; ha, +will't not, Master Scarborow? At which you out of your education must +reply thus: The portion will deserve them worthy husbands: on which +tinder he soon takes fire, and swears you are the man his hopes shot at, +and one of them shall be yours. + +WEN. If I did not like her, should he swear himself[337] to the devil, I +would make him foresworn. + +ILF. Then putting you and the young pug[338] too in a close room +together---- + +WEN. If he should lie with her there, is not the father partly the bawd? + +ILF.----Where the young puppet, having the lesson before from the old +fox, gives the son half a dozen warm kisses which, after her father's +oaths, takes such impression in thee, thou straight call'st, By Jesu, +mistress, I love you!--when she has the wit to ask, But, sir, will you +marry me? and thou, in thy cock-sparrow humour, repliest, Ay, before +God, as I am a gentleman, will I; which the father overhearing, leaps +in, takes you at your word, swears he is glad to see this; nay, he will +have you contracted straight, and for a need makes the priest of +himself. +Thus in one hour, from a quiet life, +Thou art sworn in debt, and troubled with a wife. + +BAR. But can they love one another so soon? + +ILF. O, it is no matter nowadays for love; 'tis well, and they can but +make shift to lie together. + +WEN. But will your father do this too, if he know the gallant breathes +himself at some two or three bawdy-houses in a morning? + +ILF. O, the sooner; for that and the land together tell the old lad, he +will know the better how to deal with his daughter. +The wise and ancient fathers know this rule, +Should both wed maids, the child would be a fool. +Come, wag, if thou hast gone no further than into the ordinary fashion-- +meet, see, and kiss--give over; marry not a wife, to have a hundred +plagues for one pleasure: let's to London, there's variety: and change +of pasture makes fat calves. + +SCAR. But change of women bald knaves, sir knight. + +ILF. Wag, and thou beest a lover but three days, thou wilt be heartless, +sleepless, witless, mad, wretched, miserable, and indeed a stark fool; +and by that thou hast been married but three weeks, though thou shouldst +wed a _Cynthia rara avis_, thou wouldst be a man monstrous--a cuckold, +a cuckold. + +BAR. And why is a cuckold monstrous, knight? + +ILF. Why, because a man is made a beast by being married. Take but +example thyself from the moon: as soon as she is delivered of her great +belly, doth she not point at the world with a pair of horns, as who +would say: Married men, ye are cuckolds. + +SCAR. I construe more divinely of their sex: +Being maids, methinks they are angels; and being wives, +They are sovereign cordials that preserve our lives,[339] +They are like our hands that feed us; this is clear, +They renew man, as spring renews the year. + +ILF. There's ne'er a wanton wench that hears thee, but thinks thee a +coxcomb for saying so: marry none of them; if thou wilt have their true +characters, I'll give it thee. Women are the purgatory of men's purses, +the paradise of their bodies, and the hell of their minds; marry none of +them. Women[340] are in churches saints, abroad angels, at home devils. +Here are married men enough know this: marry none of them. + +SCAR. Men that traduce by custom, show sharp wit +Only in speaking ill; and practice it +Against the best creatures, divine women, +Who are God's agents' here, and the heavenly eye, +By which this orb hath her maturity: +Beauty in women gets the world with child, +Without whom she were barren, faint and wild. +They are the stems on which do angels grow, +From whence virtue is still'd, and arts do flow. + + _Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP _and his daughter_ CLARE. + +ILF. Let them be what flowers they will; and they were roses, I will +pluck none of them for pricking my fingers. But soft, here comes a +voider for us: and I see, do what I can, as long as the world lasts, +there will be cuckolds in it. Do you hear, child, here's one come to +blend you together: he has brought you a kneading-tub, if thou dost +take her at his hands. +Though thou hadst Argus' eyes, be sure of this, +Women have sworn with more than one to kiss. + +HAR. Nay, no parting, gentlemen. Hem! + +WEN. 'Sfoot, does he make punks of us, that he hems already? + +HAR. Gallants, +Know old John Harcop keeps a wine-cellar, +Has travell'd, been at court, known fashions, +And unto all bear habit like yourselves-- +The shapes of gentlemen and men of sort, +I have a health to give them, ere they part. + +WEN. Health, knight! not as drunkards give their healths, I hope: to go +together by the ears when they have done? + +HAR. My healths are Welcome: Welcome, gentlemen. + +ILF. Are we welcome, knight, in faith? + +HAR. Welcome, in faith, sir. + +ILF. Prythee, tell me, hast not thou been a whoremaster? + +HAR. In youth I swill'd my fill at Venus' cup, +Instead of full draughts now I am fain to sup. + +ILF. Why then thou art a man fit for my company: +Dost thou hear? (_to_ WEN. _and_ BAR.) he is a good fellow of our stamp. +Make much of this[341] father. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Manent_ SCARBOROW _and_ CLARE. + +SCAR. The father and the gallants have left me here with a gentlewoman, +and if I know what to say to her, I am a villain. Heaven grant her life +hath borrowed so much impudence of her sex but to speak to me first: +for, by this hand, I have not so much steel of immodesty in my face to +parley to a wench without blushing. I'll walk by her, in hope she can +open her teeth. Not a word? Is it not strange a man should be in a +woman's company all this while and not hear her tongue. I'll go +further. God of his goodness! not a syllable. I think if I should take +up her clothes too, she would say nothing to me. With what words, trow, +does a man begin to woo. Gentlewoman, pray you, what is't a clock? + +CLARE. Troth, sir, carrying no watch about me but mine eyes, I answer +you: I cannot tell. + +SCAR. And if you cannot tell, beauty, I take the adage for my reply: you +are naught to keep sheep. + +CLARE. Yet I am big enough to keep myself. + +SCAR. Prythee tell me: are you not a woman? + +CLARE. I know not that neither, till I am better acquainted with a man. + +SCAR. And how would you be acquainted with a man? + +CLARE. To distinguish betwixt himself and myself. + +SCAR. Why, I am a man? + +CLARE. That's more than I know, sir. + +SCAR. To approve I am no less, thus I kiss thee. + +CLARE. And by that proof I am a man too; for I have kissed you. + +SCAR. Prythee, tell me, can you love? + +CLARE. O Lord, sir, three or four things: I love my meat, choice of +suitors, clothes in the fashion, and, like a right woman, I love to have +my will. + +SCAR. What think you of me for a husband? + +CLARE. Let me first know what you think of me for a wife? + +SCAR. Troth, I think you are a proper gentlewoman. + +CLARE. Do you but think so? + +SCAR. Nay, I see you are a very perfect proper gentlewoman. + +CLARE. It is great pity then I should be alone without a proper man. + +SCAR. Your father says I shall marry you. + +CLARE. And I say, God forbid, sir! alas, I am a great deal too young. + +SCAR. I love thee, by my troth. + +CLARE. O, pray you do not so; for then you stray from the steps of +gentility; the fashion among them is to marry first, and love after by +leisure. + +SCAR. That I do love thee, here by heaven I swear, And call it as a +witness to this kiss. + +CLARE. You will not enforce me, I hope, sir? + +SCAR. Make me this woman's husband! thou art my Clare: +Accept my heart, and prove as chaste as fair. + +CLARE. O God! you are too hot in your gifts; should I accept them, we +should have you plead nonage some half a year hence, sue for +reversement, and say the deed was done under age. + +SCAR. Prythee, do not jest. + +CLARE. No (God is my record), I speak in earnest: and desire to know +Whether ye mean to marry me, yea or no? + +SCAR. This hand thus takes thee as my loving wife. + +CLARE. For better, for worse. + +SCAR. Ay, till death us depart,[342] love. + +CLARE. Why, then, I thank you, sir, and now I am like to have +That I long look'd for--a husband. +How soon from our own tongues is the word said +Captives our maiden-freedom to a head! + +SCAR. Clare, you are now mine, and I must let you know, +What every wife doth to her husband owe: +To be a wife, is to be dedicate, +Not to a youthful course, wild and unsteady, +But to the soul of virtue, obedience, +Studying to please, and never to offend. +Wives have two eyes created, not like birds +To roam about at pleasure, but for[343] sentinels, +To watch their husbands' safety as their own. +Two hands; one's to feed him, the other herself: +Two feet, and one of them is their husbands'. +They have two of everything, only of one, +Their chastity, that should be his alone. +Their very thoughts they cannot term their own.[344] +Maids, being once made wives, can nothing call +Rightly their own; they are their husbands' all: +If such a wife you can prepare to be, +Clare, I am yours: and you are fit for me. + +CLARE. We being thus subdued, pray you know then, +As women owe a duty, so do men. +Men must be like the branch and bark to trees, +Which doth defend them from tempestuous rage, +Clothe them in winter, tender them in age: +Or as ewes love unto their eanlings gives,[345] +Such should be husbands' custom to their wives. +If it appear to them they've stray'd amiss, +They only must rebuke them with a kiss; +Or clock them, as hens chickens, with kind call, +Cover them under wing, and pardon all: +No jars must make two beds, no strife divide them, +Those betwixt whom a faith and troth is given, +Death only parts, since they are knit by heaven: +If such a husband you intend to be, +I am your Clare, and you are fit for me. + +SCAR. By heaven-- + +CLARE. Advise, before you swear, let me remember you,[346] +Men never give their faith and promise marriage, +But heaven records their oath: if they prove true, +Heaven smiles for joy; if not, it weeps for you: +Unless your heart, then, with your words agree, +Yet let us part, and let us both be free. + +SCAR. If ever man, in swearing love, swore true, +My words are like to his. Here comes your father. + + _Enter SIR JOHN HARCOP, ILFORD, WENTLOE, BARTLEY, _and Butler_. + +HAR. Now, Master Scarborrow. + +SCAR. Prepar'd to ask, how you like that we have done: +Your daughter's made my wife, and I your son. + +HAR. And both agreed so? + +BOTH. We are, sir. + +HAR. Then long may you live together, have store of sons! + +ILF. 'Tis no matter who is the father. [_Aside_.] + +HAR. But, son, here is a man of yours is come from London. + +BUT. And brought you letters, sir. + +SCAR. What news from London, butler? + +BUT. The old news, sir. The ordinaries are full of cheaters, some +citizens are bankrupts, and many gentlemen beggars. + +SCAR. Clare, here is an unwelcome pursuivant; +My lord and guardian writes to me, with speed +I must return to London. + +HAR. And you being ward to him, son Scarborow, +And no ingrate,[347] it fits that you obey him. + +SCAR.[348] It does, it does; for by an ancient law +We are born free heirs, but kept like slaves in awe. +Who are for London, gallants? + +ILF. Switch and Spur, we will bear you company. + +SCAR. Clare, I must leave thee--with what unwillingness, +Witness this dwelling kiss upon thy lip; +And though I must be absent from thine eye, +Be sure my heart doth in thy bosom lie. +Three years I am yet a ward, which time I'll pass, +Making thy faith my constant looking-glass, +Till when-- + +CLARE. Till when you please, where'er you live or lie, +Your love's here worn: you're present[349] in my eye. + + _Enter_ LORD FALCONBRIDGE _and_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW. + +LORD. Sir William, +How old, say you, is your kinsman Scarborow? + +WIL. Eighteen, my lord, next Pentecost. + +LORD. Bethink you, good Sir William, +I reckon thereabout myself; so by that account +There's full three winters yet he must attend +Under our awe, before he sue his livery: +Is it not so? + +WIL. Not a day less, my lord. + +LORD. Sir William, you are his uncle, and I must speak, +That am his guardian; would I had a son +Might merit commendations equal[350] with him. +I'll tell you what he is: he is a youth, +A noble branch, increasing blessed fruit, +Where caterpillar vice dare not to touch: +He bears[351] himself with so much gravity, +Praise cannot praise him with hyperbole: +He is one, whom older look upon as on a book: +Wherein are printed noble sentences +For them to rule their lives by. Indeed he is one, +All emulate his virtues, hate him none. + +WIL. His friends are proud to hear this good of him. + +LORD. And yet, Sir William, being as he is, +Young and unsettled, though of virtuous thoughts +By genuine disposition, yet our eyes +See daily precedents, [how] hopeful gentlemen, +Being trusted in the world with their own will, +Divert the good is look'd from them to ill; +Make their old names forgot, or not worth note: +With company they keep such revelling, +With panders, parasites, prodigies of knaves, +That they sell all, even their old fathers' graves. +Which to prevent we'll match him to a wife: +Marriage restrains the scope of single life. + +WIL. My lord speaks like a father for my kinsman. + +LORD. And I have found him one of noble parentage, +A niece of mine; nay, I have broke with her, +Know thus much of her mind, that[352] for my pleasure, +As also for the good appears in him, +She is pleased of all that's hers to make him king. + +WIL. Our name is bless'd in such an honoured marriage. + + _Enter_ DOCTOR BAXTER. + +LORD. Also I have appointed Doctor Baxter, +Chancellor of Oxford, to attend me here: +And see, he is come. Good Master Doctor. + +BAX. My honourable lord. + +WIL. I have possess'd you[353] with this business, Master Doctor. + +BAX. To see the contract 'twixt your honoured niece +And Master Scarborow? + +LORD. 'Tis so, and I did look for him by this. + +BAX. I saw him leave his horse, as I came up. + +LORD. So, so. +Then he will be here forthwith: you, Master Baxter, +Go usher hither straight young Katherine, +Sir William here and I will keep this room, +Till you return. + [_Exit_ DOCTOR. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +SCAR. My honourable[354] lord. + +LORD. 'Tis well-done, Scarborow. + +SCAR. Kind uncle. + +WIL. Thanks, my good coz. + +LORD. You have been welcome in your country Yorkshire? + +SCAR. The time that I spent there, my lord, was merry. + +LORD. 'Twas well, 'twas very well! and in your absence +Your uncle here and I have been bethinking, +What gift 'twixt us we might bestow on you, +That to your house large dignity might bring, +With fair increase, as from a crystal spring. + + _Enter_ DOCTOR _and_ KATHERINE. + +SCAR. My name is bound to your benificence, +Your hands have been to me like bounty's purse, +Never shut up, yourself my foster nurse: +Nothing can from your honour come, prove me so rude, +But I'll accept, to shun ingratitude. + +LORD. We accept thy promise, now return thee this, +A virtuous wife: accept her with a kiss. + +SCAR. My honourable lord! + +LORD. Fear not to take her, man: she will fear neither, +Do what thou canst, being both abed together. + +SCAR. O, but my lord-- + +LORD. But me? dog of wax! come kiss, and agree, +Your friends have thought it fit, and it must be. + +SCAR. I have no hands to take her to my wife. + +LORD. How, sauce-box? + +SCAR. O, pardon me, my lord; the unripeness of my years, +Too green for government, is old in fears +To undertake that charge. + +LORD. Sir, sir, and sir knave, then here is a mellowed experience knows +how to teach you. + +SCAR. O God. + +LORD. O Jack, +Have[355] both our cares, your uncle and myself, +Sought, studied, found out, and for your good, +A maid, a niece of mine, both fair and chaste; +And must we stand at your discretion? + +SCAR. O good my lord, +Had I two souls, then might I have two wives: +Had I two faiths, then had I one for her; +Having of both but one, that one is given +To Sir John Harcop's daughter. + +LORD. Ha, ha! what's that? let me hear that again. + +SCAR. To Sir John Harcop's Clare I have made an oath: +Part me in twain, yet she's one-half of both. +This hand the which I wear, it is half hers: +Such power hath faith and troth 'twixt couples young, +Death only cuts that knot tied with the tongue. + +LORD. And have you knit that knot, sir? + +SCAR. I have done so much that, if I wed not her, +My marriage makes me an adulterer: +In which black sheets I wallow all my life, +My babes being bastards, and a whore my wife. + + _Enter_ SECRETARY. + +LORD. Ha, is't even so? my secretary there, +Write me a letter straight to Sir John Harcop, +I'll see, sir Jack, and if that Harcop dare, +Being my ward, contract you to his daughter. + + [_Exit_ SECRETARY. + + _Enter_ STEWARD. + +My steward too, post you to Yorkshire, +Where lies my youngster's land; and, sirrah, +Fell me his wood, make havoc, spoil and waste. [_Exit_ STEWARD. +Sir, you shall know that you are ward to me, +I'll make you poor enough: then mend yourself. + +WIL. O cousin! + +SCAR. O uncle! + +LORD. Contract yourself, and where you list? +I'll make you know me, sir, to be your guard. + +SCAR. World, now thou seest what 'tis to be a ward. + +LORD. And where I meant myself to have disburs'd +Four thousand pounds, upon this marriage +Surrendered up your land to your own use, +And compass'd other portions to your hands, +Sir, I'll now yoke you still. + +SCAR. A yoke indeed. + +LORD. And, spite of them[356] dare contradict my will, +I'll make thee marry to my chambermaid. Come, coz. + [_Exit_. + +BAX. Faith, sir, it fits you to be more advis'd. + +SCAR, Do not you flatter for preferment, sir? + +WIL. O, but, good coz! + +SCAR. O, but, good uncle, could I command my love, +Or cancel oaths out of heaven's brazen book, +Engross'd by God's own finger, then you might speak. +Had men that law to love, as most have tongues +To love a thousand women with, then you might speak. +Were love like dust, lawful for every wind +To bear from place to place; were oaths but puffs, +Men might forswear themselves; but I do know, +Though, sin being pass'd with us, the act's forgot, +The poor soul groans, and she forgets it not. + +WIL. Yet hear your own case. + +SCAR. O, 'tis too miserable! +That I, a gentleman, should be thus torn +From mine own right, and forc'd to be forsworn. + +WIL. Yet, being as it is, it must be your care, +To salve it with advice, not with despair; +You are his ward: being so, the law intends +He is to have your duty, and in his rule +Is both your marriage and your heritage. +If you rebel 'gainst these injunctions, +The penalty takes hold on you; which for himself +He straight thus prosecutes; he wastes your land, +Weds you where he thinks fit:[357] but if yourself +Have of some violent humour match'd yourself +Without his knowledge, then hath he power +To merce[358] your purse, and in a sum so great, +That shall for ever keep your fortunes weak, +Where otherwise, if you be rul'd by him, +Your house is rais'd by matching to his kin. + + _Enter_ FALCONBRIDGE. + +LORD. Now, death of me, shall I be cross'd +By such a jack? he wed himself, and where he list: +Sirrah malapert, I'll hamper you, +You that will have your will, come, get you in: +I'll make thee shape thy thoughts to marry her, +Or wish thy birth had been thy murderer. + +SCAR. Fate, pity me, because I am enforc'd: +For I have heard those matches have cost blood, +Where love is once begun, and then withstood. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT II. + + + _Enter_ ILFORD, _and a_ PAGE _with him_. + +ILF. Boy, hast thou delivered my letter? + +BOY. Ay, sir, I saw him open the lips on't. + +ILF. He had not a new suit on, had he? + +BOY. I am not so well acquainted with his wardrobe, sir; but I saw a +lean fellow, with sunk eyes and shamble legs, sigh pitifully at his +chamber door, and entreat his man to put his master in mind of him. + +ILF. O, that was his tailor. I see now he will be blessed, he profits by +my counsel: he will pay no debts, before he be arrested--nor then +neither, if he can find e'er a beast that dare but be bail for him; but +he will seal[359] i' th' afternoon? + +BOY. Yes, sir, he will imprint for you as deep as he can. + +ILF. Good, good, now have I a parson's nose, and smell tithe coming in +then. Now let me number how many rooks I have half-undone already this +term by the first return: four by dice, six by being bound with me, and +ten by queans: of which some be courtiers, some country gentlemen, and +some citizens' sons. Thou art a good Frank; if thou purgest[360] thus, +thou art still a companion for gallants, may'st keep a catamite, take +physic at the spring and the fall. + + _Enter_ WENTLOE. + +WEN. Frank, news that will make thee fat, Frank. + +ILF. Prythee, rather give me somewhat will keep me lean; I have no mind +yet to take physic. + +WEN. Master Scarborow is married, man. + +ILF. Then heaven grant he may (as few married men do) make much of his +wife. + +WEN. Why? wouldst have him love her, let her command all, and make her +his master? + +ILF. No, no; they that do so, make not much of their wives, but give +them their will, and its the marring of them. + + _Enter_ BARTLEY. + +BAR. Honest Frank, valorous Frank, a portion of thy wit, but to help us +in this enterprise, and we may walk London streets, and cry _pish_ at +the serjeants. + +ILF. You may shift out one term, and yet die in the Counter. These are +the scabs now that hang upon honest Job. I am Job, and these are the +scurvy scabs [_aside_]; but what's this your pot seethes over withal? + +BAR. Master Scarborough is married, man. + +WEN. He has all his land in his own hand. + +BAR. His brother's and sister's portions. + +WEN. Besides four thousand pounds in ready money with his wife. + +ILF. A good talent,[361] by my faith; it might help many gentlemen to +pay their tailors, and I might be one of them. + +WEN. Nay, honest Frank, hast thou found a trick for him? if thou hast +not, look, here's a line to direct thee. First draw him into bands[362] +for money, then to dice for it; then take up stuff at the mercer's; +straight to a punk with it; then mortgage his land, and be drunk with +that; so with them and the rest, from an ancient gentleman make him a +young beggar. + +ILF. What a rogue this is, to read a lecture to me--and mine own lesson +too, which he knows I have made perfect to nine hundred fourscore and +nineteen! A cheating rascal! will teach me!--I, that have made them, +that have worn a spacious park, lodge, and all on their backs[363] this +morning, been fain to pawn it afore night! And they that have stalked +like a huge elephant, with a castle on their necks, and removed that to +their own shoulders in one day, which their fathers built up in seven +years--been glad by my means, in so much time as a child sucks, to drink +bottle-ale, though a punk pay for't. And shall this parrot instruct me? + +WEN. Nay, but, Frank-- + +ILF. A rogue that hath fed upon me and the fruit of my wit, like +pullen[364] from a pantler's chippings, and now I have put him into good +clothes to shift two suits in a day, that could scarce shift a patched +shirt once in a year, and say his prayers when he had it--hark, how he +prates! + +WEN. Besides, Frank, since his marriage, he stalks me like a cashiered +captain discontent; in, which melancholy the least drop of mirth, of +which thou hast an ocean, will make him and all his ours for ever. + +ILF. Says mine own rogue so? Give me thy hand then; we'll do't, and +there's earnest. [_Strikes him_.] 'Sfoot, you chittiface, that looks +worse than a collier through a wooden window, an ape afraid of a whip, +or a knave's head, shook seven years in the weather upon London +Bridge[365]--do you catechise me? + +WEN. Nay, but valorous Frank, he that knows the secrets of all hearts +knows I did it in kindness. + +ILF. Know your seasons: besides, I am not of that species for you to +instruct. Then know your seasons. + +BAR. 'Sfoot, friends, friends, all friends; here comes young Scarborow. +Should he know of this, all our designs were prevented. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +ILF. What! melancholy, my young master, my young married man? God give +your worship joy. + +SCAR. Joy of what, Frank? + +ILF. Of thy wealth, for I hear of few that have joy of their wives. + +SCAR. Who weds as I have to enforced sheets, +His care increaseth, but his comfort fleets. + +ILF. Thou having so much wit, what a devil meant'st thou to marry? + +SCAR. O, speak not of it, +Marriage sounds in mine ear like a bell, +Not rung for pleasure, but a doleful knell. + +ILF. A common course: those men that are married in the morning to wish +themselves buried ere night. + +SCAR. I cannot love her. + +ILF. No news neither. Wives know that's a general fault amongst their +husbands. + +SCAR. I will not lie with her. + +ILF. _Caeteri volunt_, she'll say still; +If you will not, another will. + +SCAR. Why did she marry me, knowing I did not love her? + +ILF. As other women do, either to be maintained by you, or to make you +a cuckold. Now, sir, what come you for? + + _Enter_ CLOWN. + +CLOWN. As men do in haste, to make an end of their business. + +ILF. What's your business? + +CLOWN. My business is this, sir--this, sir--and this, sir. + +ILF. The meaning of all this, sir? + +CLOWN. By this is as much as to say, sir, my master has sent unto you; +by this is as much as to say, sir, my master has him humbly commended +unto you; and by this is as much as to say, my master craves your +answer. + +ILF. Give me your letter, and you shall have this, sir, this, sir, and +this, sir. [_Offers to strike him_. + +CLOWN. No, sir. + +ILF. Why, sir? + +CLOWN. Because, as the learned have very well instructed me, _Qui supra +nos, nihil ad nos_, and though many gentlemen will have to do with other +men's business, yet from me know the most part of them prove knaves for +their labour. + +WEN. You ha' the knave, i'faith, Frank. + +CLOWN. Long may he live to enjoy it. From Sir John Harcop, of Harcop, in +the county of York, Knight, by me his man, to yourself my young master, +by these presents greeting. + +ILF. How cam'st thou by these good words? + +CLOWN. As you by your good clothes, took them upon trust, and swore I +would never pay for them. + +SCAR. Thy master, Sir John Harcop, writes to me, +That I should entertain thee for my man. +His wish is acceptable; thou art welcome, fellow. +O, but thy master's daughter sends an article, +Which makes me think upon my present sin; +Here she remembers me to keep in mind +My promis'd faith to her, which I ha' broke. +Here she remembers me I am a man, +Black'd o'er with perjury, whose sinful breast +Is charactered like those curst of the blest. + +ILF. How now, my young bully, like a young wench, forty weeks after the +loss of her maidenhead, crying out. + +SCAR. Trouble me not. Give me pen, ink, and paper; +I will write to her. O! but what shall I write +In mine excuse?[366] why, no excuse can serve +For him that swears, and from his oath doth swerve. +Or shall I say my marriage was enforc'd? +'Twas bad in them; not well in me to yield: +Wretched they two, whose marriage was compell'd. +I'll only write that which my grief hath bred: +Forgive me, Clare, for I am married: +'Tis soon set down, but not so soon forgot +Or worn from hence-- +Deliver it unto her, there's for thy pains. +Would I as soon could cleanse these perjur'd stains! + +CLOWN. Well, I could alter mine eyes from filthy mud into fair water: +you have paid for my tears, and mine eyes shall prove bankrouts, and +break out for you. Let no man persuade me: I will cry, and every town +betwixt Shoreditch Church and York Bridge shall bear me witness. + [_Exit_. + +SCAR. Gentlemen, I'll take my leave of you, +She that I am married to, but not my wife, +Will London leave, in Yorkshire lead our life. [_Exit_. + +ILF. We must not leave you so, my young gallant; we three are sick in +state, and your wealth must help to make us whole again. For this saying +is as true as old-- +Strife nurs'd 'twixt man and wife makes such a flaw, +How great soe'er their wealth, 'twill have a thaw. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP _with his daughter_ CLARE, + _and two younger brothers_, THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +HAR. Brothers to him ere long shall be my son +By wedding this young girl: you are welcome both. +Nay, kiss her, kiss her; though that she shall be +Your brother's wife, to kiss the cheek is free. + +THOM. Kiss, 'sfoot, what else? thou art a good plump wench, I like you +well; prythee, make haste and bring store of boys; but be sure they have +good faces, that they may call me uncle. + +JOHN. Glad of so fair a sister, I salute you. + +HAR. Good, good, i' faith, this kissing's good, i' faith, +I lov'd to smack it too when I was young, +But mum: they have felt thy cheek, Clare, let them hear thy tongue. + +CLARE. Such welcome as befits my Scarborow's brothers, +From me his trothplight wife be sure to have, +And though my tongue prove scant in any part, +The bounds be sure are full large[367] in my heart. + +THOM. Tut, that's not that we doubt on, wench; but do you hear, Sir +John? what do you think drew me from London and the Inns of Court thus +far into Yorkshire? + +HAR. I guess, to see this girl shall be your sister. + +THOM. Faith, and I guess partly so too, but the main was--and I will not +lie to you--that, your coming now in this wise into our kindred, I might +be acquainted with you aforehand, that after my brother had married your +daughter, I his brother might borrow some money of you. + +HAR. What, do you borrow of your kindred, sir? + +THOM. 'Sfoot, what else? they, having interest in my blood, why should I +not have interest in their coin? Besides, sir, I, being a younger +brother, would be ashamed of my generation if I would not borrow of any +man that would lend, especially of my affinity, of whom I keep a +calendar. And look you, sir, thus I go over them. First o'er my uncles: +after, o'er mine aunts: then up to my nephews: straight down to my +nieces: to this cousin Thomas and that cousin Jeffrey, leaving the +courteous claw given to none of their elbows, even unto the third and +fourth remove of any that hath interest in our blood. All which do, upon +their summons made by me, duly and faithfully provide for appearance. +And so, as they are, I hope we shall be, more entirely endeared, better +and more feelingly acquainted.[368] + +HAR. You are a merry gentleman. + +THOM. 'Tis the hope of money makes me so; and I know none but fools use +to be sad with it. + +JOHN. From Oxford am I drawn from serious studies, +Expecting that my brother still hath sojourn'd +With you, his best of choice, and this good knight. + +HAR. His absence shall not make our hearts less merry, +Than if we had his presence. A day ere long +Will bring him back, when one the other meets, +At noon i'th' church, at night between the sheets. +We'll wash this chat with wine. Some wine! fill up; +The sharp'ner of the wit is a full cup. +And so to you, sir. + +THOM. Do, and I'll drink to my new sister; but upon this condition, +that she may have quiet days, little rest o' nights, have pleasant +afternoons, be pliant to my brother, and lend me money, whensoe'er I'll +borrow it. + +HAR. Nay, nay, nay. +Women are weak, and we must bear with them: +Your frolic healths are only fit for men. + +THOM. Well, I am contented; women must to the wall, though it be to a +feather-bed. Fill up, then. [_They drink_. + + _Enter_ CLOWN. + +CLOWN. From London am I come, +Though not with pipe and drum, +Yet I bring matter +In this poor paper +Will make my young mistress, +Delighting in kisses, +Do as all maidens will, +Hearing of such an ill, +As to have lost +The thing they wish'd most, +A husband, a husband, +A pretty sweet husband, +Cry O, O, O, +And alas, and at last +Ho, ho, ho, +As I do. + +CLARE. Return'd so soon from London? what's the news? + +CLOWN. O mistress, if ever you have seen Demoniseacleer, look into mine +eyes: mine eyes are Severn, plain Severn; the Thames nor the river of +Tweed are nothing to them: nay, all the rain that fell at Noah's flood +had not the discretion that my eyes have: that drunk but up the whole +world, and I have drowned all the way betwixt this and London. + +CLARE. Thy news, good Robin. + +CLOWN. My news, mistress? I'll tell you strange news. The dust upon +London way being so great, that not a lord, gentleman, knight, or knave +could travel, lest his eyes should be blown out: at last they all +agreed to hire me to go before them, when I, looking but upon this +letter, did with this water, this very water, lay the dust, as well as +if it had rained from the beginning of April till the last of May. + +CLARE. A letter from my Scarborow I give it thy mistress. + +CLOWN. But, mistress-- + +CLARE. Prythee, begone, +I would not have my father nor these gentlemen +Be witness of the comfort it doth bring. + +CLOWN. O, but mistress-- + +CLARE. Prythee, begone, +With this and the glad news leave me alone. + + [_Exit_ CLOWN. + +THOM. 'Tis your turn, knight; take your liquor, know I am bountiful; +I'll forgive any man anything that he owes me but his drink, and that +I'll be paid for. + +CLARE. Nay, gentlemen, the honesty of mirth +Consists not in carousing with excess; +My father hath more welcomes than in wine. +Pray you, no more. + +THOM. Says my sister so? I'll be ruled by thee then. But do you hear? I +hope hereafter you'll lend me some money. Now we are half-drunk, let's +go to dinner. Come, knight. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Manet_ CLARE. + +CLARE. I am glad you're gone. +Shall I now open't? no, I'll kiss it first, +Because this outside last did kiss his hand. +Within this fold (I'll call't a sacred sheet) +Are writ black lines, where our white hearts shall meet. +Before I ope this door of my delight, +Methinks I guess how kindly he doth write +Of his true love to me; as chuck, sweetheart, +I prythee do not think the time too long +That keeps us from the sweets of marriage rites: +And then he sets my name, and kisses it, +Wishing my lips his sheet to write upon; +With like desire (methinks) as mine own thoughts +Ask him now here for me to look upon; +Yet at the last thinking his love too slack, +Ere it arrive at my desired eyes, +He hastens up his message with like speed, +Even as I break this ope, wishing to read. +O, what is here? mine eyes are not mine own; +Sure, sure, they are not. [O eyes,] +Though you have been my lamps this sixteen years, + [_Lets fall the letter_. +You do belie my Scarborow reading so; +_Forgive him, he is married_, that were ill: +What lying lights are these? look, I have no such letter, +No wedded syllable of the least wrong +Done to a trothplight virgin like myself. +Beshrew you for your blindness: _Forgive him, he is married_! +I know my Scarborow's constancy to me +Is as firm knit as faith to charity, +That I shall kiss him often, hug him thus, +Be made a happy and a fruitful mother +Of many prosperous children like to him; +And read I, he was married! ask'd forgiveness? +What a blind fool was I; yet here's a letter, +To whom, directed too? _To my beloved Clare_. +Why, la! +Women will read, and read not that they saw. +'Twas but my fervent love misled mine eyes, +I'll once again to the inside, _Forgive me, I am married; +William Scarborow_. He has set his name to't too. +O perjury! within the hearts of men +Thy feasts are kept, their tongue proclaimeth them. + + _Enter_ THOMAS SCARBOROW. + +THOM. Sister, God's precious, the cloth's laid, the meat cools, we all +stay, and your father calls for you. + +CLARE. Kind sir, excuse me, I pray you, a little; +I'll but peruse this letter, and come straight. + +THOM. Pray you, make haste, the meat stays for us, and our stomach's +ready for the meat; for believe this-- +Drink makes men hungry, or it makes them lie,[369] +And he that's drunk o'er night, i'th'morning's dry: +Seen and approved. [_Exit_. + +CLARE. He was contracted mine, yet he unjust +Hath married to another: what's my estate, then? +A wretched maid, not fit for any man; +For being united his with plighted faiths, +Whoever sues to me commits a sin, +Besiegeth me; and who shall marry me, +Is like myself, lives in adultery. O God, +That such hard fortune should betide my youth! +I am young, fair, rich, honest, virtuous, +Yet for all this, whoe'er shall marry me, +I'm but his whore, live in adultery. +I cannot step into the path of pleasure +For which I was created, born unto: +Let me live ne'er so honest, rich or poor, +If I once wed, yet I must live a whore. +I must be made a strumpet 'gainst my will, +A name I have abhorr'd; a shameful ill +I have eschewed; and now cannot withstand it +In myself. I am my father's only child: +In me he hath a hope, though not his name +Can be increas'd, yet by my issue +His land shall be possess'd, his age delighted. +And though that I should vow a single life +To keep my soul unspotted, yet will he +Enforce me to a marriage: +So that my grief doth of that weight consist, +It helps me not to yield nor to resist; +And was I then created for a whore? a whore! +Bad name, bad act, bad man, makes me a scorn: +Than live a strumpet, better be unborn.[370] + + _Enter_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +JOHN. Sister, pray you, will you come? Your father and the whole +meeting stays for you. + +CLARE. I come, I come; I pray, return; I come. + +JOHN. I must not go without you. + +CLARE. Be thou my usher, sooth, I'll follow you. [_Exit_. +He writes here to _forgive him, he is married_: +False gentleman, I do forgive thee with my heart; +Yet will I send an answer to thy letter, +And in so short words thou shalt weep to read them, +And here's my agent ready: _Forgive me, I am dead_. +'Tis writ, and I will act it. Be judge, you maids +Have trusted the false promises of men: +Be judge, you wives, the which have been enforc'd +From the white sheets you lov'd to them ye loathed: +Whether this axiom may not be assured,-- +_Better one sin than many be endured_: +My arms embracing, kisses, chastity, +Were his possessions; and whilst I live, +He doth but steal those pleasures he enjoys, +Is an adulterer in his married arms, +And never goes to his defiled bed, +But God writes sin upon the tester's head. +I'll be a wife now, help to save his soul +Though I have lost his body: give a slake +To his iniquities, and with one sin, +Done by this hand, and many done by him. +Farewell the world then, farewell the wedded joys +Till this I have hop'd for from that gentleman! +Scarborow, forgive me; thus thou hast lost thy wife, +Yet record, world,[371] though by an act too foul, +A wife thus died to cleanse her husband's soul. + + [_Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP.] + +HAR. God's precious for his mercy, where's this wench? +Must all my friends and guests attend on you? +Where are you, minion? + +CLARE. Scarborow, come, close mine eyes; for I am dead. + +HAR. That sad voice was not hers, I hope: +Who's this? +My daughter? + +CLARE. Your daughter, +That begs of you to see her buried, +Prays Scarborow to forgive her: she is dead. [_Dies_. + +HAR. Patience, good tears, and let my words have way! +Clare, my daughter! help, my servants, there! +Lift up thine eyes, and look upon thy father, +They were not born to lose their light so soon: +I did beget thee for my comforter, +And not to be the author of my care. +Why speakest thou not? some help, my servants, there! +What hand hath made thee pale? or if thine own, +What cause hadst thou, that wert thy father's joy, +The treasure of his age, the cradle of his sleep, +His all in all? I prythee, speak to me: +Thou art not ripe for death; come back again. +Clare, my Clare, if death must needs have one, +I am the fittest: prythee, let me go. +Thou dying whilst I live, I am dead with woe. + + _Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +THOM. What means this outcry? + +JOHN. O ruthful spectacle! + +HAR. Thou wert not wont to be so sullen, child, +But kind and loving to thy aged father: +Awake, awake! if't be thy lasting sleep, +Would I had not sense for grief, nor eyes to weep. + +JOHN. What paper's this? the sad contents do tell me, +My brother writ he hath broke his faith to her, +And she replies for him she hath kill'd herself. + +HAR. Was that the cause that thou hast soil'd thyself +With these red spots, these blemishes of beauty? +My child, my child! was't perjury in him +Made thee so fair act now so foul a sin? +Hath[372] he deceived thee in a mother's hopes, +Posterity, the bliss of marriage? +Thou hast no tongue to answer no or ay, +But in red letters write,[373] _For him I die_. +Curse on his traitorous tongue, his youth, his blood, +His pleasures, children, and possessions! +Be all his days, like winter, comfortless! +Restless his nights, his wants remorseless![374] +And may his corpse be the physician's stage, +Which play'd upon stands not to honour'd age! +Or with diseases may he lie and pine, +Till grief wax blind his eyes, as grief doth mine! + [_Exit_. + +JOHN. O good old man, made wretched by this deed, +The more thy age, more to be pitied. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW, _his wife_ KATHERINE, ILFORD, + WENTLOE, BARTLEY, _and_ BUTLER. + +ILF. What, ride by the gate, and not call? that were a shame, i'faith. + +WEN. We'll but taste of his beer, kiss his daughter, and to horse again. +Where's the good knight here? + +SCAR. You bring me to my shame unwillingly. + +ILF. Shamed of what? for deceiving of a wench! I have not blushed, +that have done't to a hundred of 'em? +In women's love he's wise that follow this, +Love one so long, till he[375] another kiss. +Where's the good knight here? + +JOHN. O brother, you are come to make your eye +Sad mourner at a fatal tragedy. +Peruse this letter first, and then this corpse. + +SCAR. O wronged Clare! accursed Scarborow! +I writ to her, _that I was married_, +She writes to me, _Forgive her, she is dead_. +I'll balm thy body with my faithful tears, +And be perpetual mourner at thy tomb; +I'll sacrifice this comet into sighs,[376] +Make a consumption of this pile of man, +And all the benefits my parents gave, +Shall turn distemper'd to appease the wrath +For this bloodshed, that[377] I am guilty of. + +KATH. Dear husband! + +SCAR. False woman, not my wife, though married to me: +Look what thy friends and thou art guilty of, +The murder of a creature equall'd heaven +In her creation, whose thoughts (like fire) +Never look'd base, but ever did aspire +To blessed benefits, till you and yours undid her: +Eye her, view her; though dead, yet she does look +Like a fresh frame or a new-printed book +Of the best paper, never look'd into +But with one sullied finger, which did spot her, +Which was her own too; but who was cause of it? +Thou and thy friends, and I will loathe thee for't. + + _Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP. + +HAR. They do belie her that do say she's dead; +She is but stray'd to some by-gallery, +And I must have her again. Clare; where art thou, Clare? + +SCAR. Here laid to take her everlasting sleep. + +HAR. He lies that says so; +Yet now I know thee, I do lie that say it, +For if she be a villain like thyself, +A perjur'd traitor, recreant, miscreant, +Dog--a dog, a dog, has done't. + +SCAR. O Sir John Harcop! + +HAR. O Sir John villain! to betroth thyself +To this good creature, harmless, harmless child: +This kernel, hope, and comfort of my house: +Without enforcement--of thine own accord: +Draw all her soul in th'compass of an oath: +Take that oath from her, make her for none but thee-- +And then betray her! + +SCAR. Shame on them were the cause of it. + +HAR. But hark, what thou hast got by it: +Thy wife is but a strumpet, thy children bastards, +Thyself a murderer, thy wife accessory, +Thy bed a stews, thy house a brothel. + +SCAR. O, 'tis too true! + +HAR. I made a wretched father, childless. + +SCAR. I made a married man, yet wifeless. + +HAR. Thou the cause of it? + +SCAR. Thou the cause of it? [_To his wife_. + +HAR. Curse on the day that e'er it was begun, +For I, an old man, am undone, undone. [_Exit_. + +SCAR. For charity, have care upon that father, +Lest that his grief bring on a more mishap. + [_Exeunt_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW.[378] +This to my arms my sorrow shall bequeath, +Though I have lost her, to the grave I'll bring; +Thou wert my wife, and I'll thy requiem sing. +Go you to the country, I'll to London back: +All riot now, since that my soul's so black. + [_Exit, with_ CLARE. + +KATH. Thus am I left like sea-toss'd mariners. +My fortunes being no more than my distress; +Upon what shore soever I am driven, +Be it good or bad, I must account it heaven:[379] +Though married, I am reputed no wife, +Neglected of my husband, scorn'd, despis'd: +And though my love and true obedience +Lies prostrate to his beck, his heedless eye +Receives my services unworthily. +I know no cause, nor will be cause of none, +But hope for better days, when bad be gone. +You are my guide. Whither must I, butler? + +BUT. Toward Wakefield, where my master's living lies. + +KATH. Toward Wakefield, where thy master we'll attend; +When things are at the worst, 'tis hop'd they'll mend. + + _Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +THOM. How now, sister? no further forward on your journey yet? + +KATH. When grief's before one, who'd go on to grief? +I'd rather turn me back to find some comfort. + +JOHN. And that way sorrow's hurtfuller than this, +My brother having brought unto a grave +That murder'd body whom he call'd his wife, +And spent so many tears upon her hearse, +As would have made a tyrant to relent; +Then, kneeling at her coffin, this he vow'd +From thence he never would embrace your bed. + +THOM. The more fool he. + +JOHN. Never from hence acknowledge you his wife: +Where others strive t'enrich their father's name, +It should be his only aim to beggar ours, +To spend their means should be his only pride: +Which, with a sigh confirm'd, he's rid to London, +Vowing a course,[380] that by his life so foul +Men ne'er should join the hands without the soul. + +KATH. All is but grief, and I am arm'd for it. + +JOHN. We'll bring you on your way in hope thus strong: +Time may at length make straight what yet is wrong. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT III. + + + _An Inn_. + + _Enter_ ILFORD, WENTLOE, BARTLEY. + +WEN. He's our own, he's our own! Come, let's make use of his wealth, +as the sun of ice: melt it, melt it. + +ILF. But art sure he will hold his meeting? + +WEN. As sure as I am now, and was dead drunk last night. + +ILF. Why then so sure will I be arrested by a couple of serjeants, and +fall into one of the unlucky cranks about Cheapside, called Counters. + +BAR. Withal, I have provided Master Gripe the usurer, who upon the +instant will be ready to step in, charge the serjeants to keep thee +fast, and that now he will have his five hundred pounds, or thou shalt +rot for it. + +WEN. When it follows, young Scarborow shall be bound for the one; then +take up as much more. We share the one-half, and help him to be drunk +with the other. + +ILF. Ha, ha, ha! + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +BAR. Why dost laugh, Frank? + +ILF. To see that we and usurers live by the fall of young heirs, as +swine by the dropping of acorns. But he's come. Where be these rogues: +shall we have no 'tendance here? + +SCAR. Good day, gentlemen. + +ILF. A thousand good days, my noble bully, and as many good fortunes as +there were grasshoppers in Egypt, and that's covered over with good +luck. But nouns, pronouns and participles! where be these rogues here? +what, shall we have no wine here? + + _Enter_ DRAWER. + +DRAW. Anon, anon, sir. + +ILF. Anon, goodman rascal, must we stay your leisure? give't us by and +by, with a pox to you. + +SCAR. O, do not hurt the fellow. + + [_Exit_ DRAWER. + +ILF. Hurt him! hang him, scrapetrencher, stair-wearer,[381] +wine-spiller, metal-clanker, rogue by generation. Why, dost hear, Will? +If thou dost not use these grape-spillers as you do their pottle-pots, +quoit them down-stairs three or four times at a supper, they'll grow as +saucy with you as serjeants, and make bills more unconscionable than +tailors. + + _Enter_ DRAWER. + +DRAW. Here's the pure and neat grape, gentlemen, I assure you.[382] + +ILF. Fill up: what have you brought here, goodman rogue? + +DRAW. The pure element of claret, sir. + +ILF. Have you so, and did not I call for Rhenish, you mongrel? + + [_Throws the wine in the_ DRAWER'S _face_. + +SCAR. Thou need'st no wine; I prythee, be more mild. + +ILF. Be mild in a tavern? 'tis treason to the red lattice,[383] enemy to +their sign-post, and slave to humour: prythee, let's be mad. + + _Sings this. + + Then fill our heads with wine + Till every pate be drunk, then piss i'the street, + Jostle all you meet, + And swagger with a punk_-- + +As thou wilt do now and then: thank me, thy good master, that brought +thee to it. + +WEN. Nay, he profits well; but the worst is, he will not swear yet. + +SCAR. Do not belie me: if there be any good in me, that's the best. +Oaths are necessary for nothing; they pass out of a man's mouth, like +smoke through a chimney, that files[384] all the way it goes. + +WEN. Why then I think tobacco to be a kind of swearing; for it furs our +nose pockily. + +SCAR. But, come, let's drink ourselves into a stomach afore supper. + +ILF. Agreed. I'll begin with a new health. Fill up. + + _To them that make land fly, + By wines, whores, and a die: + To them that only thrives + By kissing others' wives: + To them that pay for clothes + With nothing but with oaths: + Care not from whom they get, + So they may be in debt. + This health, my hearts! [_Drinks_. + But who their tailors pay, + Borrow, and keep their day, + We'll hold him like this glass, + A brainless, empty ass, + And not a mate for us_. + Drink round, my hearts! + +WEN. An excellent health. + + _Enter_ DRAWER. + +DRAW. Master Ilford, there's a couple of strangers beneath desires to +speak with you. + +ILF. What beards have they? gentlemenlike-beards, or brokerlike-beards? + +DRAW. I am not so well acquainted with the art of face-mending, sir: but +they would speak with you. + +ILF. I'll go down to them. + +WEN. Do; and we'll stay here and drink tobacco.[385] + +SCAR. Thus like a fever that doth shake a man +From strength to weakness, I consume myself. +I know this company, their custom vile, +Hated, abhorr'd of good men, yet like a child +By reason's rule, instructed how to know +Evil from good, I to the worser go. +Why do you suffer this, you upper powers, +That I should surfeit in the sin of taste, +Have sense to feel my mischiefs, yet make waste +Of heaven and earth? +Myself will answer, what myself doth ask. +Who once doth cherish sin, begets his shame, +For vice being foster'd once, comes impudence, +Which makes men count sin custom, not offence: +When all like me their reputation blot, +Pursuing evil, while the good's forgot. + + _Enter_ ILFORD, _led in by a couple of_ SERJEANTS, + _and_ GRIPE _the usurer_. + +SER. Nay, never strive, we can hold you. + +ILF. Ay, me, and the devil too,[386] and he fall into your clutches. +Let go your tugging; as I am a gentleman, I'll be your true prisoner. + +WEN. How now: what's the matter, Frank? + +ILF. I am fallen into the hands of Serjeants: I am arrested. + +BAR. How, arrested? a gentleman in our company? + +ILF. Put up, put up; for sin's sake put up; let's not all sup in the +Counter to night; let me speak with Master Gripe the creditor. + +GRIPE. Well, what say you to me, sir? + +ILF. You have arrested me here, Master Gripe. + +GRIPE. Not I, sir; the serjeants have. + +ILF. But at your suit, Master Gripe: yet hear me, as I am a gentleman. + +GRIPE. I rather you could say as you were an honest man, and then I +might believe you. + +ILF. Yet hear me. + +GRIPE. Hear me no hearing; I lent you my money for goodwill. + +ILF. And I spent it for mere necessity. I confess I owe you five hundred +pound, and I confess I owe not a penny to any man, but he would be glad +to ha't [on my word]: my bond you have already, Master Gripe; if you +will, now take my word. + +GRIPE. Word me no words! officers, look to your prisoner. If you cannot +either make me present payment, or put me in security--such as I shall +like, too-- + +ILF. Such as you shall like, too: what say you to this young gentleman? +he is the widgeon that we must feed upon. [_Aside_.] + +GRIPE. Who, young Master Scarborow? he's an honest gentleman for aught I +know; I ne'er lost a penny by him. + +ILF. I would be ashamed any man should say so by me, that I have had +dealings withal [_Aside_]: but, my enforced friends, will't please you +but to retire into some small distance, whilst I descend with a few +words to these gentlemen, and I'll commit myself into your merciless +hands immediately. + +SER. Well, sir, we'll wait upon you. [_They retire_. + +ILF. Gentlemen, I am to prefer some conference and especially to you, +Master Scarborow: our meeting here for your mirth hath proved to me thus +adverse, that in your companies I am arrested. How ill it will stand +with the flourish of your reputations, when men of rank and note +communicate that I, Frank Ilford, gentleman, whose fortunes may +transcend to make ample gratuities future, and heap satisfaction for any +present extension of his friends' kindness, was enforced from the Mitre +in Bread Street to the Counter in the Poultry. For mine own part, if +you shall think it meet, and that it shall accord with the state of +gentry to submit myself from the feather-bed in the master's side[387] +or the flock-bed in the knight's ward, to the straw-bed in the hole, I +shall buckle to my heels, instead of gilt spurs, the armour of patience, +and do't. + +WEN. Come, come, what a pox need all this! this is _mellis flora_, the +sweetest of the honey: he that was not made to fat cattle, but to feed +gentlemen. + +BAR. You wear good clothes. + +WEN. Are well-descended. + +BAR. Keep the best company. + +WEN. Should regard your credit. + +BAR. Stand not upon't, be bound, be bound. + +WEN. Ye are richly married. + +BAR. Love not your wife. + +WEN. Have store of friends. + +BAR. Who shall be your heir? + +WEN. The son of some slave. + +BAR. Some groom. + +WEN. Some horse-keeper. + +BAR. Stand not upon't; be bound, be bound. + +SCAR. Well, at your importunance,[388] for once I'll stretch my purse; +Who's born to sink, as good this way as worse. + +WEN. Now speaks my bully like a gentleman of worth. + +BAR. Of merit. + +WEN. Fit to be regarded. + +BAR. That shall command our souls. + +WEN. Our swords. + +BAR. Ourselves. + +ILF. To feed upon you, as Pharaoh's lean kine did upon the fat. + [_Aside_.] + +SCAR. Master Gripe, is my bond current for this gentleman? + +ILF. Good security, you Egyptian grasshopper, good security. + [_Aside_.] + +GRIPE. And for as much more, kind Master Scarborow, +Provided that men, mortal as we are, +May have-- + +SCAR. May have security. + +GRIPE. Your bond with land conveyed, which may assure me of mine own +again. + +SCAR. You shall be satisfied, and I'll become your debtor +For full five hundred more than he doth owe you. +This night we sup here; bear us company, +And bring your counsel, scrivener, and the money +With you, where I will make as full assurance +As in the law you'd wish. + +GRIPE. I take your word, sir, +And so discharge you of your prisoner. + +ILF. Why then let's come +And take up a new room, the infected hath spit in this. +He that hath store of coin wants not a friend; +Thou shalt receive, sweet rogue, and we will spend. + + [_Aside. Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +JOHN. Brother, you see the extremity of want +Enforceth us to question for our own, +The rather that we see, not like a brother, +Our brother keeps from us to spend on other. + +THOM. True, he has in his hands our portions--the patrimony which our +father gave us, with which he lies fatting himself with sack and +sugar[389] in the house, and we are fain to walk with lean purses +abroad. Credit must be maintained, which will not be without money; good +clothes must be had, which will not be without money; company must be +kept, which will not be without money; all which we must have, and from +him we will have money. + +JOHN. Besides, we have brought our sister to this town, +That she herself, having her own from him, +Might bring herself in court to be preferr'd +Under some noble personage; or else that he, +Whose friends are great in court by his late match, +As he is in nature bound, provide for her. + +THOM. And he shall do it, brother, though we have waited at his lodging +longer than a tailor's bill on a young knight for an old reckoning, +without speaking with him. Here we know he is, and we will call him to +parley. + +JOHN. Yet let us do't in mild and gentle terms; +Fair words perhaps may sooner draw our own +Than rougher course,[390] by which is mischief grown. + + _Enter_ DRAWER. + +DRAW. Anon, anon. Look down into the Dolphin[391] there. + +THOM. Here comes a drawer, we will question him. Do you hear, my friend? +is not Master Scarborow here? + +DRAW. Here, sir! what a jest is that! where should he be else? I would +have you well know my master hopes to grow rich,[392] before he leave +him. + +JOHN. How long hath he continued here, since he came hither? + +DRAW. Faith, sir, not so long as Noah's flood, yet long enough to have +drowned up the livings of three knights, as knights go nowadays--some +month, or thereabouts. + +JOHN. Time ill-consum'd to ruinate our house; +But what are they that keep him company? + +DRAW. Pitch, pitch; but I must not say so; but, for your further +satisfaction, did you ever see a young whelp and a lion play together? + +JOHN. Yes. + +DRAW. Such is Master Scarborow's company.[393] + [_Within, Oliver_! +Anon, anon, look down to the Pomegranate[394] there. + +THOM. I prythee, say here's them would speak with him. + +DRAW. I'll do your message. Anon, anon, there. + [_Exit_. + +JOHN. This fool speaks wiser than he is aware. +Young heirs left in this town, where sin's so rank, +And prodigals gape to grow fat by them, +Are like young whelps thrown in the lions' den, +Who play with them awhile, at length devour them. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +SCAR. Who's there would speak with me? + +JOHN. Your brothers, who are glad to see you well. + +SCAR. Well. + +JOHN. 'Tis not your riot, that we hear you use +With such as waste their goods, as tire[395] the world +With a continual spending, nor that you keep +The company of a most leprous rout, +Consumes your body's wealth, infects your name +With such plague sores that, had you reason's eye, +'Twould make you sick to see you visit them-- +Hath drawn us, but our wants to crave the due +Our father gave, and yet remains with you. + +THOM. Our birthright, good brother; this town craves maintenance; silk +stockings must be had, and we would be loth our heritage should be +arraigned at the vintner's bar, and so condemned to the vintner's box. +Though, while you did keep house, we had some belly timber at your table +or so; yet we would have you think we are your brothers, yet no Esaus, +to sell our patrimony for porridge. + +SCAR. So, so; what hath your coming else? + +JOHN. With us our sister joins in our request, +Whom we have brought along with us to London, +To have her portion, wherewith to provide +An honour'd service or an honest bride. + +SCAR. So then you two my brothers, and she my sister, come not, as in +duty you are bound, to an elder brother out of Yorkshire to see us, but +like leeches to suck from us. + +JOHN. We come compelled by want to crave our own. + +SCAR. Sir, for your own? then thus be satisfied, +Both hers and yours were left in trust with me, +And I will keep it for ye: must you appoint us, +Or what we please to like mix with reproof? +You have been too saucy both, and you shall know +I'll curb you for it: ask why? I'll have it so. + +JOHN. We do but crave our own. + +SCAR. Your own, sir? what's your own? + +THOM. Our portions given us by our father's will. + +JOHN. Which here you spend. + +THOM. Consume. + +JOHN. Ways worse than ill. + +SCAR. Ha, ha, ha! + + _Enter_ ILFORD. + +ILF. Nay, nay, nay, Will: prythee, come away, we have a full gallon of +sack stays in the fire for thee. Thou must pledge it to the health of a +friend of thine. + +SCAR. What dost think these are, Frank? + +ILF. Who? They are fiddlers, I think. If they be, I prythee send them +into the next room, and let them scrape there, and we'll send to them +presently. + +SCAR. They are my brothers, Frank, come out of Yorkshire +To the tavern here, to ask their portions: +They call my pleasures riots, my company leprous; +And like a schoolboy they would tutor me. + +ILF. O, thou shouldst have done well to have bound them 'prentices when +they were young; they would have made a couple of good saucy tailors. + +THOM. Tailors? + +ILF. Ay, birdlime tailors. Tailors are good men, and in the term-time +they wear good clothes. Come, you must learn more manners: as to stand +at your brother's back, to shift a trencher neatly, and take a cup of +sack and a capon's leg contentedly. + +THOM. You are a slave, +That feeds upon my brother like a fly, +Poisoning where thou dost suck. + +SCAR. You lie. + +JOHN. O (to my grief I speak it), you shall find +There's no more difference in a tavern-haunter +Than is between a spital and a beggar. + +THOM. Thou work'st on him like tempests on a ship. + +JOHN. And he the worthy traffic that doth sink. + +THOM. Thou mak'st his name more loathesome than a grave. + +JOHN. Livest like a dog by vomit. + +THOM. Die a slave! + + [_Here they draw_, WENTLOE _and_ BARTLEY _come in, and the + two vintner's boys with clubs. All set upon the two brothers_. + BUTLER, _Scarborow's man, comes in, stands by, sees them fight, + takes part with neither_. + +BUT. Do, fight. I love you all well, because you were my old master's +sons, but I'll neither part you, nor be partaker with you. I come to +bring my master news; he hath two sons born at a birth in Yorkshire, and +I find him together by the ears with his brothers in a tavern in London. +Brother and brother at odds, 'tis naught: sure it was not thus in the +days of charity. What's this world like to? Faith, just like an +innkeeper's chamber-pot, receives all waters, good and bad. It had need +of much scouring. My old master kept a good house, and twenty or thirty +tall sword-and-buckler men about him, and i'faith his son differs not +much, he will have metal too; though he hath not store of cutler's +blades, he will have plenty of vintner's pots. His father kept a good +house for honest men his tenants, that brought him in part; and his son +keeps a bad house with knaves that help to consume all. 'Tis but the +change of time; why should any man repine at it? Crickets, good, loving, +and lucky worms, were wont to feed, sing, and rejoice in the father's +chimney, and now carrion crows build in the son's kitchen. I could be +sorry for it, but I am too old to weep. Well then, I will go tell him +news of his offspring. + [_Exit. + + _Enter the two brothers_, THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW, + _hurt, and_ SISTER. + +SIS. Alas! good brothers, how came this mischance? + +THOM. Our portions, our brother hath given us our portions, sister, +hath he not? + +SIS. He would not be so monstrous, I am sure. + +JOHN. Excuse him not; he is more degenerate, +Than greedy vipers that devour their mother, +They eat on her but to preserve themselves, +And he consumes himself, and beggars us. +A tavern is his inn, where amongst slaves +He kills his substance, making pots the graves +To bury that which our forefather's gave. +I ask'd him for our portions, told him that you +Were brought to London, and we were in want; +Humbly we crav'd our own; when his reply +Was, he knew none we had: beg, starve, or die. + +SIS. Alas! +What course is left us to live by, then? + +THOM. In troth, sister, we two to beg in the fields, +And you to betake yourself to the old trade, +Filling of small cans in the suburbs. + +SIS. Shall I be left then like a common road, +That every beast that can but pay his toll +May travel over, and, like to camomile,[396] +Flourish the better being trodden on. + + _Enter_ BUTLER, _bleeding_. + +BUT. Well, I will not curse him: he feeds now upon sack and anchovies, +with a pox to him: but if he be not fain, before he dies, to eat +acorns, let me live with nothing but pollard, and my mouth be made a +cucking-stool for every scold to set her tail on. + +THOM. How now, butler, what's the meaning of this? + +BUT. Your brother means to lame as many as he can, that when he is a +beggar himself, he may live with them in the hospital. His wife sent me +out of Yorkshire to tell him that God had blessed him with two sons; he +bids a plague of them, a vengeance of her, crosses me o'er the pate, and +sends me to the surgeon's to seek salve: I looked, at least he should +have given me a brace of angels for my pains. + +THOM. Thou hast not lost all thy longing; I am sure he hath given thee a +cracked crown! + +BUT. A plague on his fingers! I cannot tell, he is your brother and my +master; I would be loth to prophesy of him; but whosoe'er doth curse his +children being infants, ban his wife lying in childbed, and beats his +man brings him news of it, they may be born rich, but they shall live +slaves, be knaves, and die beggars. + +SIS. Did he do so? + +BUT. Guess you? he bid a plague of them, a vengeance on her, and sent me +to the surgeon's. + +SIS. Why then I see there is no hope of him; +Some husbands are respectless of their wives, +During the time that they are issueless; +But none with infants bless'd can nourish hate, +But love the mother for the children's sake. + +JOHN. But he that is given over unto sin, +Leproused therewith without, and so within-- +O butler, we were issue to one father! + +BUT. And he was an honest gentleman. + +JOHN. Whose hopes were better than the son he left +Should set so soon unto his house's shame. +He lives in taverns, spending of his wealth, +And here his brothers and distressed sister, +Not having any means to help us with. + +THOM. Not a Scots baubee (by this hand) to bless us with. + +JOHN. And not content to riot out his own, +But he detains our portions, suffers us +In this strange air, open to every wrack, +Whilst he in riot swims to be in lack. + +BUT. The more's the pity. + +SIS. I know not what in course to take me to; +Honestly I fain would live, what shall I do? + +BUT. Sooth, I'll tell you; your brother hath hurt us; we three will hurt +you, and then go all to a 'spital together. + +SIS. Jest not at her whose burden is too grievous, +But rather lend a means how to relieve us. + +BUT. Well, I do pity you, and the rather because you say you would fain +live honest, and want means for it; for I can tell you 'tis as strange +here to see a maid fair, poor, and honest, as to see a collier with a +clean face. Maids here do live (especially without maintenance) +Like mice going to a trap, +They nibble long, at last they get a clap. +Your father was my good benefactor, and gave me a house whilst I live +to put my head in: I would be loth then to see his only daughter, for +want of means, turn punk. I have a drift to keep you honest, have you a +care to keep yourself so: yet you shall not know of it, for women's +tongues are like sieves, they will hold nothing they have power to vent. +You two will further me? + +JOHN. In anything, good honest Butler. + +THOM. If't be to take a purse, I'll be one. + +BUT. Perhaps thou speakest righter than thou art aware of. Well, as +chance is, I have received my wages; there is forty shillings for you, +I'll set you in a lodging, and till you hear from us, let that provide +for you: we'll first to the surgeon's. + + To keep you honest, and to keep you brave, + For once an honest man will turn a knave. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW, _having a boy carrying a torch + with him_: ILFORD, WENTLOE, _and_ BARTLEY. + +SCAR. Boy, bear the torch fair: now am I armed to fight with a windmill, +and to take the wall of an emperor; much drink, no money: a heavy head +and a light pair of heels. + +WEN. O, stand, man. + +SCAR. I were an excellent creature to make a punk of; I should down with +the least touch of a knave's finger. Thou hast made a good night of +this: what hast won, Frank? + +ILF. A matter of nothing, some hundred pounds. + +SCAR. This is the hell of all gamesters. I think, when they are at play, +the board eats up the money; for if there be five hundred pound lost, +there's never but a hundred pounds won. Boy, take the wall of any man: +and yet by light such deeds of darkness may not be. + + [_Put out the torch_. + +WEN. What dost mean by that, Will? + +SCAR. To save charge, and walk like a fury with a firebrand in my hand: +every one goes by the light, and we'll go by the smoke. + + _Enter_ LORD FALCONBRIDGE. + +SCAR. Boy, keep the wall: I will not budge[397] for any man, by these +thumbs; and the paring of the nails shall stick in thy teeth. Not for a +world. + +LORD. Who's this? young Scarborow? + +SCAR. The man that the mare rid on. + +LORD. Is this the reverence that you owe to me. + +SCAR. You should have brought me up better. + +LORD. That vice should thus transform man to a beast! + +SCAR. Go to, your name's lord; I'll talk with you, when you're out of +debt and have better clothes. + +LORD. I pity thee even with my very soul. + +SCAR. Pity i' thy throat! I can drink muscadine and eggs, and mulled +sack; do you hear? you put a piece of turned stuff upon me, but I +will-- + +LORD. What will you do, sir? + +SCAR. Piss in thy way, and that's no slander. + +LORD. Your sober blood will teach you otherwise. + + _Enter_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW. + +SIR WIL. My honoured lord, you're happily well-met. + +LORD. Ill met to see your nephew in this case, +More like a brute beast than a gentleman. + +SIR WIL. Fie, nephew! shame you not thus to transform yourself? + +SCAR. Can your nose smell a torch? + +ILF. Be not so wild; it is thine uncle Scarborow. + +SCAR. Why then 'tis the more likely 'tis my father's brother. + +SIR WIL. Shame to our name to make thyself a beast, +Thy body worthy born, and thy youth's breast +Till'd in due time for better discipline. + +LORD. Thyself new-married to a noble house, +Rich in possessions and posterity, +Which should call home thy unstay'd affections. + +SIR WIL. Where thou mak'st havoc. + +LORD. Riot, spoil, and waste. + +SIR WIL. Of what thy father left. + +LORD. And livest disgraced. + +SCAR. I'll send you shorter to heaven than you came to the earth. Do you +catechise? do you catechise? [_He draws, and strikes at them_. + +ILF. Hold, hold! do you draw upon your uncle? + +SCAR. Pox of that lord! +We'll meet at th'Mitre, where we'll sup down sorrow, +We are drunk to-night, and so we'll be to-morrow. + + [_Exeunt_. + +LORD. Why, now I see: what I heard of, I believed not, +Your kinsman lives-- + +SIR WIL. Like to a swine. + +LORD. A perfect Epythite,[398] he feeds on draff, +And wallows in the mire, to make men laugh: +I pity him. + +SIR WIL. No pity's fit for him. + +LORD. Yet we'll advise him. + +SIR WIL. He is my kinsman. + +LORD. Being in the pit, where many do fall in, +We will both comfort him and counsel him. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT IV. + + _A noise within, crying Follow, follow, follow! then enter_ + BUTLER, THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW, _with money-bags_. + +THOM. What shall we do now, butler? + +BUT. A man had better line a good handsome pair of gallows before his +time, than be born to do these sucklings good, their mother's milk not +wrung out of their nose yet; they know no more how to behave themselves +in this honest and needful calling of pursetaking, than I do to piece +stockings. + +WITHIN. This way, this way, this way! + +BOTH. 'Sfoot, what shall we do now? + +BUT. See if they do not quake like a trembling asp-leaf, and look more +miserable than one of the wicked elders pictured in the painted +cloth.[399] Should they but come to the credit to be arraigned for their +valour before a worshipful bench, their very looks would hang 'em, and +they were indicted but for stealing of eggs. + +WITHIN. Follow, follow! This way! Follow! + +THOM. Butler. + +JOHN. Honest butler. + +BUT. Squat, heart, squat, creep me into these bushes, and lie me as +close to the ground as you would do to a wench. + +THOM. How, good butler? show us how. + +BUT. By the moon, patroness of all pursetakers, who would be troubled +with such changelings? squat, heart, squat. + +THOM. Thus, butler? + +BUT. Ay so, suckling, so; stir not now: if the peering rogues chance to +go over you, yet stir not: younger brothers call you them, and have no +more forecast, I am ashamed of you. These are such whose fathers had +need leave them money, even to make them ready withal; for, by these +hilts, they have not wit to button their sleeves without teaching: +close, squat, close. Now if the lot of hanging do fall to my share, so; +then the old father's[400] man drops for his young masters. If it +chance, it chances; and when it chances, heaven and the sheriff send me +a good rope! I would not go up the ladder twice for anything: in the +meantime preventions, honest preventions do well, off with my skin; so; +you on the ground, and I to this tree, to escape the gallows. + [_Ascends a tree_.] + +WITHIN. Follow, follow, follow! + +BUT. Do: follow. If I do not deceive you, I'll bid a pox of this wit, +and hang with a good grace. + + _Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP, _with two or three others with him_. + +HAR. Up to this wood they took: search near, my friends, I am this morn +robbed of three hundred pound. + +BUT. I am sorry there was not four to make even money. Now, by the +devil's horns, 'tis Sir John Harcop. + +HAR. Leave not a bush unbeat nor tree unsearch'd; +As sure as I was robb'd, the thieves went this way. + +BUT. There's nobody, I perceive, but may lie at some time, for one of +them climbed this way. + +1ST MAN. Stand, I hear a voice; and here's an owl in an ivy-bush. + +BUT. You lie, 'tis an old servingman in a nut-tree. + +2D MAN. Sirrah, sir, what make you in that tree? + +BUT. Gathering of nuts, that such fools as you are may crack the shells, +and I eat the kernels. + +HAR. What fellow's that? + +BUT. Sir John Harcop, my noble knight; I am glad of your good health; +you bear your age fair, you keep a good house, I have fed at your board, +and been drunk in your buttery. + +HAR. But sirrah, sirrah, what made you in that tree? +My man and I, at foot of yonder hill, +Were by three knaves robb'd of three hundred pound. + +BUT. A shrewd loss, by'r Lady, sir; but your good worship may now see +the fruit of being miserable: you will ride but with one man to save +horse-meat and man's meat at your inn at night, and lose three hundred +pound in a morning. + +HAR. Sirrah, I say I have lost three hundred pound. + +BUT. And I say, sir, I wish all miserable knights might be served so; +for had you kept half a dozen tall fellows, as a man of your coat should +do, they would have helped now to keep your money. + +HAR. But tell me, sir, why lurked you in that tree? + +BUT. Marry, I will tell you, sir. Coming to the top of the hill where +you (right worshipful) were robbed at the bottom, and seeing some +a-scuffling together, my mind straight gave me there were knaves abroad: +now, sir, I knowing myself to be old, tough, and unwieldy, not being +able to do as I would, as much as to say rescue you (right +worshipful)--I, like an honest man, one of the king's liege people, and +a good subject-- + +SER. But he says well, sir. + +BUT. Got me up to the top of that tree: the tree (if it could speak) +would bear me witness, that there I might see which way the knaves took, +then to tell you of it, and you right worshipfully to send hue and[401] +cry after them. + +HAR. Was it so? + +BUT. Nay, 'twas so, sir. + +HAR. Nay, then, I tell thee they took into this wood. + +BUT. And I tell thee (setting thy worship's knighthood aside) he lies in +his throat that says so: had not one of them a white frock? did they not +bind your worship's knighthood by the thumbs? then faggoted you and the +fool your man back to back. + +MAN. He says true. + +BUT. Why, then, so truly came not they into this wood, but took over the +lawns, and left Winnowe steeple on the left hand. + +HAR. It may be so. By this they are out of reach; +Well, farewell it. + +BUT. Ride with more men, good knight. + +HAR. It shall teach me wit. + + [_Exit_. HARCOP _with followers_. + +BUT. So, if this be not played a weapon beyond a scholar's prize, let me +be hissed at. Now to the next. Come out, you hedgehogs! + +THOM. O butler! thou deserv'st to be chronicled for this. + +BUT. Do not belie me, if I had any right, I deserve to be hanged for't. +But come, down with your dust, our morning's purchase.[402] + +THOM. Here 'tis; thou hast played well; thou deserv'st two shares in it. + +BUT. Three hundred pound! a pretty breakfast: many a man works hard all +his days, and never sees half the money. But come, though it be badly +got, it shall be better bestowed. But do ye hear, gallants? I have not +taught you this trade to get your livings by. Use it not; for if you +do, though I 'scaped by the nut-tree, be sure you'll speed by the rope. +But for your pains at this time, there's a hundred pounds for you; how +you shall bestow it, I'll give you instructions. But do you hear? look +ye, go not to your gills, your punks, and your cock-tricks with it. If I +hear you do, as I am an honest thief, though I helped you now out of the +briars, I'll be a means yet to help you to the gallows. How the rest +shall be employed, I have determined, and by the way I'll make you +acquainted with it. +To steal is bad, but taken, where is store; +The fault's the less, being done to help the poor. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ WENTLOE, BARTLEY, _and_ ILFORD _with a letter in his hand_. + +ILF. Sure, I have said my prayers, and lived virtuously o' late, that +this good fortune's befallen me. Look, gallants, I am sent for to come +down to my father's burial. + +WEN. But dost mean to go? + +ILF. Troth, no; I'll go down to take possession of his land: let the +country bury him, and they will. I'll stay here a while, to save charge +at his funeral. + +BAR. And how dost feel thyself, Frank, now thy father is dead? + +ILF. As I did before, with my hands; how should I feel myself else? but +I'll tell you news, gallants. + +WEN. What's that? dost mean now to serve God? + +ILF. Faith, partly; for I intend shortly to go to church, and from +thence do faithful service to one woman. + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +BUT. Good! I have met my flesh-hooks together. [_Aside_.] + +BAR. What, dost mean to be married? + +ILF. Ay, mongrel, married. + +BUT. That's a bait for me. [_Aside_.] + +ILF. I will now be honestly married. + +WEN. It's impossible, for thou hast been a whoremaster this seven year. + +ILF. 'Tis no matter; I will now marry, and to some honest woman too; and +so from hence her virtues shall be a countenance to my vices. + +BAR. What shall she be, prythee? + +ILF. No lady, no widow, nor no waiting gentlewoman, for under protection +Ladies may lard their husbands' heads, +Widows will woodcocks make, +And chambermaids of servingmen +Learn that they'll never forsake. + +WEN. Who wilt thou wed then, prythee? + +ILF. To any maid, so she be fair: +To any maid, so she be rich: +To any maid, so she be young: +And to any maid-- + +BAR. So she be honest. + +ILF. Faith, it's no great matter for her honesty, for in these days +that's a dowry out of request. + +BUT. From these crabs will I gather sweetness: wherein I'll imitate the +bee, that sucks her honey, not from the sweetest flowers, but [from] +thyme, the bitterest: so these having been the means to beggar my +master, shall be the helps to relieve his brothers and sister. + [_Aside_.] + +ILF. To whom shall I now be a suitor? + +BUT. Fair fall ye, gallants. + +ILF. Nay, and she be fair, she shall fall sure enough. Butler, how +is't, good butler? + +BUT. Will you be made gallants? + +WEN. Ay, but not willingly cuckolds, though we are now talking about +wives. + +BUT. Let your wives agree of that after: will you first be richly +married? + +ALL. How, butler? richly married? + +BUT. Rich in beauty, rich in purse, rich in virtue, rich in all things. +But mum, I'll say nothing, I know of two or three rich heirs. But +cargo![403] my fiddlestick cannot play without rosin: avaunt. + +WEN. Butler. + +ILF. Dost not know me, butler? + +BUT. For kex,[404] dried kex, that in summer has been so liberal to +fodder other men's cattle, and scarce have enough to keep your own in +winter. Mine are precious cabinets, and must have precious jewels put +into them, and I know you to be merchants of stock-fish, dry-meat,[405] +and not men for my market: then vanish. + +ILF. Come, ye old madcap, you: what need all this? cannot a man have +been a little whoremaster in his youth, but you must upbraid him with +it, and tell him of his defects which, when he is married, his wife +shall find in him? Why, my father's dead, man, now; who by his death has +left me the better part of a thousand a year. + +BUT. Tut, she of Lancashire has fifteen hundred. + +ILF. Let me have her then, good butler. + +BUT. And then she, the bright beauty of Leicestershire, has a thousand, +nay, thirteen hundred a year, at least. + +ILF. O, let me have her, honest butler. + +BUT. Besides, she the most delicate, sweet countenanced, black-browed +gentlewoman in Northamptonshire, in substance equals the best of them. + +ILF. Let me have her then. + +BAR. Or I. + +WEN. Or I, good butler. + +BUT. You were best play the parts of right fools and most desperate +whoremasters, and go together by the ears for them, ere ye see them. +But they are the most rare-featured, well-faced, excellent-spoke, +rare-qualitied, virtuous, and worthy-to-be-admired gentlewomen. + +ALL. And rich, butler? + +BUT. Ay, that must be one, though they want all the rest [_Aside_]; +--and rich, gallants, as are from the utmost parts of Asia to the +present confines of Europe. + +ALL. And wilt thou help us to them, butler? + +BUT. Faith, 'tis to be doubted; for precious pearl will hardly be bought +without precious stones, and I think there's scarce one indifferent one +to be found betwixt you three: yet since there is some hope ye may prove +honest, as by the death of your fathers you are proved rich, walk +severally; for I, knowing you all three to be covetous tug-muttons, will +not trust you with the sight of each other's beauty, but will severally +talk with you: and since you have deigned in this needful portion of +wedlock to be ruled by me, Butler will most bountifully provide wives +for you generally. + +ALL. Why, that's honestly said. [_He walks with each apart_. + +BUT. Why so: and now first to you, sir knight. + +ILF. Godamercy. + +BUT. You see this couple of abominable woodcocks here. + +ILF. A pox on them! absolute coxcombs. + +BUT. You heard me tell them I had intelligence to give of three +gentlewomen. + +ILF. True. + +BUT. Now indeed, sir, I have but the performance of one. + +ILF. Good. + +BUT. And her I do intend for you, only for you. + +ILF. Honest butler. + +BUT. Now, sir, she being but lately come to this town, and so nearly +watched by the jealous eyes of her friends, she being a rich heir,[406] +lest she should be stolen away by some dissolute prodigal or +desperate-estated spendthrift, as you have been, sir-- + +ILF. O, but that's passed, butler. + +BUT. True, I know't, and intend now but to make use of them, flatter +them with hopeful promises, and make them needful instruments. + +ILF. To help me to the wench? + +BUT. You have hit it--which thus must be effected: first by keeping +close your purpose. + +ILF. Good. + +BUT. Also concealing from them the lodging, beauty, and riches of your +new, but admirable mistress. + +ILF. Excellent. + +BUT. Of which your following happiness if they should know, either in +envy of your good or hope of their own advancement, they'd make our +labours known to the gentlewoman's uncles, and so our benefit be +frustrate. + +ILF. Admirable, butler. + +BUT. Which done, all's but this: being, as you shall be, brought into +her company, and by my praising your virtues, you get possession of her +love, one morning step to the Tower, or to make all sure, hire some +stipendiary priest for money--for money in these days what will not be +done, and what will not a man do for a rich wife?--and with him make no +more ado but marry her in her lodging, and being married, lie with her, +and spare not. + +ILF. Do they not see us, do they not see us? let me kiss thee, let me +kiss thee, butler! let but this be done, and all the benefit, requital +and happiness I can promise thee for't, shall be this--I'll be thy rich +master, and thou shalt carry my purse. + +BUT. Enough, meet me at her lodging some half an hour hence: hark, she +lies--[407] + +ILF. I ha't. + +BUT. Fail not. + +ILF. Will I live? + +BUT. I will, but shift off these two rhinoceros. + +ILF. Widgeons, widgeons: a couple of gulls! + +BUT. With some discourse of hope to wive them too, and be with you +straight. + +ILF. Blessed day! my love shall be thy cushion, honest butler. + [_Exit_. + +BUT. So now to my t'other gallants. + +WEN. O butler, we have been in passion at thy tediousness. + +BUT. Why, look you, I had all this talk for your good! + +BAR. Hadst? + +BUT. For you know the knight is but a scurvy-proud-prating prodigal, +licentious, unnecessary-- + +WEN. An ass, an ass, an ass. + +BUT. Now you heard me tell him I had three wenches in store. + +BAR. And he would have had them all, would he? + +BUT. Hear me. Though he may live to be an ox, he had not now so much of +the goat in him, but only hopes for one of the three, when indeed I have +but two; and knowing you to be men of more virtue, and dearer in my +respect, intend them to be yours. + +WEN. We shall honour thee. + +BAR. But how, butler? + +BUT. I am now going to their place of residence, situate in the choicest +place of the city, and at the sign of the Wolf, just against Goldsmith's +Row, where you shall meet me; but ask not for me, only walk to and fro, +and to avoid suspicion you may spend some conference with the +shopkeeper's wives[408]; they have seats built a purpose for such +familiar entertainment--where, from a bay-window[409] which is opposite, +I will make you known to your desired beauties, commend the good parts +you have-- + +WEN. By the mass, mine are very few. [_Aside_.] + +BUT. And win a kind of desire, as women are soon won, to make you be +beloved; where you shall first kiss, then woo, at length wed, and at +last bed, my noble hearts. + +BOTH. O butler! + +BUT. Wenches, bona robas[410], blessed beauties, without colour or +counterfeit. Away, put on your best clothes, get you to the barber's, +curl up your hair, walk with the best struts you can: you shall see more +at the window, and I have vowed to make you-- + +BAR. Wilt thou? + +BUT. Both fools [_Aside_]; and I'll want of my wit, but I'll do't. + +BAR. We will live together as fellows. + +WEN. As brothers. + [_Exeunt_. + +BUT. As arrant knaves, if I keep you company. +O, the most wretched season of this time! +These men, like fish, do swim within one stream, +Yet they'd eat one another, making no conscience +To drink with them they'd poison; no offence +Betwixt their thoughts and actions has control, +But headlong run, like an unbiass'd bowl. +Yet I will draw[411] them on; but like to him, +At play knows how to lose, and when to win. + + _Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +THOM. Butler. + +BUT. O, are you come, +And fit as I appointed? so, 'tis well, +You know your cues, and have instructions +How to bear yourselves: all, all is fit, +Play but your part, your states from hence are firm. + [_Exit_. + +JOHN. What shall I term this creature? not a man, + + [_Betwixt this_ BUTLER _leads_ ILFORD _in_. + +He's not of mortal's temper, but he's one +Made all of goodness, though of flesh and bone: +O brother, brother, but for that honest man, +As near to misery had been our breath, +As where the thundering pellet strikes, is death. + +THOM. Ay, my shift of shirts and change of clothes know't. + +JOHN. We'll tell of him, like bells whose music rings +On coronation-day for joy of kings, +That hath preserv'd their steeples, not like tolls, +That summons living tears for the dead souls. + + _Enter_ BUTLER _and_ ILFORD _above_[412]. + +BUT. God's precious, see the hell, sir: even as you had new-kissed, and +were about to court her, if her uncles be not come. + +ILF. A plague on the spite on't. + +BUT. But 'tis no matter, sir; stay you here in this upper chamber, and +I'll stay beneath with her: 'tis ten to one you shall hear them talk now +of the greatness of her possessions, the care they have to see her +well-bestowed, the admirableness of her virtues, all which for all their +coming shall be but happiness ordained for you, and by my means be your +inheritance. + +ILF. Then thou'lt shift them away, and keep me from the sight of them? + +BUT. Have I not promised to make you? + +ILF. Thou hast. + +BUT. Go to, then, rest here with patience, and be confident in my trust; +only in my absence you may praise God for the blessedness you have to +come, and say your prayers, if you will. I'll but prepare her heart for +entertainment of your love, dismiss them for your free access, and +return straight. + +ILF. Honest-blessed-natural-friend, thou dealest with me like a brother, +butler. [_Exit_ BUTLER.] Sure, heaven hath reserved this man to wear +grey hairs to do me good. Now will I listen--listen close to suck in her +uncles' words with a rejoicing ear. + +THOM. As we were saying, brother[413], +Where shall we find a husband for my niece? + +ILF. Marry, she shall find one here, though you little know't. Thanks, +thanks, honest butler. + +JOHN. She is rich in money, plate, and jewels. + +ILF. Comfort, comfort to my soul. + +THOM. Hath all her manor-houses richly furnished. + +ILF. Good, good; I'll find employment for them. + +BUT. _within_. Speak loud enough, that he may hear you. + +JOHN. I take her estate to be about a thousand pound a year. + +ILF. And that which my father hath left me will make it about fifteen +hundred. Admirable! + +JOHN. In debt to no man: then must our natural care be, +As she is wealthy, to see her married well. + +ILF. And that she shall be as well as the priest can; he shall not leave +a word out. + +THOM. I think she has-- + +ILF. What, a God's name? + +THOM. About four thousand pound in her great chest. + +ILF. And I'll find a vent for't, I hope. + +JOHN. She is virtuous, and she is fair. + +ILF. And she were foul, being rich, I would be glad of her. + +BUT. Pish, pish! + +JOHN. Come, we'll go visit her, but with this care, +That to no spendthrift we do marry her. + + [_Exeunt_. + +ILF. You may chance be deceived, old greybeards; here's he will spend +some of it; thanks, thanks, honest butler! Now do I see the happiness of +my future estate. I walk me as to-morrow, being the day after my +marriage, with my fourteen men in livery-cloaks after me, and step to +the wall in some chief streets of the city, though I have no occasion to +use it, that the shopkeepers may take notice how many followers stand +bare to me. And yet in this latter age, the keeping of men being not in +request, I will turn my aforesaid fourteen into two pages and two +coaches. I will get myself into grace at court, run headlong into debt, +and then look scurvily upon the city. I will walk you into the presence +in the afternoon, having put on a richer suit than I wore in the +morning, and call, boy or sirrah. I will have the grace of some great +lady, though I pay for't, and at the next triumphs run a-tilt, that when +I run my course, though I break not my lance, she may whisper to +herself, looking upon my jewel: well-run, my knight. I will now keep +great horses, scorning to have a queen to keep me; indeed I will +practise all the gallantry in use; for by a wife comes all my happiness. + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +BUT. Now, sir, you have heard her uncles, and how do you like them? + +ILF. O butler, they have made good thy words, and I am ravished with +them. + +BUT. And having seen and kissed the gentlewoman, how do you like her? + +ILF. O butler, beyond discourse, beyond any element; she's a paragon for +a prince, rather than a fit implement for a gentleman.[414] + +BUT. Well then, since you like her, and by my means, she shall like you, +nothing rests now, but to have you married. + +ILF. True, butler, but withal to have her portion! + +BUT. Tut, that's sure yours, when you are married once, for 'tis hers by +inheritance; but do you love her? + +ILF. O, with my soul. + +BUT. Have you sworn as much? + +ILF. To thee, to her; and have called heaven to witness. + +BUT. How shall I know that? + +ILF. Butler, here I protest, make vows irrevocable. + +BUT. Upon your knees? + +ILF. Upon my knees, with my heart and soul I love her. + +BUT. Will live with her? + +ILF. Will live with her. + +BUT. Marry her and maintain her? + +ILF. Marry her and maintain her. + +BUT. For her forsake all other women? + +ILF. Nay, for her forswear all other women. + +BUT. In all degrees of love? + +ILF. In all degrees of love, either to court, kiss, give private +favours, or use private means. I'll do nothing that married men, being +close whoremasters, do, so I may have her. + +BUT. And yet you, having been an open whoremaster, I will not believe +you till I hear you swear as much in the way of contract to herself, +and call me to be a witness. + +ILF. By heaven, by earth, by hell, by all that man can swear, I will, so +I may have her. + +BUT. Enough. +Thus at first sight rash men to women swear, +When, such oaths broke, heaven grieves and sheds a tear. +But she's come; ply her, ply her. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW'S SISTER. + +ILF. Kind mistress, as I protested, so again I vow, +I'faith, I love you. + +SIS. And I am not, sir, so uncharitable, +To hate the man that loves me. + +ILF. Love me then, +The which loves you as angels love good men; +Who wisheth them to live with them for ever, +In that high bliss, whom hell cannot dissever. + +BUT. I'll steal away and leave them, as wise men do; +Whom they would match, let them have leave to woo. + [_Exit_ BUTLER. + +ILF. Mistress, I know your worth is beyond my desert; yet by my praising +of your virtues, I would not have you, as women use to do, become proud. + +SIS. None of my affections are pride's children, nor akin to them. + +ILF. Can you love me then? + +SIS. I can; for I love all the world, but am in love with none. + +ILF. Yet be in love with me; let your affections +Combine with mine, and let our souls +Like turtles have a mutual sympathy, +Who love so well, that they die together. +Such is my life, who covets to expire, +If it should lose your love. + +SIS. May I believe you? + +ILF. In troth you may: +Your life's my life, your death my dying-day. + +SIS. Sir, the commendations I have received from Butler of your birth +and worth, together with the judgment of mine own eye, bids me believe +and love you. + +ILF. O, seal it with a kiss. Bless'd hour! my life had never joy till +this. + + _Enter_ WENTLOE _and_ BARTLEY _beneath_. + +BAR. Hereabout is the house, sure. + +WEN. We cannot mistake it; for here's the sign of the Wolf, and the +bay-window. + + _Enter_ BUTLER _above_. + +BUT. What, so close? 'Tis well I have shifted away your uncles, +mistress. But see the spite of Sir Francis! if yon same couple of +smell-smocks, Wentloe and Bartley, have not scented after us. + +ILF. A pox on them! what shall we do then, butler? + +BUT. What, but be married straight, man? + +ILF. Ay, but how, butler? + +BUT. Tut, I never fail at a dead lift; for, to perfect your bliss, I +have provided you a priest. + +ILF. Where? prythee, butler, where? + +BUT. Where but beneath in her chamber? I have filled his hands with +coin, and he shall tie you fast with words; he shall close your hands in +one, and then do clap yourself into her sheets, and spare not. + +ILF. O sweet! + + [_Exit_ ILFORD _with_ SCARBOROW'S SISTER.[415] + +BUT. Down, down, 'tis the only way for you to get up. +Thus in this task for others' good I toil, +And she, kind gentlewoman, weds herself, +Having been scarcely woo'd, and ere her thoughts +Have learn'd to love him that, being her husband, +She may relieve her brothers in their wants; +She marries him to help her nearest kin: +I make the match, and hope it is no sin. + +WEN. 'Sfoot, it is scurvy walking for us so near the two Counters; would +he would come once! + +BAR. Mass, he's yonder: now, Butler. + +BUT. O gallants, are you here? I have done wonders for you, commended +you to the gentlewomen who, having taken note of your good legs and good +faces, have a liking to you; meet me beneath. + +BOTH. Happy butler. + +BUT. They are yours, and you are theirs; meet me beneath, I say. + + [_Exeunt_ WENTLOE _and_ BARTLEY. + +By this they are wed; ay, and perhaps have bedded. +Now follows whether, knowing she is poor, +He'll swear he lov'd her, as he swore before. + + [_Exit_ BUTLER. + + + + +ACT V. + + + _Enter_ ILFORD _with_ SCARBOROW'S SISTER. + +ILF. Ho, sirrah, who would have thought it? I perceive now a woman may +be a maid, be married, and lose her maidenhead, and all in half an hour. +And how dost like me now, wench? + +SIS. As doth befit your servant and your wife, +That owe you love and duty all my life. + +ILF. And there shall be no love lost, nor service neither; I'll do thee +service at board, and thou shalt do me service a-bed: now must I, as +young married men use to do, kiss my portion out of my young wife. Thou +art my sweet rogue, my lamb, my pigsny, my playfellow, my pretty-pretty +anything. Come, a buss, prythee, so 'tis my kind heart; and wots thou +what now? + +SIS. Not till you tell me, sir. + +ILF. I have got thee with child in my conscience, and, like a kind +husband, methinks I breed it for thee. For I am already sick at my +stomach, and long extremely. Now must thou be my helpful physician, and +provide for me. + +SIS. Even to my blood, +What's mine is yours, to gain your peace or good. + +ILF. What a kind soul is this! Could a man have found a greater content +in a wife, if he should have sought through the world for her? Prythee, +heart, as I said, I long, and in good troth I do, and methinks thy first +child will be born without a nose, if I lose my longing: 'tis but for a +trifle too; yet methinks it will do me no good, unless thou effect it +for me. I could take thy keys myself, go into thy closet, and read over +the deeds and evidences of thy land, and in reading over them, rejoice I +had such blessed fortune to have so fair a wife with so much endowment, +and then open thy chests, and survey thy plate, jewels, treasure; but a +pox on't, all will do me no good, unless thou effect it for me. + +SIS. Sir, I will show you all the wealth I have +Of coin, of jewels, and possessions. + +ILF. Good gentle heart, I'll give thee another buss for that: for that, +give thee a new gown to-morrow morning by this hand; do thou but dream +what stuff and what fashion thou wilt have it on to-night. + +SIS. The land I can endow you with's my Love: +The riches I possess for you is Love, +A treasure greater than is land or gold, +It cannot be forfeit, and it shall ne'er be sold. + +ILF. Love, I know that; and I'll answer thee love for love in abundance: +but come, prythee, come, let's see these deeds and evidences--this +money, plate, and jewels. Wilt have thy child born without a nose? if +thou be'st so careless, spare not: why, my little frappet, you, I heard +thy uncles talk of thy riches, that thou hadst hundreds a year, several +lordships, manors, houses, thousands of pounds in your great chest; +jewels, plate, and rings in your little box. + +SIS. And for that riches you did marry me? + +ILF. Troth, I did, as nowadays bachelors do: swear I lov'd thee, but +indeed married thee for thy wealth. + +SIS. Sir, I beseech you say not your oaths were such, +So like false coin being put unto the touch; +Who bear a flourish in the outward show +Of a true stamp, but truly[416] are not so. +You swore me love, I gave the like to you: +Then as a ship, being wedded to the sea, +Does either sail or sink, even so must I, +You being the haven, to which my hopes must fly. + +ILF. True, chuck, I am thy haven, and harbour too, +And like a ship I took thee, who brings home treasure +As thou to me the merchant-venturer. + +SIS. What riches I am ballast with are yours. + +ILF. That's kindly said now. + +SIS. If but with sand, as I am but with earth, +Being your right, of right you must receive me: +I have no other lading but my love, +Which in abundance I will render you. +If other freight you do expect my store, +I'll pay you tears: my riches are no more. + +ILF. How's this? how's this? I hope you do but jest. + +SIS. I am sister to decayed Scarborow. + +ILF. Ha! + +SIS. Whose substance your enticements did consume. + +ILF. Worse than an ague. + +SIS. Which as you did believe, so they supposed. +'Twas fitter for yourself than for another +To keep the sister, had undone the brother. + +ILF. I am gulled, by this hand. An old coneycatcher, and beguiled! where +the pox now are my two coaches, choice of houses, several suits, a +plague on them, and I know not what! Do you hear, puppet, do you think +you shall not be damned for this, to cosen a gentleman of his hopes, and +compel yourself into matrimony with a man, whether he will or no with +you? I have made a fair match, i'faith: will any man buy my commodity +out of my hand? As God save me, he shall have her for half the money she +cost me. + + _Enter_ WENTLOE _and_ BARTLEY. + +WEN. O, have we met you, sir? + +BAR. What, turned micher, steal a wife, and not make your old friends +acquainted with it? + +ILF. A pox on her, I would you had her! + +WEN. Well, God give you joy! we can hear of your good fortune, now 'tis +done, though we could not be acquainted with it aforehand. + +BAR. As that you have two thousand pounds a year. + +WEN. Two or three manor-houses. + +BAR. A wife, fair, rich, and virtuous. + +ILF. Pretty, i'faith, very pretty. + +WEN. Store of gold. + +BAR. Plate in abundance. + +ILF. Better, better, better. + +WEN. And so many oxen, that their horns are able to store all the +cuckolds in your country. + +ILF. Do not make me mad, good gentlemen, do not make me mad: I could be +made a cuckold with more patience, than endure this. + +WEN. Foh! we shall have you turn proud now, grow respectless of your +ancient acquaintance. Why, Butler told us of it, who was the maker of +the match for you. + +ILF. A pox of his furtherance! gentlemen, as you are Christians, vex me +no more. That I am married, I confess; a plague of the fates, that +wedding and hanging comes by destiny; but for the riches she has +brought, bear witness how I'll reward her. [_Kicks her_. + +SIS. Sir! + +ILF. Whore, ay, and jade. Witch! Ill-faced, stinking-breath, +crooked-nose, worse than the devil--and a plague on thee that ever +I saw thee! + +BAR. A comedy, a comedy! + +WEN. What's the meaning of all this? is this the masque after thy +marriage! + +ILF. O gentlemen, I am undone, I am undone, for I am married! I, +that could not abide a woman, but to make her a whore, hated all +she-creatures, fair and poor; swore I would never marry but to one +that was rich, and to be thus coney-catched! Who do you think this +is, gentlemen? + +WEN. Why, your wife; who should it be else? + +ILF. That's my misfortune; that marrying her in hope she was rich, +she proves to be the beggarly sister to the more beggarly Scarborow. + +BAR. How? + +WEN. Ha, ha, ha! + +ILF. Ay, you may laugh, but she shall cry as well as I for't. + +BAR. Nay, do not weep. + +WEN. He does but counterfeit now to delude us. He has all her portion +of land, coin, plate, jewels, and now dissembles thus, lest we should +borrow some money of him. + +ILF. And you be kind, gentlemen, lend me some; for, having paid the +priest, I have not so much left in the world as will hire me a horse to +carry me away from her. + +BAR. But art thou thus gulled, i'faith? + +ILF. Are you sure you have eyes in your head? + +WEN. Why, then, [it is] by her brother's setting on, in my conscience; +who knowing thee now to have somewhat to take to by the death of thy +father, and that he hath spent her portion and his own possessions, +hath laid this plot for thee to marry her, and so he to be rid of her +himself. + +ILF. Nay, that's without question; but I'll be revenged of 'em both. +For you, minx:--nay, 'sfoot, give 'em me, or I'll kick else. + +SIS. Good, sweet. + +ILF. Sweet with a pox! you stink in my nose, give me your jewels: nay, +bracelets too. + +SIS. O me most miserable! + +ILF. Out of my sight, ay, and out of my doors: for now what's within +this house is mine; and for your brother, +He made this match in hope to do you good, +And I wear this, the[417] which shall draw his blood. + +WEN. A brave resolution. + +BAR. In which we'll second thee. + [_Exit with_ WENTLOE. + +ILF. Away, whore! out of my doors, whore! + [_Exit_. + +SIS. O grief, that poverty should have that power to tear +Men from themselves, though they wed, bed, and swear. + + _Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW _with_ BUTLER. + +THOM. How now, sister? + +SIS. Undone, undone! + +BUT. Why, mistress, how is't? how is't? + +SIS. My husband has forsook me. + +BUT. O perjury! + +SIS. Has ta'en my jewels and my bracelets from me. + +THOM. Vengeance, I played the thief for the money that bought 'em. + +SIS. Left me distressed, and thrust me forth o' doors. + +THOM. Damnation on him! I will hear no more. +But for his wrong revenge me on my brother, +Degenerate, and was the curse of all, +He spent our portion, and I'll see his fall. + +JOHN. O, but, brother-- + +THOM. Persuade me not. +All hopes are shipwreck'd, misery comes on, +The comfort we did look from him is frustrate, +All means, all maintenance, but grief is gone; +And all shall end by his destruction. [_Exit_. + +JOHN. I'll follow, and prevent what in this heat may happen: +His want makes sharp his sword; too great's the ill, +If that one brother should another kill. [_Exit_. + +BUT. And what will you do, mistress? + +SIS. I'll sit me down, sigh loud instead of words, +And wound myself with grief as they with swords. +And for the sustenance that I should eat, +I'll feed on grief, 'tis woe's best-relish'd meat. + +BUT. Good heart, I pity you, +You shall not be so cruel to yourself, +I have the poor serving-man's allowance: +Twelve pence a day, to buy me sustenance; +One meal a day I'll eat, the t'other fast, +To give your wants relief. And, mistress, +Be this some comfort to your miseries, +I'll have thin cheeks, ere you shall have wet eyes. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +SCAR. What is a prodigal? Faith, like a brush, +That wears himself to furbish[418] others' clothes, +And, having worn his heart even to the stump, +He's thrown away like a deformed lump. +O, such am I: I have spent all the wealth +My ancestors did purchase, made others brave +In shape and riches, and myself a knave. +For though my wealth rais'd some to paint their door, +'Tis shut against me saying I am but poor: +Nay, even the greatest arm, whose hand hath grac'd +My presence to the eye of majesty, shrinks back, +His fingers clutch, and like to lead, +They are heavy to raise up my state, being dead. +By which I find spendthrifts (and such am I) +Like strumpets flourish, but are foul within, +And they (like snakes) know when to cast their skin. + + _Enter_ THOMAS SCARBOROW. + +THOM. Turn, draw, and die; I come to kill thee. + +SCAR. What's he that speaks like sickness? O, is't you? +Sleep still, you cannot move me: fare you well. + +THOM. Think not my fury slakes so, or my blood +Can cool itself to temper by refusal: +Turn, or thou diest. + +SCAR. Away. + +THOM. I do not wish to kill thee like a slave, +That taps men in their cups, and broach[es] their hearts, +Ere with a warning-piece they have wak'd their ears; +I would not like to powder shoot thee down +To a flat grave, ere thou hast thought to frown: +I am no coward, but in manly terms +And fairest oppositions vow to kill thee. + +SCAR. From whence proceeds this heat? + +THOM. From sparkles bred +By thee, that like a villain-- + +SCAR. Ha! + +THOM. I'll hollow it +In thine ears, till thy soul quake to hear it, +That like a villain hast undone thy brothers. + +SCAR. Would thou wert not so near me! yet, farewell. + +THOM. By Nature and her laws make[419] us akin-- +As near as are these hands, or sin to sin-- +Draw and defend thyself, or I'll forget +Thou art a man. + +SCAR. Would thou wert not my brother! + +THOM. I disclaim thee[420]. + +SCAR. Are we not offspring of one parent, wretch? + +THOM. I do forget it; pardon me the dead, +I should deny the pains you bid for me. +My blood grows hot for vengeance, thou hast spent +My life's revenues, that our parents purchas'd. + +SCAR. O, do not rack me with remembrance on't. + +THOM. Thou hast made my life a beggar in this world, +And I will make thee bankrupt of thy breath: +Thou hast been so bad, the best that I can give[421]. +Thou art a devil: not with men to live. + +SCAR. Then take a devil's payment + + _Here they make a pass one upon another, when at Scarborow's + back come in_ ILFORD, WENTLOE, _and_ BARTLEY. + +ILF. He's here; draw, gentlemen. + +WEN., BART. Die, Scarborow. + +SCAR. Girt round with death! + +THOM. How, set upon by three! 'Sfoot, fear not, brother; you cowards, +three to one! slaves, worse than fencers that wear long weapons. You +shall be fought withal, you shall be fought withal. + + [_Here the brothers join, drive the rest out, and return_. + +SCAR. Brother, I thank you, for you now have been +A patron of my life. Forget the sin, +I pray you, which my loose and wasteful hours +Hath made against your fortunes; I repent 'em, +And wish I could new-joint and strength your hopes, +Though with indifferent ruin of mine own. +I have a many sins, the thought of which +Like finest[422] needles prick me to the soul, +But find your wrongs to have the sharpest point. +If penitence your losses might repair, +You should be rich in wealth, and I in care. + +THOM. I do believe you, sir: but I must tell you, +Evils the which are 'gainst another done, +Repentance makes no satisfaction +To him that feels the smart. Our father, sir, +Left in your trust my portion: you have spent it, +And suffered me (whilst you in riot's house-- +A drunken tavern--spill'd my maintenance, +Perhaps upon the ground with o'erflown cups;) +Like birds in hardest winter half-starv'd, to fly +And pick up any food, lest I should die. + +SCAR. I pr'ythee, let us be at peace together. + +THOM. At peace for what? For spending my inheritance? +By yonder sun that every soul has life by, +As sure as thou hast life, I'll fight with thee. + +SCAR. I'll not be mov'd unto't. + +THOM. I'll kill thee then, wert thou now clasp'd +Within thy mother, wife, or children's arms. + +SCAR. Would'st, homicide? art so degenerate? +Then let my blood grow hot. + +THOM. For it shall cool. + +SCAR. To kill rather than be kill'd is manhood's rule. + + _Enter_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +JOHN. Stay, let not your wraths meet. + +THOM. Heart! what mak'st thou here? + +JOHN. Say, who are you, or you? are you not one, +That scarce can make a fit distinction +Betwixt each other? Are you not brothers? + +THOM. I renounce him. + +SCAR. Shalt not need. + +THOM. Give way. + +SCAR. Have at thee! + +JOHN. Who stirs? which of you both hath strength within his arm +To wound his own breast? who's so desperate +To damn himself by killing of himself? +Are you not both one flesh? + +THOM. Heart! give me way. + +SCAR. Be not a bar betwixt us, or by my sword +I'll[423] mete thy grave out. + +JOHN. O, do: for God's sake, do; +'Tis happy death, if I may die, and you +Not murder one another. O, do but hearken: +When do the sun and moon, born in one frame, +Contend, but they breed earthquakes in men's hearts? +When any star prodigiously appears, +Tells it not fall of kings or fatal years? +And then, if brothers fight, what may men think? +Sin grows so high, 'tis time the world should sink. + +SCAR. My heart grows cool again; I wish it not. + +THOM. Stop not my fury, or by my life I swear. +I will reveal the robbery we have done, +And take revenge on thee, +That hinders me to take revenge on him. + +JOHN. I yield to that; but ne'er consent to this, +I shall then die, as mine own sin affords, +Fall by the law, not by my brothers' swords. + +THOM. Then, by that light that guides me here, I vow, +I'll straight to Sir John Harcop, and make known +We were the two that robb'd him. + +JOHN. Prythee, do. + +THOM. Sin has his shame, and thou shalt have thy due. + [_Exit_. + +JOHN. Thus have I shown the nature of a brother, +Though you have proved unnatural to me. +He's gone in heat to publish out the theft, +Which want and your unkindness forc'd us to: +If now I die, that death and public shame +Is a corsive to your soul, blot to your name. + [_Exit_. + +SCAR. O, 'tis too true, there's not a thought I think, +But must partake thy grief, and drink +A relish of thy sorrow and misfortune. +With weight of others' tears I am o'erborne, +That scarce am Atlas to hold up mine own, +And all too good for me. A happy creature +In my cradle, and I have made myself +The common curse of mankind by my life; +Undone my brothers, made them thieves for bread, +And begot pretty children to live beggars. +O conscience, how thou art stung to think upon't! +My brothers unto shame must yield their blood: +My babes at others' stirrups beg their food, +Or else turn thieves too, and be chok'd for it, +Die a dog's death, be perch'd upon a tree; +Hang'd betwixt heaven and earth, as fit for neither. +The curse of heaven that's due to reprobates +Descends upon my brothers and my children, +And I am parent to it--ay, I am parent to it. + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +BUT. Where are you, sir? + +SCAR. Why star'st thou, what's thy haste? + +BUT. Here's fellows swarm like flies to speak with you. + +SCAR. What are they? + +BUT. Snakes, I think, sir; for they come with stings in their mouths, +and their tongues are turn'd to teeth too: they claw villainously, they +have ate up your honest name and honourable reputation by railing +against you: and now they come to devour your possessions. + +SCAR. In plainer evargy,[424] what are they? speak. + +BUT. Mantichoras,[425] monstrous beasts, enemies to mankind, that have +double rows of teeth in their mouths. They are usurers, they come +yawning for money, and the sheriff with them is come to serve an extent +upon your land, and then seize on your body by force of execution: they +have begirt the house round. + +SCAR. So that the roof our ancestors did build +For their sons' comfort, and their wives for charity, +I dare not to look out at. + +BUT. Besides, sir, here's your poor children-- + +SCAR. Poor children they are indeed. + +BUT. Come with fire and water, tears in their eyes and burning grief in +their hearts, and desire to speak with you. + +SCAR. Heap sorrow upon sorrow! tell me, are +My brothers gone to execution +For what I did? for every heinous sin +Sits on his soul, by whom it did begin. +And so did theirs by me. Tell me withal, +My children carry moisture in their eyes, +Whose speaking drops say, father, thus must we +Ask our relief, or die with infamy, +For you have made us beggars. Yet when thy tale has kill'd me, +To give my passage comfort from this stage, +Say all was done by enforc'd marriage: +My grave will then be welcome. + +BUT. What shall we do, sir? + +SCAR. Do as the devil does, hate (panther-like) mankind![426] +And yet I lie; for devils sinners love, +When men hate men, though good like some above. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW'S _wife_ KATHERINE, _with two Children_. + +BUT. Your wife's come in, sir. + +SCAR. Thou li'st, I have not a wife. None can be call'd +True man and wife, but those whom heaven install'd, +Say-- + +KATH. O my dear husband! + +SCAR. You are very welcome. Peace: we'll have compliment. +Who are you, gentlewoman? + +KATH. Sir, your distressed wife, and these your children, + +SCAR. Mine! Where, how, begot? +Prove me by certain instance that's divine, +That I should call them lawful, or thee mine. + +KATH. Were we not married, sir? + +SCAR. No; though we heard the words of ceremony, +But had hands knit, as felons that wear fetters +Forc'd upon them. For tell me, woman, +Did e'er my love with sighs entreat thee mine? +Did ever I in willing conference +Speak words, made half with tears, that I did love thee? +Or was I ever but glad to see thee, as all lovers are? +No, no, thou know'st I was not. + +KATH. O me! + +BUT. The more's the pity. + +SCAR. But when I came to church, I did there stand, +As water, whose forc'd breach[427] had drown'd my land. +Are you my wife, or these my children? +Why, 'tis impossible; for like the skies +Without the sun's light, so look all your eyes; +Dark, cloudy, thick, and full of heaviness; +Within my country there was hope to see +Me and my issue to be like our fathers, +Upholders of our country all our life, +Which should have been if I had wed a wife: +Where now, +As dropping leaves in autumn you look all, +And I, that should uphold you, like to fall. + +KATH. 'Twas nor shall be my fault, heaven bear me witness. + +SCAR. Thou liest, strumpet, thou liest! + +BUT. O sir! + +SCAR. Peace, saucy Jack! strumpet, I say thou liest, +For wife of mine thou art not, and these thy bastards +Whom I begot of thee with this unrest, +That bastards born are born not to be blest. + +KATH. On me pour all your wrath, but not on them. + +SCAR. On thee and them, for 'tis the end of lust +To scourge itself, heaven lingering to be just: +Harlot! + +KATH. Husband! + +SCAR. Bastards! + +CHIL. Father! + +BUT. What heart not pities this? + +SCAR. Even in your cradle, you were accurs'd of heaven, +Thou an adultress in my married arms. +And they that made the match, bawds to thy lust: +Ay, now you hang the head; shouldst have done so before, +Then these had not been bastards, thou a whore. + +BUT. I can brook't no longer: sir, you do not well in this. + +SCAR. Ha, slave! + +BUT. 'Tis not the aim of gentry to bring forth +Such harsh unrelish'd fruit unto their wines[428], +And to their pretty--pretty children by my troth. + +SCAR. How, rascal! + +BUT. Sir, I must tell you, your progenitors, +Two of the which these years were servant to, +Had not such mists before their understanding, +Thus to behave themselves. + +SCAR. And you'll control me, sir! + +BUT. Ay, I will. + +SCAR. You rogue! + +BUT. Ay, 'tis I will tell 'tis ungently done +Thus to defame your wife, abuse your children: +Wrong them, you wrong yourself; are they not yours? + +SCAR. Pretty--pretty impudence, in faith. + +BUT. Her whom you are bound to love, to rail against! +Those whom you are bound to keep, to spurn like dogs! +And you were not my master, I would tell you-- + +SCAR. What, slave? [_Draws_. + +BUT. Put up your bird-spit, tut, I fear it not; +In doing deeds so base, so vile as these, +'Tis but a kna, kna, kna-- + +SCAR. Rogue! + +BUT. Tut, howsoever, 'tis a dishonest part, +And in defence of these I throw off duty. + +KATH. Good butler. + +BUT. Peace, honest mistress, I will say you are wrong'd, +Prove it upon him, even in his blood, his bones, +His guts, his maw, his throat, his entrails. + +SCAR. You runagate of threescore! + +BUT. 'Tis better than a knave of three-and-twenty. + +SCAR. Patience be my buckler! +As not to file[429] my hands in villain's blood; +You knave, slave, trencher-groom! +Who is your master? + +BUT. You, if you were a master. + +SCAR. Off with your coat then, get you forth a-doors. + +BUT. My coat, sir? + +SCAR. Ay, your coat, slave. + +BUT. 'Sfoot, when you ha't, 'tis but a threadbare coat, +And there 'tis for you: know that I scorn +To wear his livery is so worthy born, +And live[s] so base a life; old as I am, +I'll rather be a beggar than your man, +And there's your service for you. [_Exit_. + +SCAR. Away, out of my door: away! +So, now your champion's gone, minx, thou hadst better +Have gone quick unto thy grave-- + +KATH. O me! that am no cause of it. + +SCAR. Than have suborn'd that slave to lift his hand against me. + +KATH. O me! what shall become of me? + +SCAR. I'll teach you tricks for this: have you a companion? + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +BUT. My heart not suffers me to leave my honest mistress and her pretty +children. + +SCAR. I'll mark thee for a strumpet, and thy bastards-- + +BUT. What will you do to them, sir? + +SCAR. The devil in thy shape come back again? + +BUT. No, but an honest servant, sir, will take this coat, +And wear it with this sword to safeguard these, +And pity them, and I am woe for you[430], too; +But will not suffer +The husband, viper-like, to prey on them +That love him and have cherish'd him, as these +And they have you. + +SCAR. Slave! + +BUT. I will outhumour you, [I will] +Fight with you and lose my life, ere[431] these +Shall taste your wrong, whom you are bound to love. + +SCAR. Out of my doors, slave! + +BUT. I will not, but will stay and wear this coat, +And do you service whether you will or no. +I'll wear this sword, too, and be champion +To fight for her, in spite of any man. + +SCAR. You shall: you shall be my master, sir. + +BUT. No, I desire it not, +I'll pay you duty, even upon my knee, +But lose my life, ere these oppress'd I'll see. + +SCAR. Yes, goodman slave, you shall be master, +Lie with my wife, and get more bastards; do, do, do. + +KATH. O me! + +SCAR. Turns the world upside down, +That men o'erbear their masters? it does, it does. +For even as Judas sold his master Christ, +Men buy and sell their wives at highest price, +What will you give me? what will you give me? +What will you give me? [_Exit_. + +BUT. O mistress, my soul weeps, though mine eyes be dry, +To see his fall and your adversity; +Some means I have left, which I'll relieve you with. +Into your chamber, and if comfort be akin +To such great grief, comfort your children. + +KATH. I thank thee, butler; heaven, when he please, +Send death unto the troubled--a blest ease. + + [_Exit with children_. + +BUT. In troth I know not, if it be good or ill, +That with this endless toil I labour thus: +'Tis but the old time's ancient conscience +That would do no man hurt, that makes me do't: +If it be sin, that I do pity these, +If it be sin, I have relieved his brothers, +Have played the thief with them to get their food, +And made a luckless marriage for his sister, +Intended for her good, heaven pardon me. +But if so, I am sure they are great sinners, +That made this match, and were unhappy[432] men; +For they caus'd all, and may heaven pardon them. + + _Enter_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW. + +SIR WIL. Who's within here? + +BUT. Sir William, kindly welcome. + +SIR WIL. Where is my kinsman Scarborow? + +BUT. Sooth, he's within, sir, but not very well. + +SIR WIL. His sickness? + +BUT. The hell of sickness; troubled in his mind. + +SIR WIL. I guess the cause of it, +But cannot now intend to visit him. +Great business for my sovereign hastes me hence; +Only this letter from his lord and guardian to him, +Whose inside, I do guess, tends to his good; +At my return I'll see him: so farewell. [_Exit_. + +BUT. _Whose inside, I do guess, turns to his good_. +He shall not see it now, then; for men's minds, +Perplex'd like his, are like land-troubling-winds, +Who have no gracious temper. + + _Enter_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +JOHN. O butler! + +BUT. What's the fright now? + +JOHN. Help, straight, or on the tree of shame +We both shall perish for the robbery. + +BUT. What, is't reveal'd, man? + +JOHN. Not yet, good butler: only my brother Thomas, +In spleen to me that would not suffer him +To kill our elder brother had undone us, +Is riding now to Sir John Harcop straight, +To disclose it. + +BUT. Heart! who would rob with sucklings? +Where did you leave him? + +JOHN. Now taking horse to ride to Yorkshire. + +BUT. I'll stay his journey, lest I meet a hanging. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +SCAR. I'll parley with the devil: ay, I will, +He gives his counsel freely, and the cause +He for his clients pleads goes always with them: +He in my cause shall deal then; and I'll ask him +Whether a cormorant may have stuff'd chests, +And see his brother starve? why, he'll say, ay[433], +The less they give, the more I gain thereby; + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +Their souls, their souls, their souls. +How now, master? nay, you are my master; +Is my wife's sheets warm? does she kiss well? + +BUT. Good sir. + +SCAR. Foh! make't not strange, for in these days, +There's many men lie in their masters' sheets, +And so may you in mine, and yet--your business, sir? + +BUT. There's one in civil habit, sir, would speak with you. + +SCAR. In civil habit? + +BUT. He is of seemly rank, sir, and calls himself +By the name of Doctor Baxter of Oxford. + +SCAR. That man undid me; he did blossoms blow, +Whose fruit proved poison, though 'twas good in show: +With him I'll parley, and disrobe my thoughts +Of this wild frenzy that becomes me not. +A table, candles, stools, and all things fit, +I know he comes to chide me, and I'll hear him: +With our sad conference we will call up tears, +Teach doctors rules, instruct succeeding years: +Usher him in: +Heaven spare a drop from thence, where's bounteous throng: +Give patience to my soul, inflame my tongue. + + _Enter_ DOCTOR. + +DOC. Good Master Scarborow. + +SCAR. You are most kindly welcome, sooth, ye are. + +DOC. I have important business to deliver you. + +SCAR. And I have leisure to attend your hearing. + +DOC. Sir, you know I married you. + +SCAR. I know you did, sir. + +DOC. At which you promis'd both to God and men, +Your life unto your spouse should be like snow, +That falls to comfort, not to overthrow: +And love unto your issue should be like +The dew of heaven, that hurts not, though it strike: +When heaven and men did witness and record +'Twas an eternal oath, no idle word: +Heaven, being pleased therewith, bless'd you with children, +And at heaven's blessings all good men rejoice. +So that God's chair and footstool, heaven and earth, +Made offering at your nuptials as a knot +To mind you of your vow; O, break it not. + +SCAR. 'Tis very true[434]. + +DOC. Now, sir, from this your oath and band[435], +Faith's pledge and seal of conscience you have run, +Broken all contracts, and the forfeiture +Justice hath now in suit against your soul: +Angels are made the jurors, who are witnesses +Unto the oath you took, and God himself, +Maker of marriage, he that seal'd the deed, +As a firm lease unto you during life, +Sits now as judge of your transgression: +The world informs against you with this voice: +If such sins reign, what mortals can rejoice? + +SCAR. What then ensues to me? + +DOC. A heavy doom, whose execution's +Now serv'd upon your conscience, that ever +You shall feel plagues, whom time shall not dissever; +As in a map your eyes see all your life, +Bad words, worse deeds, false oaths, and all the injuries, +You have done unto your soul: then comes your wife, +Full of woe's drops, and yet as full of pity, +Who though she speaks not, yet her eyes are swords[436], +That cut your heart-strings: and then your children-- + +SCAR. O, O, O! + +DOC. Who, what they cannot say, talk in their looks; +You have made us up, but as misfortune's books, +Whom other men may read in, when presently, +Task'd by yourself, you are not, like a thief, +Astonied, being accus'd, but scorch'd with grief. + +SCAR. I, I, I. + +DOC. Here stand your wife's tears. + +SCAR. Where? + +DOC. And you fry for them: here lie your children's wants. + +SCAR. Here? + +DOC. For which you pine, in conscience burn, +And wish you had been better, or ne'er born. + +SCAR. Does all this happen to a wretch like me? + +DOC. Both this and worse; your soul eternally +Shall live in torment, though the body die. + +SCAR. I shall have need of drink then: Butler! + +DOC. Nay, all your sins are on your children laid, +For the offences that the father made. + +SCAR. Are they, sir? + +DOC. Be sure they are. + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +SCAR. Butler! + +BUT. Sir. + +SCAR. Go fetch my wife and children hither. + +BUT. I will, sir. + +SCAR. I'll read a lecture[437] to the doctor too, +He's a divine? ay, he's a divine. [_Aside_.] + +BUT. I see his mind is troubled, and have made bold with duty to read a +letter tending to his good; have made his brothers friends: both which +I will conceal till better temper. He sends me for his wife and children; +shall I fetch them? [_Aside_. + +SCAR. He's a divine, and this divine did marry me: +That's good, that's good. [_Aside_. + +DOC. Master Scarborow. + +SCAR. I'll be with you straight, sir. + +BUT. I will obey him, +If anything doth happen that is ill, +Heaven bear me record, 'tis 'gainst my will. [_Exit_. + +SCAR. And this divine did marry me, +Whose tongue should be the key to open truth, +As God's ambassador. Deliver, deliver, deliver. [_Aside_. + +DOC. Master Scarborow. + +SCAR. I'll be with you straight, sir: +Salvation to afflicted consciences, +And not give torment to contented minds, +Who should be lamps to comfort out our way, +And not like firedrakes[438] to lead men astray, +Ay, I'll be with you straight, sir. + + _Enter_ BUTLER, [_with Wife and Children_]. + +BUT. Here's your wife and children, sir. + +SCAR. Give way, then, +I have my lesson perfect; leave us here. + +BUT. Yes, I will go, but I will be so near, +To hinder the mishap, the which I fear. + [_Exit_ BUTLER. + +SCAR. Now, sir, you know this gentlewoman? + +DOC. Kind Mistress Scarborow. + +SCAR. Nay, pray you keep your seat, for you shall hear +The same affliction you have taught me fear, +Due to yourself. + +DOC. To me, sir? + +SCAR. To you, sir. +You match'd me to this gentlewoman? + +DOC. I know I did, sir. + +SCAR. And you will say she is my wife then. + +DOC. I have reason, sir, because I married you. + +SCAR. O, that such tongues should have the time to lie, +Who teach men how to live, and how to die; +Did not you know my soul had given my faith, +In contract to another? and yet you +Would join this loom unto unlawful twists. + +DOC. Sir? + +SCAR. But, sir, +You that can see a mote within my eye, +And with a cassock blind your own defects, +I'll teach you this: 'tis better to do ill, +That's never known to us, than of self-will. +Stand these[439], all these, in thy seducing eye, +As scorning life, make them be glad to die. + +DOC. Master Scarborow-- + +SCAR. Here will I write that they, which marry wives, +Unlawful live with strumpets all their lives. +Here will I seal the children that are born, +From wombs unconsecrate, even when their soul +Has her infusion, it registers they are foul, +And shrinks to dwell with them, and in my close +I'll show the world, that such abortive men +Knit hands without free tongues, look red like them +Stand you and you to acts most tragical: +Heaven has dry eyes, when sin makes sinners fall. + +DOC. Help, Master Scarborow. + +CHIL. Father. + +KATH. Husband. + +SCAR. These for thy act should die, she for my Clare, +Whose wounds stare thus upon me for revenge. +These to be rid from misery, this from sin, +And thou thyself shalt have a push amongst them, +That made heaven's word a pack-horse to thy tongue, +Quot'st Scripture to make evil shine like good! +And as I send you thus with worms to dwell, +Angels applaud it as a deed done well. + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +DOC. Stay him, stay him. + +BUT. What will you do, sir? + +SCAR. Make fat worms of stinking carcases. +What hast thou to do with it? + + _Enter_ ILFORD _and his Wife, the two Brothers, + and_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW. + +BUT. Look, who are here, sir? + +SCAR. Injurious villain! that prevent'st me still. + +BUT. They are your brothers and alliance, sir. + +SCAR. They are like full ordnance then who, once discharg'd, +Afar off give a warning to my soul, +That I have done them wrong. + +SIR WIL. Kinsman. + +BRO. AND SIS. Brother. + +KATH. Husband. + +CHIL. Father. + +SCAR. Hark, how their words like bullets shoot me thorough, +And tell me I have undone them: this side might say, +We are in want, and you are the cause of it; +This points at me, y'are shame unto your house: +This tongue says nothing, but her looks do tell +She's married, but as those that live in hell: +Whereby all eyes are but misfortune's pipe, +Fill'd full of woe by me: this feels the stripe. + +BUT. Yet look, sir, +Here's your brothers hand in hand, whom I have knit so. + +SIS. And look, sir, here's my husband's hand in mine, +And I rejoice in him, and he in me. + +SIR WIL. I say, cos, what is pass'd is the way to bliss, +For they know best to mend, that know amiss. + +KATH. We kneel: forget, and say if you but love us, +You gave us grief for future happiness. + +SCAR. What's all this to my conscience? + +BUT. Ease, promise of succeeding joy to you; +Read but this letter. + +SIR WIL. Which tells you that your lord and guardian's dead. + +BUT. Which tells you that he knew he did you wrong, +Was griev'd for't, and for satisfaction +Hath given you double of the wealth you had. + +BRO. Increas'd our portions. + +WIFE. Given me a dowry too. + +BUT. And that he knew, +Your sin was his, the punishment his due. + +SCAR. All this is here: +Is heaven so gracious to sinners then? + +BUT. Heaven is, and has his gracious eyes, +To give men life, not life-entrapping spies. + +SCAR. Your hand--yours--yours--to my soul: to you a kiss; +In troth I am sorry I have stray'd amiss; +To whom shall I be thankful? all silent? +None speak? whist! why then to God, +That gives men comfort as he gives his rod; +Your portions I'll see paid, and I will love you, +You three I'll live withal, my soul shall love you! +You are an honest servant, sooth you are; +To whom? I, these, and all must pay amends; +But you I will admonish in cool terms, +Let not promotion's hope be as a string, +To tie your tongue, or let it loose to sting. + +DOC. From hence it shall not, sir. + +SCAR. Then husbands thus shall nourish with their wives. + [_Kiss_. + +ILF. As thou and I will, wench. + +SCAR. Brothers in brotherly love thus link together + [_Embrace_. +Children and servants pay their duty thus. + [_Bow and kneel_. +And are all pleas'd? + +ALL. We are. + +SCAR. Then, if all these be so, +I am new-wed, so ends all marriage woe; +And, in your eyes so lovingly being wed, +We hope your hands will bring us to our bed. + + +FINIS. + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + + +[1] Baldwin's "Old English Drama," 2 vols. 12mo. + +[2] From the similarity of the names, it seems the author originally +intended to make Young Lusam the son of Old Lusam and brother of +Mistress Arthur, but afterwards changed his intention: in page 13 the +latter calls him a stranger to her, although he is the intimate friend +of her husband. + +[3] [Old copy, _walk_.] + +[4] Busk-point, the lace with its tag which secured the end of the busk, +a piece of wood or whalebone worn by women in front of the stays to keep +them straight. + +[5] [Old copies, _Study_.] + +[6] [Old copy, _watch_.] + +[7] [Old copies, _dream_.] + +[8] [All Fuller's speeches must be supposed to be _Asides_.] + +[9] [Old copies give this line to Fuller.] + +[10] Old copies, _she_. + +[11] Old copies, _bene_; but the schoolmaster is made to blunder, so +that _bene_ may, after all, be what the author wrote. + +[12] The rod, made of a willow-wand. + +[13] Old copy, _how_. + +[14] [Old copies, _laid_.] + +[15] [A quotation.] + +[16] _Christ-cross_, the alphabet. + +[17] [The sense appears to be, for this not being perfect poison, as his +(the pedant's) meaning is to poison himself, some covetous slave will +sell him real poison.] + +[18] [Old copies, _seem'd_.] + +[19] [Old copies, _First_.] + +[20] [Massinger, in his "City Madam," 1658, uses this word in the sense +of _above the law_. Perhaps Young Arthur may intend to distinguish +between a civil and religious contract.] + +[21] [See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 90.] + +[22] [i.e., The _hoar_-frost.] + +[23] [Old copy, _flies upon_.] + +[24] [This line has been seriously corrupted, and it might be impossible +to restore the true reading. The old copies have: _Ask, he knew me, a +means_, &c.] + +[25] [Having, however, been written and acted some years before it was +printed in 1606.] + +[26] _Sloughing hotcockles_ is a sport still retained among children. +The diversion is of long standing, having been in use with the ancients. +See Pollux, lib. ix. In the copy it is spelt _slauging_. + +[27] Old copy, _which_. + +[28] [So in Wybarne's "New Age of Old Names," 1609, p. 12: "But stay, my +friend: Let it be first manifest that my Father left Land, and then we +will rather agree at home, then suffer the Butler's Boxe to winne all." +The phrase occurs again in "Ram Alley," 1611.] + +[29] [So the old copy, and rightly. Forne is a contracted form of +_beforne_, a good old English word. Hawkins printed _fore_.] + +[30] Query, if this be not a fling at Shakespeare? See "Cymbeline." +--_Hawkins_. [Scarcely, for there are two sons recovered in that play, +and the incident of finding a long-lost child is not an uncommon one +in the drama. We have a daughter thus found in Pericles.--_Ebsworth_.] + +[31] [Some of the old copies read _make_.] + +[32] Old copy, _furens_. + +[33] Old copy, _lanching_. + +[34] [Old copies, _is_.] + +[35] [It is probably well known that on the early stage vinegar was used +where there was a necessity for representing bloodshed. Compare the +passage in Preston's "Cambyses," iv. 217.] + +[36] Old copy, _utensilies_. + +[37] Old copy, _sly_. + +[38] Old copy, _soure_. + +[39] [Old copy, _clear the vsuall_, &c.] + +[40] "Belvidere; or, The Garden of the Muses," 8vo, 1600, in which are +quoted sentences out of Spenser, Constable, and the rest, digested under +a commonplace. [Another edition in 1610. It is a book of no value or +interest.] + +[41] [Left blank in the old copy. The ostensible editor of "Belvidere" +was John Bodenham, but he is evidently not the person referred to here.] + +[42] [Alluding to the device on the title of the volume.] + +[43] [Two of the old copies read _swifter_.] + +[44] [Some copies read _S.D_.] + +[45] As the works of some of the poets here cited are become obscure, it +may not be unacceptable to the reader to see a few specimens of their +several abilities. Constable was esteemed the first sonneteer of his +time, and the following sonnet, prefixed to King James I.'s "Poetical +Exercises" was the most admired-- + + TO THE KING OF SCOTLAND. + + "When others hooded with blind love do fly + Low on the ground with buzzard Cupid's wings, + A heavenly love from love of love thee brings, + And makes thy Muse to mount above the sky: + Young Muses be not wont to fly so high, + Age school'd by time such sober ditties sings, + But thy love flies from love of youthful things, + And so the wings of time doth overfly. + Thus thou disdain'st all worldly wings as slow, + Because thy Muse with angels' wings doth leave + Time's wings behind, and Cupid's wings below; + But take thou heed, lest Fame's wings thee deceive, + With all thy speed from fame thou canst not flee,-- + But more thou flees, the more it follows thee." + +[46] Lodge was a physician as well as a poet; he was the author of two +plays, and eminent, in his day, for writing elegant odes, pastoral +songs, sonnets, and madrigals. His "Euphues' Golden Legacy" was printed +4to, 1590, from which some suppose Shakespeare took his "As You Like +It." Description of spring by Lodge-- + + "The earth late choak'd with showers, + Is now array'd in green, + Her bosom springs with flowers, + The air dissolves her teen; + The woods are deck'd with leaves, + And trees are clothed gay, + And Flora, crown'd with sheaves, + With oaken boughs doth play; + The birds upon the trees + Do sing with pleasant voices, + And chant, in their degrees, + Their loves and lucky choices." + +[47] Watson was contemporary with, and imitator of, Sir Philip Sydney, +with Daniel, Lodge, Constable, and others, in the pastoral strain of +sonnets, &c. Watson thus describes a beautiful woman-- + + "Her yellow locks exceed the beaten gold, + Her sparkling eyes in heav'n a place deserve. + Her forehead high and fair, of comely mould; + Her words are music all, of silver sound. + Her wit so sharp, as like can scarce be found: + Each eyebrow hangs, like Iris in the skies, + Her eagle's nose is straight, of stately frame, + On either cheek a rose and lily lies, + Her breath is sweet perfume or holy flame; + Her lips more red than any coral stone, + Her neck more white than aged swans that moan: + Her breast transparent is, like crystal rock, + Her fingers long, fit for Apollo's lute, + Her slipper such, as Momus dare not mock; + Her virtues are so great as make me mute: + What other parts she hath I need not say, + Whose face alone is cause of my decay." + +[48] [This passage is a rather important piece of evidence in favour of +the identity of the poet with the physician.] + +[49] [Sir] John Davis [author of "Nosce Teipsum," &c.] + +[50] Old copy, _sooping_. + +[51] Lock and Hudson were the Bavius and Maevius of that time. The +latter gives us this description of fear-- + + "Fear lendeth wings to aged folk to fly, + And made them mount to places that were high; + Fear made the woful child to wail and weep, + For want of speed on foot and hands to creep." + +[Hudson, however, enjoyed some repute in his time, and is known as the +translator from Du Bartas of the "History of Judith," 8vo, 1584. Lock +published in 1597 a volume containing an English version of +"Ecclesiastes" and a series of sonnets.] + +[52] John Marston, a bold and nervous writer in Elizabeth's reign: the +work here censured was, no doubt, his "Scourge of Villanie, 3 Books of +Satyrs," 1598. + +[53] Marlowe's character is well marked in these lines: he was an +excellent poet, but of abandoned morals, and of the most impious +principles; a complete libertine and an avowed atheist. He lost his life +in a riotous fray; for, detecting his servant with his mistress, he +rushed into the room with a dagger in order to stab him, but the man +warded off the blow by seizing Marlowe's wrist, and turned the dagger +into his own head: he languished some time of the wound he received, and +then died, [in] the year 1593.--_A. Wood_. + +[54] [Omitted in some copies.] + +[55] [Omitted in some copies.] + +[56] Churchyard wrote Jane Shore's Elegy in "Mirror for Magistrates," +4to, [1574. It is reprinted, with additions, in his "Challenge," 1593.] + +[57] Isaac Walton, in his "Life of Hooker," calls Nash a man of a sharp +wit, and the master of a scoffing, satirical, merry pen. His satirical +vein was chiefly exerted in prose; and he is said to have more +effectually discouraged and nonplussed Penry, the most notorious +anti-prelate, Richard Harvey the astrologer, and their adherents, than +all serious writers who attacked them. That he was no mean poet will +appear from the following description of a beautiful woman-- + + "Stars fall to fetch fresh light from her rich eyes, + Her bright brow drives the sun to clouds beneath, + Her hairs' reflex with red streaks paint the skies, + Sweet morn and evening dew falls from her breath." + +[58] Ital. _stocco_, or long rapier. + +[59] A tusk. + +[60] [Some copies read _turne_.] + +[61] [John Danter, the printer. Nash, it will be remembered, was called +by Harvey _Danter's man_, because some of his books came from that +press. See the next scene.] + +[62] [A few corrections have been ventured upon in the French and Latin +scraps, as the speaker does not appear to have been intended to blunder.] + +[63] [Old copies, _procures_.] + +[64] [Old copies, _thanked_.] + +[65] [Old copies, _Fly--revengings_.] + +[66] [Old copy, _gale_.] + +[67] [Old copy, _gracis_.] + +[68] [Old copy, _filthy_.] + +[69] [Old copies, _seat_.] + +[70] [In the old copy the dialogue is as usual given so as to make utter +nonsense, which was apparently not intended.] + +[71] [Furor Poeticus apostrophises Apollo, the Muses, &c., who are not +present.] + +[72] [Old copy, _Den_.] + +[73] [Alluding to the blindness of puppies.] + +[74] [Man.] + +[75] [Old copy, _skibbered_.] + +[76] [i.e., my very mate.] + +[77] [In old copy this line is given to Phantasma.] + +[78] [i.e., _face_. Old copy, _race_.] + +[79] [Rent or distracted. A play is intended on the double meaning of +the word.] + +[80] [So in the old copy, being an abbreviation, _rhythmi causâ_, of +Philomusus.] + +[81] [Old copy, _Mossy_; but in the margin is printed _Most like_, as if +it was an afterthought, and the correction had been stamped in.] + +[82] [Old copy, _playing_.] + +[83] _No_ omitted. + +[84] [This is the old mythological tradition inverted.] + +[85] The bishop's examining chaplain, so called from apposer. In a will +of James I.'s reign, the curate of a parish is to appose the children of +a charity-school. The term _poser_ is still retained in the schools at +[St Paul's,] Winchester and Eton. Two Fellows are annually deputed by +the Society of New College in Oxford and King's College in Cambridge to +appose or try the abilities of the boys who are to be sped to the +fellowships that shall become vacant in the ensuing year. + +[86] [The old copy gives this to the next act and scene; but Amoretto +seems to offer the remark in immediate allusion to what has just passed. +After all, the alteration is not very vital, as, although a new act and +scene are marked, Academico and Amoretto probably remain on the stage.] + +[87] Good. + +[88] [Old copy, _caches_. A _rache_ is a dog that hunts by scent wild +beasts, birds, and even fishes; the female is called a _brache_.] + +[89] [See Halliwell's "Dictionary," i. 115.] + +[90] [He refers to Amoretto himself.] + +[91] [Halliwell, in his "Dictionary," _v. rheum (s.)_, defines it to +mean _spleen, caprice_. He does not cite it as a verb. I suppose the +sense here to be _ruminating_.] + +[92] Old copy, _ravished_. + +[93] [A play on _personage_ and _parsonage_, which were formerly +interchangeable terms, as both had originally one signification.] + +[94] [Queen Elizabeth was born September 7, 1533; not her birthday, +therefore, but her accession (17th November 1558), at the death of her +sister Mary, is referred to by Immerito and Sir Raderic. Elizabeth died +March 24, 1602-3. Inasmuch as there is this special reference in "The +Return from Parnassus" to the Queen's day, and not to King James's day, +we have a certain evidence that the play was written by or before the +end of 1602-3. See also what may be drawn from the reference to the +siege of Ostend, 1601-4, at the close of act iii. sc. 3 _post_ +--additional evidence for 1602.--_Ebsworth_.] + +[95] [Old copy, _I tooke of_, which seems nonsense.] + +[96] [So old copy. Hawkins altered the word unnecessarily to +_thatched_.] + +[97] [Bespeaketh. Old copies, _rellish_.] + +[98] Old copy, _bites a lip_. + +[99] [So in old copy, but should we not read _London?--Ebsworth_.] + +[100] [There are three references to Ostend in this play. The town bore +a siege from 1601 to 1604, when it surrendered by capitulation. The +besieged lost 50,000 men, and the Spaniards still more. The expression, +"He is as glad as if he had taken Ostend," surely proves that this play +was written after the beginning of 1601 and the commencement of the +siege. It does not prove it to have been written after 1604, but, I +think, strongly indicates the contrary.--_Ebsworth_. Is it not possible +that the passage was introduced into the play when printed, and was not +in the original MS.?] + +[101] [So the old copies. Hawkins altered it to _delicacies_.] + +[102] [Poor must be pronounced as a dissyllable.] + +[103] [From _marry_ to _terms_ is omitted in one of the Oxford copies +and in Dr Ingleby's.] + +[104] [Old copy, _puppet_.] + +[105] [One of the copies at Oxford, and Dr Ingleby's, read _nimphs_. Two +others misprint _mips_.] + +[106] [Old copy, _wail_.] + +[107] Old copy, _and_. + +[108] [Both the Oxford copies read _teate_.] + +[109] [Both the Oxford copies have _beare_.] + +[110] [Some of the copies, _break_.] + +[111] To _moot_ is to plead a mock cause; to state a point of law by way +of exercise, a common practice in the inns of court. + +[112] Old copy, _facility_. + +[113] [Old copy, _high_.] + +[114] [A slight departure from Ovid.] + +[115] To _come off_ is equivalent to the modern expression to _come +down_, to pay sauce, to pay dearly, &c. In this sense Shakespeare uses +the phrase in "Merry Wives of Windsor," act iv. sc. 6. The host says, +"They [the Germans] shall have my horses, but I'll make them pay, I'll +sauce them. They have had my house a week at command; I have turned away +my other guests. They must come off; I'll sauce them." An eminent critic +says to _come off_ is to go scot-free; and this not suiting the context, +he bids us read, they must _compt off_, i.e., clear their reckoning. + +[116] Old copy, _Craboun_. + +[117] [Talons.] + +[118] _Gramercy_: great thanks, _grand merci_; or I thank ye, _Je vous +remercie_. In this sense it is constantly used by our first writers. A +very great critic pronounces it an obsolete expression of surprise, +contracted from _grant me mercy_; and cites a passage in "Titus +Andronicus" to illustrate his sense of it; but, it is presumed, that +passage, when properly pointed, confirms the original acceptation-- + + CHIRON. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius, + He hath some message to deliver us. + + AARON. Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather. + + BOY. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, + I greet your honours from Andronicus-- + And pray the Roman gods confound you both. [_Aside_. + + DEMETRIUS. _Gramercy_, lovely Lucius; what's the news? + + BOY. That you are both decipher'd (that's the news) + For villains mark'd with rape. [_Aside_] May it please you, + My grandsire, well advis'd, hath sent by me + The goodliest weapon of his armoury, + To gratify your honourable youth, + The hope of Rome: for so he bid me say; + And so I do, and with his gifts present + Your lordships, that whenever you have need, + You may be armed and appointed well. + And so I leave you both--like bloody villains. [_Aside_. + +--Hanmer's 2d edit., act iv. sc. 2. [The text is the same in Dyce's 2d +edit., vi. 326-7.] + +[119] "Poetaster," act v. sc. 3. [Gifford's edit. ii. 524-5, and the +note.] + +[120] [So in the old copy Kemp is made, perhaps intentionally, to call +Studioso. See also _infrá_, p. 198.] + +[121] [See Kemp's "Nine Daies Wonder," edit. Dyce, ix.] + +[122] _Sellenger's round_, corrupted from St Leger, a favourite dance +with the common people. + +[123] Old copy reads-- + + "As you part in _kne_ + + KEMP. You are at Cambridge still with _sice kne_," &c. + +The genuine reading, it is presumed, is restored to the text-- + + "As your part in _cue_. + + KEMP. You are at Cambridge still with _size cue_," &c. + +A pun upon the word _cue_, which is a hint to the actor to proceed in +his part, and has the same sound with the letter _q_, the mark of a +farthing in college buttery-books. To _size_ means to _battle_, or to be +charged in the college accounts for provisions. [A _q_ is so called +because it is the initial letter of _quadrans_, the fourth part of a +penny.] + +[124] This seems to be quoted from the first imperfect edition of "The +Spanish Tragedy;" in the later (corrected) impression it runs thus-- + + "What outcries pluck me from my naked bed, + And chill," &c. + +--[v. 54.] + +[125] [Old copy points this sentence falsely, and repeats _thing_.] + +[126] Old copy, _woe_. + +[127] [Old copy, _birds_. Perhaps, however, the poet may have meant +_swans_.] + +[128] Old copy, _sooping_. + +[129] [I think this is much more likely to be an allusion to +Shakespeare, than the passage in the prologue to which Hawkins +refers.--_Ebsworth_.] + +[130] [Old copy, _some_.] + +[131] [There were several Greek _literati_ of this name. Amoretto's +page, personating his master, is so nicknamed by the other, who +personates Sir Raderic--unless the passage is corrupt.] + +[132] [Old copy, _Irenias_.] + +[133] [Old copy, _Nor_.] + +[134] [Old copy, _we have_.] + +[135] [Old copy, _run_. Mr Ebsworth's correction.] + +[136] Old copy, _cluttish_. + +[137] Old copy, _trus_. + +[138] One of the old copies reads _repay'st_. + +[139] Old copy, _seeling_. + +[140] This play is not divided into acts. + +[141] [Cadiz.] + +[142] [Shear-penny.] + +[143] [Extortion.] + +[144] [Old copies, _waves_.] + +[145] [Old copy, _fates to friend_.] + +[146] [Old copy, _springold_.] + +[147] [Old copy, as before, _springold_.] + +[148] [Old copy, _doff off_.] + +[149] [Old copy, _wat'ry_.] + +[150] [Resound.] + +[151] Edit. 1606 has: _Mi Fortunate, ter fortunate Venus_. The 4to of +1623 reads: _Mi Fortunatus, Fortunate Venter_. + +[152] [Intend.] + +[153] She means to say eloquence, and so it stands in the edition of +1623. + +[154] [Robin Goodfellow.] + +[155] [See p. 286.] + +[156] [This must allude to some real circumstance and person.] + +[157] [Attend.] + +[158] [Bergen-op-Zoom.] + +[159] [Old copy, _our_.] + +[160] [Lap, long. See Nares, edit. 1859, _v. Lave-eared_.] + +[161] [Old copy, _seas_.] + +[162] [Orcus.] + +[163] [Worried.] + +[164] [An answer to a summons or writ. Old copy, _retourner_.] + +[165] [This most rare edition was very kindly lent to me by the Rev. +J.W. Ebsworth, Moldash Vicarage, near Ashford.] + +[166] [Cromwell did not die till September 3, 1658, a sufficient reason +for the absence of the allusion which Reed thought singular.] + +[167] [i.e., The human body and mind. _Microcosmus_ had been used by +Davies of Hereford in the same sense in the title of a tract printed in +1603, as it was afterwards by Heylin in his "Microcosmus," 1621, and by +Earle in his "Microcosmography," 1628.] + +[168] _Skene_ or _skane: gladius, Ensis brevior.--Skinner_. Dekker's +"Belman's Night Walk," sig. F 2: "The bloody Tragedies of all these are +onely acted by the women, who, carrying long knives or _skeanes_ under +their mantles, doe thus play their parts." Again in Warner's "Albion's +England," 1602, p. 129-- + + "And Ganimaedes we are," quoth one, "and thou a prophet trew: + And hidden _skeines_ from underneath their forged garments drew, + Wherewith the tyrant and his bawds with safe escape they slew." + +--See the notes of Mr Steevens and Mr Nichols on "Romeo and Juliet," act +ii. sc. 4. + +[169] The edition of 1657 reads, _red buskins drawn with white ribband. +--Collier_. + +[170] Musical terms. See notes on "Midsummer's Night's Dream," vol. iii. +p. 63, and "King Richard III." vol. vii. p. 6, edit. 1778.--_Steevens_. + +[171] A metaphor drawn from music, more particularly that kind of +composition called a _Ground_, with its _Divisions_. Instead of +_relish_, I would propose to read _flourish_.--_S.P_. + +[172] Mr Steevens supposes this to be a musical term. See note on +"Richard II." act ii. sc. 1-- + + "The setting sun and music at the close." + +[173] Fr. for whistlings.--_Steevens_. + +[174] i.e., Petitionary.--_Steevens_. + +[175] [Altered by Mr Collier to _girls_; but _gulls_ is the reading of +1607.] + +[176] _Like an ordinary page, gloves, hamper_--so the first edition; but +as the two last words seem only the prompter's memoranda, they are +omitted. They are also found in the last edition.--_Collier_. + +[177] Ready. + +[178] Graceful. See Mr Malone's note on "Coriolanus," act ii. sc. 1. + +[179] [Edits., _blasting_.] I would propose to read the _blushing +childhood_, alluding to the ruddiness of Aurora, the _rosy morn_, as in +act iii. sc. 6-- + + "Light, the fair grandchild to the glorious sun, + Opening the casements of the _rosy morn_," &c. + +--_S. Pegge_. + +[180] So in "Hamlet," act i. sc. 1-- + + "But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, + _Walks_ o'er the dew of _yon high eastern hill_." + +[181] A _fool's bauble_, in its _literal_ meaning, is the carved +truncheon which the licensed fools or jesters anciently carried in their +hands. See notes on "All's Well that Ends Well," act iv. sc. 5. +--_Steevens_. + +[182] Winstanley has asserted that Oliver Cromwell performed the part of +Tactus at Cambridge: and some who have written the life of that great +man have fixed upon this speech as what first gave him ideas of +sovereignty. The notion is too vague to be depended upon, and too +ridiculous either to establish or refute. It may, however, not be +unnecessary to mention that Cromwell was born in 1599, and the first +edition of this play [was printed in 1607, and the play itself written +much earlier]. If, therefore, the Protector ever did represent this +character, it is more probable to have been at Huntingdon School. + +[183] [Old copies, _scarve_, and so the edit. of 1780. Mr Collier +substituted _change_ as the reading of the old copies, which it is not. +See Mr Brae's paper read before the Royal Society of Literature, Jan. +1871, 8vo edit. 1873, p. 23, et seq.] + +[184] Edits., _deeds_. Pegge thought that by _deeds_ was intended Tactus +himself; but it is hard to say how this could be made out, as Tactus +cannot be translated _deeds_, though Auditus might be rendered by +metonymy _ears_. + +[185] [Edit., _fear'd_.] + +[186] In Surphlet's "Discourses on the Diseases of Melancholy," 4to, +1599, p. 102, the case alluded to is set down: "There was also of late a +great lord, _which thought himselfe to be a glasse_, and had not his +imagination troubled, otherwise then in this onely thing, for he could +speake mervailouslie well of any other thing: he used commonly to sit, +and tooke great delight that his friends should come and see him, but so +as that he would desire them, that they would not come neere unto him." + +[187] Hitherto misprinted _conclaves_.--_Collier_. [First 4to, +correctly, _concaves_.] + +[188] See Surphlet, p. 102. + +[189] [An allusion to the myth of the werewolf.] + +[190] [This proverb is cited by Heywood. See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, +p. 392.] + +[191] [All the editions except 1657, _bidden_, and all have _arms_ for +_harms_.] + +[192] Presently, forthwith. + +[193] [Edits., _wax_.] + +[194] Some of the old copies [including that of 1607] read-- + + "Here lies the sense that _lying_ gull'd them all." + +--_Collier_. + +[195] Auditus is here called _Ears_, as Tactus is before called +_Deed_.--_Pegge_. [But see note at p. 349.] + +[196] Circles. So in Milton-- + + "Throws his steep flight in many an airy wheel." + +--_Steevens_. + +[197] [It is _Mendacio_ who speaks.] + +[198] Old copies, _Egyptian knights_. Dr Pegge's correction. + +[199] [Edits., _I_.] + +[200] [Edits., _safe_.] + +[201] A pun; for he means _Male aeger_.--_Pegge_. + +[202] The [first edit.] gives the passage thus: _brandish no swords but +sweards of bacon_, which is intended for a pun, and though bad enough, +need not be lost.--_Collier_. + +[203] _Glaves_ are swords, and sometimes partisans.--_Steevens_. + +[204] Lat. for phalanxes.--_Steevens_. + +[205] [Edits., _dept_.] + +[206] Mars. + +[207] See Note 2 to the "First Part of Jeronimo," [v. 349]. + +[208] [Edits., _kist_. The word _hist_ may be supposed to represent the +whistling sound produced by a sword passing rapidly through the air.] + +[209] i.e., Exceeds bounds or belief. See a note on "The Merry Wives +of Windsor," act iv. sc. 2.--_Steevens_. + +[210] "_Graecia mendax_ + Audet in historia."--_Steevens_. + +[211] [His "History," which is divided into nine books, under the names +of the nine Muses.] + +[212] i.e., Whispered him. See note to "The Spanish Tragedy," [vi. 10.] + +[213] [Peter Martyr's "Decades."] + +[214] A luncheon before dinner. The farmers in Essex still use the +word.--_Steevens_. + +So in the "Woman-hater," by Beaumont and Fletcher, act i. sc. 3, Count +Valore, describing Lazarillo, says-- + + "He is none of these + Same Ordinary Eaters, that'll devour + Three breakfasts, as many dinners, and without any + Prejudice to their _Beavers_, drinkings, suppers; + But he hath a more courtly kind of hunger. + And doth hunt more after novelty than plenty." + +Baret, in his "Alvearic," 1580, explains _a boever_, a drinking betweene +dinner and supper; and _a boïer_, meate eaten after noone, a collation, +a noone meale. + +[215] See Note 19 to "The Ordinary." + +[216] [In 1576 Ulpian Fulwell published "The First Part of the Eighth +Liberal Science, Entituled Ars Adulandi."] + +[217] This word, which occurs in Ben Jonson and some other writers, +seems to have the same meaning as our _numps_. I am ignorant of its +etymology.--_Steevens_. [Compare Nares, 1859, in _v_.] + +[218] i.e., Other requisites towards the fitting out of a character. +See a note on "Love's Labour Lost," vol. ii. p. 385, edit. 1778. +--_Steevens_. + +[219] A busk-point was, I believe, the lace of a lady's stays. Minsheu +explains a _buske_ to be a part of dress "made of wood or whalebone, a +plated or quilted thing to keepe the body straight." The word, I am +informed, is still in common use, particularly in the country among the +farmers' daughters and servants, for a piece of wood to preserve the +stays from being bent. _Points_ or laces were worn by both sexes, and +are frequently mentioned in our ancient dramatic writers. + +[220] [Edits., _hu, hu_.] + +[221] [i.e., Our modern _pet_, darling, a term of endearment.] Dr +Johnson says that it is a word of endearment from _petit_, little. See +notes on "The Taming of the Shrew," act i. sc. 1. + +Again, in "The City Madam," by Massinger, act ii. sc. 2-- + + "You are _pretty peats_, and your great portions + Add much unto your handsomeness." + +[222] Shirley, in his "Sisters," ridicules these hyperbolical +compliments in a similar but a better strain-- + + "Were it not fine + If you should see your mistress without hair, + Drest only with those glittering beams you talk of? + Two suns instead of eyes, and they not melt + The forehead made of snow! No cheeks, but two + Roses inoculated on a lily, + Between a pendant alabaster nose: + Her lips cut out of coral, and no teeth + But strings of pearl: her tongue a nightingale's! + Would not this strange chimera fright yourself?" + +--_Collier_. + +[223] [i.e., Doff it in salutation.] + +[224] Alluding to the office of sheriff. + +[225] "_Cassock_," says Mr Steevens, "signifies a horseman's loose coat, +and is used in that sense by the writers of the age of Shakespeare. It +likewise appears to have been part of the dress of rusticks." See note +to "All's Well that Ends Well," act iv. sc. 3. + +[226] "A _gimmal_ or _gimbal ring_, Fr. _gemeau_, utr. a Lat. Gemellus, +q.d. Annulus Gemellus, quoniam, sc. duobus aut pluribus orbibus +constat."--_Skinner_. + +_Gimmal rings_ are often mentioned in ancient writers. + +[227] "Quis nescit primam esse Historiae legem, ne quid falsi dicere +audeat; deinde, ne quid veri non audeat."--Cicero "De Orat." lib. ii. 15. + +[228] This was called "The Clouds," in which piece Socrates was +represented hanging up in a basket in the air, uttering numberless +chimerical absurdities, and blaspheming, as it was then reputed, the +gods of his country. At the performance of this piece Socrates was +present himself; and "notwithstanding," says his biographer, "the gross +abuse that was offered to his character, he did not show the least signs +of resentment or anger; nay, such was the unparalleled good nature of +this godlike man, that some strangers there, being desirous to see the +original of this scenic picture, he rose up in the middle of the +performance, stood all the rest of the time, and showed himself to the +people; by which well-placed confidence in his own merit and innocence, +reminding them of those virtues and wisdom so opposite to the sophist in +the play, his pretended likeness, he detected the false circumstances, +which were obtruded into his character, and obviated the malicious +designs of the poet who, having brought his play a second time upon the +stage, met with the contempt he justly merited for such a composition." +--Cooper's "Life of Socrates," p. 55. + +[229] [Old copies, _page's tongue_; but Mendacio, Lingua's page, is +intended. Perhaps we should read _Tongueship's page_.] + +[230] [This is marked in the editions as the opening of a new scene, but +wrongly, as it should seem, as the same persons remain on the stage, and +the conversation is a sequel to what has gone before.] + +[231] These were the names of several species of hawks. See an account +of them in the "Treatises on Falconry," particularly those of Turbervile +and Latham. + +[232] i.e., Hedgehogs. See a note on Shakespeare's "Tempest," i. 28, +edit. 1778.--_Steevens_. + +Again, in Erasmus's "Praise of Folie," 1549, sig. Q 2: "That the soule +of Duns woulde a litle leve Sorbone College, and enter into my breast, +be he never so thornie, and fuller of pricles than is any _urcheon_." + +[233] Perhaps, instead of _the masks are made so strong_, we ought to +read, _the mesh is made so strong_. It clearly means the _mesh of the +net_, from what is said afterwards.--_Collier_. [But _mask_, in +Halliwell's "Dictionary," is said to be used for _mesh_. What is +intended above is not a _net_, but a network ladder.] + +[234] [_Hazard_, the plot of a tennis-court.--Halliwell's "Dictionary."] + +[235] This is one of the many phrases in these volumes which, being not +understood, was altered without any authority from the ancient copies. +The former editions read _odd mouthing_; the text, however, is right; +for old, as Mr Steevens observes, was formerly a common augmentative in +colloquial language, and as such is often used by Shakespeare and +others. See notes on the "Second Part of Henry IV." act ii. sc. 4, and +"The Taming of the Shrew," act iii. sc. 2. + +Again, in Tarlton's "Newes out of Purgatory," 1630, p. 34: "On Sunday at +Masse there was _old ringing of bells_, and old and yong came to church +to see the new roode." + +[236] A sneer at the Utopian Treatises on Government.--_Steevens_. + +[237] The latest of the old copies, [and the first edition, have] _wine_ +instead of _swine_, which is clearly a misprint, as the _hogs_ of +Olfactus are subsequently again mentioned.--_Collier_. + +[238] [Old copies, _he_.] + +[239] [A flogging.] + +[240] [i.e., A blockhead, a fool.--_Steevens_.] + +[241] _Nor I out of Memory's mouth_ is the correct reading, although the +pronoun has been always omitted. Anamnestes is comparing his situation +with that of Mendacio.--_Collier_. + +[242] [See "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," ii. 296.] + +[243] [Another name of Jupiter.] + +[244] [Edits., _belly_.] + +[245] Chess. + +[246] A favourite game formerly, and apparently one of the oldest in +use. The manner in which it was played will appear from the following +epigram of Sir John Harington, the translator of Ariosto-- + + _The Story of Marcus's Life at Primero_. + + "Fond Marcus ever at _Primero_ playes, + Long winter nights, and as long summer dayes: + And I heard once to idle talke attending + The story of his times and coins mis-spending + At first, he thought himselfe halfe way to heaven, + If in his hand he had but got a sev'n. + His father's death set him so high on flote, + All rests went up upon a sev'n and coate. + But while he drawes from these grey coats and gownes, + The gamesters from his purse drew all his crownes. + And he ne'er ceast to venter all in prime, + Till of his age, quite was consum'd the prime. + Then he more warily his rest regards, + And sets with certainties upon the cards, + On sixe and thirtie, or on sev'n and nine, + If any set his rest, and saith, and mine: + But seed with this, he either gaines or saves, + For either Faustus prime is with three knaves, + Or Marcus never can encounter right, + Yet drew two Ases, and for further spight + Had colour for it with a hopeful draught + But not encountred, it avail'd him naught. + Well, sith encountring, he so faire doth misse, + He sets not, till he nine and fortie is. + And thinking now his rest would sure be doubled, + He lost it by the hand, with which sore troubled, + He joynes now all his stocke unto his stake, + That of his fortune he full proofe may make. + At last both eldest hand and five and fifty, + He thinketh now or never (thrive unthrifty.) + Now for the greatest rest he hath the push: + But Crassus stopt a club, and so was flush: + And thus what with the stop, and with the packe, + Poore Marcus and his rest goes still to wracke. + Now must he seek new spoile to rest his rest, + For here his seeds turne weeds, his rest, unrest. + His land, his plate he pawnes, he sels his leases, + To patch, to borrow, and shift he never ceases. + Till at the last two catch-poles him encounter, + And by arrest, they beare him to the Counter. + Now Marcus may set up all rests securely: + For now he's sure to be encountred surely." + +Minsheu thus explains _Primero_:--"_Primero and Primavista_, two games +at cards. Primum et primum visum, that is, first and first seene, +because he that can show such an order of cards first, winnes the game." +[See Dyce's "Shakespeare Glossary," in _v_.] + +[247] See Note 30 to "The Dumb Knight." + +[248] [See "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," ii. 318-19.] So in +Dekker's "Belman's Nights-walke," it is alluded to:--"The set at _Maw_ +being plaid out." + +Henslowe in his Diary mentions a play under the title of "The Maw," +which probably had reference to the game at cards so called. It was +acted on the 14th December 1594. He also names a play entitled "The +Macke," under date of Feb. 21, 1594-5; but it is doubtful if they were +not the same.--_Collier_. + +[249] In the old editions this is given as a part of what is said by +Anamnestes.--_Collier_. + +[250] [See Dyce's "Middleton," iii. 106. _There's no ho_, there are no +bounds or restraints with them.--_Reed_. They are not to be restrained +by a call or ho. The expression is common.--_Dyce_.] + +[251] Rather Ptolemy.--_Pegge_. + +[252] _Latten_, as explained by Dr Johnson, is "Brass; a mixture of +Copper and Caliminaris stone." Mr Theobald, from Monsieur Dacier, says, +"C'est une espece de cuivre de montagne, comme son nom mesme le +temoigne; c'est ce que nous appellons au jourd'huy du _leton_. It is a +sort of mountain copper, as its very name imports, and which we at this +time of day call _latten_." See Mr Theobald's note on "The Merry Wives +of Windsor," act i. sc. 1. + +Among the Harleian MSS. is a tract, No. 6395, entitled "Merry Passages +and Jeasts," written in the seventeenth century, [printed by Thoms in +"Anecdotes and Traditions," 1839,] in which is the following story of +Shakespeare, which seems entitled to as much credit as any of the +anecdotes which now pass current about him: "Shake-speare was god-father +to one of Ben Jonson's children, and after the christning, being in a +deepe study, Jonson came to cheere him up, and ask't him why he was so +melancholy? No, faith, Ben (sayes he) not I, but I have been considering +a great while, what should be the fittest gift for me to bestow upon my +god-child, and I have resolv'd at last; I pr'y thee what, says he? I +faith, Ben, Ile e'en give him a douzen good _Lattin_ spoones, and thou +shall translate them." + +[253] _Deft_ is handy, dexterous. So in "Macbeth," act iv. sc. 1-- + + "Thyself and office _deftly_ show." + +See note on "Macbeth," edit. 1778.--_Steevens_. + +[254] [Concert.] + +[255] [Summoners, officers of the old ecclesiastical court.] + +[256] [Ignorant of arts.] + +[257] A _jangler_, says Baret, is "a jangling fellowe, a babbling +attornie. _Rabula, ae_, mas. gen. [Greek: Dikologos]_ Vn pledoieur +criard, une plaidereau_." + +[258] This speech is in six-line stanzas, and _beforn_ should rhyme to +_morn_, as it does in the old copies, which were here abandoned. +--_Collier_. + +[259] i.e., "Going. _Gate_, in the Northern Dialect, signifies a way; +so that _agate_ is at or upon the way."--Hay's "Collection of Local +Words," p. 13, edit. 1740. + +[260] Here again, as in the passage at p. 354, we have _arms_ for +_harms_. In the old copies this speech of the Herald is printed as +prose.--_Collier_. + +[261] A monster feigned to have the head of a lion, the belly of a goat, +and the tail of a dragon. + +[262] "If at any time in Rolls and Alphabets of Arms you meet with this +term, you must not apprehend it to be that fowl which in barbarous +Latine they call _Bernicla_, and more properly (from the Greek) +_Chenalopex_--a creature well known in Scotland, yet rarely used in +arms; but an instrument used by farriers to curb and command an unruly +horse, and termed Pastomides."--Gibbons's "Introductio ad Latinam +Blasoniam," 1682, p. 1. + +[The allusion here is to the barnacle of popular folk-lore and +superstition, which, from a shell-fish, was transformed into a +goose.--See "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," iii. 309.] + +[263] [A reference to the belief in prodigies reported from Africa. +"Africa semper aliquid oportet novi."--S. Gosson's "School of Abuse," +1579. See also Rich's "My Ladies Looking-glass," 1616, sig. B 3.] + +[264] [Edits. give this speech to the Herald.] + +[265] [The head.] + +[266] A celebrated puppet-show often mentioned by writers of the times +by the name of the Motion of Nineveh. See Ben Jonson's "Bartholomew +Fair," act v. sc. 1; "Wit at Several Weapons," act i.; "Every Woman in +her Humour," 1609, sig. H, and "The Cutter of Coleman Street," act v. +sc. 9. + +[267] So in "Twelfth Night," act i. sc. 1. + + "That strain again; it had a dying _fall_."--_Steevens_. + +[268] [Edits., _bitter_.] + +[269] [See Dyce's "Beaumont and Fletcher," ii. 225, note.] Theobald +observes in his edition of "Beaumont and Fletcher," that this ballad is +mentioned again in "The Knight of the Burning Pestle," and likewise in a +comedy by John Tatham, 1660, called "The Rump, or Mirrour of the Times," +wherein a Frenchman is introduced at the bonfires made for the burning +of the Rump, and catching hold of Priscilla, will oblige her to dance, +and orders the music to play _Fortune my foe_. Again, in "Tom Essence," +1677, p. 37. + +[270] A dance. Sir John Davies, in his poem called "Orchestra," 1596, +stanza 70, thus describes it-- + + "Yet is there one, the most delightfull kind, + A loftie jumping, or a leaping round, + Where arme and arme two dauncers are entwind, + And whirle themselues with strict embracements bound, + And still their feet an _anapest_ do sound: + An _anapest_ is all their musicks song, + Whose first two feet are short, and third is long." + + 71. + + "As the victorious twinnes of Laeda and Ioue, + That taught the Spartans dauncing on the sands, + Of swift Eurotas, daunce in heauen aboue, + Knit and vnited with eternall hands, + Among the starres their double image stands, + Where both are carried with an equall pace, + Together iumping in their turning race." + +[271] "Or, as it is oftener called, _passa mezzo_, from _passer_ to walk, +and _mezzo_ the middle or half; a slow dance, little differing from the +action of walking. As a Galliard consists of five paces or bars in the +first strain, and is therefore called a Cinque pace; the _passa mezzo_, +which is a diminutive of the Galliard, is just half that number, and +from that peculiarity takes its name."--Sir John Hawkins's "History of +Music," iv. 386. [Compare Dyce's second edition of Shakespeare, iii. +412.] + +[272] i.e., St Leger's round. "Sellinger's round was an old country +dance, and was not quite out of knowledge in the last century. Morley +mentions it in his Introduction, p. 118, and Taylor the Water Poet, in +his tract, entitled, 'The World runs on Wheels;' and it is printed in a +'Collection of Country Dances,' published by John Playford in +1679."--Sir John Hawkins's "History of Music," iii. 288, where the notes +are engraved. + +[273] See Plinii "Nat. Hist.," lib. v. c. 9. + +[274] The author certainly in writing this beautiful passage had Spenser +("Faerie Queene," b. ii. c. 12) in his mind. + + "The joyous birds shrouded in cheerful shade," &c. + +--_Collier_. + +[275] Alluding to the fish called the _Sole_, and the musical note +_Sol_.--_Pegge_. + +[276] See note [235]. + +[277] Mixed metal, from the French word _mesler_, to mingle, mix. + +[278] [Lightning-bolt.] + +[279] [Camphored.] + +[280] Plin. "Nat. Hist." lib. xxxvi. c. 16. "Sideritin ob hoc alio +nomine appellant quidam Heracleon: Magnes appellatus est ab inventore +(ut auctor est Nicander) in Ida repertus."--_Pegge_. + +[281] So in "The Merchant of Venice," act i. sc. 1-- + + "With mirth and _laughter_ let old _wrinkles_ come." + +See also the notes of Bishop Warburton and Dr Farmer on "Love's Labour's +Lost," act v. sc. 4.--_Steevens_. + +[282] This quotation from Plautus, and that which follows from Terence, +were assigned by Mr Reed to Communis Sensus, when, in fact, they belong +to Comedus. The initials _Com_. in the old copies led to the +error.--_Collier_. + +[283] The first lines of the prologue to Plautus's "Menechmi." + +[284] See Terence's "Eunuch," act i. sc. 1. + +[285] At the universities, where degrees are conferred. + +[286] i.e., A porch which has as many spiral windings in it as the +shell of the _periwinkle_, or sea-snail.--_Steevens_. + +[287] i.e., Bottles to cast or scatter liquid odours.--_Steevens_. + +[288] The custom of censing or dispersing fragrant scents seems formerly +to have been not uncommon. See Ben Jonson's "Every Man out of his +Humour," act ii. sc. 4. + +[289] _Pomanders_ were balls of perfume formerly worn by the higher +ranks of people. Dr Gray, in his "Notes on Shakespeare," vol. i. p. 269, +says "that a _pomander_ was a little ball made of perfumes, and worn in +the pocket, or about the neck, to prevent infection in times of plague." +From the above receipt, it appears they were moulded in different +shapes, and not wholly confined to that of balls; and the like direction +is given in another receipt for making _pomanders_ printed in Markham's +"English Housewife," p. 151, edit. 1631. + +[290] _Non bene olet, qui semper bene olet_. + +[291] Probably some character notorious in the University of Cambridge +at the time when this play was written or represented.--_Steevens_. + +[292] Turquois. + +[293] [Sharpen.] + +[294] [Edits., _musing_.] + +[295] [Primary.] + +[296] [The wine so called.] + +[297] Finer, more gaudily dressed. So in "Wily Beguiled"-- + + "Come, nurse, gather: + A crown of roses shall adorn my head, + I'll _prank_ myself with flowers of the prime; + And thus I'll spend away my primrose time." + +And in Middleton's "Chast Mayd in Cheapside," 1630 [Dyces "Middleton," +iv. 59]-- + + "I hope to see thee, wench, within these few yeeres + Circled with children, _pranking_ up a girl, + And putting jewels in their little eares, + Fine sport, i'faith." + +[298] i.e., Whisper, or become silent. As in Nash's "Pierce Penilesse, +his Supplication to the Divell," 1592, p. 15: "But _whist_, these are +the workes of darknesse, and may not be talkt of in the daytime." [The +word is perfectly common.] + +[299] While he is speaking, Crapula, from the effects of over-eating, +is continually coughing, which is expressed in the old copies by the +words _tiff toff, tiff toff_, within brackets. Though it might not +be necessary to insert them, their omission ought to be mentioned. +--_Collier_. + +[300] i.e., Glutton; one whose paunch is distended by food. See a note +on "King Henry IV., Part I," v. 304, edit. 1778.--_Steevens_. + +[301] i.e., Whisper. + +[302] [Visus fancies himself Polyphemus searching for Outis--i.e., +Ulysses, who had blinded him.] + +[303] [Edits., _Both_.] + +[304] [Row.] + +[305] [Nearest.] + +[306] [Edits., _ambrosian_.] + +[307 [Fiddle.] + +[308] A voiding knife was a long one used by our indelicate ancestors to +sweep bones, &c., from the table into the _voider_ or basket, in which +broken meat was carried from the table.--_Steevens_. + +[309] Reward. + +[310] [Edits., _him_.] + +[311] [Edits., _sprites_.] + +[312] The edition of 1657 reads-- + + "A greater soldier than the god of _Mars_." + +--_Collier_. [The edition of 1607 also has _Mars_.] + +[313] i.e., Hamstring him.--_Steevens_. + +[314] "_Gulchin, q.d_. a _Gulckin_, i.e., parvus Gulo; _kin_ enim +minuit. Alludit It. _Guccio_, Stultus, hoc autem procul dubio a Teut. +_Geck_, Stultus, ortum ducit."--_Skinner_. Florio explains _Guccio_, a +gull, a sot, a ninnie, a meacock. Ben Jonson uses the word in "The +Poetaster," act iii. sc. 4: "Come, we must have you turn fiddler again, +slave; get a base violin at your back, and march in a tawny coat, with +one sleeve, to Goose-fair; then you'll know us, you'll see us then, you +will _gulch_, you will." + +[315] _Bawsin_, in some counties, signifies a _badger_. I think I have +heard the vulgar Irish use it to express bulkiness. Mr Chatterton, in +the "Poems of the Pseudo-Rowley," has it more than once in this sense. +As, _bawsyn olyphantes_, i.e., bulky elephants.--_Steevens_. + +[316] [Edits., _weary_. I wish that I could be more confident that +_weird_ is the true word. _Weary_ appears to be wrong, at any rate.] + +[317] [Edits., _bedewy_.] + +[318] [This and Chanter are the names of dogs. Auditus fancies himself +a huntsman.] + +[319] _Counter_ is a term belonging to the chase. [Gascoigne,] in his +"Book of Hunting," 1575, p. 243, says, "When a hounde hunteth backwardes +the same way that the chase is come, then we say he hunteth _counter_. +And if he hunt any other chase than that which he first undertooke, we +say he hunteth _change_." So in "Hamlet," act iv. sc. 5-- + + "How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! + O, this is _counter_, you false Danish dogs." + +See Dr Johnson's note on this passage. + +[320] [The author may have had in his mind an anecdote related of Queen +Elizabeth and Sir Edward Dyer. See the "New London Jest Book," p. 346.] + +[321] [Flatulent.] + +[322] [_Rett_ and _Cater_ appear to be the names of dogs. Edits. print +_ware wing cater_.] + +[323] [See note at p. 367.] + +[324] Idle, lazy, slothful. Minsheu derives it from the French _lasche_, +desidiosus. + +[325] [See a review of, and extracts from, this very curious play in +Fry's "Bibliographical Memoranda," 1816, pp. 345-50.] + +[326] Catalogue of the library of John Hutton. Sold at Essex House, +1764, p. 121. The whole title of the tract, which Mr Reed does not +appear to have seen, as he quotes it only from a sale catalogue, is as +follows:--"Three Miseries of Barbary: Plague, Famine, Ciuill warre. With +a relation of the death of Mahamet the late Emperour: and a briefe +report of the now present Wars betweene the three Brothers. Printed by +W.I. for Henry Gosson, and are to be sold in Pater noster rowe, at the +signe of the Sunne." It is without date, and the name of the author, +George Wilkins, is subscribed to a dedication, "To the right worshipfull +the whole Company of Barbary Merchants." The tract is written in an +ambitious style, and the descriptions are often striking; but there is +nothing but the similarity of name to connect it with "The Miseries of +Enforced Marriage."--_Collier_. + +[327] [Hazlitt's "Handbook," 1867, p. 656.] + +[328] [Not in the old copies.] + +[329] "This comedy (as Langbaine improperly calls it) has been a great +part of it revived by Mrs Behn, under the title of 'The Town Fop, or Sir +Timothy Tawdry.'" + +[330] These were among the articles of extravagance in which the youth +of the times used to indulge themselves. They are mentioned by Fennor, +in "The Compters Commonwealth," 1617, p. 32: "Thinkes himselfe much +graced (as to be much beholding to them) as to be entertained among +gallants, that were wrapt up in sattin suites, cloakes lined with +velvet, that scorned to weare any other then beaver hats and gold bands, +rich swords and scarfes, silke stockings and gold fringed garters, or +russett bootes and _gilt spurres_; and so compleate cape ape, that he +almost dares take his corporal oath the worst of them is worth (at +least) a thousand a yeare, when heaven knows the best of them all for a +month, nay, sometimes a yeare together, have their pockets worse +furnished then Chandelors boxes, that have nothing but twopences, pence, +halfe pence, and leaden tokens in them." + +[331] The following quotation from the "Perfuming of Tobacco, and the +great abuse committed in it," 1611, shows, in opposition to Mr +Gilchrist's conjecture, that _drinking_ tobacco did not mean extracting +the juice by chewing it, but refers to drawing and drinking the smoke of +it. "The smoke of tobacco (the which Dodoneus called rightly Henbane of +Peru) _drunke_ and _drawen_, by a pipe, filleth the membranes +(_meninges_) of the braine, and astonisheth and filleth many persons +with such joy and pleasure, and sweet losse of senses, that they can by +no means be without it." In fact, to _drink_ tobacco was only another +term for smoking it.--_Collier_. + +[332] Alluding to the colour of the habits of servants. + +[333] i.e., Owns. See note to "Cornelia" [v. 232]. + +[334] The omission of this stage direction, which is found in the old +copies, rendered what follows it unintelligible. Perhaps _Who list to +have a lubberly load_ is a line in some old ballad.--_Collier_. + +[335] [Anthony Munday.] + +[336] A custom still observed at weddings. + +[337] _Himself_, omitted by Mr Reed, and restored now from the old copy +of 1611.--_Collier_. + +[338] [Edits., _pugges_.] + +[339] [Edits, read-- + + "They are _sovereigns_, cordials that preserve our lives." + +[340] See Mr Steevens's note on "Othello," act ii. sc. 1. [But compare +Middleton's "Blurt, Master Constable," 1602 ("Works," by Dyce, i. 280).] + +[341] [Edits., _his_. Even the passage is now obscure and +unsatisfactory.] + +[342] [Separate.] This is obviously quoted from the marriage ceremony: +as Mr Todd has shown, the Dissenters in 1661 did not understand _depart_ +in the sense of _separate_, which led to the alteration of the Liturgy, +"till death us _do part_." In the "Salisbury Manual" of 1555 it stands +thus: "I, N, take thee, M, to my wedded wyf, to have and to holde fro +this day forwarde, for better for wors, for richer for poorer, in +sicknesse and in hele, tyl deth us _departe_."--_Collier_. + +So in "Every Woman in her Humour," 1609: "And the little God of love, he +shall be her captain: sheele sewe under him _'till death us depart_, and +thereto I plight thee my troth." And Heywood, in his "Wise Woman of +Hogsdon," iii., makes Chastley also quote from the marriage ceremony: +"If every new moone a man might have a new wife, that's every year a +dozen; but this _'till death us depart_ is tedious." + +[343] [Edits., _two sentinels_.] + +[344] Edits., _them one_. + +[345] [Edits., _lives_.] + +[346] [Remind.] + +[347] [Edits., _know him great_, which could only be made sense by +supposing it to mean, _knowing him rich_, and not a person to be +offended. Scarborow afterwards repudiates the idea of being +_ungrateful_.] + +[348] By a misprint the three following lines have been till now given +to Harcop.--_Collier_. + +[349] [Edits., _your presence_.] + +[350] First edit., _even_. + +[351] [Edits., _is_.] + +[352] [Edits., _what_.] + +[353] That is, acquainted, or informed him. So in "Every Man in his +Humour," act i. sc. 5, Bobadil says, "_Possess_ no gentleman of our +acquaintance with notice of my lodging." And again, in Beaumont and +Fletcher's "Honest Man's Fortune," act ii. sc. 1-- + + "Sir, I am very well _possess'd_ of it." + +[354] Edits. 1629 [and 1637], _honoured_. + +[355] First edit., _how_. + +[356] [Edits., _they_.] + +[357] The word _sir_ was inserted here as if only to spoil the measure. +--_Collier_. + +[358] i.e., Amerce.--_Steevens_. + +[359] [i.e., the bond.] + +[360] [Edits., _pergest_, which Steevens in a note explained _goeth on_, +from Lat. _pergo_; and Nares cites the present passage for the word. I +do not believe that it was ever employed in English, though Shakespeare +uses the original Latin once. _Purgest_ is surely preferable, since +Ilford has been just giving a list of those he has undone.] + +[361] [Apparently a play on the double meaning of _talent_ is intended.] + +[362] [Bonds.] + +[363] In a similar vein of humour, but much more exquisite, Addison, +speaking of Sir Roger de Coverley, says, "He told me some time since +that, upon his courting the perverse widow, he had disposed of an +hundred acres in a diamond ring, which he would have presented her with, +had she thought fit to accept it; and that upon her wedding-day she +should have carried on her head fifty of the tallest oaks upon his +estate. He further informed me that he would have given her a coalpit to +keep her in clean linen; that he would have allowed her the profits of a +windmill for her fans, and have presented her once in three years with +the shearing of his sheep for her under-petticoats."--_Spectator_, No. +295. + +In Wilson's "Discourse uppon Usurye," 1572, the subsequent passage +occurs:--"Thus master merchant, when he hath robbed the poore gentleman +and furnisht him in this manner to get a little apparel upon his back, +girdeth him with this pompe in the tail: Lo, sayethe hee, yonder goeth a +very strong stowt gentleman, for _he cariethe upon his backe a faire +manour, land and all_, and may therefore well be standard-bearer to any +prince Christian or heathen." + +[364] [Chicken.] + +[365] The place most commonly used for exposing the heads of traitors. + +[366] [Edits.-- + + "O! but what shall I write? + Mine own excuse." + +[367] [Edits., _large, full_.] + +[368] [Edits., _appearance, and so as they are, I hope we shall be, more +indeer'd, intirely, better, and more feelingly acquainted_.] + +[369] [Either whets their appetite, or prostrates them. The speaker +alludes probably to the early forenoon meal then in vogue.] + +[370] The line was formerly mispointed, and misprinted thus-- + + "Then live a strumpet. Better be unborn." + +Clare means, that it were better never to have been born than to live a +strumpet.--_Collier_. + +[371] Edit. 1611, _would_; and in the next line, _did_. + +[372] [Edits., _That_.] + +[373] [Edits., _writes_.] + +[374] Pitiless, without pity. + +[375] [Edits., _her_.] + +[376] [This line is assuredly corrupt, but the true reading is a matter +of question.] + +[377] [Edits., _and_.] + +[378] Their exit is not marked, but as their re-entrance is noticed +afterwards, it is to be presumed that they followed, the old man out. + +[379] Perhaps misprinted for _haven_.--_Collier_. + +[380] _Example by, &c_.--second and third edits. + +[381] [Edits.], _stare_-wearer, which means no doubt _stair_-wearer, or +wearer of the stairs by going up and down them so frequently at call. +--_Collier_. + +[382] [Edit. 1607, _ha't for you_.] + +[383] "_Red lattice_ at the doors and windows were formerly the external +denotements of an alehouse; hence the present _chequers_." Mr Steevens +observes (note to "Merry Wives of Windsor," act ii. sc. 2) that "perhaps +the reader will express some surprise when he is told that shops with +the sign of the _chequers_, were common among the Romans. See a view of +the left-hand street of Pompeii (No. 9) presented by Sir William +Hamilton (together with several others equally curious) to the Antiquary +Society." [Compare "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," ii. 277-8.] +Marston, in the "First Part of Antonio and Mellida," act v., makes +Balurdo say: "No, I am not Sir Jeffrey Balurdo: I am not as well known +by my wit as an _alehouse_ by a _red lattice_." + +[384] i.e., Defiles. See note on "Macbeth," edit. 1778, iv. 524. +--_Steevens_. + +[385] [See note at p. 470.] + +[386] The first edit, reads, _and any man else and he_. + +[387] Three different departments of a prison, in which debtors were +confined according to their ability or incapacity to pay for their +accommodations: all three are pretty accurately described by Fennor in +"The Compter's Commonwealth," 1617. + +[388] [Edits., _importance_.] + +[389] _Sack_ with _sugar_ was formerly a favourite liquor. Although it +is mentioned very often in contemporary writers, it is difficult to +collect from any circumstances what the kind of wine then called _sack_ +was understood to be. In the Second Part of "Henry IV.," act iv. sc. 3, +Falstaff speaks of _sherris sack_; and Dr Johnson supposes the fat +knight's admired potation was what we now call _sherry_, which he says +is drunk with sugar. This last assertion is contradicted by Mr Steevens, +who with more truth asserts that _sherry_ is at this time never drunk +with _sugar_, whereas _Rhenish_ frequently is. Dr Warburton seems to be +of opinion that the sweet wine still denominated _sack_ was that so +often mentioned by Falstaff, and the great fondness of the English +nation for _sugar_ rather countenances that idea. Hentzner, p. 88, edit. +1757, speaking of the manners of the English, says, _In potu copiosae +immittunt saccarum_--they put a great deal of sugar in their drink; and +Moryson, in his "Itinerary," 1617, p. 155, mentioning the Scots, +observes, "They drinke pure wines, not with _sugar, as the English_;" +again, p. 152, "But gentlemen garrawse onely in wine, with which many +mixe _sugar_, which I never observed in any other place or kingdome to +be used for that purpose: and because the taste of the English is thus +delighted with sweetnesse, the wines in tavernes (for I speak not of +merchants or gentlemen's cellars) are commonly mixed at the filling +thereof, to make them pleasant." _Sack and sugar_ are mentioned in "Jack +Drum's Entertainment," sig. G 3; "The Shoemaker's Holiday," sig. E; +"Everie Woman in Her Humour," sig. D 4; and "The Wonderful Yeare," 1603. +It appears, however, from the following passage in "The English +Housewife," by Gervase Markham, 1631, p. 162, that there were various +species of _sack_: "Your best _sacke_ are of Seres in Spaine, your +smaller of Galicia and Portugall: your strong _sackes_ are of the +islands of the Canaries and of Malligo, and your Muscadine and Malmseys +are of many parts of Italy, Greece, and some speciall islands." [But see +an elaborate note on sack (vin sec) in Dyce's "Shakespeare Glossary," +in _v_.] + +[390] [Edit., _courses_.] + +[391] [A room in the inn so called.] + +[392] The second edition has it, _my master hopes to ride a cockhorse by +him before he leaves him_.--_Collier_. + +[393] _Such is Master Scarborow; such are his company_--edit. 1611. +--_Collier_. + +[394] [A room so called.] + +[395] [Old copies, _time_.] + +[396] See note to "The City Nightcap," act iii. + +[397] Move, or stir. _Bouger_, Fr. + +[398] I believe an _Epythite_ signifies a beggar--[Greek: epithetaes].-- +_Steevens_. + +[399] [Alluding to a tapestry representing the story of Susanna.] + +[400] [Edits., _father's old man_.] + +[401] [Edits., _to_.] + +[402] [Booty, earnings.] + +[403] This is a corruption of the Italian _corragio_! courage! a +hortatory exclamation. So, in the Epilogue to "Albumazer," 1615-- + + Two hundred crowns? and twenty pound a year + For three good lives? _cargo_! hai, Trincalo!" + +--_Steevens_. + +[404] A Fr. G. _Cigue_, utr. a Lat. Cucuta.--_Skinner_. + +_Cigue_ f. Hemlocke, Homlocke, hearbe Bennet, Kex.--_Cotgrave_. + +[405] _Dry-meat_ is inserted from the copy of 1611.--_Collier_. + +[406] _Heir_ and _heiress_ were formerly confounded in the same way as +_prince_ was applied to both male and female. So in Cyril Tourneur's +"Atheist's Tragedy," 1612, we have-- + + This Castabella is a wealthy _heire_." + +--_Collier_. + +[407] We must here suppose that butler whispers to Ilford the place +where the lady _lies_ or _lodges_.--_Collier_. + +[408] The following extracts from Stubbes's "Anatomie of Abuses," 4to, +1595, p. 57, will show the manners of the English in some particulars +which are alluded to in the course of these volumes: "Other some +(i.e., of the women of England) spend the greatest part of the day _in +sitting at the dore_, to show their braveries, and to make knowne their +beauties, to beholde the passengers by, to view the coast, to see +fashions, and to acquaint themselves with the bravest fellows; for if +not for these causes, I see no other causes why they _should sit at +their dores_, from morning till noon (as many do), from noon to night, +thus vainly spending their golden dayes in filthy idleness and sin. +Againe, other some being weary of that exercise, take occasion (about +urgent affaires you must suppose) to walke into the towne, and least +anything might be gathered, but that they goe about serious matters +indeed, they take their baskets in their hands, or under their arms, +under which pretence pretie conceits are practized, and yet may no man +say black is their eye. + +"In the field's and suburbes of the cities they have gardens either +paled or walled round about very high, with their harbers and bowers fit +for the purpose. And least they might be espied in these open places, +they have their banquetting-houses with galleries, turrets, and what +not, therein sumptuously erected: wherein they may (and doubtless do) +many of them play the filthy persons. And for that their gardens are +locked, some of them have three or four keys a piece, whereof one they +keep for themselves, the other their paramours have to goe in before +them, least happily they might be perceived, for then were all the sport +dasht. Then to these gardens they repair, when they list, with a basket +and a boy, where they meeting their sweet harts, receive their wished +desires." + +[409] See note to "The Parson's Wedding," iii. 3. + +[410] [A woman of loose character. Such was its ordinary acceptation, +yet not its invariable one. See Lovelace's Poems, by Hazlitt, 1864, pp. +xl., xli., and 133, notes.] See note to "King Henry IV., Part II.," +edit. 1778, v. 522.--_Steevens_. + +[411] [Edits., _throw_.] + +[412] "Towards the rear of the stage there appears to have been a +balcony or upper stage, the platform of which was probably eight or nine +feet from the ground. I suppose it to have been supported by pillars. +From hence, in many of our old plays, part of the dialogue was spoken; +and in front of it curtains likewise were hung, so as occasionally to +conceal the persons in it from the view of the audience."--Malone's +"History of the Stage." See his edition of "Shakespeare" by Boswell, +iii. 79. + +[413] [The two brothers, disguised for the purpose, pretend to be their +sister's uncles, and engage in a conversation about her marriage, +intended to be overheard by Ilford and the others below.] + +[414] [Edits., _beyond discourse, she's a paragon for a prince, than a +fit implement for a gentleman; beyond my element_.] + +[415] [Edit. 1607] says, _Exit Ilford with his Sister_, but this is +obviously an error: it means with Scarborow's sister.--_Collier_. + +[416] _Indeed_, second and third editions. + +[417] [Edits., _for_.] + +[418] [Edits., _flourish_.] + +[419] [i.e., _Which make_.] + +[420] _Them_ is the reading of the quarto, 1611, and perhaps Thomas +refers to "nature and her laws," mentioned not very intelligibly, in his +preceding speech.--_Collier_. [The first edit. of 1607 reads rightly +_thee_.] + +[421] The grammar and language of this line are alike obscure and +incorrect; but the sense is tolerably clear--"Thou hast been so bad, the +best thing I can say is, &c." + +[422] [Edits., _finisht_.] + +[423] i.e. Measure it out. Hesperiam metire jacens.--_Virgil_. +--_Steevens_. + +[424] i.e., Facility; [Greek: euergos], facilis.--_Steevens_. + +[425] "Apud eosdem nasci Ctesias scribit, quam mantichoram appellat, +triplici dentium ordine pectinatim coeuntium, facie et auriculis +hominis, oculis glaucis, colore sanguineo, corpore leonis, cauda +scorpionis modo spicula infigentem: vocis ut si misceatur fistulae et +tubae concentus: velocitatis magnae, humani corporis vel praecipue +appetentem."--C. Plinii "Nat. Hist." lib. viii. c. 21. + +[426] The edit. 1611, reads-- + + "Do as the devil does, hate panther-mankind."--_Collier_. + +[427] _All--breath_, edits. 1611 and 1629. + +[428] The old copy of 1611 reads, _unto their wives_, and it has been +supposed a misprint for _wines_; but this seems doubtful taking the +whole passage together, and the subsequent reference to the _children. +--Collier_. + +[429] i.e., To defile. So in Churchyard's "Challenge," 1593, p. 251-- + + "Away foule workes, that _fil'd_ my face with blurs!" + +Again, "Macbeth," act iii. sc. 1-- + + "If it be so, + For Banquo's issue have I _fil'd_ my mind." + +See also Mr Steevens's note on the last passage. + +[430] Sorry for you. + +[431] [Edits., _or_, which is merely the old form of _ere_.] + +[432] Mischievous, unlucky. So in "All's Well that Ends Well," act i. +sc. 5-- + + "A shrewd knave and an _unhappy_." + +See also Mr Steevens's note on "Henry VIII.," act i. sc. 4. + +[433] _I_ formerly was the mode of writing, as well as pronouncing, this +word. + +[434] ["The fine effect which is produced through the foregoing scenes +by the idea of the 'Enforced Marriage' hanging on them like the German +notion of Fate, is destroyed by this happy ending."--_MS. note in one of +the former edits_.] + +[435] [Bond.] + +[436] [So in the ballad of "Auld Robin Gray"-- + + "My mother did na speak, + But she look'd me in the face," &c. + +--_MS. note in one of the former edits_.] + +[437] '51 edit. 1607, _letter_. + +[438] _Ignes fatui_, Wills o' th' Wisp. See Mr Steevens's Note on "King +Henry VIII.," act v. sc. 3. + +[439] [Edits., _And these_. The emendation is conjectured.] + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Select Collection of Old English +Plays, Vol. IX, by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10550 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e788a6 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #10550 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10550) diff --git a/old/10550-8.txt b/old/10550-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..15bdd49 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10550-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,21732 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Select Collection of Old English Plays, +Vol. IX, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. IX + +Author: Various + +Release Date: December 31, 2003 [EBook #10550] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD ENGLISH PLAYS *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Tapio Riikonen and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +A SELECT COLLECTION OF OLD ENGLISH PLAYS, VOL. IX + +Originally published by Robert Dodsley in the Year 1744. + + +Fourth Edition, + +Now first chronologically arranged, revised and enlarged with the Notes +of all the Commentators, and new Notes + +By + +W. CAREW HAZLITT. + +1874-76. + + + +CONTENTS: + +How a Man May Choose a Good Wife from a Bad +The Return from Parnassus +Wily Beguiled +Lingua +The Miseries of Enforced Marriage + + + + + + +HOW A MAN MAY CHOOSE A GOOD WIFE FROM A BAD. + + + + +_EDITION + + +A Pleasant conceited Comedie, Wherein is shewed how a man may chuse a +good Wife from a bad. As it hath bene sundry times Acted by the Earle of +Worcesters Seruants. London Printed for Mathew Lawe, and are to be solde +at his shop in Paules Church-yard, neare unto S. Augustines gate, at the +signe of the Foxe_. 1602. 4to. + +[There were editions in 1605, 1608, 1614, 1621, 1630, 1634, all in 4to. + +It is not improbable that the author was Joshua Cooke, to whom, in an +old hand on the title of edit. 1602 in the Museum, it is attributed.] + + + + +[PREFACE TO THE FORMER EDITION.[1]] + + +This play agrees perfectly with the description given of it in the +title; it is certainly a most pleasant conceited comedy, rich in humour, +and written altogether in a right merry vein. The humour is broad and +strongly marked, and at the same time of the most diverting kind; the +characters are excellent, and admirably discriminated; the comic parts +of the play are written with most exquisite drollery, and the serious +with great truth and feeling. Of the present piece there were seven +editions, within a short period, with all of which the present reprint +has been carefully collated, and is now, for the first time, divided +into acts and scenes. + + + +PERSONS REPRESENTED. + +OLD MASTER ARTHUR. +OLD MASTER LUSAM. +YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. +YOUNG MASTER LUSAM.[2] +MASTER ANSELM. +MASTER FULLER. +SIR AMINADAB, _a Schoolmaster_. +JUSTICE REASON. +BRABO. +HUGH, _Justice Reason's Servant_. +PIPKIN, _Master Arthur's Servant_. +_Boys, Officers, &c_. +MISTRESS ARTHUR. +MISTRESS MARY. +MISTRESS SPLAY. +MAID. + +_Scene, London_. + + + + +A PLEASANT CONCEITED COMEDY; WHEREIN IS SHOWED + +HOW A MAN MAY CHOOSE A GOOD WIFE FROM A BAD. + + + +ACT I., SCENE I. + + + _The Exchange_. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR _and_ YOUNG MASTER LUSAM. + +Y. ART. I tell you true, sir; but to every man +I would not be so lavish of my speech: +Only to you, my dear and private friend, +Although my wife in every eye be held +Of beauty and of grace sufficient, +Of honest birth and good behaviour, +Able to win the strongest thoughts to her, +Yet, in my mind, I hold her the most hated +And loathed object, that the world can yield. + +Y. LUS. O Master Arthur, bear a better thought +Of your chaste wife, whose modesty hath won +The good opinion and report of all: +By heaven! you wrong her beauty; she is fair. + +Y. ART. Not in mine eye. + +Y. LUS. O, you are cloy'd with dainties, Master Arthur, +And too much sweetness glutted hath your taste, +And makes you loathe them: at the first +You did admire her beauty, prais'd her face, +Were proud to have her follow at your heels +Through the broad streets, when all censuring tongues +Found themselves busied, as she pass'd along, +T'extol her in the hearing of you both. +Tell me, I pray you, and dissemble not, +Have you not, in the time of your first-love, +Hugg'd such new popular and vulgar talk, +And gloried still to see her bravely deck'd? +But now a kind of loathing hath quite chang'd +Your shape of love into a form of hate; +But on what reason ground you this hate? + +Y. ART. My reason is my mind, my ground my will; +I will not love her: if you ask me why, +I cannot love her. Let that answer you. + +Y. LUS. Be judge, all eyes, her face deserves it not; +Then on what root grows this high branch of hate? +Is she not loyal, constant, loving, chaste: +Obedient, apt to please, loath to displease: +Careful to live, chary of her good name, +And jealous of your reputation? +Is she not virtuous, wise, religious? +How should you wrong her to deny all this? +Good Master Arthur, let me argue with you. + + [_They walk aside_. + + _Enter_ MASTER ANSELM _and_ MASTER FULLER. + +FUL. O Master Anselm! grown a lover, fie! +What might she be, on whom your hopes rely? + +ANS. What fools they are that seem most wise in love, +How wise they are that are but fools in love! +Before I was a lover, I had reason +To judge of matters, censure of all sorts, +Nay, I had wit to call a lover fool, +And look into his folly with bright eyes. +But now intruding love dwells in my brain, +And franticly hath shoulder'd reason thence: +I am not old, and yet, alas! I doat; +I have not lost my sight, and yet am blind; +No bondman, yet have lost my liberty; +No natural fool, and yet I want my wit. +What am I, then? let me define myself: +A dotard young, a blind man that can see, +A witty fool, a bondman that is free. + +FUL. Good aged youth, blind seer, and wise fool, +Loose your free bonds, and set your thoughts to school. + + _Enter_ OLD MASTER ARTHUR _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM. + +O. ART. 'Tis told me, Master Lusam, that my son +And your chaste daughter, whom we match'd together, +Wrangle and fall at odds, and brawl and chide. + +O. LUS. Nay, I think so, I never look'd for better: +This 'tis to marry children when they're young. +I said as much at first, that such young brats +Would 'gree together e'en like dogs and cats. + +O. ART. Nay, pray you, Master Lusam, say not so; +There was great hope, though they were match'd but young, +Their virtues would have made them sympathise, +And live together like two quiet saints. + +O. LUS. You say true, there was great hope, indeed, +They would have liv'd like saints; but where's the fault? + +O. ART. If fame be true, the most fault's in my son. + +O. LUS. You say true, Master Arthur, 'tis so indeed. + +O. ART. Nay, sir, I do not altogether excuse +Your daughter; many lay the blame on her. + +O. LUS. Ah! say you so? by the mass, 'tis like enough, +For from her childhood she hath been a shrew. + +O. ART. A shrew? you wrong her; all the town admires her +For mildness, chasteness, and humility. + +O. LUS. 'Fore God, you say well, she is so indeed; +The city doth admire her for these virtues. + +O. ART. O, sir, you praise your child too palpably; +She's mild and chaste, but not admir'd so much. + +O. LUS. Ay, so I say--I did not mean admir'd. + +O. ART. Yes, if a man do well consider her, +Your daughter is the wonder of her sex. + +O. LUS. Are you advis'd of that? I cannot tell, +What 'tis you call the wonder of her sex, +But she is--is she?--ay, indeed, she is. + +O. ART. What is she? + +O. LUS. Even what you will--you know best what she is. + +ANS. Yon is her husband: let us leave this talk:[3] +How full are bad thoughts of suspicion; +I love, but loathe myself for loving so, +Yet cannot change my disposition. + +FUL. _Medice, cura teipsum_. + +ANS. _Hei mihi! quod nullis amor est medicabilis herbis_. + + [_Exeunt_ ANSELM and FULLER. + +Y. ART. All your persuasions are to no effect, +Never allege her virtues nor her beauty, +My settled unkindness hath begot +A resolution to be unkind still, +My ranging pleasures love variety. + +Y. LUS. O, too unkind unto so kind a wife, +Too virtueless to one so virtuous, +And too unchaste unto so chaste a matron. + +Y. ART. But soft, sir, see where my two fathers are +Busily talking; let us shrink aside, +For if they see me, they are bent to chide. + + [_Exeunt_ Y. ARTHUR _and_ Y. LUSAM. + +O. ART. I think 'tis best to go straight to the house, +And make them friends again; what think ye, sir? + +O. LUS. I think so too. + +O. ART. Now I remember, too, that's not so good: +For divers reasons, I think best stay here, +And leave them to their wrangling--what think you? + +O. LUS. I think so too. + +O. ART. Nay, we will go, that's certain. + +O. LUS. Ay, 'tis best, 'tis best-- +In sooth, there's no way but to go. + +O. ART. Yet if our going should breed more unrest, +More discord, more dissension, more debate, +More wrangling where there is enough already? +'Twere better stay than go. + +O. LUS. 'Fore God, 'tis true; +Our going may, perhaps, breed more debate, +And then we may too late wish we had stay'd; +And therefore, if you will be rul'd by me, +We will not go, that's flat: nay, if we love +Our credits or our quiets, let's not go. + +O. ART. But if we love +Their credits or their quiets, we must go, +And reconcile them to their former love; +Where there is strife betwixt a man and wife 'tis hell, +And mutual love may be compared to heaven, +For then their souls and spirits are at peace. +Come, Master Lusam, now 'tis dinner-time; +When we have dined, the first work we will make, +Is to decide their jars for pity's sake. + +O. LUS. Well fare a good heart! yet are you advis'd? +Go, said you, Master Arthur? I will run +To end these broils, that discord hath begun. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE II. + + + _Young Arthur's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR _and_ PIPKIN. + +MRS ART. Come hither, Pipkin. +How chance you tread so softly? + +PIP. For fear of breaking, mistress. + +MRS ART. Art thou afraid of breaking, how so? + +PIP. Can you blame me, mistress? I am crack'd already. + +MRS ART. Crack'd, Pipkin, how? hath any crack'd your crown? + +PIP. No, mistress; I thank God, +My crown is current, but-- + +MRS ART. But what? + +PIP. The maid gave me not my supper yesternight, so that indeed my belly +wambled, and standing near the great sea-coal fire in the hall, and not +being full, on the sudden I crack'd, and you know, mistress, a pipkin is +soon broken. + +MRS ART. Sirrah, run to the Exchange, and if you there +Can find my husband, pray him to come home; +Tell him I will not eat a bit of bread +Until I see him; prythee, Pipkin, run. + +PIP. By'r Lady, mistress, if I should tell him so, it may be he would +not come, were it for no other cause but to save charges; I'll rather +tell him, if he come not quickly, you will eat up all the meat in the +house, and then, if he be of my stomach, he will run every foot, and +make the more haste to dinner. + +MRS ART. Ay, thou may'st jest; my heart is not so light +It can digest the least conceit of joy: +Entreat him fairly, though I think he loves +All places worse that he beholds me in. +Wilt thou begone? + +PIP. Whither, mistress? to the 'Change? + +MRS ART. Ay, to the 'Change. + +PIP. I will, mistress: hoping my master will go so oft to the 'Change, +that at length he will change his mind, and use you more kindly. O, it +were brave if my master could meet with a merchant of ill-ventures, to +bargain with him for all his bad conditions, and he sell them outright! +you should have a quieter heart, and we all a quieter house. But hoping, +mistress, you will pass over all these jars and squabbles in good health, +as my master was at the making thereof, I commit you. + +MRS ART. Make haste again, I prythee. [_Exit_ PIPKIN.] Till I see him, +My heart will never be at rest within me: +My husband hath of late so much estrang'd +His words, his deeds, his heart from me, +That I can seldom have his company; +And even that seldom with such discontent, +Such frowns, such chidings, such impatience, +That did not truth and virtue arm my thoughts, +They would confound me with despair and hate, +And make me run into extremities. +Had I deserv'd the least bad look from him, +I should account myself too bad to live, +But honouring him in love and chastity, +All judgments censure freely of my wrongs. + [_Exit_. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, YOUNG MASTER LUSAM, _and_ PIPKIN. + +Y. ART. Pipkin, what said she when she sent for me? + +PIP. 'Faith, master, she said little, but she thought +[The] more, for she was very melancholy. + +Y. ART. Did I not tell you she was melancholy, +For nothing else but that she sent for me, +And fearing I would come to dine with her. + +Y. LUS. O, you mistake her; even, upon my soul, +I durst affirm you wrong her chastity. +See where she doth attend your coming home. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR. + +MRS ART. Come, Master Arthur, shall we in to dinner? +Sirrah, begone, and see it served in. + +Y. LUS. Will you not speak unto her? + +Y. ART. No, not I; will you go in, sir. + +MRS ART. Not speak to me! nor once look towards me! +It is my duty to begin, I know, +And I will break this ice of courtesy. +You are welcome home, sir. + +Y. ART. Hark, Master Lusam, if she mock me not! +_You are welcome home, sir_. Am I welcome home? +Good faith, I care not if I be or no. + +Y. LUS. Thus you misconstrue all things, Master Arthur. +Look, if her true love melt not into tears. + +Y. ART. She weeps, but why? that I am come so soon, +To hinder her of some appointed guests, +That in my absence revel in my house: +She weeps to see me in her company, +And, were I absent, she would laugh with joy. +She weeps to make me weary of the house, +Knowing my heart cannot away with grief. + +MRS ART. Knew I that mirth would make you love my bed, +I would enforce my heart to be more merry. + +Y. ART. Do you not hear? she would enforce her heart! +All mirth is forc'd, that she can make with me. + +Y. LUS. O misconceit, how bitter is thy taste! +Sweet Master Arthur, Mistress Arthur too, +Let me entreat you reconcile these jars, +Odious to heaven, and most abhorr'd of men. + +MRS ART. You are a stranger, sir; but by your words +You do appear an honest gentleman. +If you profess to be my husband's friend, +Persist in these persuasions, and be judge +With all indifference in these discontents. +Sweet husband, if I be not fair enough +To please your eye, range where you list abroad, +Only, at coming home, speak me but fair: +If you delight to change, change when you please, +So that you will not change your love to me. +If you delight to see me drudge and toil, +I'll be your drudge, because 'tis your delight. +Or if you think me unworthy of the name +Of your chaste wife, I will become your maid, +Your slave, your servant--anything you will, +If for that name of servant and of slave +You will but smile upon me now and then. +Or if, as I well think, you cannot love me, +Love where you list, only but say you love me: +I'll feed on shadows, let the substance go. +Will you deny me such a small request? +What, will you neither love nor flatter me? +O, then I see your hate here doth but wound me, +And with that hate it is your frowns confound me. + +Y. LUS. Wonder of women! why, hark you, Master Arthur! +What is your wife, a woman or a saint? +A wife or some bright angel come from heav'n? +Are you not mov'd at this strange spectacle? +This day I have beheld a miracle. +When I attempt this sacred nuptial life, +I beg of heaven to find me such a wife. + +Y. ART. Ha, ha! a miracle, a prodigy! +To see a woman weep is as much pity +As to see foxes digg'd out of their holes. +If thou wilt pleasure me, let me see thee less; +Grieve much; they say grief often shortens life: +Come not too near me, till I call thee, wife; +And that will be but seldom. I will tell thee, +How thou shalt win my heart--die suddenly, +And I'll become a lusty widower: +The longer thy life lasts, the more my hate +And loathing still increaseth towards thee. +When I come home and find thee cold as earth, +Then will I love thee: thus thou know'st my mind. +Come, Master Lusam, let us in to dine. + +Y. LUS. O, sir, you too much affect this evil; +Poor saint! why wert thou yok'd thus with a devil? [_Aside_. + + [_Exeunt_ Y. ART. _and_ Y. LUS. + +MRS ART. If thou wilt win my heart, die suddenly! +But that my soul was bought at such a rate, +At such a high price as my Saviour's blood, +I would not stick to lose it with a stab; +But, virtue, banish all such fantasies. +He is my husband, and I love him well; +Next to my own soul's health I tender him, +And would give all the pleasures of the world +To buy his love, if I might purchase it. +I'll follow him, and like a servant wait, +And strive by all means to prevent his hate. + [_Exit_. + + + _Enter_ OLD MASTER ARTHUR _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM. + +O. ART. This is my son's house; were it best go in? +How say you, Master Lusam? + +O. LUS. How? Go in? How say you, sir? + +O. ART. I say 'tis best. + +O. LUS. Ay, sir, say you so? so say I too. + +O. ART. Nay, nay, it is not best; I'll tell you why. +Haply the fire of hate is quite extinct +From the dead embers; now to rake them up, +Should the least spark of discontent appear, +To make the flame of hatred burn afresh, +The heat of this dissension might scorch us; +Which, in his own cold ashes smother'd up, +May die in silence, and revive no more: +And therefore tell me, is it best or no? + +O. LUS. How say you, sir? + +O. ART. I say it is not best. + +O. LUS. Mass, you say well, sir, and so say I too. + +O. ART. But shall we lose our labour to come hither, +And, without sight of our two children, +Go back again? nay, we will in, that's sure. + +O. LUS. In, quotha! do you make a doubt of that; +Shall we come thus far, and in such post-haste, +And have our children here, and both within, +And not behold them e'er our back-return? +It were unfriendly and unfatherly. +Come, Master Arthur, pray you follow me. + +O. ART. Nay, but hark you, sir, will you not knock? + +O. LUS. Is't best to knock? + +O. ART. Ay, knock in any case. + +O. LUS. 'Twas well you put it in my mind to knock, +I had forgotten it else, I promise you. + +O. ART. Tush, is't not my son's and your daughter's door, +And shall we two stand knocking? Lead the way. + +O. LUS. Knock at our children's doors! that were a jest. +Are we such fools to make ourselves so strange, +Where we should still be boldest? In, for shame! +We will not stand upon such ceremonies. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE III. + + + _The Street_. + + _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +FUL. Speak: in what cue, sir, do you find your heart, +Now thou hast slept a little on thy love? + +ANS. Like one that strives to shun a little plash +Of shallow water, and (avoiding it) +Plunges into a river past his depth: +Like one that from a small spark steps aside, +And falls in headlong to a greater flame. + +FUL. But in such fires scorch not thyself, for shame! +If she be fire, thou art so far from burning, +That thou hast scarce yet warm'd thee at her face; +But list to me, I'll turn thy heart from love, +And make thee loathe all of the feminine sex. +They that have known me, knew me once of name +To be a perfect wencher: I have tried +All sorts, all sects, all states, and find them still +Inconstant, fickle, always variable. +Attend me, man! I will prescribe a method, +How thou shalt win her without all peradventure. + +ANS. That would I gladly hear. + +FUL. I was once like thee, +A sigher, melancholy humorist, +Crosser of arms, a goer without garters, +A hatband-hater, and a busk-point[4] wearer, +One that did use much bracelets made of hair, +Rings on my fingers, jewels in mine ears, +And now and then a wench's carcanet, +Scarfs, garters, bands, wrought waistcoats, gold-stitch'd caps, +A thousand of those female fooleries; but when +I look'd into the glass of reason, straight +I began to loathe that female bravery, +And henceforth studied[5] to cry +_Peccavi_ to the world. + +ANS. I pray you, to your former argument: +Prescribe a means to win my best-belov'd. + +FUL. First, be not bashful, bar all blushing tricks: +Be not too apish-female; do not come +With foolish sonnets to present her with, +With legs, with curtsies, congees, and such like: +Nor with penn'd speeches, or too far-fetch'd sighs: +I hate such antique, quaint formality. + +ANS. O, but I cannot snatch[6] occasion: +She dashes every proffer with a frown. + +FUL. A frown, a fool! art thou afraid of frowns? +He that will leave occasion for a frown, +Were I his judge (all you his case bemoan), +His doom should be ever to lie alone. + +ANS. I cannot choose but, when a wench says nay, +To take her at her word, and leave my suit. + +FUL. Continue that opinion, and be sure +To die a virgin chaste, a maiden pure. +It was my chance once, in my wanton days, +To court a wench; hark, and I'll tell thee how: +I came unto my love, and she look'd coy, +I spake unto my love, she turn'd aside, +I touch'd my love, and 'gan with her to toy, +But she sat mute, for anger or for pride; +I striv'd and kiss'd my love, she cry'd _Away_! +Thou wouldst have left her thus--I made her stay. +I catch'd my love, and wrung her by the hand: +I took my love, and set her on my knee, +And pull'd her to me; O, you spoil my band, +You hurt me, sir; pray, let me go, quoth she. +I'm glad, quoth I, that you have found your tongue, +And still my love I by the finger wrung. +I ask'd her if she lov'd me; she said, No. +I bad her swear; she straight calls for a book; +Nay then, thought I, 'tis time to let her go, +I eas'd my knee, and from her cast a look. +She leaves me wond'ring at these strange affairs, +And like the wind she trips me up the stairs. +I left the room below, and up I went, +Finding her thrown upon her wanton bed: +I ask'd the cause of her sad discontent; +Further she lies, and, making room, she said, +Now, sweeting, kiss me, having time and place; +So clings me to her with a sweet embrace. + +ANS. Is't possible? I had not thought till now, +That women could dissemble. Master Fuller, +Here dwells the sacred mistress of my heart; +Before her door I'll frame a friv'lous walk, +And, spying her, with her devise some talk. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, MISTRESS ARTHUR, OLD MASTER ARTHUR, + OLD MASTER LUSAM, YOUNG MASTER LUSAM, _and_ PIPKIN. + +FUL. What stir is this? let's step but out the way, +And hear the utmost what these people say. + +O. ART. Thou art a knave, although thou be my son. +Have I with care and trouble brought thee up, +To be a staff and comfort to my age, +A pillar to support me, and a crutch +To lean on in my second infancy, +And dost thou use me thus? Thou art a knave. + +O. LUS. A knave, ay, marry, and an arrant knave; +And, sirrah, by old Master Arthur's leave, +Though I be weak and old, I'll prove thee one. + +Y. ART. Sir, though it be my father's pleasure thus +To wrong me with the scorned name of knave, +I will not have you so familiar, +Nor so presume upon my patience. + +O LUS. Speak, Master Arthur, is he not a knave? + +O. ART. I say he is a knave. + +O. LUS. Then so say I. + +Y. ART. My father may command my patience; +But you, sir, that are but my father-in-law, +Shall not so mock my reputation. +Sir, you shall find I am an honest man. + +O. LUS. An honest man! + +Y. ART. Ay, sir, so I say. + +O. LUS. Nay, if you say so, I'll not be against it: +But, sir, you might have us'd my daughter better, +Than to have beat her, spurn'd her, rail'd at her +Before our faces. + +O. ART. Ay, therein, son Arthur, +Thou show'dst thyself no better than a knave. + +O. LUS. Ay, marry, did he, I will stand to it: +To use my honest daughter in such sort, +He show'd himself no better than a knave. + +Y. ART. I say, again, I am an honest man; +He wrongs me that shall say the contrary. + +O. LUS. I grant, sir, that you are an honest man, +Nor will I say unto the contrary: +But wherefore do you use my daughter thus? +Can you accuse her of unchastity, of loose +Demeanour, disobedience, or disloyalty? +Speak, what canst thou object against my daughter? + +O. ART. Accuse her! here she stands; spit in her face, +If she be guilty in the least of these. + +MRS ART. O father, be more patient; if you wrong +My honest husband, all the blame be mine, +Because you do it only for my sake. +I am his handmaid; since it is his pleasure +To use me thus, I am content therewith, +And bear his checks and crosses patiently. + +Y. ART. If in mine own house I can have no peace, +I'll seek it elsewhere, and frequent it less. +Father, I'm now past one and twenty years; +I'm past my father's pamp'ring, I suck not, +Nor am I dandled on my mother's knee: +Then, if you were my father twenty times, +You shall not choose, but let me be myself. +Do I come home so seldom, and that seldom +Am I thus baited? Wife, remember this! +Father, farewell! and, father-in-law, adieu! +Your son had rather fast than feast with you. + [_Exit_. + +O. ART. Well, go to, wild-oats! spendthrift! prodigal! +I'll cross thy name quite from my reck'ning book: +For these accounts, faith, it shall scathe thee somewhat, +I will not say what somewhat it shall be. + +O. LUS. And it shall scathe him somewhat of my purse: +And, daughter, I will take thee home again, +Since thus he hates thy fellowship; +Be such an eyesore to his sight no more: +I tell thee, thou no more shalt trouble him. + +MRS ART. Will you divorce whom God hath tied together? +Or break that knot the sacred hand of heaven +Made fast betwixt us? Have you never read, +What a great curse was laid upon his head +That breaks the holy band of marriage, +Divorcing husbands from their chosen wives? +Father, I will not leave my Arthur so; +Not all my friends can make me prove his foe. + +O. ART. I could say somewhat in my son's reproof. + +O. LUS. Faith, so could I. + +O. ART. But, till I meet him, I will let it pass. + +O. LUS. Faith, so will I. + +O. ART. Daughter, farewell! with weeping eyes I part; +Witness these tears, thy grief sits near my heart. + +O. LUS. Weeps Master Arthur? nay, then, let me cry; +His cheeks shall not be wet, and mine be dry. + +MRS ART. Fathers, farewell! spend not a tear for me, +But, for my husband's sake, let these woes be. +For when I weep, 'tis not for my own care, +But fear, lest folly bring him to despair. + + [_Exeunt_ O. ART. _and_ O. LUS. + +Y. LUS. Sweet saint! continue still this patience, +For time will bring him to true penitence. +Mirror of virtue! thanks for my good cheer-- +A thousand thanks. + +MRS ART. It is so much too dear; +But you are welcome for my husband's sake; +His guests shall have best welcome I can make. + +Y. LUS. Than marriage nothing in the world more common; +Nothing more rare than such a virtuous woman. + [_Exit_. + +MRS ART. My husband in this humour, well I know, +Plays but the unthrift; therefore it behoves me +To be the better housewife here at home; +To save and get, whilst he doth laugh and spend: +Though for himself he riots it at large, +My needle shall defray my household's charge. + [_She sits down to work in front of the house_. + +FUL. Now, Master Anselm, to her, step not back; +Bustle yourself, see where she sits at work; +Be not afraid, man; she's but a woman, +And women the most cowards seldom fear: +Think but upon my former principles, +And twenty pound to a drachm,[7] you speed. + +ANS. Ay, say you so? + +FUL. Beware of blushing, sirrah, +Of fear and too much eloquence! +Rail on her husband, his misusing her, +And make that serve thee as an argument, +That she may sooner yield to do him wrong. +Were it my case, my love and I to plead, +I have't at fingers' ends: who could miss the clout, +Having so fair a white, such steady aim. +This is the upshot: now bid for the game. + + [ANSELM _advances_. + +ANS. Fair mistress, God save you! + +FUL. What a circumstance +Doth he begin with; what an ass is he, +To tell her at the first that she is fair; +The only means to make her to be coy! +He should have rather told her she was foul, +And brought her out of love quite with herself; +And, being so, she would the less have car'd, +Upon whose secrets she had laid her love. +He hath almost marr'd all with that word fair. [_Aside_.[8]] + +ANS. Mistress, God save you! + +FUL. What a block is that, +To say, God save you! is the fellow mad? +Once to name God in his ungodly suit. + +MRS ART. You are welcome, sir. Come you to speak with me +Or with my husband? pray you, what's your will? + +FUL. She answers to the purpose; what's your will? +O zounds, that I were there to answer her. + +ANS. Mistress, my will is not so soon express'd +Without your special favour, and the promise +Of love and pardon, if I speak amiss. + +FUL. O ass! O dunce! O blockhead! that hath left +The plain broad highway and the readiest path, +To travel round about by circumstance: +He might have told his meaning in a word, +And now hath lost his opportunity. +Never was such a truant in love's school; +I am asham'd that e'er I was his tutor. + +MRS ART. Sir, you may freely speak, whate'er it be, +So that your speech suiteth with modesty. + +FUL. To this now could I answer passing well. + +ANS. Mistress, I, pitying that so fair a creature-- + +FUL. Still fair, and yet I warn'd the contrary. + +ANS. Should by a villain be so foully us'd, +As you have been-- + +FUL. _As you have been_--ay, that was well put in! + +ANS. If time and place were both convenient[9]-- +Have made this bold intrusion, to present +My love and service to your sacred self. + +FUL. Indifferent, that was not much amiss. + +MRS ART. Sir, what you mean by service and by love, +I will not know; but what you mean by villain, +I fain would know. + +ANS. That villain is your husband, +Whose wrongs towards you are bruited through the land. +O, can you suffer at a peasant's hands, +Unworthy once to touch this silken skin, +To be so rudely beat and buffeted? +Can you endure from such infectious breath, +Able to blast your beauty, to have names +Of such impoison'd hate flung in your face? + +FUL. O, that was good, nothing was good but that; +That was the lesson that I taught him last. + +ANS. O, can you hear your never-tainted fame +Wounded with words of shame and infamy? +O, can you see your pleasures dealt away, +And you to be debarr'd all part of them, +And bury it in deep oblivion? +Shall your true right be still contributed +'Mongst hungry bawds, insatiate courtesans? +And can you love that villain, by whose deed +Your soul doth sigh, and your distress'd heart bleed? + +FUL. All this as well as I could wish myself. + +MRS ART. Sir, I have heard thus long with patience; +If it be me you term a villain's wife, +In sooth you have mistook me all this while, +And neither know my husband nor myself; +Or else you know not man and wife is one. +If he be call'd a villain, what is she, +Whose heart and love, and soul, is one with him? +'Tis pity that so fair a gentleman +Should fall into such villains' company. +O, sir, take heed, if you regard your life, +Meddle not with a villain or his wife. [_Exit_. + +FUL. O, that same word villain hath marr'd all. + +ANS. Now where is your instruction? where's the wench? +Where are my hopes? where your directions? + +FUL. Why, man, in that word villain you marr'd all. +To come unto an honest wife, and call +Her husband villain! were he[10] ne'er so bad, +Thou might'st well think she would not brook that name +For her own credit, though no love to him. +But leave not thus, but try some other mean; +Let not one way thy hopes make frustrate clean. + +ANS. I must persist my love against my will; +He that knows all things, knows I prove this will. + + _Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT II., SCENE I. + + + _A School_. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB, _with a rod in his hand, and_ + BOYS _with their books_. + +AMIN. Come, boys, come, boys, rehearse your parts, +And then, _ad prandium; jam, jam, incipe_! + +1ST BOY. Forsooth, my lesson's torn out of my book. + +AMIN. _Quae caceris chartis deseruisse decet_. +Torn from your book! I'll tear it from your breech. +How say you, Mistress Virga, will you suffer +_Hic puer bonae[11] indolis_ to tear +His lessons, leaves, and lectures from his book? + +1ST BOY. Truly, forsooth, I laid it in my seat, +While Robin Glade and I went into _campis_; +And when I came again, my book was torn. + +AMIN. _O mus_, a mouse; was ever heard the like? + +1ST BOY. _O domus_, a house; master, I could not mend it. + +2D BOY. _O pediculus_, a louse; I knew not how it came. + +AMIN. All toward boys, good scholars of their times; +The least of these is past his accidence, +Some at _qui mihi_; here's not a boy +But he can construe all the grammar rules. +_Sed ubi sunt sodales_? not yet come? +Those _tardè venientes_ shall be whipp'd. +_Ubi est_ Pipkin? where's that lazy knave? +He plays the truant every Saturday; +But Mistress Virga, Lady Willow-by,[12] +Shall teach him that _diluculo surgere +Est saluberrimum_: here comes the knave. + + _Enter_ PIPKIN. + +1ST BOY. _Tardè, tardè, tardè_. + +2D. BOY. _Tardè, tardè, tardè_. + +AMIN. _Huc ades_, Pipkin--reach a better rod-- +_Cur tam tardè venis_? speak, where have you been? +Is this a time of day to come to school? +_Ubi fuisti_? speak, where hast thou been? + +PIP. _Magister, quomodo vales_? + +AMIN. Is that _responsio_ fitting my demand? + +PIP. _Etiam certè_, you ask me where I have been, and I say _quomodo +vales_, as much as to say, come out of the alehouse. + +AMIN. Untruss, untruss! nay, help him, help him! + +PIP. _Quaeso, preceptor, quaeso_, for God's sake do not whip me: +_Quid est grammatica_? + +AMIN. Not whip you, _quid est grammatica_, what's that? + +PIP. _Grammatica est_, that, if I untruss'd, you must needs whip me +upon them, _quid est grammatica_. + +AMIN. Why, then, _dic mihi_, speak, where hast thou been? + +PIP. Forsooth, my mistress sent me of an errand to fetch my master from +the Exchange; we had strangers at home at dinner, and, but for them, I +had not come _tardè; quaeso, preceptor_! + +AMIN. Construe your lesson, parse it, _ad unguem +et condemnato_ to, I'll pardon thee. + +PIP. That I will, master, an' if you'll give me leave. + +AMIN. _Propria quae maribus tribuuntur mascula, dicas; expone, expone_. + +PIP. Construe it, master, I will; _dicas_, they say--_propria_, the +proper man--_quae maribus_, that loves marrow-bones--_mascula_, +miscalled me. + +AMIN. A pretty, quaint, and new construction. + +PIP. I warrant you, master, if there be marrow-bones in my lesson, +I am an old dog at them. How construe you this, master, _rostra +disertus amat_? + +AMIN. _Disertus_, a desert--_amat_, doth love--_rostra_, roast-meat. + +PIP. A good construction on an empty stomach. Master, now I have +construed my lesson, my mistress would pray you to let me come home +to go of an errand. + +AMIN. Your _tres sequuntur_, and away. + +PIP. _Canis_ a hog, _rana_ a dog, _porcus_ a frog, +_Abeundum est mihi_. [_Exit_. + +AMIN. Yours, sirrah, too, and then _ad prandium_. + +1ST BOY. _Apis_ a bed, _genu_ a knee, _Vulcanus_, Doctor Dee: +_Viginti minus usus est mihi_. + +AMIN. By _Juno's_ lip and _Saturn's_ thumb +It was _bonus, bona, bonum_. + +2D BOY. _Vitrum_ glass, _spica_ grass, _tu es asinus_, you are an ass. +_Precor tibi felicem noctem_. + +AMIN. _Claudite jam libros, pueri: sat, prata, bibistis_, +Look, when you come again, you tell me _ubi fuistis_. +He that minds trish-trash, and will not have care of his _rodix_. +Him I will be-lish-lash, and have a fling at his _podix_. + + [_Exeunt_ BOYS. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. + +Y. ART. A pretty wench, a passing pretty wench. +A sweeter duck all London cannot yield; +She cast a glance on me as I pass'd by, +Not Helen had so ravishing an eye. +Here is the pedant Sir Aminadab; +I will inquire of him if he can tell +By any circumstance, whose wife she is: +Such fellows commonly have intercourse +Without suspicion, where we are debarr'd. +God save you, gentle Sir Aminadab! + +AMIN. _Salve tu quoque_! would you speak with me? +You are, I take it, and let me not lie, +For, as you know, _mentiri non est meum_, +Young Master Arthur; _quid vis_--what will you? + +Y. ART. You are a man I much rely upon; +There is a pretty wench dwells in this street +That keeps no shop, nor is not public known: +At the two posts, next turning of the lane, +I saw her from a window looking out; +O, could you tell me how to come acquainted +With that sweet lass, you should command me, sir, +Even to the utmost of my life and power. + +AMIN. _Dii boni, boni_! 'tis my love he means; +But I will keep it from this gentleman, +And so, I hope, make trial of my love. [_Aside_.] + +Y. ART. If I obtain her, thou shalt win thereby +More than at this time I will promise thee. + +AMIN. _Quando venis aput_, I shall have two horns on my _caput_. + [_Aside_.] + +Y. ART. What, if her husband come and find one there? + +AMIN. _Nuncquam time_, never fear, +She is unmarried, I swear. +But, if I help you to the deed, +_Tu vis narrare_ how you speed. + +Y. ART. Tell how I speed? ay, sir, I will to you: +Then presently about it. Many thanks +For this great kindness, Sir Aminadab. [_Exit_. + +AMIN. If my _puella_ prove a drab, +I'll be reveng'd on both: _ambo_ shall die; +Shall die! by what? for _ego_ I +Have never handled, I thank God, +Other weapon than a rod; +I dare not fight for all my speeches. +_Sed cave_, if I take him thus, +_Ego sum expers_ at untruss. + + [_Exit_. + + + +SCENE II. + + + _A Room in Justice Reason's House_. + + _Enter_ JUSTICE REASON, OLD MASTER ARTHUR, OLD MASTER LUSAM, + MISTRESS ARTHUR, YOUNG MASTER LUSAM, _and_ HUGH. + +O. ART. We, Master Justice Reason, come about +A serious matter that concerns us near. + +O. LUS. Ay, marry, doth it, sir, concern us near; +Would God, sir, you would take some order for it. + +O. ART. Why, look ye, Master Lusam, you are such another, +You will be talking what concerns us near, +And know not why we come to Master Justice. + +O. LUS. How? know not I? + +O. ART. No, sir, not you. + +O. LUS. Well, I know somewhat, though I know not that; +Then on, I pray you. + +JUS. Forward, I pray, [and] yet the case is plain. + +O. ART. Why, sir, as yet you do not know the case. + +O. LUS. Well, he knows somewhat; forward, Master Arthur. + +O. ART. And, as I told you, my unruly son, +Once having bid his wife home to my house, +There took occasion to be much aggriev'd +About some household matters of his own, +And, in plain terms, they fell in controversy. + +O. LUS. 'Tis true, sir, I was there the selfsame time, +And I remember many of the words. + +O. ART. Lord, what a man are you! you were not there +That time; as I remember, you were rid +Down to the North, to see some friends of yours. + +O. LUS. Well, I was somewhere; forward, Master Arthur. + +JUS. All this is well; no fault is to be found +In either of the parties; pray, say on. + +O. ART. Why, sir, I have not nam'd the parties yet, +Nor touch'd the fault that is complain'd upon. + +O. LUS. Well, you touch'd somewhat; forward, Master Arthur. + +O. ART. And, as I said, they fell in controversy: +My son, not like a husband, gave her words +Of great reproof, despite, and contumely, +Which she, poor soul, digested patiently; +This was the first time of their falling out. +As I remember, at the selfsame time +One Thomas, the Earl of Surrey's gentleman, +Din'd at my table. + +O. LUS. I knew him well. + +O. ART. You are the strangest man; this gentleman, +That I speak of, I am sure you never saw; +He came but lately from beyond the sea. + +O. LUS. I am sure I know one Thomas;--forward, sir. + +JUS. And is this all? Make me a _mittimus_, +And send the offender straightways to the jail. + +O. ART. First know the offender--now[13] began the strife +Betwixt this gentlewoman and my son-- +Since when, sir, he hath us'd her not like one +That should partake his bed, but like a slave. +My coming was that you, being in office +And in authority, should call before you +My unthrift son, to give him some advice, +Which he will take better from you than me, +That am his father. Here's the gentlewoman, +Wife to my son, and daughter to this man, +Whom I perforce compell'd to live with us. + +JUS. All this is well; here is your son, you say, +But she that is his wife you cannot find. + +Y. LUS. You do mistake, sir, here's the gentlewoman; +It is her husband that will not be found. + +JUS. Well, all is one, for man and wife are one; +But is this all? + +Y. LUS. Ay, all that you can say, +And much more than you can well put off. + +JUS. Nay, if the case appear thus evident, +Give me a cup of wine. What! man and wife +To disagree! I prythee, fill my cup; +I could say somewhat: tut, tut, by this wine, +I promise you 'tis good canary sack. + +MRS ART. Fathers, you do me open violence, +To bring my name in question, and produce +This gentleman and others here to witness +My husband's shame in open audience. +What may my husband think, when he shall know +I went unto the Justice to complain? +But Master Justice here, more wise than you, +Says little to the matter, knowing well +His office is no whit concern'd herein; +Therefore with favour I will take my leave. + +JUS. The woman saith but reason, Master Arthur, +And therefore give her licence to depart. + +O. LUS. Here is dry justice, not to bid us drink! +Hark thee, my friend, I prythee lend thy cup; +Now, Master Justice, hear me but one word; +You think this woman hath had little wrong, +But, by this wine which I intend to drink-- + +JUS. Nay, save your oath, I pray you do not swear; +Or if you swear, take not too deep an oath. + +O. LUS. Content you, I may take a lawful oath +Before a Justice; therefore, by this wine-- + +Y. LUS. A profound oath, well-sworn, and deeply took; +'Tis better thus than swearing on a book. + +O. LUS. My daughter hath been wronged exceedingly. + +JUS. O, sir, I would have credited these words +Without this oath: but bring your daughter hither, +That I may give her counsel, ere you go. + +O. LUS. Marry, God's blessing on your heart for that! +Daughter, give ear to Justice Reason's words. + +JUS. Good woman, or good wife, or mistress, if you have done amiss, it +should seem you have done a fault; and making a fault, there's no +question but you have done amiss: but if you walk uprightly, and +neither lead to the right hand nor the left, no question but you have +neither led to the right hand nor the left; but, as a man should say, +walked uprightly; but it should appear by these plaintiffs that you +have had some wrong: if you love your spouse entirely, it should seem +you affect him fervently; and if he hate you monstrously, it should +seem he loathes you most exceedingly, and there's the point at which I +will leave, for the time passes away: therefore, to conclude, this is +my best counsel: look that thy husband so fall in, that hereafter you +never fall out. + +O. LUS. Good counsel, passing good instruction; +Follow it, daughter. Now, I promise you, +I have not heard such an oration +This many a day. What remains to do? + +Y. LUS. Sir, I was call'd as witness to this matter, +I may be gone for aught that I can see. + +JUS. Nay, stay, my friend, we must examine you. +What can you say concerning this debate +Betwixt young Master Arthur and his wife? + +Y. LUS. Faith, just as much, I think, as you can say, +And that's just nothing. + +JUS. How, nothing? Come, depose him; take his oath; +Swear him, I say; take his confession. + +O. ART. What can you say, sir, in this doubtful case? + +Y. LUS. Why, nothing, sir. + +JUS. We cannot take him in contrary tales, +For he says nothing still, and that same nothing +Is that which we have stood on all this while; +He hath confess'd even all, for all is nothing. +This is your witness, he hath witness'd nothing +Since nothing, then, so plainly is confess'd, +And we by cunning answers and by wit +Have wrought him to confess nothing to us, +Write his confession. + +O. ART. Why, what should we write? + +JUS. Why, nothing: heard you not as well as I +What he confess'd? I say, write nothing down. +Mistress, we have dismissed you; love your husband, +Which, whilst you do, you shall not hate your husband. +Bring him before me; I will urge him with +This gentleman's express confession +Against you; send him to me; I'll not fail +To keep just nothing in my memory. +And, sir, now that we have examin'd you, +We likewise here discharge you with good leave. +Now, Master Arthur and Master Lusam too, +Come in with me; unless the man were here, +Whom most especially the cause concerns, +We cannot end this quarrel: but come near, +And we will taste a glass of our March beer. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE III. + + + _A Room in Mistress Mary's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS MARY, MISTRESS SPLAY, _and_ BRABO. + +MRS MA. I prythee, tell me, Brabo, what planet, think'st thou, governed +at my conception, that I live thus openly to the world? + +BRA. Two planets reign'd at once; Venus, that's you, +And Mars, that's I, were in conjunction. + +MRS SPLAY. Prythee, prythee, in faith, that conjunction copulative is +that part of speech that I live by. + +BRA. Ha, ha! to see the world! we swaggerers, +That live by oaths and big-mouth'd menaces, +Are now reputed for the tallest men: +He that hath now a black moustachio, +Reaching from ear to ear, or turning up, +_Puncto reverso_, bristling towards the eye; +He that can hang two handsome tools at his side, +Go in disguis'd attire, wear iron enough, +Is held a tall man and a soldier. +He that with greatest grace can swear Gog's-zounds, +Or in a tavern make a drunken fray, +Can cheat at dice, swagger in bawdy-houses, +Wear velvet on his face, and with a grace +Can face it out with,--As I am a soldier! +He that can clap his sword upon the board, +He's a brave man--and such a man am I. + +MRS MA. She that with kisses can both kill and cure, +That lives by love, that swears by nothing else +But by a kiss, which is no common oath; +That lives by lying, and yet oft tells truth; +That takes most pleasure when she takes most pains; +She's a good wench, my boy, and so am I. + +MRS SPLAY. She that is past it, and prays for them that may-- + +BRA. Is an old bawd, as you are, Mistress Splay. + +MRS SPLAY. O, do not name that name; do you not know, +That I could ne'er endure to hear that name? +But, if your man would leave us, I would read +The lesson that last night I promis'd you. + +MRS MA. I prythee, leave us, we would be alone. + +BRA. And will, and must: if you bid me begone, +I will withdraw, and draw on any he, +That in the world's wide round dare cope with me. +Mistress, farewell! to none I never speak +So kind a word. My salutations are, +Farewell, and be hang'd! or, in the devil's name! +What they have been, my many frays can tell; +You cannot fight; therefore to you, farewell! + [Exit. + +MRS MA. O, this same swaggerer is +The bulwark of my reputation; but, +Mistress Splay, now to your lecture that you promised me. + +MRS SPLAY. Daughter, attend, for I will tell thee now +What, in my young days, I myself have tried; +Be rul'd by me, and I will make thee rich. +You, God be prais'd, are fair, and, as they say, +Full of good parts; you have been often tried +To be a woman of good carriage, +Which, in my mind, is very commendable. + +MRS MA. It is indeed; forward, good Mother Splay. + +MRS SPLAY. And, as I told you, being fair, I wish, +Sweet daughter, you were as fortunate. +When any suitor comes to ask thy love, +Look not into his words, but into his sleeve; +If thou canst learn what language his purse speaks, +Be ruled by that; that's golden eloquence. +Money can make a slavering tongue speak plain. +If he that loves thee be deform'd and rich, +Accept his love: gold hides deformity. +Gold can make limping Vulcan walk upright; +Make squint eyes straight, a crabbed face look smooth, +Gilds copper noses, makes them look like gold; +Fills age's wrinkles up, and makes a face, +As old as Nestor's, look as young as Cupid's. +If thou wilt arm thyself against all shifts, +Regard all men according to their gifts. +This if thou practise, thou, when I am dead. +Wilt say: Old Mother Splay, soft lie[14] thy head. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. + +MRS MA. Soft, who comes here? begone, good Mistress Splay; +Of thy rule's practice this is my first day. + +MRS SPLAY. God, for thy passion, what a beast am I +To scare the bird, that to the net would fly! + [_Exit_. + +Y. ART. By your leave, mistress. + +MRS MA. What to do, master? + +Y. ART. To give me leave to love you. + +MRS MA. I had rather afford you some love to leave me. + +Y. ART. I would you would as soon love me, as I could leave you. + +MRS MA. I pray you, what are you, sir? + +Y. ART. A man, I'll assure you. + +MRS MA. How should I know that? + +Y. ART. Try me, by my word, for I say I am a man; +Or by my deed I'll prove myself a man. + +MRS MA. Are you not Master Arthur? + +Y. ART. Not Master Arthur, but Arthur, and your servant, +sweet Mistress Mary. + +MRS MA. Not Mistress Mary, but Mary, and your handmaid, +sweet Master Arthur. + +Y. ART. That I love you, let my face tell you; that I love you more +than ordinarily, let this kiss testify; and that I love you fervently +and entirely, ask this gift, and see what it will answer you, myself, +my purse, and all, being wholly at your service. + +MRS MA. That I take your love in good part, my thanks shall speak for +me; that I am pleased with your kiss, this interest of another shall +certify you; and that I accept your gift, my prostrate service and +myself shall witness with me. My love, my lips, and sweet self, are at +your service: wilt please you to come near, sir? + +Y. ART. O, that my wife were dead! here would I make +My second choice: would she were buried! +From out her grave this marrigold should grow, +Which, in my nuptials, I would wear with pride. +Die shall she, I have doom'd her destiny. [_Aside_.] + +MRS MA. 'Tis news, Master Arthur, to see you in such a place: +How doth your wife? + +Y. ART. Faith, Mistress Mary, at the point of death, +And long she cannot live; she shall not live +To trouble me in this my second choice. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB _with a bill and headpiece_. + +MRS MA. I pray forbear, sir, for here comes my love: +Good sir, for this time leave me; by this kiss +You cannot ask the question at my hands +I will deny you: pray you, get you gone. + +Y. ART. Farewell, sweet Mistress Mary! [_Exit_. + +MRS MA. Sweet, adieu! + +AMIN. Stand to me, bill! and, headpiece, sit thou close! +I hear my love, my wench, my duck, my dear, +Is sought by many suitors; but with this +I'll keep the door, and enter he that dare! +Virga, be gone, thy twigs I'll turn to steel; +These fingers, that were expert in the jerk; +Instead of lashing of the trembling _podex_, +Must learn pash and knock, and beat and mall, +Cleave pates and _caputs_; he that enters here, +Comes on to his death! _mors mortis_ he shall taste. + [_He hides himself_. + +MRS MA. Alas! poor fool, the pedant's mad for love! +Thinks me more mad that I would marry him. +He's come to watch me with a rusty bill, +To keep my friends away by force of arms: +I will not see him, but stand still aside, +And here observe him what he means to do. [_Retires_. + +AMIN. _O utinam_, that he that loves her best, +Durst offer but to touch her in this place! +_Per Jovem et Junonem! hoc_ +Shall pash his coxcomb such a knock, +As that his soul his course shall take +To Limbo and Avernus' lake. +In vain I watch in this dark hole; +Would any living durst my manhood try, +And offer to come up the stairs this way! + +MRS MA. O, We should see you make a goodly fray. [_Aside_.] + +AMIN. The wench I here watch with my bill, +_Amo, amas, amavi_ still. +_Qui audet_--let him come that dare! +Death, hell, and limbo be his share! + + _Enter_ BRABO _with his sword in his hand_. + +BRA. Where's Mistress Mary? never a post here, +A bar of iron, 'gainst which to try my sword? +Now, by my beard, a dainty piece of steel. + +AMIN. O Jove, what a qualm is this I feel! + +BRA. Come hither, Mall, is none here but we two? +When didst thou see the starveling schoolmaster? +That rat, that shrimp, that spindle-shank, +That wren, that sheep-biter, that lean chitty-face, +That famine, that lean envy, that all-bones, +That bare anatomy, that Jack-a-Lent, +That ghost, that shadow, that moon in the wane? + +AMIN. I wail in woe, I plunge in pain.[15] [_Aside_.] + +BRA. When next I find him here, I'll hang him up, +Like a dried sausage, in the chimney's top: +That stock-fish, that poor John, that gut of men! + +AMIN. O, that I were at home again! [_Aside_.] + +BRA. When he comes next, turn him into the streets. +Now, come, let's dance the shaking of the sheets. + + [_Exeunt_ MISTRESS MARY _and_ BRABO. + +AMIN. _Qui, quae, quod_! +Hence, boist'rous bill! come, gentle rod! +Had not grimalkin stamp'd and star'd, +Aminadab had little car'd; +Or if, instead of this brown bill, +I had kept my Mistress Virga still, +And he upon another's back, +His points untruss'd, his breeches slack; +My countenance he should not dash, +For I am expert in the lash. +But my sweet lass my love doth fly, +Which shall make me by poison die. +_Per fidem_, I will rid my life +Either by poison, sword, or knife. + + [_Exit_. + + + + +ACT III., SCENE I. + + + _A Room in Young Arthur's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR _and_ PIPKIN. + +MRS ART. Sirrah! when saw you your master? + +PIP. Faith, mistress, when I last look'd upon him. + +MRS ART. And when was that? + +PIP. When I beheld him. + +MRS ART. And when was that? + +PIP. Marry, when he was in my sight, and that was yesterday; since when +I saw not my master, nor looked on my master, nor beheld my master, nor +had any sight of my master. + +MRS ART. Was he not at my father-in-law's? + +PIP. Yes, marry, was he. + +MRS ART. Didst thou not entreat him to come home? + +PIP. How should I, mistress? he came not there to-day. + +MRS ART. Didst thou not say he was there? + +PIP. True, mistress, he was there? but I did not tell ye when; he hath +been there divers times, but not of late. + +MRS ART. About your business! here I'll sit and wait +His coming home, though it be ne'er so late. +Now once again go look him at the 'Change, +Or at the church with Sir Aminadab. +'Tis told me they use often conference; +When that is done, get you to school again. + +PIP. I had rather play the truant at home, than go seek my master at +school: let me see, what age am I? some four and twenty, and how have +I profited? I was five years learning to crish cross[16] from great A, +and five years longer coming to F; there I stuck some three years, +before I could come to Q; and so, in process of time, I came to e per +se e, and com per se, and tittle; then I got to a, e, i, o, u; after, +to Our Father; and, in the sixteenth year of my age, and the fifteenth +of my going to school, +I am in good time gotten to a noun, +By the same token there my hose went down; +Then I got to a verb, +There I began first to have a beard; +Then I came to _iste, ista, istud_, +There my master whipped me till he fetched the blood, +And so forth: so that now I am become the greatest scholar in the +school, for I am bigger than two or three of them. But I am gone; +farewell, mistress! + + [_Exit_. + + + +SCENE II. + + + _The Street_. + + _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +FUL. Love none at all! They will forswear themselves, +And when you urge them with it, their replies +Are, that Jove laughs at lovers' perjuries. + +ANS. You told me of a jest concerning that; +I prythee, let me hear it. + +FUL. That thou shalt. +My mistress in a humour had protested, +That above all the world she lov'd me best; +Saying with suitors she was oft molested, +And she had lodg'd her heart within my breast; +And sware (but me), both by her mask and fan, +She never would so much as name a man. +Not name a man? quoth I; yet be advis'd; +Not love a man but me! let it be so. +You shall not think, quoth she, my thought's disguis'd +In flattering language or dissembling show; +I say again, and I know what I do, +I will not name a man alive but you. +Into her house I came at unaware, +Her back was to me, and I was not seen; +I stole behind her, till I had her fair, +Then with my hands I closed both her een; +She, blinded thus, beginneth to bethink her +Which of her loves it was that did hoodwink her. +First she begins to guess and name a man, +That I well knew, but she had known far better; +The next I never did suspect till then: +Still of my name I could not hear a letter; +Then mad, she did name Robin, and then James, +Till she had reckon'd up some twenty names; +At length, when she had counted up a score, +As one among the rest, she hit on me; +I ask'd her if she could not reckon more, +And pluck'd away my hands to let her see; +But, when she look'd back, and saw me behind her, +She blush'd, and ask'd if it were I did blind her? +And since I sware, both by her mask and fan, +To trust no she-tongue, that can name a man. + +ANS. Your great oath hath some exceptions: +But to our former purpose; yon is Mistress Arthur; +We will attempt another kind of wooing, +And make her hate her husband, if we can. + +FUL. But not a word of passion or of love; +Have at her now to try her patience. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR. + +God save you, mistress! + +MRS ART. You are welcome, sir. + +FUL. I pray you, where's your husband? + +MRS ART. Not within. + +ANS. Who, Master Arthur? him I saw even now +At Mistress Mary's, the brave courtesan's. + +MRS ART. Wrong not my husband's reputation so; +I neither can nor will believe you, sir. + +FUL. Poor gentlewoman! how much I pity you; +Your husband is become her only guest: +He lodges there, and daily diets there, +He riots, revels, and doth all things; +Nay, he is held the Master of Misrule +'Mongst a most loathed and abhorred crew: +And can you, being a woman, suffer this? + +MRS ART. Sir, sir! I understand you well enough: +Admit, my husband doth frequent that house +Of such dishonest usage; I suppose +He doth it but in zeal to bring them home +By his good counsel from that course of sin; +And, like a Christian, seeing them astray +In the broad path that to damnation leads, +He useth thither to direct their feet +Into the narrow way that guides to heaven. + +ANS. Was ever woman gull'd so palpably! [_Aside_.] +But, Mistress Arthur, think you as you say? + +MRS ART. Sir, what I think, I think, and what I say, +I would I could enjoin you to believe. + +ANS. Faith, Mistress Arthur, I am sorry for you: +And, in good sooth, I wish it lay in me +To remedy the least part of these wrongs +Your unkind husband daily proffers you. + +MRS ART. You are deceived, he is not unkind: +Although he bear an outward face of hate, +His heart and soul are both assured mine. + +ANS. Fie, Mistress Arthur! take a better spirit; +Be not so timorous to rehearse your wrongs: +I say, your husband haunts bad company, +Swaggerers, cheaters, wanton courtesans; +There he defiles his body, stains his soul, +Consumes his wealth, undoes himself and you +In danger of diseases, whose vile names +Are not for any honest mouths to speak, +Nor any chaste ears to receive and hear. +O, he will bring that face, admir'd for beauty, +To be more loathed than a lep'rous skin! +Divorce yourself, now whilst the clouds grow black; +Prepare yourself a shelter for the storm; +Abandon his most loathed fellowship: +You are young, mistress; will you lose your youth? + +MRS ART. Tempt no more, devil! thy deformity +Hath chang'd itself into an angel's shape, +But yet I know thee by thy course of speech: +Thou gett'st an apple to betray poor Eve, +Whose outside bears a show of pleasant fruit; +But the vile branch, on which this apple grew, +Was that which drew poor Eve from paradise. +Thy Syren's song could make me drown myself, +But I am tied unto the mast of truth. +Admit, my husband be inclin'd to vice, +My virtues may in time recall him home; +But, if we both should desp'rate run to sin, +We should abide certain destruction. +But he's like one, that over a sweet face +Puts a deformed vizard; for his soul +Is free from any such intents of ill: +Only to try my patience he puts on +An ugly shape of black intemperance; +Therefore, this blot of shame which he now wears, +I with my prayers will purge, wash with my tears. + [_Exit_. + +ANS. Fuller! + +FUL. Anselm! + +ANS. How lik'st thou this? + +FUL. As school-boys jerks, apes whips, as lions cocks, +As Furies do fasting-days, and devils crosses, +As maids to have their marriage-days put off; +I like it as the thing I most do loathe. +What wilt thou do? for shame, persist no more +In this extremity of frivolous love. +I see, my doctrine moves no precise ears, +But such as are profess'd inamoratos. + +ANS. O, I shall die! + +FUL. Tush! live to laugh a little: +Here's the best subject that thy love affords; +Listen awhile and hear this: ho, boy! speak. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB. + +AMIN. _As in presenti_, thou loath'st the gift I sent thee; +_Nolo plus_ tarry, but die for the beauteous Mary; +Fain would I die by a sword, but what sword shall I die by? +Or by a stone, what stone? _nullus lapis jacet ibi_. +Knive I have none to sheathe in my breast, or empty my full veins: +Here's no wall or post which I can soil with my bruis'd brains; +First will I therefore say two or three creeds and Ave Marys, +And after go buy a poison at the apothecary's. + +FUL. I pry thee, Anselm, but observe this fellow; +Doest not hear him? he would die for love; +That misshap'd love thou wouldst condemn in him, +I see in thee: I prythee, note him well. + +ANS. Were I assur'd that I were such a lover +I should be with myself quite out of love: +I prythee, let's persuade him still to live. + +FUL. That were a dangerous case, perhaps the fellow +In desperation would, to soothe us up, +Promise repentant recantation, +And after fall into that desperate course, +Both which I will prevent with policy. + +AMIN. O death! come with thy dart! come, death, when I bid thee! +_Mors, veni: veni, mors_! and from this misery rid me; +She whom I lov'd--whom I lov'd, even she--my sweet pretty Mary, +Doth but flout and mock, and jest and dissimulary. + +FUL. I'll fit him finely; in this paper is +The juice of mandrake, by a doctor made +To cast a man, whose leg should be cut off, +Into a deep, a cold, and senseless sleep; +Of such approved operation +That whoso takes it, is for twice twelve hours +Breathless, and to all men's judgments past all sense; +This will I give the pedant but in sport; +For when 'tis known to take effect in him, +The world will but esteem it as a jest; +Besides, it may be a means to save his life, +For being [not] perfect poison, as it seems +His meaning is, some covetous slave for coin +Will sell it him,[17] though it be held by law +To be no better than flat felony. + +ANS. Uphold the jest--but he hath spied us; peace! + +AMIN. Gentles, God save you! +Here is a man I have noted oft, most learn'd in physic, +One man he help'd of the cough, another he heal'd of the pthisic, +And I will board him thus, _salve, O salve, magister_! + +FUL. _Gratus mihi advenis! quid mecum vis_? + +AMIN. _Optatus venis; paucis te volo_. + +FUL. _Si quid industria nostra tibi faciet, dic, quaeso_. + +AMIN. Attend me, sir;--I have a simple house, +But, as the learned Diogenes saith +In his epistle to Tertullian, +It is extremely troubled with great rats; +I have no _mus_ puss, nor grey-ey'd cat, +To hunt them out. O, could your learned art +Show me a means how I might poison them, +_Tuus dum suus_, Sir Aminadab. + +FUL. With all my heart; I am no rat-catcher; +But if you need a poison, here is that +Will pepper both your dogs, and rats, and cats: +Nay, spare your purse: I give this in good will; +And, as it proves, I pray you send to me, +And let me know. Would you aught else with me? + +AMIN. _Minimè quidem_; here's that you say will take them? +A thousand thanks, sweet sir; I say to you, +As Tully in his Aesop's Fables said +_Ago tibi gratias_; so farewell, _vale_! + [_Exit_. + +FUL. Adieu! Come, let us go; I long to see, +What the event of this new jest will be. + + _Enter_ YOUNG ARTHUR. + +Y. ART. Good morrow, gentleman; saw you not this way, +As you were walking, Sir Aminadab? + +ANS. Master Arthur, as I take it? + +Y. ART. Sir, the same. + +ANS. Sir, I desire your more familiar love: +Would I could bid myself unto your house, +For I have wish'd for your acquaintance long. + +Y. ART. Sweet Master Anselm, I desire yours too; +Will you come dine with me at home to-morrow? +You shall be welcome, I assure you, sir. + +ANS. I fear, sir, I shall prove too bold a guest. + +Y. ART. You shall be welcome, if you bring your friend. + +FUL. O Lord, sir, we shall be too troublesome. + +Y. ART. Nay, now I will enforce a promise from you: +Shall I expect you? + +FUL. Yes, with all my heart. + +ANS. A thousand thanks. Yonder's the schoolmaster. +So, till to-morrow, twenty times farewell. + +Y. ART. I double all your farewells twenty-fold. + +ANS. O, this acquaintance was well scrap'd of me; +By this my love to-morrow I shall see. + + [_Exeunt_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB. + +AMIN. This poison shall by force expel +_Amorem_, love, _infernum_, hell. +_Per hoc venenum, ego_, I +For my sweet lovely lass will die. + +Y. ART. What do I hear of poison; which sweet means +Must make me a brave frolic widower? +It seems the doting fool, being forlorn, +Hath got some compound mixture in despair, +To end his desperate fortunes and his life; +I'll get it from him, and with this make way +To my wife's night and to my love's fair day. + +AMIN. _In nomine domini_, friends, farewell! +I know death comes, here's such a smell! +_Pater et mater_, father and mother, +_Frater et soror_, sister and brother, +And my sweet Mary, not these drugs +Do send me to the infernal bugs, +But thy unkindness; so, adieu! +Hob-goblins, now I come to you. + +Y. ART. Hold, man, I say! what will the madman do? + [_Takes away the supposed poison_. +Ay, have I got thee? thou shalt go with me. [_Aside_. +No more of that; fie, Sir Minadab! +Destroy yourself! If I but hear hereafter +You practise such revenge upon yourself, +All your friends shall know that for a wench-- +A paltry wench--you would have kill'd yourself. + +AMIN. _O tace, quaeso_; do not name +This frantic deed of mine for shame. +My sweet _magister_, not a word; +I'll neither drown me in a ford, +Nor give my neck such a scope, +T'embrace it with a hempen rope; +I'll die no way, till nature will me, +And death come with his dart, and kill me, +If what is pass'd you will conceal, +And nothing to the world reveal; +Nay, as Quintillian said of yore, +I'll strive to kill myself no more. + +Y. ART. On that condition I'll conceal this deed: +To-morrow, pray, come and dine with me; +For I have many strangers; 'mongst the rest, +Some are desirous of your company. +You will not fail me? + +AMIN. No, in sooth; +I'll try the sharpness of my tooth; +Instead of poison, I will eat +Rabbits, capons, and such meat; +And so, as Pythagoras says, +With wholesome fare prolong my days. +But, sir, will Mistress Mall be there? + +Y. ART. She shall, she shall; man, never fear. + +AMIN. Then my spirit becomes stronger, +And I will live and stretch longer; +For Ovid said, and did not lie, +That poison'd men do often die: +But poison henceforth I'll not eat, +Whilst I can other victuals get. +To-morrow, if you make a feast, +Be sure, sir, I will be your guest. +But keep my counsel, _vale tu_! +And, till to-morrow, sir, adieu! +At your table I will prove, +If I can eat away my love. [_Exit_. + +Y. ART. O, I am glad I have thee; now devise +A way how to bestow it cunningly; +It shall be thus: to-morrow I'll pretend +A reconcilement 'twixt my wife and me, +And to that end I will invite thus many-- +First Justice Reason, as the chief man there; +My father Arthur, old Lusam, young Lusam. +Master Fuller and Master Anselm I have bid already; +Then will I have my lovely Mary too, +Be it but to spite my wife, before she die; +For die she shall before to-morrow night. +The operation of this poison is +Not suddenly to kill; they that take it +Fall in a sleep, and then 'tis past recure, +And this will I put in her cup to-morrow. + + _Enter_ PIPKIN, _running_. + +PIP. This 'tis to have such a master! I have sought him at the 'Change, +at the school, at every place, but I cannot find him nowhere. + [_Sees_ M. ART.] +O, cry mercy! my mistress would entreat you to come home. + +Y. ART. I cannot come to-night; some urgent business +Will all this night employ me otherwise. + +PIP. I believe my mistress would con you as much thank to do that +business at home as abroad. + +Y. ART. Here, take my purse, and bid my wife provide +Good cheer against to-morrow; there will be +Two or three strangers of my late acquaintance. +Sirrah, go you to Justice Reason's house; +Invite him first with all solemnity; +Go to my father's and my father-in-law's; +Here, take this note-- +The rest that come I will invite myself: +About it with what quick despatch thou can'st. + +PIP. I warrant you, master, I'll despatch this business with more +honesty than you'll despatch yours. But, master, will the gentlewoman +be there? + +Y. ART. What gentlewoman? + +PIP. The gentlewoman of the old house, that is as well known by the +colour she lays on her cheeks, as an alehouse by the painting is laid +on his lattice; she that is, like _homo_, common to all men; she that +is beholden to no trade, but lives of herself. + +Y. ART. Sirrah, begone, or I will send you hence. + +PIP. I'll go [_aside_]; but, by this hand, I'll tell my mistress as +soon as I come home that mistress light-heels comes to dinner +to-morrow. [_Exit_. + +Y. ART. Sweet Mistress Mary, I'll invite myself: +And there I'll frolic, sup, and spend the night. +My plot is current; here 'tis in my hand +Will make me happy in my second choice: +And I may freely challenge as mine own, +What I am now enforc'd to seek by stealth. +Love is not much unlike ambition; +For in them both all lets must be remov'd +'Twixt every crown and him that would aspire; +And he that will attempt to win the same +Must plunge up to the depth o'er head and ears, +And hazard drowning in that purple sea: +So he that loves must needs through blood and fire, +And do all things to compass his desire. + + [_Exit_. + + + +SCENE III. + + + _A Room in Young Arthur's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR _and her_ MAID. + +MRS ART. Come, spread the table; is the hall well rubb'd? +The cushions in the windows neatly laid? +The cupboard of plate set out? the casements stuck +With rosemary and flowers? the carpets brush'd? + +MAID. Ay, forsooth, mistress. + +MRS ART. Look to the kitchen-maid, and bid the cook take down the +oven-stone, [lest] the pies be burned: here, take my keys, and give +him out more spice. + +MAID. Yes, forsooth, mistress. + +MRS ART. Where's that knave Pipkin? bid him spread the cloth, +Fetch the clean diaper napkins from my chest, +Set out the gilded salt, and bid the fellow +Make himself handsome, get him a clean band. + +MAID. Indeed, forsooth, mistress, he is such a sloven, +That nothing will sit handsome about him; +He had a pound of soap to scour his face, +And yet his brow looks like the chimney-stock. + +MRS ART. He'll be a sloven still; maid, take this apron, +And bring me one of linen: quickly, maid. + +MAID. I go, forsooth. + +MRS ART. There was a curtsy! let me see't again; +Ay, that was well.--[_Exit_ MAID.] I fear my guests will come +Ere we be ready. What a spite is this. + +_Within_. Mistress! + +MRS ART. What's the matter? + +_Within_. Mistress, I pray, take Pipkin from the fire; +We cannot keep his fingers from the roast. + +MRS ART. Bid him come hither; what a knave is that! +Fie, fie, never out of the kitchen! +Still broiling by the fire! + + _Enter_ PIPKIN. + +PIP. I hope you will not take Pipkin from the fire, +Till the broth be enough. + + _Enter_ MAID, _with an apron_. + +MRS ART. Well, sirrah, get a napkin and a trencher, +And wait to-day. So, let me see: my apron. [_Puts it on_.] + +PIP. Mistress, I can tell ye one thing, my master's wench +Will come home to-day to dinner. + + _Enter_ JUSTICE REASON, _and his man_ HUGH. + +MRS ART. She shall be welcome, if she be his guest. +But here's some of our guests are come already: +A chair for Justice Reason, sirrah! + +JUS. Good morrow, Mistress Arthur! you are like a good housewife: +At your request I am come home. What, a chair! +Thus age seeks ease. Where is your husband, mistress? +What, a cushion, too! + +PIP. I pray you, ease your tail, sir. + +JUS. Marry, and will, good fellow; twenty thanks. + + [HUGH _and_ PIPKIN _converse apart_.] + +PIP. Master Hugh, as welcome as heart can tell, or tongue can think. + +HUGH. I thank you, Master Pipkin; I have got many a good dish of broth +by your means. + +PIP. According to the ancient courtesy, you are welcome; according to +the time and place, you are heartily welcome: when they are busied at +the board, we will find ourselves busied in the buttery; and so, sweet +Hugh, according to our scholars' phrase, _gratulor adventum tuum_. + +HUGH. I will answer you with the like, sweet Pipkin, _gratias_. + +PIP. As much grace as you will, but as little of it as you can, +good Hugh. But here comes more guests. + + _Enter_ OLD MASTER ARTHUR _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM. + +MRS ART. More stools and cushions for these gentlemen. + +O. ART. What, Master Justice Reason, are you here? +Who would have thought to have met you in this place? + +O. LUS. What say mine eyes, is Justice Reason here? +Mountains may meet, and so, I see, may we. + +JUS. Well, when men meet, they meet, +And when they part, they oft leave one another's company; +So we, being met, are met. + +O. LUS. Truly, you say true; +And Master Justice Reason speaks but reason: +To hear how wisely men of law will speak! + + _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +ANS. Good morrow, gentlemen! + +MRS ART. What? are you there? + +ANS. Good morrow, mistress, and good morrow, all! + +JUS. If I may be so bold in a strange place, +I say, good morrow, and as much to you. +I pray, gentlemen, will you sit down? +We have been young, like you; and, if you live +Unto our age, you will be old like us. + +FUL. Be rul'd by reason; but who's here? + + _Enter_ AMINADAB. + +AMIN. _Salvete, omnes_! and good day +To all at once, as I may say; +First, Master Justice; next, Old Arthur, +That gives me pension by the quarter; +To my good mistress and the rest, +That are the founders of this feast; +In brief, I speak to _omnes_, all, +That to their meat intend to fall. + +JUS. Welcome, Sir Aminadab; O, my son +Hath profited exceeding well with you: +Sit down, sit down, by Mistress Arthur's leave. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, YOUNG MASTER + LUSAM, _and_ MISTRESS MARY. + +Y. ART. Gentlemen, welcome all; whilst I deliver +Their private welcomes, wife, be it your charge +To give this gentlewoman entertainment. + +MRS ART. Husband, I will. O, this is she usurps +The precious interest of my husband's love; +Though, as I am a woman, I could well +Thrust such a lewd companion out of doors; +Yet, as I am a true, obedient, wife, +I'd kiss her feet to do my husband's will. [_Aside_. +You are entirely welcome, gentlewoman; +Indeed you are; pray, do not doubt of it. + +MRS MA. I thank you, Mistress Arthur; now, by my little honesty, +It much repents me to wrong so chaste a woman. [_Aside_. + +Y. ART. Gentles, put o'er your legs; first, Master Justice, +Here you shall sit. + +JUS. And here shall Mistress Mary sit by me. + +Y. ART. Pardon me, sir, she shall have my wife's place. + +MRS ART. Indeed, you shall, for he will have it so. + +MRS MA. If you will needs; but I shall do you wrong +To take your place. + +O. LUS. Ay, by my faith, you should. + +MRS ART. That is no wrong, which we impute no wrong! +I pray you, sit. + +Y. ART. Gentlemen all, I pray you, seat yourselves: +What, Sir Aminadab, I know where your heart is. + [_Aside_. +AMIN. Mum, not a word, _pax vobis_, peace: +Come, gentles, I'll be of this mess. + +Y. ART. So, who gives thanks? + +AMIN. Sir, that will I. + +Y. ART. I pray you to it by and by. +Where's Pipkin? +Wait at the board; let Master Season's man +Be had into the buttery; but first give him +A napkin and a trencher. Well-said. Hugh, +Wait at your master's elbow: now say grace. + +AMIN. _Gloria Deo_, sirs, proface; +Attend me now, whilst I say grace. +For bread and salt, for grapes and malt, +For flesh and fish, and every dish; +Mutton and beef, of all meats chief; +For cow-heels, chitterlings, tripes and souse, +And other meat that's in the house; +For racks, for breasts, for legs, for loins, +For pies with raisins and with proins, +For fritters, pancakes, and for fries, +For ven'son pasties and minc'd pies; +Sheeps'-head and garlic, brawn and mustard, +Wafers, spic'd cakes, tart, and custard; +For capons, rabbits, pigs, and geese, +For apples, caraways, and cheese; +For all these and many mo: +_Benedicamus Domino_! + +ALL. Amen. + +JUS. I con you thanks; but, Sir Aminadab, +Is that your scholar! now, I promise you, +He is a toward stripling of his age. + +PIP. Who? I, forsooth? yes, indeed, forsooth, I am his scholar. I would +you should well think I have profited under him too; you shall hear, if +he will pose me. + +O. ART. I pray you, let's hear him. + +AMIN. _Huc ades_, Pipkin. + +PIP. _Adsum_. + +AMIN. _Quot casus sunt_? how many cases are there? + +PIP. Marry, a great many. + +AMIN. Well-answer'd, a great many: there are six, +Six, a great many; 'tis well-answer'd; +And which be they? + +PIP. A bow-case, a cap-case, a comb-case, a lute-case, a fiddle-case, +and a candle-case. + +JUS. I know them all; again, well-answer'd: +Pray God, my youngest son profit no worse. + +AMIN. How many parsons are there? + +PIP. I'll tell you as many as I know, if you'll give me leave to reckon +them. + +ANS. I prythee, do. + +PIP. The parson of Fenchurch, the parson of Pancras, and the parson +of------ + +Y. ART. Well, sir, about your business:--now will I +Temper the cup my loathed wife shall drink + [_Aside, and exit_. + +O. ART. Daughter, methinks you are exceeding sad. + +O. LUS. Faith, daughter, so thou art exceeding sad. + +MRS ART. 'Tis but my countenance, for my heart is merry: +Mistress, were you as merry as you are welcome, +You should not sit so sadly as you do. + +MRS MA. 'Tis but because I am seated in your place, +Which is frequented seldom with true mirth. + +MRS ART. The fault is neither in the place nor me. + +AMIN. How say you, lady? +To him you last did lie by! +All this is no more, _praebibo tibi_. + +MRS MA. I thank you, sir. Mistress, this draught shall be +To him that loves both you and me! + +MRS ART. I know your meaning. + +ANS. Now to me, +If she have either love or charity. + +MRS ART. Here, Master Justice, this to your grave years, +A mournful draught, God wot: half-wine, half-tears. [_Aside_. + +JUS. Let come, my wench; here, youngsters, to you all! +You are silent: here's that will make you talk. +Wenches, methink you sit like puritans: +Never a jest abroad to make them laugh? + +FUL. Sir, since you move speech of a puritan, +If you will give me audience, I will tell ye +As good a jest as ever you did hear. + +O. ART. A jest? that's excellent! + +JUS. Beforehand, let's prepare ourselves to laugh; +A jest is nothing, if it be not grac'd. +Now, now, I pray you, when begins this jest? + +FUL. I came unto a puritan, to woo her, +And roughly did salute her with a kiss: +Away! quoth she, and rudely push'd me from her; +Brother, by yea and nay, I like not this: +And still with amorous talk she was saluted, +My artless speech with Scripture was confuted. + +O. LUS. Good, good, indeed; the best that e'er I heard. + +O. ART. I promise you, it was exceeding good. + +FUL. Oft I frequented her abode by night, +And courted her, and spake her wond'rous fair; +But ever somewhat did offend her sight, +Either my double ruff or my long hair; +My scarf was vain, my garments hung too low, +My Spanish shoe was cut too broad at toe. + +ALL. Ha, ha! the best that ever I heard! + +FUL. I parted for that time, and came again, +Seeming to be conform'd in look and speech; +My shoes were sharp-toed, and my band was plain, +Close to my thigh my metamorphos'd breech; +My cloak was narrow-cap'd, my hair cut shorter; +Off went my scarf, thus march'd I to the porter. + +ALL. Ha, ha! was ever heard the like? + +FUL. The porter, spying me, did lead me in, +Where his fair mistress sat reading of a chapter; +Peace to this house, quoth I, and those within, +Which holy speech with admiration wrapp'd her; +And ever as I spake, and came her nigh, +Seeming divine, turn'd up the white of eye. + +JUS. So, so, what then? + +O. LUS. Forward, I pray, forward, sir. + +FUL. I spake divinely, and I call'd her sister, +And by this means we were acquainted well: +By yea and nay, I will, quoth I, and kiss'd her. +She blush'd, and said, that long-tongu'd men would tell; +I swore[18] to be as secret as the night, +And said, on sooth, I would put out the light. + +O. ART. In sooth he would! a passing-passing jest. + +FUL. O, do not swear, quoth she, yet put it out, +Because I would not have you break your oath. +I felt a bed there, as I grop'd about; +In troth, quoth I, here will we rest us both. +Swear you, in troth, quoth she? had you not sworn, +I had not done't, but took it in full scorn: +Then you will come, quoth I? though I be loth, +I'll come, quoth she, be't but to keep your oath. + +JUS. 'Tis very pretty; but now, when's the jest? + +O. ART. O, forward, to the jest in any case. + +O. LUS. I would not, for an angel, lose the jest. + +FUL. Here's right the dunghill cock that finds a pearl. +To talk of wit to these, is as a man +Should cast out jewels to a herd of swine--[_aside_.] +Why, in the last words did consist the jest. + +O. LUS. Ay, in the last words? ha, ha, ha! +It was an excellent admired jest-- +To them that understood it. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, _with two cups of wine_. + +JUS. It was, indeed; I must, for fashion's sake, +Say as they say; but otherwise, O, God! [_Aside_. +Good Master Arthur, thanks for our good cheer. + +Y. ART. Gentlemen, welcome all; now hear me speak-- +One special cause that mov'd me lead you hither, +Is for an ancient grudge that hath long since +Continued 'twixt my modest wife and me: +The wrongs that I have done her I recant. +In either hand I hold a sev'ral cup, +This in the right hand, wife, I drink to thee, +This in the left hand, pledge me in this draught, +Burying all former hatred; so, have to thee. [_He drinks_. + +MRS ART. The welcom'st pledge that yet I ever took: +Were this wine poison, or did taste like gall, +The honey-sweet condition of your draught +Would make it drink like nectar: I will pledge you, +Were it the last that I should ever drink. + +Y. ART. Make that account: thus, gentlemen, you see +Our late discord brought to a unity. + +AMIN. _Ecce, quam bonum et quam jucundum +Est habitare fratres in unum_. + +O. ART. My heart doth taste the sweetness of your pledge, +And I am glad to see this sweet accord. + +O. LUS. Glad, quotha? there's not one among'st us, +But may be exceeding glad. + +JUS. I am, ay, marry, am I, that I am. + +Y. LUS. The best accord that could betide their loves. + +ANS. The worst accord that could betide my love. + + [_All about to rise_. + +AMIN: What, rising, gentles? keep your place, +I will close up your stomachs with a grace; +_O Domine et care Pater_, +That giv'st us wine instead of water; +And from the pond and river clear +Mak'st nappy ale and good March beer; +That send'st us sundry sorts of meat, +And everything we drink or eat; +To maids, to wives, to boys, to men, +_Laus Deo Sancto_, Amen. + +Y. ART. So, much good do ye all, and, gentlemen, +Accept your welcomes better than your cheer. + +O. LUS. Nay, so we do, I'll give you thanks for all. +Come, Master Justice, you do walk our way, +And Master Arthur, and old Hugh your man; +We'll be the first [that] will strain courtesy. + +JUS. God be with you all! + + [_Exeunt_ O. ART., O. LUS., _and_ JUS. REASON. + +AMIN. _Proximus ego sum_, I'll be the next, +And man you home; how say you, lady? + +Y. ART. I pray you do, good Sir Aminadab. + +MRS MA. Sir, if it be not too much trouble to you, +Let me entreat that kindness at your hands. + +AMIN. Entreat! fie! no, sweet lass, command; +_Sic_, so, _nunc_, now, take the upper hand. + + [_Exit_ MRS MARY _escorted by_ AMINADAB. + +Y. ART. Come, wife, this meeting was all for our sakes: +I long to see the force my poison takes. [_Aside_. + +MRS ART. My dear-dear husband, in exchange of hate, +My love and heart shall on your service wait. + + [_Exeunt_ Y. ART., MRS ART., _and_ PIPKIN. + +ANS. So doth my love on thee; but long no more; +To her rich love thy service is too poor. + +FUL. For shame, no more! you had best expostulate +Your love with every stranger; leave these sighs, +And change them to familiar conference. + +Y. LUS. Trust me, the virtues of young Arthur's wife, +Her constancy, modest humility, +Her patience, and admired temperance, +Have made me love all womankind the better. + + _Re-enter_ PIPKIN. + +PIP. O, my mistress! my mistress! she's dead! +She's gone! she's dead! she's gone! + +ANS. What's that he says? + +PIP. Out of my way! stand back, I say! +All joy from earth has fled! +She is this day as cold as clay; +My mistress she is dead! +O Lord, my mistress! my mistress! [_Exit_. + +ANS. What, Mistress Arthur dead? my soul is vanish'd, +And the world's wonder from the world quite banish'd. +O, I am sick, my pain grows worse and worse; +I am quite struck through with this late discourse. + +FUL. What! faint'st thou, man? I'll lead thee hence; for shame! +Swoon at the tidings of a woman's death! +Intolerable, and beyond all thought! +Come, my love's fool, give me thy hand to lead; +This day one body and two hearts are dead. + + [_Exeunt_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +Y. LUS. But now she was as well as well might be, +And on the sudden dead; joy in excess +Hath overrun her poor disturbed soul. +I'll after, and see how Master Arthur takes it; +His former hate far more suspicious makes it. + [_Exit_. + + _Enter_ HUGH, _and after him_, PIPKIN. + +HUGH. My master hath left his gloves behind where he sat in his chair, +and hath sent me to fetch them; it is such an old snudge, he'll not +lose the droppings of his nose. + +PIP. O mistress! O Hugh! O Hugh! O mistress! +Hugh, I must needs beat thee; I am mad! +I am lunatic! I must fall upon thee: my mistress is dead! + [_Beats_ HUGH. + +HUGH. O Master Pipkin, what do you mean? what do you mean, +Master Pipkin? + +PIP. O Hugh! O mistress! O mistress! O Hugh! + +HUGH. O Pipkin! O God! O God! O Pipkin! + +Pip. O Hugh, I am mad! bear with me, I cannot choose: O death! +O mistress! O mistress! O death! [_Exit_. + +HUGH. Death, quotha? he hath almost made me dead with beating. + + _Re-enter_ JUSTICE REASON, OLD MASTER ARTHUR, + _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM. + +JUS. I wonder why the knave, my man, stays thus, +And comes not back: see where the villain loiters. + + _Re-enter_ PIPKIN. + +PIP. O Master Justice! Master Arthur! Master Lusam! wonder not why I +thus blow and bluster; my mistress is dead! dead is my mistress! and +therefore hang yourselves. O, my mistress, my mistress! + [_Exit_. + +O. ART. My son's wife dead! + +O. LUS. My daughter! + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, _mourning_. + +JUS. Mistress Arthur! Here comes her husband. + +Y. ART. O, here the woful'st husband comes alive, +No husband now; the wight, that did uphold +That name of husband, is now quite o'erthrown, +And I am left a hapless widower. + +O. ART. Fain would I speak, if grief would suffer me. + +O. LUS. As Master Arthur says, so say I; +If grief would let me, I would weeping die. +To be thus hapless in my aged years! +O, I would speak; but my words melt to tears. + +Y. ART. Go in, go in, and view the sweetest corpse +That e'er was laid upon a mournful room; +You cannot speak for weeping sorrow's doom: +Bad news are rife, good tidings seldom come. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT IV., SCENE I. + + + _A Street_. + + _Enter_ ANSELM. + +ANS. What frantic humour doth thus haunt my sense, +Striving to breed destruction in my spirit? +When I would sleep, the ghost of my sweet love +Appears unto me in an angel's shape: +When I'm awake, my fantasy presents, +As in a glass, the shadow of my love: +When I would speak, her name intrudes itself +Into the perfect echoes of my speech: +And though my thought beget some other word, +Yet will my tongue speak nothing but her name. +If I do meditate, it is on her; +If dream of her, or if discourse of her, +I think her ghost doth haunt me, as in times +Of former darkness old wives' tales report. + + _Enter_ FULLER. + +Here comes my better genius, whose advice +Directs me still in all my actions. +How now, from whence come you? + +FUL. Faith, from the street, in which, as I pass'd by, +I met the modest Mistress Arthur's corpse, +And after her as mourners, first her husband, +Next Justice Reason, then old Master Arthur, +Old Master Lusam, and young Lusam too, +With many other kinsfolks, neighbours, friends, +And others, that lament her funeral: +Her body is by this laid in the vault. + +ANS. And in that vault my body I will lay! +I prythee, leave me: thither is my way. + +FUL. I am sure you jest, you mean not as you say. + +ANS. No, no, I'll but go to the church, and pray. + +FUL. Nay, then we shall be troubled with your humour. + +ANS. As ever thou didst love me, or as ever +Thou didst delight in my society, +By all the rights of friendship and of love, +Let me entreat thy absence but one hour, +And at the hour's end I will come to thee. + +FUL. Nay, if you will be foolish, and past reason, +I'll wash my hands, like Pilate, from thy folly, +And suffer thee in these extremities. [_Exit_. + +ANS. Now it is night, and the bright lamps of heaven +Are half-burn'd out: now bright Adelbora +Welcomes the cheerful day-star to the east, +And harmless stillness hath possess'd the world: +This is the church,--this hollow is the vault, +Where the dead body of my saint remains, +And this the coffin that enshrines her body, +For her bright soul is now in paradise. +My coming is with no intent of sin, +Or to defile the body of the dead; +But rather take my last farewell of her, +Or languishing and dying by her side, +My airy soul post after hers to heaven. + [_Comes to_ MRS ARTHUR'S _tomb_. +First, with this latest kiss I seal my love: +Her lips are warm, and I am much deceiv'd, +If that she stir not. O, this Golgotha, +This place of dead men's bones is terrible, +Presenting fearful apparitions! +It is some spirit that in the coffin lies, +And makes my hair start up on end with fear! +Come to thyself, faint heart--she sits upright! +O, I would hide me, but I know not where. +Tush, if it be a spirit, 'tis a good spirit; +For with her body living ill she knew not; +And with her body dead ill cannot meddle. + +MRS ART. Who am I? Or where am I? + +ANS. O, she speaks, +And by her language now I know she lives. + +MRS ART. O, who can tell me where I am become? +For in this darkness I have lost myself; +I am not dead, for I have sense and life: +How come I then in this coffin buried? + +ANS. Anselm, be bold; she lives, and destiny +Hath train'd thee hither to redeem her life. + +MRS ART. Lives any 'mongst these dead? none but myself? + +ANS. O yes, a man, whose heart till now was dead, +Lives and survives at your return to life: +Nay, start not; I am Anselm, one who long +Hath doted on your fair perfection, +And, loving you more than became me well, +Was hither sent by some strange providence, +To bring you from these hollow vaults below, +To be a liver in the world again. + +MRS ART. I understand you, and I thank the heavens, +That sent you to revive me from this fear, +And I embrace my safety with good-will. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB _with two or three_ BOYS. + +AMIN. _Mane citus lectum fuge, mollem discute somnum, +Templa petas supplex, et venerate deum_. +Shake off thy sleep, get up betimes, +Go to the church and pray, +And, never fear, God will thee hear, +And keep thee all the day. +Good counsel, boys; observe it, mark it well; +This early rising, this _diluculo_ +Is good both for your bodies and your minds: +'Tis not yet day; give me my tinder-box; +Meantime, unloose your satchels and your books: +Draw, draw, and take you to your lessons, boys. + +1ST BOY. O Lord, master, what's that in the white sheet? + +AMIN. In the white sheet, my boy? _Dic ubi_, where? + +1ST BOY. _Vide_, master, _vide illic_, there. + +AMIN. O, _Domine, Domine_, keep us from evil, +A charm from flesh, the world, and the devil! + + [_Exeunt_. + +MRS ART. O, tell me not my husband was ingrate, +Or that he did attempt to poison me, +Or that he laid me here, and I was dead; +These are no means at all to win my love. + +ANS. Sweet mistress, he bequeath'd you to the earth; +You promis'd him to be his wife till death, +And you have kept your promise: but now, since +The world, your husband, and your friends suppose +That you are dead, grant me but one request, +And I will swear never to solicit more +Your sacred thoughts to my dishonest love. + +MRS ART. So your demand may be no prejudice +To my chaste name, no wrong unto my husband, +No suit that may concern my wedlock's breach, +I yield unto it; but +To pass the bounds of modesty and chastity, +Sooner[19] will I bequeath myself again +Unto this grave, and never part from hence, +Than taint my soul with black impurity. + +ANS. Take here my hand and faithful heart to gage. +That I will never tempt you more to sin: +This my request is--since your husband dotes +Upon a lewd, lascivious courtesan-- +Since he hath broke the bonds of your chaste bed, +And, like a murd'rer, sent you to your grave, +Do but go with me to my mother's house; +There shall you live in secret for a space, +Only to see the end of such lewd lust, +And know the difference of a chaste wife's bed, +And one whose life is in all looseness led. + +MRS ART. Your mother is a virtuous matron held: +Her counsel, conference, and company +May much avail me; there a space I'll stay, +Upon condition, as you said before, +You never will move your unchaste suit more. + +ANS. My faith is pawn'd. O, never had chaste wife +A husband of so lewd and unchaste life! + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE II. + + + _A Room in Mistress Mary's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS MARY, MISTRESS SPLAY, _and_ BRABO. + +BRA. Mistress, I long have serv'd you, even since +These bristled hairs upon my grave-like chin +Were all unborn; when I first came to you, +These infant feathers of these ravens' wings +Were not once begun. + +MRS SPLAY. No, indeed, they were not. + +BRA. Now in my two moustachios for a need, +(Wanting a rope) I well could hang myself; +I prythee, mistress, for all my long service, +For all the love that I have borne thee long, +Do me this favour now, to marry me. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. + +MRS MA. Marry, come up, you blockhead! you great ass! +What! wouldst thou have me marry with a devil! +But peace, no more; here comes the silly fool, +That we so long have set our lime-twigs for; +Begone, and leave me to entangle him. + + [_Exeunt_ MISTRESS SPLAY _and_ BRABO. + +Y. ART. What, Mistress Mary? + +MRS MA. O good Master Arthur, +Where have you been this week, this month, this year? +This year, said I? where have you been this age? +Unto a lover ev'ry minute seems +Time out of mind: +How should I think you love me, +That can endure to stay so long from me? + +Y. ART. I' faith, sweetheart, I saw thee yesternight. + +MRS MA. Ay, true, you did, but since you saw me not; +At twelve o'clock you parted from my house, +And now 'tis morning, and new-strucken seven; +Seven hours thou stay'd'st from me; why didst thou so? +They are my seven years' 'prenticeship of woe. + +Y. ART. I prythee, be patient; I had some occasion +That did enforce me from thee yesternight. + +MRS MA. Ay, you are soon enforc'd; fool that I am, +To dote on one that nought respecteth me! +'Tis but my fortune, I am born to bear it, +And ev'ry one shall have their destiny. + +Y. ART. Nay, weep not, wench; thou wound'st me with thy tears. + +MRS MA. I am a fool, and so you make me too; +These tears were better kept than spent in waste +On one that neither tenders them nor me. +What remedy? but if I chance to die, +Or to miscarry with that I go withal, +I'll take my death that thou art cause thereof; +You told me that, when your wife was dead, +You would forsake all others, and take me. + +Y. ART. I told thee so, and I will keep my word, +And for that end I came thus early to thee; +I have procur'd a licence, and this night +We will be married in a lawless[20] church. + +MRS. MA. These news revive me, and do somewhat ease +The thought that was new-gotten to my heart. +But shall it be to-night? + +Y. ART. Ay, wench, to-night. +A se'nnight and odd days, since my wife died, +Is past already, and her timeless death +Is but a nine-days' talk; come, go with me, +And it shall be despatched presently. + +MRS. MA. Nay, then, I see thou lov'st me; and I find +By this last motion thou art grown more kind. + +Y. ART. My love and kindness, like my age, shall grow, +And with the time increase; and thou shalt see +The older I grow, the kinder I will be. + +MRS. MA, Ay, so I hope it will; but, as for mine, +That with my age shall day by day decline. [_Aside_. +Come, shall we go? + +Y. ART. With thee to the world's end, +Whose beauty most admire, and all commend. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE III. + + + _The Street near the House of Anselm's Mother_. + + _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +ANS. 'Tis true, as I relate the circumstance, +And she is with my mother safe at home; +But yet, for all the hate I can allege +Against her husband, nor for all the love +That on my own part I can urge her to, +Will she be won to gratify my love. + +FUL. All things are full of ambiguity, +And I admire this wond'rous accident. +But, Anselm, Arthur's about a new wife, _a bona roba_; +How will she take it when she hears this news? + +ANS. I think, even as a virtuous maiden should; +It may be that report may, from thy mouth, +Beget some pity from her flinty heart, +And I will urge her with it presently. + +FUL. Unless report be false, they are link'd already; +They are fast as words can tie them: I will tell thee +How I, by chance, did meet him the last night:-- +One said to me this Arthur did intend +To have a wife, and presently to marry. +Amidst the street, I met him as my friend, +And to his love a present he did carry; +It was some ring, some stomacher, or toy; +I spake to him, and bad God give him joy. +God give me joy, quoth he; of what, I pray? +Marry, quoth I, your wedding that is toward. +'Tis false, quoth he, and would have gone his way. +Come, come, quoth I, so near it and so froward: +I urg'd him hard by our familiar loves, +Pray'd him withal not to forget my gloves. +Then he began:--Your kindness hath been great, +Your courtesy great, and your love not common; +Yet so much favour pray let me entreat, +To be excus'd from marrying any woman. +I knew the wench that is become his bride, +And smil'd to think how deeply he had lied; +For first he swore he did not court a maid; +A wife he could not, she was elsewhere tied; +And as for such as widows were, he said, +And deeply swore none such should be his bride: +Widow, nor wife, nor maid--I ask'd no more, +Knowing he was betroth'd unto a whore. + +ANS. Is it not Mistress Mary that you mean? +She that did dine with us at Arthur's house? + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR. + +FUL. The same, the same:--here comes the gentlewoman; +O Mistress Arthur, I am of your counsel: +Welcome from death to life! + +ANS. Mistress, this gentleman hath news to tell ye, +And as you like of it, so think of me. + +FUL. Your husband hath already got a wife; +A huffing wench, i' faith, whose ruffling silks +Make with their motion music unto love, +And you are quite forgotten. + +ANS. I have sworn +To move this my unchaste demand no more. [_Aside_.] + +FUL. When doth your colour change? When do your eyes +Sparkle with fire to revenge these wrongs? +When doth your tongue break into rage and wrath, +Against that scum of manhood, your vile husband?' +He first misus'd you. + +ANS. And yet can you love him? + +FUL. He left your chaste bed, to defile the bed +Of sacred marriage with a courtesan. + +ANS. Yet can you love him? + +FUL. And, not content with this, +Abus'd your honest name with sland'rous words, +And fill'd your hush'd house with unquietness. + +ANS. And can you love him yet? + +FUL. Nay, did he not +With his rude fingers dash you on the face, +And double-dye your coral lips with blood? +Hath he not torn those gold wires from your head, +Wherewith Apollo would have strung his harp, +And kept them to play music to the gods? +Hath he not beat you, and with his rude fists +Upon that crimson temperature of your cheeks +Laid a lead colour with his boist'rous blows? + +ANS. And can you love him yet? + +FUL. Then did he not, +Either by poison or some other plot, +Send you to death where, by his providence, +God hath preserved you by that wond'rous miracle? +Nay, after death, hath he not scandalis'd +Your place with an immodest courtesan? + +ANS. And can you love him yet? + +MRS ART. And yet, and yet, +And still, and ever whilst I breathe this air: +Nay, after death, my unsubstantial soul, +Like a good angel, shall attend on him, +And keep him from all harm. +But is he married? much good do his heart! +Pray God, she may content him better far +Than I have done; long may they live in peace, +Till I disturb their solace; but because +I fear some mischief doth hang o'er his head, +I'll weep my eyes dry with my present care, +And for their healths make hoarse my tongue with prayer. + [_Exit_. + +FUL. Art sure she is a woman? if she be, +She is create of nature's purity. + +ANS. O yes, I too well know she is a woman; +Henceforth my virtue shall my love withstand, +And of my striving thoughts get th'upper hand. + +FUL. Then, thus resolv'd, I straight will drink to thee +A health thus deep, to drown thy melancholy. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT V., SCENE I. + + + _A Room in Mistress Mary's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS MARY, YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, + BRABO, _and_ MISTRESS SPLAY. + +MRS MA. Not have my will! yes, I will have my will; +Shall I not go abroad but when you please? +Can I not now and then meet with my friends, +But, at my coming home, you will control me? +Marry, come up! + +Y. ART. Where art thou, patience? +Nay, rather, where's become my former spleen? +I had a wife would not have us'd me so. + +MRS MA. Why, you Jacksauce! you cuckold! you what-not! +What, am I not of age sufficient +To go and come still, when my pleasure serves, +But must I have you, sir, to question me? +Not have my will! yes, I will have my will. + +Y. ART. I had a wife would not have us'd me so; +But she is dead. + +BRA. Not have her will, sir! she shall have her will: +She says she will, and, sir, I say she shall. +Not have her will! that were a jest indeed; +Who says she shall not? if I be dispos'd +To man her forth, who shall find fault with it? +What's he that dare say black's her eye?[21] +Though you be married, sir, yet you must know, +That she was ever born to have her will. + +MRS SPLAY. Not have her will! God's passion! I say still, +A woman's nobody that wants her will. + +Y. ART. Where is my spirit? what, shall I maintain +A strumpet with a Brabo and her bawd, +To beard me out of my authority? +What, am I from a master made a slave? + +MRS MA. A slave? nay, worse; dost thou maintain my man, +And this my maid? 'tis I maintain them both. +I am thy wife; I will not be dress'd so, +While thy gold lasts; but then most willingly +I will bequeath thee to flat beggary. +I do already hate thee; do thy worst; + [_He threatens her_. +Nay, touch me, if thou dar'st; what, shall he beat me? + +BRA. I'll make him seek his fingers 'mongst the dogs, +That dares to touch my mistress; never fear, +My sword shall smoothe the wrinkles of his brows, +That bends a frown upon my mistress. + +Y. ART. I had a wife would not have us'd me so: +But God is just. + +MRS MA. Now, Arthur, if I knew +What in this world would most torment thy soul, +That I would do; would all my evil usage +Could make thee straight despair and hang thyself! +Now, I remember:--where is Arthur's man, +Pipkin? that slave! go, turn him out of doors; +None that loves Arthur shall have house-room here. + + _Enter_ PIPKIN. + +Yonder he comes; Brabo, discard the fellow. + +Y. ART. Shall I be over-master'd in my own? +Be thyself, Arthur:--strumpet! he shall stay. + +MRS MA. What! shall he, Brabo? shall he, Mistress Splay? + +BRA. Shall he? he shall not: breathes there any living +Dares say he shall, when Brabo says he shall not? + +Y. ART. Is there no law for this? she is my wife; +Should I complain, I should be rather mock'd. +I am content; keep by thee whom thou list. +Discharge whom thou think'st good; do what thou wilt, +Rise, go to bed, stay at home, or go abroad +At thy good pleasure, keep all companies; +So that, for all this, I may have but peace. +Be unto me as I was to my wife; +Only give me, what I denied her then, +A little love, and some small quietness-- +If he displease thee, turn him out of doors. + +PIP. Who, me? Turn me out of doors? Is this all the wages I shall have +at the year's end, to be turned out of doors? You, mistress! you are a-- + +MRS SPLAY. A what? speak, a what? touch her and touch me, taint her and +taint me; speak, speak, a what? + +PIP. Marry, a woman that is kin to the frost.[22] + +MRS SPLAY. How do you mean that? + +PIP. And you are akin to the Latin word, to understand. + +MRS SPLAY. And what's that? + +PIP. _Subaudi, subaudi_? and, sir, do you not use to pink doublets? + +MRS SPLAY. And why? + +PIP. I took you for a cutter, you are of a great kindred; you are a +common cozener, everybody calls you cousin; besides, they say you are +a very good warrener, you have been an old coneycatcher: but, if I be +turned a-begging, as I know not what I am born to, and that you ever +come to the said trade, as nothing is unpossible, I'll set all the +commonwealth of beggars on your back, and all the congregation of vermin +shall be put to your keeping; and then if you be not more bitten than +all the company of beggars besides, I'll not have my will: zounds! +turned out of doors! I'll go and set up my trade; a dish to drink in, +that I have within; a wallet, that I'll make of an old shirt; then my +speech, For the Lord's sake, I beseech your worship; then I must have +a lame leg; I'll go to football and break my shins--and I am provided +for that. + +BRA. What! stands the villain prating? hence, you slave! + + [_Exit_ PIPKIN. + +Y. ART. Art thou yet pleas'd? + +MRS MA. When I have had my humour. + +Y. ART. Good friends, for manners' sake awhile withdraw. + +BRA. It is our pleasure, sir, to stand aside. + + [MISTRESS SPLAY _and_ BRABO _stand aside_. + +Y. ART. Mary, what cause hast thou to use me thus? +From nothing I have rais'd thee to much wealth; +'Twas more than I did owe thee: many a pound, +Nay, many a hundred pound, I spent on thee +In my wife's time; and once, but by my means, +Thou hadst been in much danger: but in all things +My purse and credit ever bare thee out. +I did not owe thee this. I had a wife, +That would have laid herself beneath my feet +To do me service; her I set at nought +For the entire affection I bare thee. +To show that I have lov'd thee, have I not, +Above all women, made chief choice of thee? +An argument sufficient of my love! +What reason then hast thou to wrong me thus? + +MRS MA. It is my humour. + +Y. ART. O, but such humours honest wives should purge: +I'll show thee a far greater instance yet +Of the true love that I have borne to thee. +Thou knew'st my wife: was she not fair? + +MRS MA. So, so. + +Y. ART. But more than fair: was she not virtuous? +Endued with the beauty of the mind? + +MRS MA. Faith, so they said. + +Y. ART. Hark, in thine ear: I'll trust thee with my life, +Than which what greater instance of my love: +Thou knew'st full well how suddenly she died? +T'enjoy thy love, even then I poison'd her! + +MRS MA. How! poison'd her? accursed murderer! +I'll ring this fatal 'larum in all ears, +Than which what greater instance of my hate? + +Y. ART. Wilt thou not keep my counsel? + +MRS MA. Villain, no! +Thou'lt poison me, as thou hast poison'd her. + +Y. ART. Dost thou reward me thus for all my love? +Then, Arthur, fly, and seek to save thy life! +O, difference 'twixt a chaste and unchaste wife! + [_Exit_. + +MRS MA. Pursue the murd'rer, apprehend him straight. + +BRA. Why, what's the matter, mistress? + +MRS MA. This villain Arthur poison'd his first wife, +Which he in secret hath confess'd to me; +Go and fetch warrants from the justices +T'attach the murd'rer; he once hang'd and dead, +His wealth is mine: pursue the slave that's fled. + +BRA. Mistress, I will; he shall not pass this land, +But I will bring him bound with this strong hand. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE II. + + + _The Street before the House of Anselm's Mother_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR, _poorly_. + +MRS ART. O, what are the vain pleasures of the world, +That in their actions we affect them so? +Had I been born a servant, my low life +Had steady stood from all these miseries. +The waving reeds stand free from every gust, +When the tall oaks are rent up by the roots. +What is vain beauty but an idle breath? +Why are we proud of that which so soon changes? +But rather wish the beauty of the mind, +Which neither time can alter, sickness change, +Violence deface, nor the black hand of envy +Smudge and disgrace, or spoil, or make deform'd. +O, had my riotous husband borne this mind, +He had been happy, I had been more blest, +And peace had brought our quiet souls to rest. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. + +Y. ART. O, whither shall I fly to save my life +When murder and despair dogs at my heels? +O misery! thou never found'st a friend; +All friends forsake men in adversity: +My brother hath denied to succour me, +Upbraiding me with name of murderer; +My uncles double-bar their doors against me; +My father hath denied to shelter me, +And curs'd me worse than Adam did vile Eve. +I that, within these two days, had more friends +Than I could number with arithmetic, +Have now no more than one poor cypher is, +And that poor cypher I supply myself: +All that I durst commit my fortunes to, +I have tried, and find none to relieve my wants. +My sudden flight and fear of future shame +Left me unfurnish'd of all necessaries, +And these three days I have not tasted food. + +MRS ART. It is my husband; O, how just is heaven! +Poorly disguis'd, and almost hunger-starv'd! +How comes this change? + +Y. ART. Doth no man follow me? +O, how suspicious guilty murder is! +I starve for hunger, and I die for thirst. +Had I a kingdom, I would sell my crown +For a small bit of bread: I shame to beg, +And yet, perforce, I must or beg or starve. +This house, belike, 'longs to some gentlewoman, +And here's a woman: I will beg of her. +Good mistress, look upon a poor man's wants. +Whom do I see? tush! Arthur, she is dead. +But that I saw her dead and buried, +I would have sworn it had been Arthur's wife; +But I will leave her; shame forbids me beg +Of one so much resembles her. + +MRS ART. Come hither, fellow! wherefore dost thou turn +Thy guilty looks and blushing face aside? +It seems thou hast not been brought up to this. + +Y. ART. You say true, mistress; then for charity, +And for her sake whom you resemble most. +Pity my present want and misery. + +MRS ART. It seems thou hast been in some better plight; +Sit down, I prythee: men, though they be poor, +Should not be scorn'd; to ease thy hunger, first +Eat these conserves; and now, I prythee, tell me +What thou hast been--thy fortunes, thy estate, +And what she was that I resemble most? + +Y. ART. First, look that no man see or overhear us: +I think that shape was born to do me good. [_Aside_.] + +MRS ART. Hast thou known one that did resemble me? + +Y. ART. Ay, mistress; I cannot choose but weep +To call to mind the fortunes of her youth. + +MRS ART. Tell me, of what estate or birth was she? + +Y. ART, Born of good parents, and as well brought up; +Most fair, but not so fair as virtuous; +Happy in all things but her marriage; +Her riotous husband, which I weep to think, +By his lewd life, made them both miscarry. + +MRS ART. Why dost thou grieve at their adversities? + +Y. ART. O, blame me not; that man my kinsman was, +Nearer to me a kinsman could not be; +As near allied was that chaste woman too, +Nearer was never husband to his wife; +He whom I term my friend, no friend of mine, +Proving both mine and his own enemy, +Poison'd his wife--O, the time he did so! +Joyed at her death, inhuman slave to do so! +Exchang'd her love for a base strumpet's lust; +Foul wretch! accursed villain! to exchange so. + +MRS ART. You are wise and blest, and happy to repent so: +But what became of him and his new wife? + +Y. ART. O, hear the justice of the highest heaven: +This strumpet, in reward of all his love, +Pursues him for the death of his first wife; +And now the woful husband languisheth, +And flies abroad,[23] pursu'd by her fierce hate; +And now too late he doth repent his sin, +Ready to perish in his own despair, +Having no means but death to rid his care. + +MRS ART. I can endure no more, but I must weep; +My blabbing tears cannot my counsel keep. [_Aside_. + +Y. ART. Why weep you, mistress? if you had the heart +Of her whom you resemble in your face-- +But she is dead, and for her death +The sponge of either eye +Shall weep red tears, till every vein is dry. + +MRS ART. Why weep you, friend? your rainy drops pray keep; +Repentance wipes away the drops of sin. +Yet tell me, friend--he did exceeding ill, +A wife that lov'd and honour'd him to kill. +Yet say one like her, far more chaste than fair, +Bids him be of good comfort, not despair. +Her soul's appeased with his repentant tears, +Wishing he may survive her many years. +Fain would I give him money to supply +His present wants, but fearing he should fly, +And getting over to some foreign shore, +These rainy eyes should never see him more. +My heart is full, I can no longer stay, +But what I am, my love must needs bewray. [_Aside_. +Farewell, good fellow, and take this to spend; +Say, one like her commends her to your friend. [_Exit_. + +Y. ART. No friend of mine. I was my own soul's foe, +To murther my chaste wife, that lov'd me so! +In life she lov'd me dearer than her life: +What husband here but would wish such a wife? +I hear the officers with hue and cry; +She saved my life but now, and now I die. +And welcome, death! I will not stir from hence; +Death I deserv'd, I'll die for this offence. + + _Enter_ BRABO, _with_ OFFICERS, MISTRESS SPLAY, _and_ HUGH. + +BRA. Here is the murderer; and, Reason's man, +You have the warrant: sirs, lay hands on him; +Attach the slave, and lead him bound to death. + +HUGH. No, by my faith, Master Brabo, you have the better heart, at +least you should have; I am sure you have more iron and steel than I +have; do you lay hands on him; I promise you I dare not. + +BRA. Constables, forward; forward, officers; +I will not thrust my finger in the fire. +Lay hands on him, I say: why step you back? +I mean to be the hindmost, lest that any +Should run away, and leave the rest in peril. +Stand forward: are you not asham'd to fear? + +Y. ART. Nay, never strive; behold, I yield myself. +I must commend your resolution +That, being so many and so weapon'd, +Dare not adventure on a man unarm'd. +Now, lead me to what prison you think best. +Yet use me well; I am a gentleman. + +HUGH. Truly, Master Arthur, we will use you as well as heart can think; +the justices sit to-day, and my master is chief: you shall command me. + +BRA. What! hath he yielded? if he had withstood us, +This curtle-axe of mine had cleft his head; +Resist he durst not, when he once spied me. +Come, lead him hence: how lik'st thou this, sweet witch? +This fellow's death will make our mistress rich. + +MRS SPLAY. I say, I care not who's dead or alive, +So by their lives or deaths we two may thrive. + +HUGH. Come, bear him away. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE III. + + + _A Room, in Justice Season's House_. + + _Enter_ JUSTICE REASON, OLD MASTER ARTHUR, + _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM. + +JUS. Old Master Arthur and Master Lusam, so +It is that I have heard both your complaints, +But understood neither, for, you know, +_Legere et non intelligere negligere est_. + +O. ART. I come for favour, as a father should, +Pitying the fall and ruin of his son. + +O. LUS. I come for justice, as a father should, +That hath by violent murder lost his daughter. + +JUS. You come for favour, and you come for justice: +Justice with favour is not partial, +And, using that, I hope to please you both. + +O. ART. Good Master Justice, think upon my son. + +O. LUS. Good Master Justice, think upon my daughter. + +JUS. Why, so I do; I think upon them both; +But can do neither of you good; +For he that lives must die, and she that's dead +Cannot be revived. + +O. ART. Lusam, thou seek'st to rob me of my son, +My only son. + +O. LUS. He robb'd me of my daughter, my only daughter. + +JUS. And robbers are flat felons by the law. + +O. ART. Lusam, I say thou art a blood-sucker, +A tyrant, a remorseless cannibal: +Old as I am, I'll prove it on thy bones. + +O. LUS. Am I a blood-sucker or cannibal? +Am I a tyrant that do thirst for blood? + +O. ART. Ay, if thou seek'st the ruin of my son, +Thou art a tyrant and a blood-sucker. + +O. LUS. Ay, if I seek the ruin of thy son, +I am indeed. + +O. ART. Nay, more, thou art a dotard; +And, in the right of my accused son, +I challenge thee the field. Meet me, I say, +To-morrow morning beside Islington, +And bring thy sword and buckler, if thou dar'st. + +O. LUS. Meet thee with my sword and buckler? +There's my glove. +I'll meet thee, to revenge my daughter's death. +Call'st thou me dotard? Though these threescore years +I never handled weapon but a knife, +To cut my meat, yet will I meet thee there. +God's precious! call me dotard? + +O. ART. I have cause, +Just cause, to call thee dotard, have I not? + +O. LUS. Nay, that's another matter; have you cause? +Then God forbid that I should take exceptions +To be call'd dotard of one that hath cause. + +JUS. My masters, you must leave this quarrelling, for quarrellers are +never at peace; and men of peace, while they are at quiet, are never +quarrelling: so you, whilst you fall into brawls, you cannot choose but +jar. Here comes your son accused, and his wife the accuser; stand forth +both. Hugh, be ready with your pen and ink to take their examinations +and confessions. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS MARY, BRABO, YOUNG MASTER + ARTHUR, MISTRESS SPLAY, HUGH, _and_ OFFICERS. + +Y. ART. It shall not need; I do confess the deed, +Of which this woman here accuseth me; +I poison'd my first wife, and for that deed +I yield me to the mercy of the law. + +O. LUS. Villain! thou mean'st my only daughter, +And in her death depriv'dst me of all joys. + +Y. ART. I mean her. I do confess the deed; +And though my body taste the force of law, +Like an offender, on my knee I beg +Your angry soul will pardon me her death. + +O. LUS. Nay, if he kneeling do confess the deed, +No reason but I should forgive her death. + +JUS. But so the law must not be satisfied; +Blood must have blood, and men must have death; +I think that cannot be dispens'd withal. + +MRS MA. If all the world else would forgive the deed, +Yet would I earnestly pursue the law. + +Y. ART. I had a wife would not have us'd me so; +The wealth of Europe could not hire her tongue +To be offensive to my patient ears; +But, in exchanging her, I did prefer +A devil before a saint, night before day, +Hell before heaven, and dross before tried gold; +Never was bargain with such damage sold. + +BRA. If you want witness to confirm the deed, +I heard him speak it; and that to his face, +Before this presence, I will justify; +I will not part hence, till I see him swing. + +MRS SPLAY. I heard him too: pity but he should die, +And like a murderer be sent to hell. +To poison her, and make her belly swell! + +MRS MA. Why stay you, then? give judgment on the slave, +Whose shameless life deserves a shameful grave. + +Y. ART. Death's bitter pangs are not so full of grief +As this unkindness: every word thou speak'st +Is a sharp dagger thrust quite through my heart. +As little I deserve this at thy hands, +As my kind patient wife deserv'd of me: +I was her torment, God hath made thee mine; +Then wherefore at just plagues should I repine? + +JUS. Where did'st thou buy this poison? for such drugs +Are felony for any man to sell. + +Y. ART. I had the poison of Aminadab: +But, innocent man, he was not accessory +To my wife's death; I clear him of the deed. + +JUS. No matter; fetch him, fetch him, bring him +To answer to this matter at the bar. +Hugh, take these officers and apprehend him. + +BRA. I'll aid him too; the schoolmaster, I see, +Perhaps may hang with him for company. + + _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +ANS. This is the day of Arthur's examination +And trial for the murder of his wife; +Let's hear how Justice Reason will proceed, +In censuring of his strict punishment. + +FUL. Anselm, content; let's thrust in 'mong the throng. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB, _brought in with_ OFFICERS. + +AMIN. _O Domine_! what mean these knaves, +To lead me thus with bills and glaves? +O, what example would it be +To all my pupils for to see, +To tread their steps all after me, +If for some fault I hanged be; +Somewhat surely I shall mar, +If you bring me to the bar. +But peace; betake thee to thy wits, +For yonder Justice Reason sits. + +JUS. Sir Dab, Sir Dab, here's one accuseth you, +To give him poison, being ill-employ'd: +Speak, how in this case you can clear yourself. + +AMIN. _Hei mihi_! what should I say? the poison given I deny; +He took it perforce from my hands, and, _Domine_, why not? +I got it of a gentleman; he most freely gave it, +As he knew me; my meaning was only to have it.[24] + +Y. ART. 'Tis true, I took it from this man perforce, +And snatch'd it from his hand by rude constraint, +Which proves him in this act not culpable. + +JUS. Ay, but who sold the poison unto him? +That must be likewise known; speak, schoolmaster. + +AMIN. A man _verbosus_, that was a fine _generosus_; +He was a great guller, his name I take to be Fuller; +See where he stands, that unto my hands convey'd a powder; +And, like a knave, sent her to her grave, obscurely to shroud her. + +JUS. Lay hands on him; are you a poison-seller? +Bring him before us: sirrah, what say you? +Sold you a poison to this honest man? + +FUL. I sold no poison, but I gave him one +To kill his rats? + +JUS. Ha, ha! I smell a rat. +You sold him poison then to kill his rats? +The word to kill argues a murd'rous mind; +And you are brought in compass of the murder +So set him by, we will not hear him speak: +That Arthur, Fuller, and the schoolmaster, +Shall by the judges be examined. + +ANS. Sir, if my friend may not speak for himself, +Yet let me his proceedings justify. + +JUS. What's he that will a murther justify? +Lay hands on him, lay hands on him, I say; +For justifiers are all accessories, +And accessories have deserved to die. +Away with him! we will not hear him speak; +They all shall to the High Commissioners. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR. + +MRS ART. Nay, stay them, stay them yet a little while! +I bring a warrant to the contrary; +And I will please all parties presently. + +Y. ART. I think my wife's ghost haunts me to my death; +Wretch that I was, to shorten her life's breath! + +O. ART. Whom do I see, my son's wife? + +O. LUS. What, my daughter? + +JUS. Is it not Mistress Arthur that we see, +That long since buried we suppos'd to be? + +MRS ART. This man's condemn'd for pois'ning of his wife; +His poison'd wife yet lives, and I am she; +And therefore justly I release his bands: +This man, for suff'ring him these drugs to take, +Is likewise bound, release him for my sake: +This gentleman that first the poison gave, +And this his friend, to be releas'd I crave: +Murther there cannot be where none is kill'd; +Her blood is sav'd, whom you suppos'd was spill'd. +Father-in-law, I give you here your son, +The act's to do which you suppos'd was done. +And, father, now joy in your daughter's life, +Whom heaven hath still kept to be Arthur's wife. + +O. ART. O, welcome, welcome, daughter! now I see +God by his power hath preserved thee. + +O. LUS. And 'tis my wench, whom I suppos'd was dead; +My joy revives, and my sad woe is fled. + +Y. ART. I know not what I am, nor where I am; +My soul's transported to an ecstasy, +For hope and joy confound my memory. + +MRS MA. What do I see? lives Arthur's wife again? +Nay then I labour for his death in vain. [_Aside_. + +BRA. What secret force did in her nature lurk, +That in her soul the poison would not work? [_Aside_. + +MRS SPLAY. How can it be the poison took no force? +She lives with that which would have kill'd a horse! [_Aside_. + +MRS ART. Nay, shun me not; be not asham'd at all; +To heaven, not me, for grace and pardon fall. +Look on me, Arthur; blush not at my wrongs. + +Y. ART. Still fear and hope my grief and woe prolongs. +But tell me, by what power thou didst survive? +With my own hands I temper'd that vile draught, +That sent thee breathless to thy grandsire's grave, +If that were poison I receiv'd of him. + +AMIN. That _ego nescio_, but this dram +Receiv'd I of this gentleman; +The colour was to kill my rats, +But 'twas my own life to despatch. + +FUL. Is it even so? then this ambiguous doubt +No man can better than myself decide; +That compound powder was of poppy made and mandrakes, +Of purpose to cast one into a sleep, +To ease the deadly pain of him whose leg +Should be saw'd off; +That powder gave I to the schoolmaster. + +AMIN. And that same powder, even that _idem_, +You took from me, the same, _per fidem_! + +Y. ART. And that same powder I commix'd with wine, +Our godly knot of wedlock to untwine. + +O. ART. But, daughter, who did take thee from thy grave? + +O. LUS. Discourse it, daughter. + +ANS. Nay, that labour save; +Pardon me, Master Arthur, I will now +Confess the former frailty of my love. +Your modest wife with words I tempted oft; +But neither ill I could report of you, +Nor any good I could forge for myself, +Would win her to attend to my request; +Nay, after death I lov'd her, insomuch +That to the vault where she was buried +My constant love did lead me through the dark, +There ready to have ta'en my last farewell. +The parting kiss I gave her I felt warm; +Briefly, I bare her to my mother's house, +Where she hath since liv'd the most chaste and true, +That since the world's creation eye did view. + +Y. ART. My first wife, stand you here: my second, there, +And in the midst, myself; he that will choose +A good wife from a bad, come learn of me, +That have tried both, in wealth and misery. +A good wife will be careful of her fame, +Her husband's credit, and her own good name; +And such art thou. A bad wife will respect +Her pride, her lust, and her good name neglect; +And such art thou. A good wife will be still +Industrious, apt to do her husband's will; +But a bad wife, cross, spiteful and madding, +Never keep home, but always be a-gadding; +And such art thou. A good wife will conceal +Her husband's dangers, and nothing reveal +That may procure him harm; and such art thou. +But a bad wife corrupts chaste wedlock's vow. +On this hand virtue, and on this hand sin; +This who would strive to lose, or this to win? +Here lives perpetual joy, here burning woe; +Now, husbands, choose on which hand you will go. +Seek virtuous wives, all husbands will be blest; +Fair wives are good, but virtuous wives are best. +They that my fortunes will peruse, shall find +No beauty's like the beauty of the mind. + + [_Exeunt_. + + +THE END. + + + + + + +THE RETURN FROM PARNASSUS. + + + + +_EDITION. + + +The Retvrne from Pernassvs: Or, The Scourge of Simony. Publiquely acted +by the Students in Saint Iohns Colledge in Cambridge. At London Printed +by G. Eld, for Iohn Wright, and are to bee sold at his shop at +Christchurch Gate_. 1606. 4to. + +[See Hazlitt's "Handbook," p. 470. Almost all the extant copies of this +drama--and no fewer than ten have been examined--appear to vary in +certain literal particulars. Of two copies in the Malone collection, one +presents additions which might bespeak it a later impression than the +other; and yet, on the other hand, has errors (some of a serious kind) +peculiar to itself. The text has now been considerably improved by the +collection of the quartos at Oxford. + +It was the intention of my kind acquaintance, the Rev. J.W. Ebsworth, +Vicar of Moldash, by Ashford, Kent, to have reprinted the "Return from +Parnassus" separately; but on learning that I intended to include it in +my series, Mr Ebsworth not only gave way, but obligingly placed the +annotated copy which he had prepared, at my free disposal. + +I have also to thank Dr Ingleby, of Valentines, near Ilford, Essex, for +lending me a copy of the play corresponding with one of those in the +Bodleian, as regards its occasionally various readings. + +A long account, and very favourable estimate, of this drama will be +found in Hazlitt's "Dramatic Literature of the Age of Elizabeth," 1820.] + + + + +[HAWKINS'S PREFACE.] + + +We can learn no more of the history of this play than what the +title-page gives us, viz., that it was "publickly acted by the students +in Saint John's College, Cambridge."[25] The merits and characters of +our old poets and actors are censured by the author with great freedom; +and the shameful prostitution of Church preferment, by the selling of +livings to the ignorant and unworthy, laid the foundation of Dr Wild's +"Benefice, a Comedy," 4to, 1689. + +[Hawkins himself elsewhere (in his "General Introduction") remarks:--] + +As the piece which follows, called "The Return from Parnassus," is, +perhaps, the most singular composition in our language, it may be proper +to give a succinct analysis of it. This satirical drama seems to have +been composed by the wits and scholars of Cambridge, where it was acted +at the opening of the last century. The design of it was to expose the +vices and follies of the rich in those days, and to show that little +attention was paid by that class of men to the learned and ingenious. +Several students of various capacities and dispositions leave the +university in hopes of advancing their fortunes in the metropolis. One +of them attempts to recommend himself by his publications; another, to +procure a benefice by paying his court to a young spark named Amoretto, +with whom he had been intimate at college; two others endeavour to gain +a subsistence by successively appearing as physicians, actors, and +musicians: but the Man of Genius is disregarded, and at last prosecuted +for his productions; the benefice is sold to an illiterate clown; and in +the end three of the scholars are compelled to submit to a voluntary +exile; another returns to Cambridge as poor as when he left it; and the +other two, finding that neither their medicines nor their music would +support them, resolve to turn shepherds, and to spend the rest of their +days on the Kentish downs. There is a great variety of characters in +this play, which are excellently distinguished and supported; and some +of the scenes have as much wit as can be desired in a perfect comedy. +The simplicity of its plan must naturally bring to our mind the old +species of comedy described by Horace, in which, before it was +restrained by a public edict, living characters were exposed by name +upon the stage, and the audience made merry at their expense without any +intricacy of plot or diversity of action: thus in the piece before us +Burbage and Kempe, two famous actors, appear in their proper persons; +and a number of acute observations are made on the poets of that age, of +whom the editor has given an account in the notes, and has added some +chosen specimens of their poetry. + +[The late Mr Bolton Corney thought that this play was from the pen of +John Day. We learn from the Prologue that a drama, of which nothing is +now known, preceded it, under the title of "The Pilgrimage to +Parnassus." The loss is perhaps to be regretted.] + + + + +THE PROLOGUE. + + + BOY, STAGEKEEPER, MOMUS, DEFENSOR. + +BOY. +Spectators, we will act a comedy: _non plus_. + +STAGEKEEPER. +A pox on't, this book hath it not in it: you would be whipped, thou +rascal; thou must be sitting up all night at cards, when thou should be +conning thy part. + +BOY. +It's all along on you; I could not get my part a night or two before, +that I might sleep on it. + + [STAGEKEEPER _carrieth the_ BOY _away under his arm_. + +MOMUS. +It's even well done; here is such a stir about a scurvy English show! + +DEFENSOR. +Scurvy in thy face, thou scurvy Jack: if this company were not,--you +paltry critic gentleman, you that know what it is to play at primero or +passage--you that have been student at post and pair, saint and loadam +--you that have spent all your quarter's revenues in riding post one +night in Christmas, bear with the weak memory of a gamester. + +MOMUS. +Gentlemen, you that can play at noddy, or rather play upon noddies--you +that can set up a jest at primero instead of a rest, laugh at the +prologue, that was taken away in a voider. + +DEFENSOR. +What we present, I must needs confess, is but slubber'd invention: if +your wisdom obscure the circumstance, your kindness will pardon the +substance. + +MOMUS. +What is presented here is an old musty show, that hath lain this +twelvemonth in the bottom of a coal-house amongst brooms and old shoes; +an invention that we are ashamed of, and therefore we have promised the +copies to the chandler to wrap his candles in. + +DEFENSOR. +It's but a Christmas toy; and may it please your courtesies to let it pass. + +MOMUS. +It's a Christmas toy, indeed! as good a conceit as sloughing[26] +hotcockles or blindman-buff. + +DEFENSOR. +Some humours you shall see aimed at, if not well-resembled. + +MOMUS. +Humours, indeed! Is it not a pretty humour to stand hammering upon two +_individuum vagum_, two scholars, some whole year? These same Philomusus +and Studioso have been followed with a whip and a verse, like a couple +of vagabonds, through England and Italy. The Pilgrimage to Parnassus and +the Return from Parnassus have stood the honest stagekeepers in many a +crown's expense for links and vizards; purchased a sophister a knock +with[27] a club; hindered the butler's box,[28] and emptied the college +barrels: and now, unless you know the subject well, you may return home +as wise as you came, for this last is the least part of the return from +Parnassus: that is both the first and last time that the author's wit +will turn upon the toe in this vein, and at this time the scene is not +at Parnassus, that is, looks not good invention in the face. + +DEFENSOR. +If the catastrophe please you not, impute it to the unpleasing fortunes +of discontented scholars. + +MOMUS. +For catastrophe, there's never a tale in Sir John Mandeville or Bevis +of Southampton, but hath a better turning. + +STAGEKEEPER. +What, you jeering ass! begone, with a pox! + +MOMUS. +You may do better to busy yourself in providing beer; for the show +will be pitiful dry, pitiful dry. [_Exit_. + +STAGEKEEPER. +No more of this: I heard the spectators ask for a blank verse. +What we show is but a Christmas jest; +Conceive of this, and guess of all the rest: +Full like a scholar's hapless fortune's penn'd, +Whose former griefs seldom have happy end. +Frame as well we might with easy strain, +With far more praise and with as little pain, +Stories of love, where forne[29] the wond'ring bench +The lisping gallant might enjoy his wench; +Or make some sire acknowledge his lost son: +Found, when the weary act is almost done.[30] +Nor unto this, nor unto that our scene is bent; +We only show a scholar's discontent. +In scholars' fortunes, twice forlorn and dead, +Twice hath our weary pen erst laboured; +Making them pilgrims in Parnassus' Hill, +Then penning their return with ruder quill. +Now we present unto each pitying eye +The scholars' progress in their misery: +Refined wits, your patience is our bliss; +Too weak our scene, too great your judgment is: +To you we seek to show a scholar's state, +His scorned fortunes, his unpity'd fate; +To you: for if you did not scholars bless, +Their case, poor case, were too-too pitiless. +You shade the muses under fostering, +And made[31] them leave to sigh, and learn to sing. + + + +THE NAMES OF THE ACTORS. + +INGENIOSO. +JUDICIO. +DANTER. +PHILOMUSUS. +STUDIOSO. +FUROR POETICUS. +PHANTASMA. +_Patient_. +RICARDETTO. +THEODORE, _a Physician_. +BURGESS, _a Patient_. +JAQUES, _a Studioso_. +ACADEMICO. +AMORETTO. +_Page_. +SIGNIOR IMMERITO. +STERCUTIO, _his Father_. +SIR RADERIC. +_Recorder_. +_Page_. +PRODIGO. +BURBAGE. +KEMP. +_Fiddlers_. +_Patient's man_. + + + + +THE RETURN FROM PARNASSUS. + + + +ACTUS I, SCAENA 1. + + + INGENIOSO, _with Juvenal in his hand_. + +INGENIOSO. +_Difficile est satyram non scribere. Nam quis iniquae +Tam patiens Urbis, tam ferreus,[32] ut teneat se_? +Ay, Juvenal, thy jerking hand is good, +Not gently laying on, but fetching blood; +So, surgeon-like, thou dost with cutting heal, +Where nought but lancing[33] can the wound avail: +O, suffer me, among so many men, +To tread aright the traces of thy pen, +And light my link at thy eternal flame, +Till with it I brand everlasting shame +On the world's forehead, and with thine own spirit +Pay home the world according to his merit. +Thy purer soul could not endure to see +Ev'n smallest spots of base impurity, +Nor could small faults escape thy cleaner hands. +Then foul-fac'd vice was in his swaddling-bands, +Now, like Anteus, grown a monster is, +A match for none but mighty Hercules: +Now can the world practise in plainer guise +Both sins of old and new-born villanies: +Stale sins are stole; now doth the world begin +To take sole pleasure in a witty sin: +Unpleasant as[34] the lawless sin has been, +At midnight rest, when darkness covers sin; +It's clownish, unbeseeming a young knight, +Unless it dare outface the glaring light: +Nor can it nought our gallant's praises reap, +Unless it be done in staring Cheap, +In a sin-guilty coach, not closely pent, +Jogging along the harder pavement. +Did not fear check my repining sprite, +Soon should my angry ghost a story write; +In which I would new-foster'd sins combine, +Not known erst by truth-telling Aretine. + + + +ACTUS I, SCAENA 2. + + + _Enter_ JUDICIO _and_ INGENIOSO. + +JUDICIO. +What, Ingenioso, carrying a vinegar bottle about thee, like a great +schoolboy giving the world a bloody nose?[35] + +INGENIOSO. +Faith, Judicio, if I carry the vinegar bottle, it's great reason I +should confer it upon the baldpated world: and again, if my kitchen +want the utensils[36] of viands, it's great reason other men should +have the sauce of vinegar; and for the bloody nose, Judicio, I may +chance, indeed, give the world a bloody nose, but it shall hardly give +me a crack'd crown, though it gives other poets French crowns. + +JUDICIO. +I would wish thee, Ingenioso, to sheathe thy pen, for thou canst not +be successful in the fray, considering thy enemies have the advantage +of the ground. + +INGENIOSO. +Or rather, Judicio, they have the grounds with advantage, and the +French crowns with a pox; and I would they had them with a plague too: +but hang them, swads, the basest corner in my thoughts is too gallant +a room to lodge them in. But say, Judicio, what news in your press? +did you keep any late corrections upon any tardy pamphlets? + +JUDICIO. +_Veterem jubes renovare dolorem_, Ingenioso: whate'er befalls thee, +keep thee from the trade of the corrector of the press. + +INGENIOSO. +Marry, so I will, I warrant thee; if poverty press not too much, I'll +correct no press but the press of the people. + +JUDICIO. +Would it not grieve any good spirits to sit a whole month knitting out +a lousy, beggarly pamphlet, and, like a needy physician, to stand whole +years tossing and tumbling the filth that falleth from so many draughty +inventions as daily swarm in our printing-house. + +INGENIOSO. +Come, I think we shall have you put finger in the eye, and cry, O +friends, no friends! Say, man, what new paper hobby-horses, what +rattle-babies, are come out in your late May morris-dance? + +JUDICIO. +Fly[37] my rhymes as thick as flies in the sun; I think there be never +an alehouse in England, not any so base a maypole on a country green, +but sets forth some poet's petronels or demi-lances to the paper wars +in Paul's Churchyard. + +INGENIOSO. +And well too may the issue of a strong hop learn to hop all over +England, when as better wits sit, like lame cobblers, in their studies. +Such barmy heads will always be working, when as sad vinegar wits sit +souring at the bottom of a barrel; plain meteors, bred of the +exhalation of tobacco and the vapours of a moist pot, that soar[38] up +into the open air, when as sounder wit keeps below. + +JUDICIO. +Considering the furies of the times, I could better endure to see those +young can-quaffing hucksters shoot off their pellets, so they would +keep them from these English _Flores poetarum_; but now the world is +come to that pass, that there starts up every day an old goose that +sits hatching up those eggs which have been filched from the nest of +crows and kestrels. Here is a book, Ingenioso; why, to condemn it to +clear [fire,][39] the usual Tyburn of all misliving papers, were too +fair a death for so foul an offender. + +INGENIOSO. +What's the name of it, I pray thee, Judicio? + +JUDICIO. +Look, it's here; "Belvidere."[40] + +INGENIOSO. +What, a bell-wether in Paul's Churchyard! so called because it keeps a +bleating, or because it hath the tinkling bell of so many poets about +the neck of it? What is the rest of the title? + +JUDICIO. "The Garden of the Muses." + +INGENIOSO. +What have we here, the poet garish, gaily bedecked, like fore-horses of +the parish? What follows? + +JUDICIO. +_Quem, referent musae, vivet, dum robora tellus, +Dum coelum stellas, dum vehit amnis aquas_. +Who blurs fair paper with foul bastard rhymes, +Shall live full many an age in latter times: +Who makes a ballad for an alehouse door, +Shall live in future times for evermore: +Then ( )[41] thy muse shall live so long, +As drafty ballads to thy praise are sung. +But what's his device? Parnassus with the sun and the laurel?[42] I +wonder this owl dares look on the sun; and I marvel this goose flies +not the laurel: his device might have been better, a fool going into +the market-place to be seen, with this motto: _Scribimus indocti_; or, +a poor beggar gleaning of ears in the end of harvest, with this word: +_Sua cuique gloria_. + +JUDICIO. +Turn over the leaf, Ingenioso, and thou shalt see the pains of this +worthy gentleman: _Sentences, gathered out of all kind of poets, +referred to certain methodical heads, profitable for the use of these +times, to rhyme upon any occasion at a little warning_. Read the names. + +INGENIOSO. +So I will, if thou wilt help me to censure them. + + Edmund Spenser. Thomas Watson. + Henry Constable. Michael Drayton. + Thomas Lodge. John Davis. + Samuel Daniel. John Marston. + Kit Marlowe. + +Good men and true; stand together; hear your censure. What's thy +judgment of Spenser? + +JUDICIO. +A sweeter[43] swan than ever sung in Po, +A shriller nightingale than ever bless'd +The prouder groves of self-admiring Rome. +Blithe was each valley, and each shepherd proud, +While he did chant his rural minstrelsy: +Attentive was full many a dainty ear, +Nay, hearers hung upon his melting tongue, +While sweetly of his Fairy Queen he sung; +While to the waters' fall he tun'd for fame, +And in each bark engrav'd Eliza's name: +And yet for all this unregarding soil +Unlac'd the line of his desired life, +Denying maintenance for his dear relief; +Careless care to prevent his exequy, +Scarce deigning to shut up his dying eye. + +INGENIOSO. +Pity it is that gentler wits should breed, +Where thickskin chuffs laugh at a scholar's need. +But softly may our honour's ashes rest, +That lie by merry Chaucer's noble chest. +But, I pray thee, proceed briefly in thy censure, that I may be proud +of myself; as in the first, so in the last, my censure may jump with +thine.--Henry Constable, Samuel Daniel,[44] Thomas Lodge, Thomas Watson. + +JUDICIO. +Sweet Constable[45] doth take the wond'ring ear, +And lays it up in willing prisonment: +Sweet honey-dropping Daniel doth wage +War with the proudest big Italian, +That melts his heart in sugar'd sonneting; +Only let him more sparingly make use +Of others' wit, and use his own the more, +That well may scorn base imitation. +For Lodge[46] and Watson,[47] men of some desert, +Yet subject to a critic's marginal; +Lodge for his oar in ev'ry paper boat, +He, that turns over Galen ev'ry day, +To sit and simper Euphues' Legacy.[48] + +INGENIOSO. +Michael Drayton? + +JUDICIO. +Drayton's sweet muse is like a sanguine dye, +Able to ravish the rash gazer's eye. + +INGENIOSO. +However, he wants one true note of a poet of our times, and that is +this: he cannot swagger it well in a tavern, nor domineer in a +hothouse. John Davis?[49] + +JUDICIO. +Acute John Davis, I affect thy rhymes, +That jerk in hidden charms these looser times; +Thy plainer verse, thy unaffected vein, +Is graced with a fair and sweeping[50] train. + +INGENIOSO. +Lock and Hudson?[51] + +JUDICIO. +Lock and Hudson, sleep, you quiet shavers, among the shavings of the +press, and let your books lie in some old nooks amongst old boots and +shoes; so you may avoid my censure. + +INGENIOSO. Why, then, clap a lock on their feet, and turn them to +commons. John Marston?[52] + +JUDICIO. +What, Monsieur Kinsayder, lifting up your leg, and pissing against the +world? put up, man, put up, for shame! +Methinks he is a ruffian in his style, +Withouten bands or garters' ornament: +He quaffs a cup of Frenchman's Helicon; +Then roister doister in his oily terms, +Cuts, thrusts, and foins, at whomsoever he meets, +And strews about Ram-Alley meditations. +Tut, what cares he for modest close-couch'd terms, +Cleanly to gird our looser libertines? +Give him plain naked words, stripp'd from their shirts, +That might beseem plain-dealing Aretine. +Ay, there is one, that backs a paper steed, +And manageth a penknife gallantly, +Strikes his poinardo at a button's breadth, +Brings the great battering-ram of terms to towns; +And, at first volley of his cannon-shot, +Batters the walls of the old fusty world. + +INGENIOSO. +Christopher Marlowe? + +JUDICIO. +Marlowe was happy in his buskin'd muse; +Alas! unhappy in his life and end: +Pity it is that wit so ill should dwell +Wit lent from heav'n, but vices sent from hell.[53] + +INGENIOSO. +Our theatre hath lost, Pluto hath got, +A tragic penman for a dreary plot. +Benjamin Jonson? + +JUDICIO. +The wittiest fellow of a bricklayer in England. + +INGENIOSO. +A mere empiric, one that gets what he hath by observation, and makes +only nature privy to what he indites; so slow an inventor, that he were +better betake himself to his old trade of bricklaying; a bold whoreson, +as confident now in making of[54] a book, as he was in times past in +laying of a brick. William Shakespeare? + +JUDICIO. +Who loves Adonis' love or Lucrece' rape, +His sweeter verse contains heart-robbing life, +Could but a graver subject him content, +Without love's foolish, lazy[55] languishment. + +INGENIOSO. +Churchyard?[56] +Hath not Shore's wife, although a light-skirts she, +Giv'n him a chaste, long-lasting memory? + +JUDICIO. +No; all light pamphlets once I finden shall, +A Churchyard and a grave to bury all! +Thomas Nash.[57] + +INGENIOSO. +Ay, here is a fellow, Judicio, that carried the deadly stock[58] in his +pen, whose muse was armed with a gag-tooth,[59] and his pen possessed +with Hercules' furies. + +JUDICIO. +Let all his faults sleep with his mournful chest, +And then for ever with his ashes rest: +His style was witty, though he had some gall, +Something he might have mended; so may all: +Yet this I say that, for a mother-wit, +Few men have ever seen the like of it. + + INGENIOSO _reads the rest of the names_. + +JUDICIO. +As for these, they have some of them been the old hedge-stakes of the +press; and some of them are, at this instant, the bots and glanders of +the printing-house: fellows that stand only upon terms to serve the +term,[60] with their blotted papers, write, as men go to stool, for +needs; and when they write, they write as a bear pisses, now and then +drop a pamphlet. + +INGENIOSO. +_Durum telum necessitas_. Good faith, they do, as I do--exchange words +for money. I have some traffic this day with Danter[61] about a little +book which I have made; the name of it is, A Catalogue of Cambridge +Cuckolds. But this Belvidere, this methodical ass, hath made me almost +forget my time; I'll now to Paul's Churchyard; meet me an hour hence at +the sign of the Pegasus in Cheapside, and I'll moist thy temples with a +cup of claret, as hard as the world goes. + + [_Exit_ JUDICIO. + + + +ACTUS I., SCAENA 3. + + + _Enter_ DANTER _the Printer_. + +INGENIOSO. +Danter, thou art deceived, wit is dearer than thou takest it to be: I +tell thee, this libel of Cambridge has much fat and pepper in the nose; +it will sell sheerly underhand, when all these books of exhortations and +catechisms lie moulding on thy shopboard. + +DANTER. +It's true: but, good faith, Master Ingenioso, I lost by your last book; +and, you know, there is many a one that pays me largely for the printing +of their inventions: but, for all this, you shall have forty shillings +and an odd bottle of wine. + +INGENIOSO. +Forty shillings! a fit reward for one of your rheumatic poets, that +beslavers all the paper he comes by, and furnishes all the chandlers +with waste-papers to wrap candles in; but as for me, I'll be paid dear +even for the dregs of my wit: little knows the world what belongs to the +keeping of a good wit in waters, diets, drinks, tobacco, &c. It is a +dainty and a costly creature; and therefore I must be paid sweetly. +Furnish me with money, that I may put myself in a new suit of clothes, +and I'll suit thy shop with a new suit of terms. It's the gallantest +child my invention was ever delivered of: the title is, A Chronicle of +Cambridge Cuckolds. Here a man may see what day of the month such a +man's commons were enclosed, and when thrown open; and when any entailed +some odd crowns upon the heirs of their bodies unlawfully begotten. +Speak quickly: else I am gone. + +DANTER. +O, this will sell gallantly; I'll have it, whatsoever it cost: will you +walk on, Master Ingenioso? We'll sit over a cup of wine, and agree on it. + +INGENIOSO. +A cup of wine is as good a constable as can be to take up the quarrel +betwixt us. + [_Exeunt_. + + + +ACTUS I., SCAENA 4. + + + PHILOMUSUS _in a physician's habit_: STUDIOSO, + _that is_, JAQUES _man, and_ PATIENT. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Tit, tit, tit, non point;[62] non debet fieri phlebotomia in coitu Lunae. +Here is a recipe. + +PATIENT. +A recipe? + +PHILOMUSUS. +Nos Galliâ non curamus quantitatem syllabarum: let me hear how many +stools you do make. Adieu, monsieur: adieu, good monsieur.--What, +Jaques, il n'y a personne apres ici? + +STUDIOSO. +Non. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Then let us steal time for this borrowed shape, +Recounting our unequal haps of late: +Late did the ocean grasp us in his arms; +Late did we live within a stranger air, +Late did we see the cinders of great Rome: +We thought that English fugitives there ate +Gold for restorative, if gold were meat. +Yet now we find by bought experience +That, wheresoe'er we wander up and down +On the round shoulders of this massy world, +Or our ill-fortunes or the world's ill-eye +Forespeak our good, procure[63] our misery. + +STUDIOSO. +So oft the northern wind with frozen wings +Hath beat the flowers that in our garden grew, +Thrown down the stalks of our aspiring youth; +So oft hath winter nipp'd our trees' fair rind, +That now we seem nought but two bared boughs, +Scorn'd by the basest bird that chirps in grove. +Nor Rome, nor Rhemes, that wonted are to give +A cardinal cap to discontented clerks, +That have forsook the home-bred, thatched[64] roofs, +Yielded us any equal maintenance: +And it's as good to starve 'mongst English swine, +As in a foreign land to beg and pine. + +PHILOMUSUS. +I'll scorn the world, that scorneth me again. + +STUDIOSO. +I'll vex the world, that works me so much pain. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Thy[65] lame revenging power the world well weens. + +STUDIOSO. +Flies have their spleen, each silly ant his teens. + +PHILOMUSUS. +We have the words, they the possession have. + +STUDIOSO. +We all are equal in our latest grave. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Soon then, O, soon may we both graved be. + +STUDIOSO. +Who wishes death doth wrong wise destiny. + +PHILOMUSUS. +It's wrong to force life-loathing men to breathe. + +STUDIOSO. +It's sin 'fore doomed day to wish thy death. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Too late our souls flit to their resting-place. + +STUDIOSO. +Why, man's whole life is but a breathing space. + +PHILOMUSUS. +A painful minute seems a tedious year. + +STUDIOSO. +A constant mind eternal woes will bear. + +PHILOMUSUS. +When shall our souls their wearied lodge forego? + +STUDIOSO. +When we have tired misery and woe. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Soon may then fates this gaol[66]-deliver send us: Small woes vex long, +[but] great woes quickly end us. But let's leave this capping of rhymes, +Studioso, and follow our late device, that we may maintain our heads in +caps, our bellies in provender, and our backs in saddle and bridle. +Hitherto we have sought all the honest means we could to live, and now +let us dare _aliqua brevibus gyris[67] et carcere dignum_; let us run +through all the lewd forms of lime-twig, purloining villanies; let us +prove coneycatchers, bawds, or anything, so we may rub out. And first my +plot for playing the French doctor--that shall hold; our lodging stands +here fitly[68] in Shoe Lane: for, if our comings-in be not the better, +London may shortly throw an old shoe after us; and with those shreds of +French that we gathered up in our host's house in Paris, we'll gull the +world, that hath in estimation foreign physicians: and if any of the +hidebound brethren of Cambridge and Oxford, or any of those stigmatic +masters of art that abused us in times pass'd, leave their own +physicians, and become our patients, we'll alter quite the style of +them; for they shall never hereafter write, Your lordship's most +bounden, but, Your lordship's most laxative. + +STUDIOSO. +It shall be so: see what a little vermin poverty altereth a whole milky +disposition. + +PHILOMUSUS. +So then myself straight with revenge I'll sate.[69] + +STUDIOSO. +Provoked patience grows intemperate. + + + + +ACTUS I, SCAENA 5. + + + _Enter_ RICHARDETTO, JAQUES, _Scholar learning French_. + +JAQUES. +How now, my little knave? Quelle nouvelle, monsieur? + +RICHARDETTO. +There's a fellow with a nightcap on his head, an urinal in his hand, +would fain speak with Master Theodore. + +JAQUES. +Parle François, mon petit garçon. + +RICHARDETTO.[70] +Ici un homme, avec le bonnet de nuit sur la tete, et un urinal en la +main, que veut parler avec Maistre Theodore. + +JAQUES. +Fort bien. + +THEODORE. +Jaques, a bonne heure. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +ACTUS I., SCAENA 6. + + + FUROR POETICUS; _and presently after enters_ PHANTASMA. + +FUROR POETICUS, _rapt with contemplation_. +Why, how now, pedant Phoebus?[71] are you smouching Thaly on her tender +lips? There, hoi! peasant, avaunt! Come, pretty short-nosed nymph. O +sweet Thalia, I do kiss thy foot. What, Clio? O sweet Clio! Nay, +prythee, do not weep, Melpomene. What, Urania, Polyhymnia, and Calliope! +let me do reverence to your deities. + [PHANTASMA _pulls him by the sleeve_. +I am your holy swain that, night and day, +Sit for your sakes, rubbing my wrinkled brow, +Studying a month for a epithet. +Nay, silver Cynthia, do not trouble me; +Straight will I thy Endymion's story write, +To which thou hastest me on day and night. +You light-skirt stars, this is your wonted guise, +By gloomy light perk out your doubtful heads; +But when Dan[72] Phoebus shows his flashing snout, +You are sky-puppies;[73] straight your light is out. + +PHANTASMA. +So ho, Furor! +Nay, prythee, good Furor, in sober sadness-- + +FUROR. +Odi profanum vulgus, et arceo. + +PHANTASMA. +Nay, sweet Furor,--ipsae te, Tityre, pinus-- + +FUROR. +Ipsi te fontes, ipsa haec arbusta vocarunt. +Who's that runs headlong on my quill's sharp point, +That, wearied of his life and baser breath, +Offers himself to an Iambic verse? + +PHANTASMA. +Si, quoties peccant homines, sua fulmina mittat +Jupiter, exiguo tempore inermis erit. + +FUROR. +What slimy, bold, presumptuous groom[74] is he, +Dares with his rude, audacious, hardy chat +Thus sever me from sky-bred[75] contemplation? + +PHANTASMA. +_Carmina vel coelo possunt deducere lunam_. + +FUROR. +O Phantasma! what, my individual[76] mate? + +PHANTASMA. +_O, mihi post nullos, Furor, memorande sodales_! + +FUROR. +Say, whence comest thou? sent from what deity? +From great Apollo or sly Mercury? + +PHANTASMA. +I come from the little Mercury Ingenioso: for, +_Ingenio pollet, cui vim natura negavit_. + +FUROR. +Ingenioso? +He is a pretty inventor of slight prose; +But there's no spirit in his grov'lling speech. +Hang him, whose verse cannot outbelch the wind, +That cannot beard and brave Dan Aeolus; +That, when the cloud of his invention breaks, +Cannot outcrack the scarecrow thunderbolt. +Hang him, I say![77] + +PHANTASMA. +_Pendo, pependi; tendo, tetendi; pedo, pepedi_. Will it please you, +Master Furor, to walk with me? I promise to bring you to a drinking-inn +in Cheapside, at the sign of the Nag's Head; for + + _Tempore lenta pati fraena docentur equi_. + +FUROR. +Pass thee before, I'll come incontinent. + +PHANTASMA. +Nay, faith, Master Furor, let's go together, _quoniam convenimus ambo_. + +FUROR. +Let us march on unto the house of fame; +There, quaffing bowls of Bacchus' blood full nimbly, +Indite a-tiptoe strutting poesy. + [_They offer the way one to the other_. + +PHANTASMA. +_Quo me, Bacche, rapis tui plenum? +Tu major: tibi me est aequum parere, Menalca_. + + + +ACTUS II., SCAENA 1. + + + _Enter_ PHILOMUSUS, THEODORE, _his patient, the_ + BURGESS, _and his man with his staff_. + +THEODORE. +[_Puts on his spectacles_.] Monsieur, here are _atomi natantes_, which +do make show your worship to be as lecherous as a bull. + +BURGESS. +Truly, Master Doctor, we are all men. + +THEODORE. +This vater is intention of heat: are you not perturbed with an ache in +your vace[78] or in your occipit? I mean your headpiece. Let me feel +the pulse of your little finger. + +BURGESS. +I'll assure you, Master Theodore, the pulse of my head beats +exceedingly; and I think I have disturbed myself by studying the penal +statutes. + +THEODORE. +Tit, tit, your worship takes care of your speeches. +_O, Curae leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent_: it is an aphorism in Galen. + +BURGESS. +And what is the exposition of that? + +THEODORE. +That your worship must take a gland, _ut emittatur sanguis_: the sign +is _fort_ excellent, _fort_ excellent. + +BURGESS. +Good Master Doctor, use me gently; for, mark you, sir, there is a double +consideration to be had of me: first, as I am a public magistrate; +secondly, as I am a private butcher; and but for the worshipful credit +of the place and office wherein I now stand and live, I would not hazard +my worshipful apparel with a suppository or a glister: but for the +countenancing of the place, I must go oftener to stool; for, as a great +gentleman told me, of good experience, that it was the chief note of a +magistrate not to go to the stool without a physician. + +THEODORE. +Ah, vous êtes un gentilhomme, vraiment.--What, ho, Jaques! Jaques, +donnez-vous un fort gentil purgation for Monsieur Burgess. + +JAQUES. +Votre très-humble serviteur, à votre commandment. + +THEODORE. +Donnez-vous un gentil purge à Monsieur Burgess.--I have considered of +the crasis and syntoma of your disease, and here is un fort gentil +purgation per evacuationem excrementorum, as we physicians use to +parley. + +BURGESS. +I hope, Master Doctor, you have a care of the country's officer. I tell +you, I durst not have trusted myself with every physician; and yet I am +not afraid for myself, but I would not deprive the town of so careful a +magistrate. + +THEODORE. +O Monsieur, I have a singular care of your _valetudo_. It is requisite +that the French physicians be learned and careful; your English +velvet-cap is malignant and envious. + +BURGESS. +Here is, Master Doctor, fourpence--your due, and eightpence--my bounty. +You shall hear from me, good Master Doctor; farewell, farewell, good +Master Doctor. + +THEODORE. +Adieu, good Monsieur; adieu, good sir Monsieur. _Exit_ BURGESS. +Then burst with tears, unhappy graduate; +Thy fortunes still wayward and backward been; +Nor canst thou thrive by virtue nor by sin. + +STUDIOSO. +O, how it grieves my vexed soul to see +Each painted ass in chair of dignity! +And yet we grovel on the ground alone, +Running through every trade, yet thrive by none: +More we must act in this life's tragedy. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Sad is the plot, sad the catastrophe. + +STUDIOSO. +Sighs are the chorus in our tragedy. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And rented thoughts continual actors be.[79] + +STUDIOSO. +Woe is the subject, Phil.;[80] earth the loath'd stage +Whereon we act this feigned personage; +Most like[81] barbarians the spectators be, +That sit and laugh at our calamity. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Bann'd be those hours when, 'mongst the learned throng, +By Granta's muddy bank we whilome sung! + +STUDIOSO. +Bann'd be that hill, which learned wits adore, +Where erst we spent our stock and little store! + +PHILOMUSUS. +Bann'd be those musty mews, where we have spent +Our youthful days in paled languishment! + +STUDIOSO. +Bann'd be those cos'ning arts that wrought our woe, +Making us wand'ring pilgrims to and fro. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And pilgrims must we be without relief; +And wheresoe'er we run, there meets us grief. + +STUDIOSO. +Where'er we toss upon this crabbed stage, +Griefs our companion; patience be our page. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Ah, but this patience is a page of ruth, +A tired lackey to our wand'ring youth! + + + +ACTUS II., SCAENA 2. + + +ACADEMICO, _solus_. +Fain would I have a living, if I could tell how +to come by it. _Echo_. Buy it. +Buy it, fond Echo? why, thou dost greatly +mistake it. _Echo_. Stake it. +Stake it? what should I stake at this game of +simony? _Echo_. Money. +What, is the world a game? are livings gotten +by paying?[82] _Echo_. Paying. +Paying? But say, what's the nearest way to +come by a living? _Echo_. Giving. +Must his worship's fists be needs then oiled with +angels? _Echo_. Angels. +Ought his gouty fists then first with gold to be +greased? _Echo_. Eased. +And is it then such an ease for his ass's back to +carry money? _Echo_. Ay. +Will, then, this golden ass bestow a vicarage +gilded? _Echo_. Gelded. +What shall I say to good Sir Raderic, that have +no[83] gold here? _Echo_. Cold cheer. +I'll make it my lone request, that he would be +good to a scholar. _Echo_. Choler. +Yea, will he be choleric to hear of an art or a +science? _Echo_. Hence. +Hence with liberal arts? What, then, will he +do with his chancel? _Echo_. Sell. +Sell it? and must a simple clerk be fain to compound +then? _Echo_. Pounds then. +What, if I have no pounds? must then my suit +be prorogued? _Echo_. Rogued. +Yea? given to a rogue? Shall an ass this +vicarage compass? _Echo_. Ass. +What is the reason that I should not be as fortunate +as he? _Echo_. Ass he. +Yet, for all this, with a penniless purse will I +trudge to his worship. _Echo_. Words cheap. +Well, if he give me good words, it's more than I +have from an Echo. _Echo_. Go. + + [_Exit_. + + + +ACTUS II, SCAENA 3. + + + AMORETTO _with an Ovid in his hand_, IMMERITO. + +AMORETTO. +Take it on the word of a gentleman, thou cannot have it a penny under; +think on it, think on it, while I meditate on my fair mistress-- +_Nunc sequor imperium, magne Cupido, tuum_. +Whate'er become of this dull, threadbare clerk, +I must be costly in my mistress' eye: +Ladies regard not ragged company. +I will with the revenues of my chaffer'd church +First buy an ambling hobby for my fair, +Whose measur'd pace may teach the world to dance, +Proud of his burden, when he 'gins to prance. +Then must I buy a jewel for her ear, +A kirtle of some hundred crowns or more. +With these fair gifts when I accompani'd go, +She'll give Jove's breakfast; Sidney terms it so. +I am her needle, she is my adamant, +She is my fair rose, I her unworthy prick. + +ACADEMICO. +Is there nobody here will take the pains to geld his mouth? [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +She's Cleopatra, I Mark Antony. + +ACADEMICO. +No, thou art a mere mark for good wits to shoot at: and in that suit +thou wilt make a fine man to dash poor crows out of countenance. + [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +She is my Moon, I her Endymion. + +ACADEMICO. +No, she is thy shoulder of mutton, thou her onion: or she may be thy +Luna, and thou her lunatic. [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +I her Aeneas, she my Dido is. + +ACADEMICO. +She is thy Io, thou her brazen ass, +Or she Dame Phantasy, and thou her gull; +She thy Pasiphae, and thou her loving bull.[84] + [_Aside_. + + + +ACTUS II, SCAENA 4. + + + _Enter_ IMMERITO _and_ STERCUTIO, _his father_. + +STERCUTIO. +Son, is this the gentleman that sells us the living? + +IMMERITO. +Fie, father! thou must not call it selling: thou must say, Is this the +gentleman that must have the _gratuito_? + +ACADEMICO. +What have we here? old truepenny come to town, to fetch away the living +in his old greasy slops? Then, I'll none: the time hath been when such a +fellow meddled with nothing but his ploughshare, his spade, and his +hobnails; and so to a piece of bread and cheese, and went his way. But +now these fellows are grown the only factors for preferment. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +O, is this the grating gentleman? And how many pounds must I pay? + +IMMERITO. +O, thou must not call them pounds, but thanks. And, hark thou, father; +thou must tell of nothing that is done, for I must seem to come clear +to it. + +ACADEMICO. +Not pounds, but thanks? See, whether this simple fellow that hath +nothing of a scholar, but that the draper hath blacked him over, hath +not gotten the style of the time. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +By my faith, son, look for no more portion. + +IMMERITO. +Well, father, I will not--upon this condition, that when thou have +gotten me the _gratuito_ of the living, thou wilt likewise disburse a +little money to the bishop's poser;[85] for there are certain questions +I make scruple to be posed in. + +ACADEMICO. +He means any question in Latin, which he counts a scruple. O. this +honest man could never abide this popish tongue of Latin. O, he is as +true an Englishman as lives. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +I'll take the gentleman, now he is in a good vein, for he smiles. + +AMORETTO. +Sweet Ovid, I do honour every page. + +ACADEMICO. +Good Ovid, that in his lifetime lived with the Getes; and now, after his +death, converseth with a barbarian. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +God be at your work, sir. My son told me you were the grating gentleman; +I am Stercutio his father, sir, simple as I stand here. + +AMORETTO. +Fellow, I had rather given thee an hundred pounds than thou shouldst +have put me out of my excellent meditation: by the faith of a gentleman, +I was wrapp'd in contemplation. + +IMMERITO. +Sir, you must pardon my father: he wants bringing up. + +ACADEMICO. +Marry, it seems he hath good bringing up, when he brings up so much +money. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +Indeed, sir, you must pardon me; I did not know you were a gentleman of +the Temple before. + +AMORETTO. +Well, I am content in a generous disposition to bear with country +education: but, fellow, what's thy name? + +STERCUTIO. +My name, sir? Stercutio, sir. + +AMORETTO. +Why then, Stercutio, I would be very willing to be the instrument to my +father, that this living might be conferred upon your son: marry, I +would have you know that I have been importuned by two or three several +lords, my kind cousins, in the behalf of some Cambridge man, and have +almost engaged my word. Marry, if I shall see your disposition to be +more thankful than other men, I shall be very ready to respect +kind-natured men; for, as the Italian proverb speaketh well, _chi ha, +havra_. + +ACADEMICO. +Why, here is a gallant young drover of livings. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +I beseech you, sir, speak English; for that is natural to me and to my +son, and all our kindred, to understand but one language. + +AMORETTO. +Why thus, in plain English, I must be respected with thanks. + +ACADEMICO. +This is a subtle tractive, when thanks may be felt and seen. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +And I pray you, sir, what is the lowest thanks that you will take? + +ACADEMICO. +The very same method that he useth at the buying of an ox. [_Aside_.] + +AMORETTO. +I must have some odd sprinkling of an hundred pounds; if so, so--I shall +think you thankful, and commend your son as a man of good gifts to my +father. + +ACADEMICO. +A sweet world! give an hundred pounds; and this is but counted +thankfulness! [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +Hark thou, sir; you shall have eighty thanks. + +AMORETTO. +I tell thee, fellow, I never opened my mouth in this kind so cheap +before in my life: I tell thee, few young gentlemen are found that would +deal so kindly with thee as I do. + +STERCUTIO. +Well, sir, because I know my son to be a toward thing, and one that has +taken all his learning on his own head, without sending to the +university, I am content to give you as many thanks as you ask, so you +will promise me to bring it to pass. + +AMORETTO. +I warrant you for that, if I say it once. Repair you to the place, and +stay there. For my father, he is walked abroad to take the benefit of +the air: I'll meet him, as he returns, and make way for your suit. +Gallant, i'faith.[86] + + [_Exeunt_ STERCUTIO _and_ IMMERITO. + + + +ACTUS II., SCAENA 5. + + + ACADEMICO, AMORETTO. + +ACADEMICO. +I see, we scholars fish for a living in these shallow fords without a +silver hook. Why, would it not gall a man to see a spruce gartered youth +of our college, a while ago, be a broker for a living and an old bawd +for a benefice? This sweet sir preferred me much kindness when he was of +our college, and now I'll try what wind remains in his bladder. God save +you, sir. + +AMORETTO. +By the mass, I fear me, I saw this _genus_ and _species_ in Cambridge +before now: I'll take no notice of him now. [_Aside_.] By the faith of a +gentleman, this is pretty elegy. Of what age is the day, fellow? Sirrah +boy, hath the groom saddled my hunting hobby? Can Robin hunter tell +where a hare sits? [_Soliloquising_. + +ACADEMICO. +See a poor Old friend of yours of S---- College in Cambridge. + +AMORETTO. +Good faith, sir, you must pardon me: I have forgotten you. + +ACADEMICO. +My name is Academico, sir; one that made an oration for you once on the +Queen's day, and a show that you got some credit by. + +AMORETTO. +It may be so, it may be so; but I have forgotten it. Marry, yet I +remember that there was such a fellow that I was beneficial unto in my +time. But, howsoever, sir, I have the courtesy of the town for you. +I am sorry you did not take me at my father's house; but now I am in +exceeding great haste, for I have vowed the death of a hare that we +found this morning musing on her meaze. + +ACADEMICO. +Sir, I am emboldened by that great acquaintance that heretofore I had +with you, as likewise it hath pleased you heretofore-- + +AMORETTO. +Look, sirrah, if you see my hobby come hitherward as yet. + +ACADEMICO. +--to make me some promises, I am to request your good mediation to the +worshipful your father in my behalf: and I will dedicate to yourself, +in the way of thanks, those days I have to live. + +AMORETTO. +O good sir, if I had known your mind before; for my father hath already +given the induction to a chaplain of his own--to a proper man--I know +not of what university he is. + +ACADEMICO. +Signior Immerito, they say, hath bidden fairest for it. + +AMORETTO. +I know not his name; but he is a grave, discreet man, I warrant him: +indeed, he wants utterance in some measure. + +ACADEMICO. +Nay, methinks he hath very good utterance for his gravity, for he came +hither very grave; but, I think, he will return light enough, when he +is rid of the heavy element he carries about him. [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +Faith, sir, you must pardon me: it is my ordinary custom to be too +studious; my mistress hath told me of it often, and I find it to hurt +my ordinary discourse: but say, sweet sir, do ye affect the most +gentlemanlike game of hunting? + +ACADEMICO. +How say you to the crafty gull? he would fain get me abroad to make +sport with me in their hunters' terms, which we scholars are not +acquainted with. [_Aside_.] Sir, I have loved this kind of sport; but +now I begin to hate it, for it hath been my luck always to beat the +bush, while another killed the hare. + +AMORETTO. +Hunters' luck, hunters' luck, sir; but there was a fault in your hounds, +that did spend well. + +ACADEMICO. +Sir, I have had worse luck always at hunting the fox. + +AMORETTO. +What, sir, do you mean at the unkennelling, untapezing, or earthing of +the fox? + +ACADEMICO. +I mean, earthing, if you term it so;--for I never found yellow earth +enough to cover the old fox your father. [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +Good faith, sir, there is an excellent skill in blowing for the terriers; +it is a word that we hunters use. When the fox is earthed, you must blow +one long, two short; the second wind, one long, two short. Now, sir, in +blowing, every long containeth seven quavers, one short containeth three +quavers. + +ACADEMICO. +Sir, might I find any favour in my suit, I would wind the horn, wherein +your boon[87] deserts should be sounded with so many minims, so many +quavers. + +AMORETTO. +Sweet sir, I would I could confer this or any kindness upon you:--I +wonder, the boy comes not away with my hobby. Now, sir, as I was +proceeding--when you blow the death of your fox in the field or covert, +then must you sound three notes with three winds, and recheat, mark you, +sir, upon the same with three winds. + +ACADEMICO. +I pray you, sir. + +AMORETTO. +Now, sir, when you come to your stately gate, as you sounded the recheat +before, so now you must sound the relief three times. + +ACADEMICO. +Relief, call you it? it were good, every patron would find the horn. + [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +O sir, but your relief is your sweetest note: that is, sir, when your +hounds hunt after a game unknown; and then you must sound one long and +six short; the second wind, two short and one long; the third wind, one +long and two short. + +ACADEMICO. +True, sir, it is a very good trade nowadays to be a villain; I am the +hound that hunts after a game unknown, and blows the villain. + [_Aside_.] + +AMORETTO. +Sir, I will bless your ears with a very pretty story: my father, out of +his own cost and charges, keeps an open table for all kind of dogs. + +ACADEMICO. +And he keeps one more by thee. [_Aside_.] + +AMORETTO. +He hath your greyhound, your mongrel, your mastiff, your levrier, your +spaniel, your kennets, terriers, butchers' dogs, bloodhounds, +dunghill-dogs, trundle-tails, prick-eared curs, small ladies' puppies, +raches,[88] and bastards. + +ACADEMICO. +What a bawdy knave hath he to his father, that keeps his Rachel, hath +his bastards, and lets his sons be plain ladies' puppies to bewray a +lady's chamber. [_Aside_.] + +AMORETTO. +It was my pleasure, two days ago, to take a gallant leash of greyhounds; +and into my father's park I went, accompanied with two or three noblemen +of my near acquaintance, desiring to show them some of the sport. I +caused the keeper to sever the rascal deer from the bucks of the first +head. Now, sir, a buck the first year is a fawn, the second year a +pricket, the third year a sorel, the fourth year a sore, the fifth a +buck of the first head, the sixth year a complete buck; as likewise your +hart is the first year a calf, the second year a brocket, the third year +a spade, the fourth year a stag, the fifth year a great stag, the sixth +year a hart; as likewise the roebuck is the first year a kid, the second +year a girl, the third year a hemuse: and these are your special beasts +for chase, or, as we huntsmen call it, for venery. + +ACADEMICO. +If chaste be taken for venery, thou art a more special beast than any in +thy father's forest. [_Aside_.] Sir, I am sorry I have been so +troublesome to you. + +AMORETTO. +I know this was the readiest way to chase away the scholar, by getting +him into a subject he cannot talk of for his life. [_Aside_.] Sir, I +will borrow so much time of you as to finish this my begun story. Now, +sir, after much travel we singled a buck; I rode that same time upon a +roan gelding, and stood to intercept from the thicket; the buck broke +gallantly; my great swift being disadvantaged in his slip was at the +first behind; marry, presently coted and outstripped them, when as the +hart presently descended to the river, and being in the water, proffered +and reproffered, and proffered again: and, at last, he upstarted at the +other side of the water, which we call soil of the hart, and there other +huntsmen met him with an adauntreley;[89] we followed in hard chase for +the space of eight hours; thrice our hounds were at default, and then we +cried _A slain_! straight, _So ho_; through good reclaiming my faulty +hounds found their game again, and so went through the wood with gallant +noise of music, resembling so many _viols de gambo_. At last the hart +laid him down, and the hounds seized upon him; he groaned, and wept, and +died. In good faith, it made me weep too, to think of Actaeon's fortune, +which my Ovid speaks of-- + [_He reads Ovid_. + + _Militat omnis amans, et habet sua castra Cupido_. + +ACADEMICO. +Sir, can you put me in any hope of obtaining my suit? + +AMORETTO. +In good faith, sir, if I did not love you as my soul, I would not make +you acquainted with the mysteries of my art. + +ACADEMICO. +Nay, I will not die of a discourse yet, if I can choose. + [_Exit unperceived_. + +AMORETTO. +So, sir, when we had rewarded our dogs with the small guts, and the +lights, and the blood, the huntsmen hallooed, _So ho! Venué_, a coupler; +and so coupled the dogs, and then returned homeward. Another company of +hounds, that lay at advantage, had their couples cast off, and we might +hear the huntsmen cry, _Horse, decouple, avant_; but straight we heard +him cry, _Le amond_, and by that I knew that they had the hare, and on +foot; and by and by I might see sore and resore, prick and reprick. +What, is he gone! ha, ha, ha, ha! these scholars are the simplest +creatures! + + + +ACTUS II., SCAENA 6. + + + _Enter Amoretto's_ PAGE. + +PAGE. +I wonder what is become of that Ovid _de arte amandi_.[90] My master, he +that for the practice of his discourse is wont to court his hobby abroad +and at home, in his chamber makes a set speech to his greyhound, +desiring that most fair and amiable dog to grace his company in a +stately galliard; and if the dog, seeing him practise his lusty points, +as his cross-point back-caper, chance to bewray the room, he presently +doft's his cap, most solemnly makes a low leg to his ladyship, taking it +for the greatest favour in the world that she would vouchsafe to leave +her civet-box or her sweet glove behind her. + + [_Enter_ AMORETTO, _reading Ovid_.] + +Not a word more. Sir, an't please you, your hobby will meet you at the +lane's end. + +AMORETTO. +What, Jack? i'faith, I cannot but vent unto thee a most witty jest of +mine. + +PAGE. +I hope my master will not break wind. [_Aside_.] Will't please you, sir, +to bless mine ears with the discourse of it? + +AMORETTO. +Good faith, the boy begins to have an elegant smack of my style. Why, +then, thus it was, Jack, a scurvy mere Cambridge scholar, I know not +how to define him-- + +PAGE. +Nay, master, let me define a mere scholar. I heard a courtier once +define a mere scholar to be _animal scabiosum_, that is, a living +creature that is troubled with the itch; or, a mere scholar is a +creature that can strike fire in the morning at his tinder-box, put on +a pair of lined slippers, sit rheuming[91] till dinner, and then go to +his meat when the bell rings: one that hath a peculiar gift in a cough, +and a licence to spit. Or, if you will have him defined by negatives, he +is one that cannot make a good leg; one that cannot eat a mess of broth +cleanly; one that cannot ride a horse without spur-galling; one that +cannot salute a woman, and look on her directly; one that cannot-- + +AMORETTO. +Enough, Jack; I can stay no longer; I am so great in childbirth with +this jest. Sirrah, this predicable, this saucy groom, because, when I +was in Cambridge, and lay in a trundlebed under my tutor, I was content, +in discreet humility, to give him some place at the table; and because I +invited the hungry slave sometimes to my chamber, to the canvassing of a +turkey-pie or a piece of venison which my lady grandmother sent me, he +thought himself therefore eternally possessed of my love, and came +hither to take acquaintance of me; and thought his old familiarity did +continue, and would bear him out in a matter of weight. I could not tell +how to rid myself better of the troublesome burr than by getting him +into the discourse of hunting; and then tormenting him a while with our +words of art, the poor scorpion became speechless, and suddenly +vanished![92] These clerks are simple fellows, simple fellows. + [_He reads Ovid_.] + +PAGE. +Simple, indeed, they are; for they want your courtly composition of a +fool and of a knave. [_Aside_.] Good faith, sir, a most absolute jest; +but, methinks, it might have been followed a little further. + +AMORETTO. +As how, my little knave? + +PAGE. +Why thus, sir; had you invited him to dinner at your table, and have put +the carving of a capon upon him, you should have seen him handle the +knife so foolishly, then run through a jury of faces, then wagging his +head and showing his teeth in familiarity, venture upon it with the same +method that he was wont to untruss an apple-pie, or tyrannise an egg and +butter: then would I have applied him all dinner-time with clean +trenchers, clean trenchers; and still when he had a good bit of meat, I +would have taken it from him by giving him a clean trencher, and so have +served him in kindness. + +AMORETTO. +Well said, subtle Jack; put me in mind, when I return again, that I may +make my lady mother laugh at the scholar. I'll to my game; for you, +Jack, I would have you employ your time, till my coming, in watching +what hour of the day my hawk mutes. [_Exit_. + +PAGE. +Is not this an excellent office, to be apothecary to his worship's hawk, +to sit scouting on the wall how the physic works? And is not my master +an absolute villain, that loves his hawk, his hobby, and his greyhound, +more than any mortal creature? Do but dispraise a feather of his hawk's +train, and he writhes his mouth, and swears (for he can do that only +with a good grace) that you are the most shallow-brained fellow that +lives. Do but say his horse stales with a good presence, and he's your +bondslave. When he returns, I'll tell twenty admirable lies of his hawk; +and then I shall be his little rogue and his white villain for a whole +week after. Well, let others complain; but I think there is no felicity +to the serving of a fool. + + + + +ACTUS III., SCAENA 1. + + + SIR RADERIC, RECORDER, PAGE, SIGNIOR IMMERITO. + +SIR RADERIC. +Signior Immerito, you remember my caution for the tithes, and my promise +for farming my tithes at such a rate? + +IMMERITO. +Ay, and please your worship, sir. + +SIR RADERIC. +You must put in security for the performance of it, in such sort as I +and Master Recorder shall like of. + +IMMERITO. +I will, an't please your worship. + +SIR RADERIC. +And because I will be sure that I have conferred this kindness upon a +sufficient man, I have desired Master Recorder to take examination of +you. + +PAGE. +My master, it seems, takes him for a thief; but he hath small reason for +it. As for learning, it's plain he never stole any; and for the living, +he knows himself how he comes by it; for let him but eat a mess of +furmenty this seven year, and yet he shall never be able to recover +himself. Alas, poor sheep, that hath fallen into the hands of such a +fox! [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +Good Master Recorder, take your place by me, and make trial of his +gifts: is the clerk there to record his examination? O, the page shall +serve the turn. + +PAGE. +Trial of his gifts! never had any gifts a better trial: why, Immerito's +gifts have appeared in as many colours as the rainbow; first, to Master +Amoretto, in colour of the satin suit he wears: to my lady, in the +similitude of a loose gown: to my master, in the likeness of a silver +basin and ewer: to us pages, in the semblance of new suits and points. +So Master Amoretto plays the gull in a piece of a parsonage; my master +adorns his cupboard with a piece of a parsonage; my mistress, upon good +days, puts on a piece of a parsonage; and we pages play at blowpoint for +a piece of a parsonage: I think here's trial enough for one man's gifts. + [_Aside_. + +RECORDER. +Forasmuch as nature hath done her part in making you a handsome likely +man-- + +PAGE. +He is a handsome young man indeed, and hath a proper gelded parsonage.[93] + [_Aside_. + +RECORDER. +In the next place, some art is requisite for the perfection of nature: +for the trial whereof, at the request of my worshipful friend, I will in +some sort propound questions fit to be resolved by one of your +profession. Say, what is a person that was never at the university? + +IMMERITO. +A person that was never in the university is a living creature that can +eat a tithe-pig. + +RECORDER. +Very well answered; but you should have added--and must be officious to +his patron. Write down that answer to show his learning in logic. + +SIR RADERIC. +Yea, boy, write that down. Very learnedly, in good faith. I pray now, +let me ask you one question that I remember: whether is the masculine +gender or the feminine more worthy? + +IMMERITO. +The feminine, sir. + +SIR RADERIC. +The right answer, the right answer. In good faith, I have been of that +mind always. Write, boy, that to show he is a grammarian. + +PAGE. +No marvel my master be against the grammar; for he hath always made +false Latin in the genders. [_Aside_. + +RECORDER. +What university are you of? + +IMMERITO. +Of none. + +SIR RADERIC. +He tells truth; to tell truth is an excellent virtue. Boy, make two +heads, one for his learning, another for his virtues; and refer this to +the head of his virtues, not of his learning. + +PAGE. +What, half a mess of good qualities referred to an ass' head? + [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +Now, Master Recorder, if it please you, I will examine him in an author +that will sound him to the depth--a book of astronomy, otherwise called +an almanac. + +RECORDER. +Very good, Sir Raderic; it were to be wished that there were no other +book of humanity, then there would not be such busy, state-frying +fellows as are nowadays. Proceed, good sir. + +SIR RADERIC. +What is the dominical letter? + +IMMERITO. +C, sir, and please your worship. + +SIR RADERIC. +A very good answer, a very good answer, the very answer of the book. +Write down that, and refer it to his skill in philosophy. + +PAGE. +C the dominical letter? It is true: Craft and Cunning do so domineer; +yet, rather C and D are dominical letters, that is, crafty duncery. + [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +How many days hath September? + +IMMERITO. +April, June, and November, February hath twenty-eight alone; and all +the rest hath thirty and one. + +SIR RADERIC. +Very learnedly, in good faith, he hath also a smack in poetry. Write +down that, boy, to show his learning in poetry. How many miles from +Waltham to London? + +IMMERITO. +Twelve, sir. + +SIR RADERIC, +How many from Newmarket to Grantham? + +IMMERITO. +Ten, sir. + +PAGE. +Without doubt, he hath been some carrier's horse. [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +How call you him that is cunning in 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and the cypher? + +IMMERITO. +A good arithmetician. + +SIR RADERIC. +Write down that answer of his, to show his learning in arithmetic. + +PAGE. +He must needs be a good arithmetician, that counted money so lately. + [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +When is the new moon? + +IMMERITO. +The last quarter the fifth day, at two of the clock and thirty-eight +minutes in the morning. + +SIR RADERIC. +Write that down. How call you him that is weatherwise? + +IMMERITO. +A good astronomer. + +SIR RADERIC. +Sirrah boy, write him down for a good astronomer. + +PAGE. +Ass colit ass-tra. [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +What day of the month lights the Queen's day on? + +IMMERITO. +The seventeenth of November.[94] + +SIR RADERIC. +Boy, refer this to his virtues, and write him down a good subject. + +PAGE. +Faith, he were an excellent subject for two or three good wits: he would +make a fine ass for an ape to ride upon. [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +And these shall suffice for the parts of his learning. Now it remains to +try whether you be a man of good utterance, that is, whether you can ask +for the strayed heifer with the white face, as also chide the boys in +the belfry, and bid the sexton whip out the dogs. Let me hear your +voice. + +IMMERITO. +If any man or woman-- + +SIR RADERIC. +That's too high. + +IMMERITO. +If any man or woman-- + +SIR RADERIC. +That's too low. + +IMMERITO. +If any man or woman can tell any tidings of a horse with four feet, two +ears, that did stray about the seventh hour, three minutes in the +forenoon the fifth day-- + +PAGE. +A book of[95] a horse, just as it were the eclipse of the moon. + [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +Boy, write him down for a good utterance. Master Recorder, I think he +hath been examined sufficiently. + +RECORDER. +Ay, Sir Raderic, 'tis so; we have tried him very throughly. + +PAGE. +Ay, we have taken an inventory of his good parts, and prized them +accordingly. + +SIR RADERIC. +Signior Immerito, forasmuch as we have made a double trial of thee--the +one of your learning, the other of your erudition--it is expedient also, +in the next place, to give you a few exhortations, considering the +greatest clerks are not the wisest men. This is therefore, first, to +exhort you to abstain from controversies; secondly, not to gird at men +of worship, such as myself, but to use yourself discreetly; thirdly, not +to speak when any man or woman coughs--do so, and in so doing, I will +persevere to be your worshipful friend and loving patron. + +IMMERITO. +I thank your worship, you have been the deficient cause of my preferment. + +SIR RADERIC. +Lead Immerito into my son, and let him despatch him; and remember--my +tithes to be reserved, paying twelvepence a year. I am going to +Moorfields to speak with an unthrift I should meet at the Middle-Temple +about a purchase; when you have done, follow us. + + [_Exeunt_ IMMERITO _and the_ PAGE. + + + +ACTUS III., SCAENA 2. + + + SIR RADERIC _and_ RECORDER. + +SIR RADERIC. +Hark you, Master Recorder: I have fleshed my prodigal boy notably, +notably, in letting him deal for this living; that hath done him much +good, much good, I assure you. + +RECORDER. +You do well, Sir Raderic, to bestow your living upon such an one as will +be content to share, and on Sunday to say nothing; whereas your proud +university princox thinks he is a man of such merit the world cannot +sufficiently endow him with preferment. An unthankful viper, an +unthankful viper, that will sting the man that revived him. +Why, is't not strange to see a ragged clerk +Some stamel weaver or some butcher's son, +That scrubb'd a-late within a sleeveless gown, +When the commencement, like a morris-dance, +Hath put a bell or two about his legs, +Created him a sweet clean gentleman; +How then he 'gins to follow fashions: +He, whose thin sire dwells in a smoky roof, +Must take tobacco, and must wear a lock; +His thirsty dad drinks in a wooden bowl, +But his sweet self is serv'd in silver plate. +His hungry sire will scrape you twenty legs +For one good Christmas meal on New-Year's day, +But his maw must be capon-cramm'd each day; +He must ere long be triple-beneficed, +Else with his tongue he'll thunderbolt the world, +And shake each peasant by his deaf man's ear. +But, had the world no wiser men than I, +We'd pen the prating parrots in a cage. +A chair, a candle, and a tinder-box, +A thacked[96] chamber and a ragged gown, +Should be their lands and whole possessions; +Knights, lords, and lawyers should be lodg'd and dwell +Within those over-stately heaps of stone, +Which doating sires in old age did erect. +Well, it were to be wished, that never a scholar in England might have +above forty pound a year. + +SIR RADERIC. +Faith, Master Recorder, if it went by wishing, there should never an one +of them all have above twenty a year--a good stipend, a good stipend, +Master Recorder. I in the meantime, howsoever I hate them all deadly, +yet I am fain to give them good words. O, they are pestilent fellows, +they speak nothing but bodkins, and piss vinegar. Well, do what I can +in outward kindness to them, yet they do nothing but bewray my house: +as there was one that made a couple of knavish verses on my country +chimney, now in the time of my sojourning here at London; and it was +thus-- +Sir Raderic keeps no chimney cavalier, +That takes tobacco above once a year. +And another made a couple of verses on my daughter, that learns to play +on the _viol-de-gambo_-- +Her _viol-de-gambo_ is her best content; +For 'twixt her legs she holds her instrument. +Very knavish, very knavish, if you look into it, Master Recorder. Nay, +they have played many a knavish trick beside with me. Well, 'tis a +shame, indeed, there should be any such privilege for proud beggars as +Cambridge and Oxford are. But let them go; and if ever they light in my +hands, if I do not plague them, let me never return home again to see +my wife's waiting-maid! + +RECORDER. +This scorn of knights is too egregious: +But how should these young colts prove amblers, +When the old, heavy, galled jades do trot? +There shall you see a puny boy start up, +And make a theme against common lawyers; +Then the old, unwieldy camels 'gin to dance, +This fiddling boy playing a fit of mirth; +The greybeards scrub, and laugh, and cry, _Good, good! +To them again, boy; scourge the barbarians_. +But we may give the losers leave to talk; +We have the coin, then tell them laugh for me. +Yet knights and lawyers hope to see the day, +When we may share here their possessions, +And make indentures of their chaffer'd skins, +Dice of their bones to throw in merriment. + +SIR RADERIC. +O, good faith, Master Recorder, if I could see that day once? + +RECORDER. +Well, remember another day what I say: scholars are pryed into of late, +and are found to be busy fellows, disturbers of the peace. I'll say no +more; guess at my meaning. I smell a rat. + +SIR RADERIC. +I hope at length England will be wise enough, I hope so, i'faith; then +an old knight may have his wench in a corner without any satires or +epigrams. But the day is far spent, Master Recorder; and I fear by this +time the unthrift is arrived at the place appointed in Moorfields. Let +us hasten to him. [_He looks on his watch_. + +RECORDER. +Indeed, this day's subject transported us too late: [but] I think we +shall not come much too late. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +ACTUS III., SCAENA 3. + + + _Enter_ AMORETTO, _and his Page_, IMMERITO _booted_. + +AMORETTO. +Master Immerito, deliver this letter to the poser in my father's name. +Marry, withal some sprinkling, some sprinkling; _verbum sapienti sat +est_. Farewell, Master Immerito. + +IMMERITO. +I thank your worship most heartily. + +PAGE. +Is it not a shame to see this old dunce learning his induction at these +years? But let him go, I lose nothing by him; for I'll be sworn, but for +the booty of selling the parsonage, I should have gone in mine old +clothes this Christmas. A dunce, I see, is a neighbour-like brute beast: +a man may live by him. [_Aside_. + + [_AMORETTO seems to make verse_. + +AMORETTO. +A pox on it, my muse is not so witty as she was wont to be: ---- _Her +nose is like_ ---- not yet; plague on these mathematics! they have +spoiled my brain in making a verse. + +PAGE. +Hang me, if he hath any more mathematics than will serve to count the +clock, or tell the meridian hour by rumbling of his paunch. + [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +_Her nose is like_ ---- + +PAGE. +A cobbler's shoeing-horn. + +AMORETTO. +_Her nose is like a beauteous maribone_. [_Aside_. + +PAGE. +Marry, a sweet snotty mistress! [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +Faith, I do not like it yet. Ass as I was, to read a piece of Aristotle +in Greek yesternight; it hath put me out of my English vein quite. + +PAGE. +O monstrous lie! let me be a point-trusser, while I live, if he +understands any tongue but English. [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +Sirrah boy, remember me when I come in Paul's Churchyard to buy a +Ronsard and [a] Dubartas in French, and Aretine in Italian; and our +hardest writers in Spanish; they will sharpen my wits gallantly. I do +relish these tongues in some sort. O, now I do remember, I hear a +report of a poet newly come out in Hebrew; it is a pretty harsh tongue, +and telleth[97] a gentleman traveller: but come, let's haste after my +father; the fields are fitter to heavenly meditations. + [_Exit_. + +PAGE. +My masters, I could wish your presence at an admirable jest: why +presently this great linguist my master will march through Paul's +Churchyard, come to a bookbinder's shop, and with a big Italian look and +a Spanish face ask for these books in Spanish and Italian; then, turning +(through his ignorance) the wrong end of the book upward, use action on +this unknown tongue after this sort: First, look on the title, and +wrinkle his brow; next make as though he read the first page, and bite +'s lip;[98] then with his nail score the margent, as though there were +some notable conceit; and, lastly, when he thinks he hath gulled the +standers-by sufficiently, throws the book away in a rage, swearing that +he could never find books of a true print since he was last in +Joadna;[99] inquire after the next mart, and so departs. And so must I; +for by this time his contemplation is arrived at his mistress's nose +end; he is as glad as if he had taken Ostend.[100] By this time he +begins to spit, and cry, Boy, carry my cloak: and now I go to attend on +his worship. + + [_Exit_. + + + +ACTUS III., SCAENA 4. + + + _Enter_ INGENIOSO, FUROR, PHANTASMA. + +INGENIOSO. +Come, lads; this wine whets your resolution in our design: it's a needy +world with subtle spirits; and there's a gentlemanlike kind of begging, +that may beseem poets in this age. + +FUROR. +Now by the wing of nimble Mercury, +By my Thalia's silver-sounding harp, +By that celestial fire within my brain, +That gives a living genius to my lines, +Howe'er my dulled intellectual +Capers less nimbly than it did afore; +Yet will I play a hunts-up to my muse, +And make her mount from out her sluggish nest. +As high as is the highest sphere in heaven. +Awake, you paltry trulls of Helicon, +Or, by this light, I'll swagger with you straight: +You grandsire Phoebus, with your lovely eye, +The firmament's eternal vagabond, +The heaven's promoter, that doth peep and pry +Into the acts of mortal tennis-balls, +Inspire me straight with some rare delicies,[101] +Or I'll dismount thee from thy radiant coach, +And make thee poor[102] Cutchy here on earth. + +PHANTASMA. +_Currus auriga paterni_. + +INGENIOSO. +Nay, prythee, good Furor, do not rove in rhymes before thy time; thou +hast a very terrible, roaring muse, nothing but squibs and fine jerks: +quiet thyself a while, and hear thy charge. + +PHANTASMA. +_Huc ades, haec animo concipe dicta tuo_. + +INGENIOSO. +Let us on to our device, our plot, our project. That old Sir Raderic, +that new printed compendium of all iniquity, that hath not aired his +country chimney once in three winters; he that loves to live in an old +corner here at London, and affect an old wench in a nook; one that loves +to live in a narrow room, that he may with more facility in the dark +light upon his wife's waiting-maid; one that loves alike a short sermon +and a long play; one that goes to a play, to a whore, to his bed, in +circle: good for nothing in the world but to sweat nightcaps and foul +fair lawn shirts, feed a few foggy servingmen, and prefer dunces to +livings--this old Sir Raderic, Furor, it shall be thy task to cudgel +with thy thick, thwart terms; marry, at the first, give him some +sugarcandy terms,[103] and then, if he will not untie purse-strings of +his liberality, sting him with terms laid in aquafortis and gunpowder. + +FUROR. +_In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas_. +The servile current of my sliding verse +Gentle shall run into his thick-skinn'd ears; +Where it shall dwell like a magnifico, +Command his slimy sprite to honour me +For my high, tiptoe, strutting poesy: +But if his stars hath favour'd him so ill, +As to debar him by his dunghill thoughts, +Justly to esteem my verses' lowting pitch, +If his earth-rooting snout shall 'gin to scorn +My verse that giveth immortality; +Then _Bella per Emathios_-- + +PHANTASMA. +_Furor arma ministrat_. + +FUROR. +I'll shake his heart upon my verses' point, +Rip out his guts with riving poniard, +Quarter his credit with a bloody quill. + +PHANTASMA. +_Calami, atramentum, charta, libelli, +Sunt semper studiis arma parata tuis_. + +INGENIOSO. +Enough, Furor, we know thou art a nimble swaggerer with a goose-quill. +Now for you, Phantasma: leave trussing your points, and listen. + +PHANTASMA. +_Omne tulit punctum_-- + +INGENIOSO. +Mark you, Amoretto, Sir Raderic's son, to him shall thy piping poetry +and sugar-ends of verses be directed: he is one that will draw out his +pocket-glass thrice in a walk; one that dreams in a night of nothing but +musk and civet, and talks of nothing all day long but his hawk, his +hound, and his mistress; one that more admires the good wrinkle of a +boot, the curious crinkling of a silk-stocking, than all the wit in the +world; one that loves no scholar but him whose tired ears can endure +half a day together his fly-blown sonnets of his mistress, and her +loving, pretty creatures, her monkey and her puppy.[104] It shall be thy +task, Phantasma, to cut this gull's throat with fair terms; and, if he +hold fast for all thy juggling rhetoric, fall at defiance with him and +the poking-stick he wears. + +PHANTASMA. +_Simul extulit ensem_. + +INGENIOSO. +Come, brave imps,[105] gather up your spirits, and let us march on, like +adventurous knights, and discharge a hundred poetical spirits upon them. + +PHANTASMA. +_Est deus in nobis: agitante calescimus illo_. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +ACTUS III., SCAENA 5. + + + _Enter_ PHILOMUSUS, STUDIOSO. + +STUDIOSO. +Well, Philomusus, we never 'scaped so fair a scouring: why, yonder are +pursuivants out for the French doctor, and a lodging bespoken for him +and his man in Newgate. It was a terrible fear that made us cast our +hair. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And canst thou sport at our calamities, +And count'st us happy to 'scape prisonment? +Why, the wide world, that blesseth some with weal,[106] +Is to our chained thoughts a darksome jail. + +STUDIOSO. +Nay, prythee, friend, these wonted terms forego; +He doubles grief, that comments on a woe. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Why do fond men term it impiety +To send a wearisome, sad, grudging ghost +Unto his home, his long-long, lasting home? +Or let them make our life less grievous be, +Or suffer us to end our misery. + +STUDIOSO. +O no; the sentinel his watch must keep, +Until his lord do licence him to sleep. + +PHILOMUSUS. +It's time to sleep within our hollow graves, +And rest us in the darksome womb of earth: +Dead things are grav'd, our[107] bodies are no less +Pin'd and forlorn, like ghostly carcases. + +STUDIOSO. +Not long this tap of loathed life can run; +Soon cometh death, and then our woe is done: +Meantime, good Philomusus, be content; +Let's spend our days in hopeful merriment. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Curs'd be our thoughts, whene'er they dream of hope, +Bann'd be those haps, that henceforth flatter us, +When mischief dogs us still and still for ay, +From our first birth until our burying day: +In our first gamesome age, our doting sires +Carked and cared to have us lettered, +Sent us to Cambridge, where our oil is spent; +Us our kind college from the teat did tear,[108] +And forc'd us walk, before we weaned were. +From that time since wandered have we still +In the wide world, urg'd by our forced will, +Nor ever have we happy fortune tried; +Then why should hope with our rent state abide? +Nay, let us run unto the baseful cave, +Pight in the hollow ribs of craggy cliff, +Where dreary owls do shriek the live-long night, +Chasing away the birds of cheerful light; +Where yawning ghosts do howl in ghastly wise, +Where that dull, hollow-eyed, that staring sire, +Yclep'd Despair, hath his sad mansion: +Him let us find, and by his counsel we +Will end our too much irked misery. + +STUDIOSO. +To wail thy haps, argues a dastard mind. + +PHILOMUSUS. +To bear[109] too long, argues an ass's kind. + +STUDIOSO. +Long since the worst chance of the die was cast. + +PHILOMUSUS. +But why should that word _worst_ so long time last? + +STUDIOSO. +Why dost thou now these sleepy plaints commence? + +PHILOMUSUS. +Why should I e'er be dull'd with patience? + +STUDIOSO. +Wise folk do bear with, struggling cannot mend. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Good spirits must with thwarting fates contend. + +STUDIOSO. +Some hope is left our fortunes to redress. + +PHILOMUSUS. +No hope but this--e'er to be comfortless. + +STUDIOSO. +Our life's remainder gentler hearts may find. + +PHILOMUSUS. +The gentlest hearts to us will prove unkind. + + + + +ACTUS IV., SCAENA 1. + + + SIR RADERIC _and_ PRODIGO _at one corner of the stage_; RECORDER + _and_ AMORETTO _at the other: two_ PAGES _scouring of tobacco-pipes_. + +SIR RADERIC. +Master Prodigo, Master Recorder hath told you law--your land is +forfeited; and for me not to take the forfeiture were to break the +Queen's law. For mark you, it's law to take the forfeiture; therefore +not to take[110] it is to break the Queen's law; and to break the +Queen's law is not to be a good subject, and I mean to be a good +subject. Besides, I am a justice of the peace; and, being justice of the +peace, I must do justice--that is, law--that is, to take the forfeiture, +especially having taken notice of it. Marry, Master Prodigo, here are a +few shillings over and besides the bargain. + +PRODIGO. +Pox on your shillings! 'Sblood, a while ago, before he had me in the +lurch, who but my cousin Prodigo? You are welcome, my cousin Prodigo. +Take my cousin Prodigo's horse. A cup of wine for my cousin Prodigo. +Good faith, you shall sit here, good cousin Prodigo. A clean trencher +for my cousin Prodigo. Have a special care of my cousin Prodigo's +lodging. Now, Master Prodigo with a pox, and a few shillings for a +vantage. A plague on your shillings! Pox on your shillings! If it were +not for the sergeant, which dogs me at my heels, a plague on your +shillings! pox on your shillings! pox on yourself and your shillings! +pox on your worship! If I catch thee at Ostend--I dare not stay for the +sergeant. [_Exit_. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Good faith, Master Prodigo is an excellent fellow. He takes the Gulan +Ebullitio so excellently. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +He is a good liberal gentleman: he hath bestowed an ounce of tobacco +upon us; and, as long as it lasts, come cut and long tail, we'll spend +it as liberally for his sake. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Come, fill the pipe quickly, while my master is in his melancholy +humour; it's just the melancholy of a collier's horse. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +If you cough, Jack, after your tobacco, for a punishment you shall kiss +the pantofle. + +SIR RADERIC. +It's a foul oversight, that a man of worship cannot keep a wench in his +house, but there must be muttering and surmising. It was the wisest +saying that my father ever uttered, that a wife was the name of +necessity, not of pleasure; for what do men marry for, but to stock +their ground, and to have one to look to the linen, sit at the upper end +of the table, and carve up a capon; one that can wear a hood like a +hawk, and cover her foul face with a fan. But there's no pleasure +always to be tied to a piece of mutton; sometimes a mess of stewed broth +will do well, and an unlaced rabbit is best of all. Well, for mine own +part, I have no great cause to complain, for I am well-provided of three +bouncing wenches, that are mine own fee-simple; one of them I am +presently to visit, if I can rid myself cleanly of this company. Let me +see how the day goes [_he pulls his watch out_]. Precious coals! the +time is at hand; I must meditate on an excuse to be gone. + +RECORDER. +The which, I say, is grounded on the statute I spake of before, enacted +in the reign of Henry VI. + +AMORETTO. +It is a plain case, whereon I mooted[111] in our Temple, and that was +this: put case, there be three brethren, John a Nokes, John a Nash, and +John a Stile. John a Nokes the elder, John a Nash the younger, and John +a Stile the youngest of all. John a Nash the younger dieth without issue +of his body lawfully begotten. Whether shall his lands ascend to John a +Nokes the elder, or descend to John a Stile the youngest of all? The +answer is, the lands do collaterally descend, not ascend. + +RECORDER. +Very true; and for a proof hereof I will show you a place in Littleton +which is very pregnant in this point. + + + +ACTUS IV., SCAENA 2. + + + _Enter_ INGENIOSO, FUROR, PHANTASMA. + +INGENIOSO. +I'll pawn my wits, that is, my revenues, my land, my money, and +whatsoever I have, for I have nothing but my wit, that they are at hand. +Why, any sensible snout may wind Master Amoretto and his pomander, +Master Recorder and his two neat's feet that wear no socks, Sir Raderic +by his rammish complexion; _Olet Gorgonius hircum, sicut Lupus in +fabula_. Furor, fire the touch-box of your wit: Phantasma, let your +invention play tricks like an ape: begin thou, Furor, and open like a +flap-mouthed hound: follow thou, Phantasma, like a lady's puppy: and as +for me, let me alone; I'll come after, like a water-dog, that will shake +them off when I have no use of them. My masters, the watchword is given. +Furor, discharge. + +FUROR to SIR RADERIC. +The great projector of the thunderbolts, +He that is wont to piss whole clouds of rain +Into the earth, vast gaping urinal, +Which that one-ey'd subsizer of the sky, +Dan Phoebus, empties by calidity; +He and his townsmen planets brings to thee +Most fatty lumps of earth's fecundity.[112] + +SIR RADERIC. +Why, will this fellow's English break the Queen's peace? +I will not seem to regard him. + +PHANTASMA _to_ AMORETTO. +[_Reads from a Horace, addressing himself_.] +_Mecaenas, atavis edite regibus, +O, et praesidium et dulce decus meum, +Dii faciant votis vela secunda tuis_. + +INGENIOSO. +God save you, good Master Recorder, and good fortunes follow your +deserts. +I think I have cursed him sufficiently in few words. [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +What have we here? three begging soldiers? +Come you from Ostend or from Ireland? + +PAGE. +_Cujum pecus? an Melibaei?_ I have vented all the Latin one man had. + +PHANTASMA. +_Quid dicam amplius? domini similis os_. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +Let him [not] alone, I pray thee. To him again: tickle him there! + +PHANTASMA. +_Quam dispari domino dominaris?_ + +RECORDER. +Nay, that's plain in Littleton; for if that fee-simple and fee-tail be +put together, it is called hotch-potch. Now, this word hotch-potch in +English is a pudding; for in such a pudding is not commonly one thing +only, but one thing with another. + +AMORETTO. +I think I do remember this also at a mooting in our Temple. So then this +hotch-potch seems a term of similitude? + +FUROR to SIR RADERIC. +Great Capricornus, of thy head take keep: +Good Virgo, watch, while that thy worship sleep; +And when thy swelling vents amain, +Then Pisces be thy sporting chamberlain. + +SIR RADERIC. +I think the devil hath sent some of his family to torment me. + +AMORETTO. +There is tail-general and tail-special, and Littleton is very copious in +that theme; for tail-general is when lands are given to a man and his +heirs of his body begotten; tail-special is when lands are given to a +man and to his wife, and to the heirs of their two bodies lawfully +begotten; and that is called tail-special. + +SIR RADERIC. +Very well; and for his oath I will give a distinction. There is a +material oath and a formal oath; the formal oath may be broken, the +material may not be broken: for mark you, sir, the law is to take place +before the conscience, and therefore you may, using me your councillor, +cast him in the suit. There wants nothing to be full meaning of this +place. + +PHANTASMA. +_Nihil hic nisi carmina desunt_. + +INGENIOSO. +An excellent observation, in good faith. See how the old fox teacheth +the young cub to worry a sheep; or rather sits himself, like an old +goose, hatching the addle brain of Master Amoretto. There is no fool to +the satin fool, the velvet fool, the perfumed fool; and therefore the +witty tailors of this age put them under colour of kindness into a pair +of cloth bags, where a voider will not serve the turn. And there is no +knave to the barbarous knave, the moulting knave, the pleading +knave.--What, ho! Master Recorder? Master _Noverint universi per +presentes_,--not a word he, unless he feels it in his fist. + +PHANTASMA. +_Mitto tibi merulas, cancros imitare legendo_. + +SIR RADERIC _to_ FUROR. +Fellow, what art thou, that art so bold? + +FUROR. +I am the bastard of great Mercury, +Got on Thalia when she was asleep: +My gaudy grandsire, great Apollo hight,[113] +Born was, I hear, but that my luck was ill, +To all the land upon the forked hill. + +PHANTASMA. +_O crudelis Alexi, nil mea carmina curas? +Nil nostri miserere? mori me denique coges?_ + +SIR RADERIC _to_ PAGE. +If you use them thus, my master is a justice of peace, and will send +you all to the gallows. + +PHANTASMA. +_Hei mihi, quod domino non licet ire tuo?_[114] + +INGENIOSO. +Good Master Recorder, let me retain you this term--for my cause, good +Master Recorder. + +RECORDER. +I am retained already on the contrary part. I have taken my fee; +begone, begone. + +INGENIOSO. +It's his meaning I should come off.[115] Why, here is the true style of +a villain, the true faith of a lawyer; it is usual with them to be +bribed on the one side, and then to take a fee of the other; to plead +weakly, and to be bribed and rebribed on the one side, then to be fee'd +and refee'd of the other; till at length, _per varios casus_, by putting +the case so often, they make their clients so lank, that they may case +them up in a comb-case, and pack them home from the term, as though they +had travelled to London to sell their horse only; and, having lost their +fleeces, live afterward like poor shorn sheep. + +FUROR. +The gods above, that know great Furor's fame, +And do adore grand poet Furor's name, +Granted long since at heaven's high parliament, +That whoso Furor shall immortalise, +No yawning goblins shall frequent his grave; +Nor any bold, presumptuous cur shall dare +To lift his leg against his sacred dust. +Where'er I have my rhymes, thence vermin fly, +All, saving that foul-fac'd vermin poverty. +This sucks the eggs of my invention, +Evacuates my wit's full pigeon-house. +Now may it please thy generous dignity +To take this vermin napping, as he lies +In the true trap of liberality, +I'll cause the Pleiades to give thee thanks; +I'll write thy name within the sixteenth sphere: +I'll make th'Antarctic pole to kiss thy toe. +And Cynthia to do homage to thy tail. + +SIR RADERIC. +Precious coals! thou a man of worship and justice too? It's even so, +he is either a madman or a conjuror. It were well if his words were +examined, to see if they be the Queen's or no. + +PHANTASMA. +_Nunc si nos audis, tu qui es divinus Apollo, +Dic mihi, qui nummos non habet, unde petat?_ + +AMORETTO. +I am still haunted with these needy Latinist fellows.--The best counsel +I can give is, to be gone. + +PHANTASMA. +_Quod peto da, Caie; non peto consilium_. + +AMORETTO. +Fellow, look to your brains; you are mad, you are mad. + +PHANTASMA. +_Semel insanivimus omnes_. + +AMORETTO. +Master Recorder, is it not a shame that a gallant cannot walk the street +quietly for needy fellows, and that, after there is a statute come out +against begging? [_He strikes his breast_. + +PHANTASMA. +_Pectora percussit, pectus quoque robora fiunt_. + +RECORDER. +I warrant you, they are some needy graduates; the university breaks wind +twice a year, and let's fly such as these are. + +INGENIOSO. +So ho, Master Recorder. You that are one of the devil's fellow-commoners; +one that sizeth the devil's butteries, sins, and perjuries very lavishly; +one that are so dear to Lucifer, that he never puts you out of commons +for nonpayment; you that live, like a sumner, upon the sins of the +people; you whose vocation serves to enlarge the territories of hell +that, but for you, had been no bigger than a pair of stocks or a +pillory; you, that hate a scholar because he descries your ass's ears; +you that are a plague-stuffed cloak-bag of all iniquity, which the +grand serving-man of hell will one day truss up behind him, and carry +to his smoky wardrobe. + +RECORDER. +What frantic fellow art thou, that art possessed with the spirit of +malediction? + +FUROR. +Vile, muddy clod of base, unhallowed clay, +Thou slimy-sprighted, unkind Saracen, +When thou wert born, Dame Nature cast her calf; +For age and time hath made thee a great ox, +And now thy grinding jaws devour quite +The fodder due to us of heavenly spright. + +PHANTASMA. +_Nefasto te posuit die, +Quicunque primum, et sacrilegâ manu +Produxit arbos in nepotum +Perniciem obpropriumque pugi_. + +INGENIOSO. +I pray you, Monsieur Ploidon, of what university was the first lawyer +of? None, forsooth: for your law is ruled by reason, and not by art; +great reason, indeed, that a Polydenist should be mounted on a trapped +palfry with a round velvet dish on his head, to keep warm the broth of +his wit, and a long gown that makes him look like a _Cedant arma togae_, +whilst the poor Aristotelians walk in a short cloak and a close Venetian +hose, hard by the oyster-wife; and the silly poet goes muffled in his +cloak to escape the counter. And you, Master Amoretto, that art the +chief carpenter of sonnets, a privileged vicar for the lawless marriage +of ink and paper, you that are good for nothing but to commend in a set +speech, to colour the quantity of your mistress's stool, and swear it is +most sweet civet; it's fine, when that puppet-player Fortune must put +such a Birchen-Lane post in so good a suit, such an ass in so good +fortune! + +AMORETTO. +Father, shall I draw? + +SIR RADERIC. +No, son; keep thy peace, and hold the peace. + +INGENIOSO. +Nay, do not draw, lest you chance to bepiss your credit. + +FUROR. +_Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo_. +Fearful Megaera, with her snaky twine, +Was cursed dam unto thy damned self; +And Hircan tigers in the desert rocks +Did foster up thy loathed, hateful life; +Base Ignorance the wicked cradle rock'd, +Vile Barbarism was wont to dandle thee; +Some wicked hellhound tutored thy youth. +And all the grisly sprights of griping hell +With mumming look hath dogg'd thee since thy birth: +See how the spirits do hover o'er thy head, +As thick as gnats in summer eveningtide. +Baleful Alecto, prythee, stay awhile, +Till with my verses I have rack'd his soul; +And when thy soul departs, a cock may be +No blank at all in hell's great lottery-- +Shame sits and howls upon thy loathed grave, +And howling, vomits up in filthy guise +The hidden stories of thy villanies. + +SIR RADERIC. +The devil, my masters, the devil in the likeness of a poet! Away, +my masters, away! + +PHANTASMA. +_Arma, virumque cano. +Quem fugis, ah demens_? + +AMORETTO. +Base dog, it is not the custom in Italy to draw upon every idle cur that +barks; and, did it stand with my reputation--O, well, go to; thank my +father for your lives. + +INGENIOSO. +Fond gull, whom I would undertake to bastinado quickly, though there +were a musket planted in thy mouth, are not you the young drover of +livings Academico told me of, that haunts steeple fairs? Base worm, +must thou needs discharge thy carbine[116] to batter down the walls +of learning? + +AMORETTO. +I think I have committed some great sin against my mistress, that I am +thus tormented with notable villains, bold peasants. I scorn, I scorn +them! [_Exit_. + +FUROR _to_ RECORDER. +Nay, prythee, good sweet devil, do not thou part; +I like an honest devil, that will show +Himself in a true hellish, smoky hue: +How like thy snout is to great Lucifer's? +Such talents[117] had he, such a gleering eye, +And such a cunning sleight in villany. + +RECORDER. +O, the impudency of this age! And if I take you in my quarters-- + [_Exit_. + +FUROR. +Base slave, I'll hang thee on a crossed rhyme, +And quarter-- + +INGENIOSO. +He is gone; Furor, stay thy fury. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +I pray you, gentlemen, give three groats for a shilling. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +What will you give me for a good old suit of apparel? + +PHANTASMA. +_Habet et musca splenem, et formicae sua bilis inest_. + +INGENIOSO. +Gramercy,[118] good lads. This is our share in happiness, to torment +the happy. Let's walk along and laugh at the jest; it's no staying here +long, lest Sir Raderic's army of bailiffs and clowns be sent to +apprehend us. + +PHANTASMA. +_Procul hinc, procul ite, profani_. +I'll lash Apollo's self with jerking hand, +Unless he pawn his wit to buy me land. + + + +ACTUS IV., SCAENA 3. + + + BURBAGE, KEMP. + +BURBAGE. +Now, Will Kemp, if we can entertain these scholars at a low rate, it +will be well; they have oftentimes a good conceit in a part. + +KEMP. +It's true, indeed, honest Dick, but the slaves are somewhat proud; and +besides, it's a good sport in a part to see them never speak in their +walk, but at the end of the stage; just as though, in walking with a +fellow, we should never speak but at a stile, a gate, or a ditch, where +a man can go no further. I was once at a comedy in Cambridge, and there +I saw a parasite make faces and mouths of all sorts on this fashion. + +BURBAGE. +A little teaching will mend these faults; and it may be, besides, they +will be able to pen a part. + +KEMP. +Few of the university pen play well; they smell too much of that writer +Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis, and talk too much of Proserpina and +Jupiter. Why, here's our fellow Shakespeare puts them all down--ay, and +Ben Jonson too. O, that Ben Jonson is a pestilent fellow; he brought up +Horace, giving the poets a pill;[119] but our fellow Shakespeare hath +given him a purge that made him bewray his credit. + +BURBAGE. +It's a shrewd fellow, indeed. I wonder these scholars stay so long; they +appointed to be here presently, that we might try them. O, here they +come. + +STUDIOSO. +Take heart, these lets our clouded thoughts refine; +The sun shines brightest when it 'gins decline. + +BURBAGE. +Master Philomusus and Master Studioso, God save you. + +KEMP. +Master Philomusus and Master Otioso,[120] well-met. + +PHILOMUSUS. +The same to you, good Master Burbage. What, Master Kemp, how doth the +Emperor of Germany?[121] + +STUDIOSO. +God save you, Master Kemp; welcome, Master Kemp, from dancing the morris +over the Alps. + +KEMP. +Well, you merry knaves, you may come to the honour of it one day. Is it +not better to make a fool of the world as I have done, than to be fooled +of the world, as you scholars are? But be merry, my lads; you have +happened upon the most excellent vocation in the world for money. They +come north and south to bring it to our playhouse; and for honours, who +of more report than Dick Burbage and Will Kemp? He is not counted a +gentleman that knows not Dick Burbage and Will Kemp. There's not a +country wench that can dance Sellenger's round,[122] but can talk of +Dick Burbage and Will Kemp. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Indeed, Master Kemp, you are very famous; but that is as well for works +in print, as your part in cue.[123] + +KEMP. +You are at Cambridge still with size cue, and be lusty humorous poets. +You must untruss; I rode this my last circuit purposely, because I would +be judge of your actions. + +BURBAGE. +Master Studioso, I pray you, take some part in this book, and act it, +that I may see what will fit you best. I think your voice would serve +for Hieronimo; observe how I act it, and then imitate me. + [_He recites_. + +STUDIOSO. +Who call Hieronimo from his naked bed? +And_, &c.[124] + +BURBAGE. +You will do well--after a while. + +KEMP. + +Now for you. Methinks you should belong to my tuition; and your face, +methinks, would be good for a foolish mayor or a foolish justice of +peace. Mark me:-- + +Forasmuch as there be two states of a commonwealth, the one of peace, +the other of tranquillity; two states of war, the one of discord, the +other of dissension; two states of an incorporation, the one of the +aldermen, the other of the brethren; two states of magistrates, the one +of governing, the other of bearing rule. Now, as I said even now--for a +good thing[125] cannot be said too often. Virtue is the shoeing-horn of +justice; that is, virtue is the shoeing-horn of doing well; that is, +virtue is the shoeing-horn of doing justly; it behoveth me, and is my +part to commend this shoeing-horn unto you. I hope this word +shoeing-horn doth not offend any of you, my worshipful brethren; for +you, being the worshipful headsmen of the town, know well what the horn +meaneth. Now therefore I am determined not only to teach, but also to +instruct, not only the ignorant, but also the simple; not only what is +their duty towards their betters, but also what is their duty towards +their superiors. + +Come, let me see how you can do; sit down in the chair. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Forasmuch as there be, &c. + +KEMP. +Thou wilt do well in time, if thou wilt be ruled by thy betters, that +is, by myself, and such grave aldermen of the playhouse as I am. + +BURBAGE. +I like your face, and the proportion of your body for Richard the Third. +I pray, Master Philomusus, let me see you act a little of it. + +PHILOMUSUS. +_Now is the winter of our discontent +Made glorious summer by the sun of York_. + +BURBAGE. +Very well, I assure you. Well, Master Philomusus and Master Studioso, we +see what ability you are of; I pray, walk with us to our fellows, and +we'll agree presently. + +PHILOMUSUS. +We will follow you straight, Master Burbage. + +KEMP. +It's good manners to follow us, Master Philomusus and Master Otioso. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And must the basest trade yield us relief? +Must we be practis'd to those leaden spouts, +That nought down vent but what they do receive? +Some fatal fire hath scorch'd our fortune's wing, +And still we fall, as we do upward spring? +As we strive upward on the vaulted sky, +We fall, and feel our hateful destiny. + +STUDIOSO. +Wonder it is, sweet friend, thy pleading breath, +So like the sweet blast of the south-west wind, +Melts not those rocks of ice, those mounts of snow,[126] +Congeal'd in frozen hearts of men below. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Wonder, as well thou may'st, why 'mongst the waves-- +'Mongst the tempestuous waves on raging sea, +The wailing merchant can no pity crave. +What cares the wind and weather for their pains? +One strikes the sail, another turns the same; +He shakes the main, another takes the oar, +Another laboureth and taketh pain +To pump the sea into the sea again: +Still they take pains, still the loud winds do blow, +Till the ship's prouder mast be laid below. + +STUDIOSO. +Fond world, that ne'er think'st on that aged man-- +That Ariosto's old swift-paced man, +Whose name is Time, who never lins to run, +Loaden with bundles of decayed names, +The which in Lethe's lake he doth entomb, +Save only those which swan-like scholars take, +And do deliver from that greedy lake. +Inglorious may they live, inglorious die, +That suffer learning live in misery. + +PHILOMUSUS. +What caren they what fame their ashes have, +When once they're coop'd up in the silent grave? + +STUDIOSO. +If for fair fame they hope not when they die. +Yet let them fear grave's staining infamy. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Their spendthrift heirs will those firebrands quench, +Swaggering full moistly on a tavern's bench. + +STUDIOSO. +No shamed sire, for all his glosing heir, +Must long be talk'd of in the empty air. +Believe me, thou that art my second self, +My vexed soul is not disquieted, +For that I miss is gaudy-painted state, +Whereat my fortunes fairly aim'd of late: +For what am I, the mean'st of many mo, +That, earning profit, are repaid with woe. +But this it is that doth my soul torment: +To think so many activable wits, +That might contend with proudest bards[127] of Po, +Sit now immur'd within their private cells, +Drinking a long lank watching candle's smoke, +Spending the marrow of their flow'ring age +In fruitless poring on some worm-eat leaf: +When their deserts shall seem of due to claim +A cheerful crop of fruitful swelling sheaf; +Cockle their harvest is, and weeds their grain, +Contempt their portion, their possession, pain. +Scholars must frame to live at a low sail. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Ill-sailing, where there blows no happy gale! + +STUDIOSO. +Our ship is ruin'd, all her tackling rent. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And all her gaudy furniture is spent. + +STUDIOSO. +Tears be the waves whereon her ruins bide. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And sighs the winds that waste her broken side. + +STUDIOSO. +Mischief the pilot is the ship to steer. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And woe the passenger this ship doth bear. + +STUDIOSO. +Come, Philomusus, let us break this chat. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And break, my heart! O, would I could break that! + +STUDIOSO. +Let's learn to act that tragic part we have. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Would I were silent actor in my grave! + + + + +ACTUS V., SCAENA 1. + + + PHILOMUSUS _and_ STUDIOSO _become fiddlers: with their concert_. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And tune, fellow-fiddlers; Studioso and I are ready. + + [_They tune_. + +STUDIOSO, _going aside, sayeth_, +Fair fell good Orpheus, that would rather be +King of a molehill than a keisar's slave: +Better it is 'mongst fiddlers to be chief, +Than at [a] player's trencher beg relief. +But is't not strange, this mimic ape should prize +Unhappy scholars at a hireling rate? +Vile world, that lifts them up to high degree, +And treads us down in groveling misery. +England affords those glorious vagabonds, +That carried erst their fardles on their backs, +Coursers to ride on through the gazing streets, +Sweeping[128] it in their glaring satin suits, +And pages to attend their masterships: +With mouthing words that better wits have framed, +They purchase lands, and now esquires are made.[129] + +PHILOMUSUS. +Whate'er they seem, being ev'n at the best, +They are but sporting fortune's scornful jest. + +STUDIOSO. +So merry fortune's wont from rags to take +Some ragged groom, and him a[130] gallant make. + +PHILOMUSUS. +The world and fortune hath play'd on us too long. + +STUDIOSO. +Now to the world we fiddle must a song. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Our life is a plain-song with cunning penn'd, +Whose highest pitch in lowest base doth end. +But see, our fellows unto play are bent; +If not our minds, let's tune our instrument. + +STUDIOSO. +Let's in a private song our cunning try, +Before we sing to stranger company. + + [PHILOMUSUS _sings. They tune_. + +How can he sing, whose voice is hoarse with care? +How can he play, whose heart-strings broken are? +How can he keep his rest, that ne'er found rest? +How can he keep his time, whom time ne'er bless'd? +Only he can in sorrow bear a part +With untaught hand and with untuned heart. +Fond hearts, farewell, that swallow'd have my youth; +Adieu, vain muses, that have wrought my ruth; +Repent, fond sire, that train'dst thy hapless son +In learning's lore, since bounteous alms are done. +Cease, cease, harsh tongue: untuned music, rest; +Entomb thy sorrows in thy hollow breast. + +STUDIOSO. +Thanks, Philomusus, for thy pleasant song. +O, had this world a touch of juster grief, +Hard rocks would weep for want of our relief. + +PHILOMUSUS. +The cold of woe hath quite untun'd my voice, +And made it too-too hard for list'ning ear: +Time was, in time of my young fortune's spring, +I was a gamesome boy, and learn'd to sing-- +But say, fellow-musicians, you know best whither we go: at what door +must we imperiously beg? + +JACK FIDDLERS. +Here dwells Sir Raderic and his son. It may be now at this good time of +new year he will be liberal. Let us stand near, and draw. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Draw, callest thou it? Indeed, it is the most desperate kind of service +that ever I adventured on. + + + +ACTUS V., SCAENA 2. + + + _Enter the two_ PAGES. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +My master bids me tell you that he is but newly fallen asleep, and you, +base slaves, must come and disquiet them! What, never a basket of +capons? mass, and if he comes, he'll commit you all. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +Sirrah Jack, shall you and I play Sir Raderic and Amoretto, and reward +these fiddlers? I'll my Master Amoretto, and give them as much as he +useth. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +And I my old Master Sir Raderic. Fiddlers, play. I'll reward you; faith, +I will. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +Good faith, this pleaseth my sweet mistress admirably. Cannot you play +_Twitty, twatty, fool_? or, _To be at her, to be at her_? + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Have you never a song of Master Dowland's making? + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +Or, _Hos ego versiculos feci_, &c. A pox on it! my Master Amoretto +useth it very often: I have forgotten the verse. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Sir Theon,[131] here are a couple of fellows brought before me, and I +know not how to decide the cause: look in my Christmas-book, who brought +me a present. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +On New-Year's day, goodman Fool brought you a present; but goodman Clown +brought you none. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Then the right is on goodman Fool's side. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +My mistress is so sweet, that all the physicians in the town cannot make +her stink; she never goes to the stool. O, she is a most sweet little +monkey. Please your worship, good father, yonder are some would speak +with you. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +What, have they brought me anything? If they have not, say I take +physic. [SIR RADERIC'S _voice within_.] Forasmuch, fiddlers, as I am of +the peace, I must needs love all weapons and instruments that are for +the peace, among which I account your fiddles, because they can neither +bite nor scratch. Marry, now, finding your fiddles to jar, and knowing +that jarring is a cause of breaking the peace, I am, by the virtue of +my office and place, to commit your quarrelling fiddles to close +prisonment in their cases. [_The fiddlers call within_.] Sha ho! +Richard! Jack! + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +The fool within mars our play without. Fiddlers, set it on my head. I +use to size my music, or go on the score for it: I'll pay it at the +quarter's end. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Farewell, good Pan! sweet Thamyras,[132] adieu! Dan Orpheus, a thousand +times farewell! + +JACK FIDDLERS. +You swore you would pay us for our music. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +For that I'll give Master Recorder's law, and that is this: there is a +double oath--a formal oath and a material oath; a material oath cannot +be broken, the formal oath may be broken. I swore formally. Farewell, +fiddlers. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Farewell, good wags, whose wits praiseworth I deem, +Though somewhat waggish; so we all have been. + +STUDIOSO. +Faith, fellow-fiddlers, here's no silver found in this place; no, not so +much as the usual Christmas entertainment of musicians, a black jack of +beer and a Christmas pie. + + [_They walk aside from their fellows_. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Where'er we in the wide world playing be, +Misfortune bears a part, and mars our melody; +Impossible to please with music's strain, +Our heart-strings broke are, ne'er to be tun'd again. + +STUDIOSO. +Then let us leave this baser fiddling trade; +For though our purse should mend, our credits fade. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Full glad am I to see thy mind's free course. +Declining from this trencher-waiting trade. +Well, may I now disclose in plainer guise +What erst I meant to work in secret wise; +My busy conscience check'd my guilty soul, +For seeking maintenance by base vassalage; +And then suggested to my searching thought +A shepherd's poor, secure, contented life, +On which since then I doated every hour, +And meant this same hour in [a] sadder plight, +To have stol'n from thee in secrecy of night. + +STUDIOSO. +Dear friend, thou seem'st to wrong my soul too much, +Thinking that Studioso would account +That fortune sour which thou accountest sweet; +Not[133] any life to me can sweeter be, +Than happy swains in plain of Arcady. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Why, then, let's both go spend our little store +In the provision of due furniture, +A shepherd's hook, a tar-box, and a scrip: +And haste unto those sheep-adorned hills, +Where if not bless our fortunes, we may bless our wills. + +STUDIOSO. +True mirth we may enjoy in thacked stall, +Nor hoping higher rise, nor fearing lower fall. + +PHILOMUSUS. +We'll therefore discharge these fiddlers. Fellow-musicians, we are sorry +that it hath been your ill-hap to have had us in your company, that are +nothing but screech-owls and night-ravens, able to mar the purest +melody: and, besides, our company is so ominous that, where we are, +thence liberality is packing. Our resolution is therefore to wish you +well, and to bid you farewell. Come, Studioso, let us haste away, +Returning ne'er to this accursed place. + + + +ACTUS V., SCAENA 3. + + + _Enter_ INGENIOSO, ACADEMICO. + +INGENIOSO. +Faith, Academico, it's the fear of that fellow--I mean, the sign of the +sergeant's head--that makes me to be so hasty to be gone. To be brief, +Academico, writs are out for me to apprehend me for my plays; and now I +am bound for the Isle of Dogs. Furor and Phantasma comes after, removing +the camp as fast they can. Farewell, _mea si quid vota valebunt_. + +ACADEMICO. +Faith, Ingenioso, I think the university is a melancholic life; for +there a good fellow cannot sit two hours in his chamber, but he shall be +troubled with the bill of a drawer or a vintner. But the point is, I +know not how to better myself, and so I am fain to take it. + + + +ACTUS V., SCAENA 4. + + + PHILOMUSUS, STUDIOSO, FUROR, PHANTASMA. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Who have we there? Ingenioso and Academico? + +STUDIOSO. +The very same; who are those? Furor and Phantasma? + + [FUROR _takes a louse off his sleeve_. + +FUROR. +And art thou there, six-footed Mercury? + + [PHANTASMA, _with his hand in his bosom_. + +Are rhymes become such creepers nowadays? +Presumptuous louse, that doth good manners lack, +Daring to creep upon poet Furor's back! + + _Multum refert quibuscum vixeris: + Non videmus manticae quod in tergo est_. + +PHILOMUSUS. +What, Furor and Phantasma too, our old college fellows? Let us encounter +them all. Ingenioso, Academico, Furor, Phantasma, God save you all. + +STUDIOSO. +What, Ingenioso, Academico, Furor, Phantasma, how do you, brave lads? + +INGENIOSO. +What, our dear friends Philomusus and Studioso? + +ACADEMICO. +What, our old friends Philomusus and Studioso? + +FUROR. +What, my supernatural friends? + +INGENIOSO. +What news with you in this quarter of the city? + +PHILOMUSUS. +We've run[134] through many trades, yet thrive by none, +Poor in content, and only rich in moan. +A shepherd's life, thou know'st I wont t'admire, +Turning a Cambridge apple by the fire: +To live in humble dale we now are bent, +Spending our days in fearless merriment. + +STUDIOSO. +We'll teach each tree, ev'n of the hardest kind, +To keep our woful name within their rind: +We'll watch our flock, and yet we'll sleep withal: +We'll tune our sorrows to the water's fall. +The woods and rocks with our shrill songs we'll bless; +Let them prove kind, since men prove pitiless. +But say, whither are you and your company jogging? it seems by your +apparel you are about to wander. + +INGENIOSO. +Faith we are fully bent to be lords of misrule in the world's wide +heath: our voyage is to the Isle of Dogs, there where the blatant beast +doth rule and reign, renting the credit of whom it please. +Where serpents' tongues the penmen are to write, +Where cats do wawl by day, dogs by night. +There shall engorged venom be my ink, +My pen a sharper quill of porcupine, +My stained paper this sin-loaden earth. +There will I write in lines shall never die, +Our seared lordings' crying villany. + +PHILOMUSUS. +A gentle wit thou hadst, nor is it blame +To turn so tart, for time hath wrong'd the same. + +STUDIOSO. +And well thou dost from this fond earth to flit, +Where most men's pens are hired parasites. + +ACADEMICO. +Go happily; I wish thee store of gall +Sharply to wound the guilty world withal. + +PHILOMUSUS. +But say, what shall become of Furor and Phantasma? + +INGENIOSO. +These my companions still with me must wend. + +ACADEMICO. +Fury and Fancy on good wits attend. + +FUROR. +When I arrive within the Isle of Dogs, +Dan Phoebus, I will make thee kiss the pump. +Thy one eye pries in every draper's stall, +Yet never thinks on poet Furor's need. +Furor is lousy, great Furor lousy is; +I'll make thee rue[135] this lousy case, i-wis. +And thou, my sluttish[136] laundress, Cynthia, +Ne'er think'st on Furor's linen, Furor's shirt. +Thou and thy squirting boy Endymion +Lies slav'ring still upon a lawless couch. +Furor will have thee carted through the dirt, +That mak'st great poet Furor want his shirt. + +INGENIOSO. +Is not here a trusty[137] dog, that dare bark so boldly at the moon? + +PHILOMUSUS. +Exclaiming want, and needy care and cark, +Would make the mildest sprite to bite and bark. + +PHANTASMA. +_Canes timidi vehementius latrant_. There are certain burrs in the Isle +of Dogs called, in our English tongue, men of worship; certain briars, +as the Indians call them; as we say, certain lawyers; certain great +lumps of earth, as the Arabians call them; certain grocers, as we term +them. _Quos ego--sed motos praestat componere fluctus_. + +INGENIOSO. +We three unto the snarling island haste, +And there our vexed breath in snarling waste. + +PHILOMUSUS. +We will be gone unto the downs of Kent, +Sure footing we shall find in humble dale; +Our fleecy flock we'll learn to watch and ward, +In July's heat, and cold of January. +We'll chant our woes upon an oaten reed, +Whiles bleating flock upon their supper feed. + +STUDIOSO. +So shall we shun the company of men, +That grows more hateful, as the world grows old. +We'll teach the murm'ring brooks in tears to flow, +And steepy rock to wail our passed woe. + +ACADEMICO. +Adieu, you gentle spirits, long adieu; +Your wits I love, and your ill-fortunes rue. +I'll haste me to my Cambridge cell again; +My fortunes cannot wax, but they may wain. + +INGENIOSO. +Adieu, good shepherds; happy may you live. +And if hereafter in some secret shade +You shall recount poor scholars' miseries, +Vouchsafe to mention with tear-swelling eyes +Ingenioso's thwarting destinies. +And thou, still happy Academico, +That still may'st rest upon the muses' bed, +Enjoying there a quiet slumbering, +When thou repair'st[138] unto thy Granta's stream, +Wonder at thine own bliss, pity our case, +That still doth tread ill-fortune's endless maze; +Wish them, that are preferment's almoners, +To cherish gentle wits in their green bud; +For had not Cambridge been to me unkind, +I had not turn'd to gall a milky mind. + +PHILOMUSUS. +I wish thee of good hap a plenteous store; +Thy wit deserves no less, my love can wish no more. +Farewell, farewell, good Academico; +Ne'er may'st thou taste of our fore-passed woe. +We wish thy fortunes may attain their due.-- +Furor and you, Phantasma, both adieu, + +ACADEMICO. +Farewell, farewell, farewell; O, long farewell! +The rest my tongue conceals, let sorrow tell. + +PHANTASMA. +_Et longum vale, inquit Iola_. + +FUROR. +Farewell, my masters; Furor's a masty dog, +Nor can with a smooth glosing farewell cog. +Nought can great Furor do but bark and howl, +And snarl, and grin, and carl, and touse the world, +Like a great swine, by his long, lean-ear'd lugs. +Farewell, musty, dusty, rusty, fusty London; +Thou art not worthy of great Furor's wit, +That cheatest virtue of her due desert, +And suffer'st great Apollo's son to want. + +INGENIOSO. +Nay, stay awhile, and help me to content +So many gentle wits' attention, +Who ken the laws of every comic stage, +And wonder that our scene ends discontent. +Ye airy wits subtle, +Since that few scholars' fortunes are content, +Wonder not if our scene ends discontent. +When that your fortunes reach their due content, +Then shall our scene end here in merriment. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Perhaps some happy wit with seely[139] hand +Hereafter may record the pastoral +Of the two scholars of Parnassus hill, +And then our scene may end, and have content. + +INGENIOSO. +Meantime, if there be any spiteful ghost, +That smiles to see poor scholars' miseries, +Cold is his charity, his wit too dull: +We scorn his censure, he's a jeering gull. +But whatsoe'er refined sprites there be, +That deeply groan at our calamity: +Whose breath is turn'd to sighs, whose eyes are wet, +To see bright arts bent to their latest set; +Whence never they again their heads shall rear, +To bless our art-disgracing hemisphere, +Let them. | + | +FUROR. | +Let them. | all give us a plaudite. + | +PHANTASMA. | +Let them. + +ACADEMICO. | +And none but them. | + | +PHILOMUSUS. | give us a plaudite. +And none but them. | + | +STUDIOSO. | +And none but them. | + + +FINIS. + + + + + + +WILY BEGUILED. + + + + +_EDITION. + + +A Pleasant Comedie, called Wily Begvilde. The Chiefe Actors be these: +A poore scholler, a rich Foole, and a Knaue at a shifte. At London, +Printed by H.L. for Clement Knight, and are to be solde at his Shop, +in Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the Holy Lambe_. 1606. 4to. + +[There were later editions in 1623, 1635, and 1638, all in 4to. That of +1606 is the most correct. + +Hawkins, who included this piece in his collection, observes: "_Wily +Beguiled_ is a regular and very pleasing Comedy; and if it were +judiciously adapted to the manners of the times, would make no +contemptible appearance on the modern stage."] + + + + +SPECTRUM, THE PROLOGUE. + +What, ho! where are these paltry players? still poring in their papers, +and never perfect? For shame, come forth; your audience stay so long, +their eyes wax dim with expectation. + + _Enter one of the_ PLAYERS. + +How now, my honest rogue? What play shall we have here to-night? + +PLAYER. +Sir, you may look upon the title. + +PROLOGUE. +What, _Spectrum_ once again? Why, noble Cerberus, nothing but patch-panel +stuff, old gallymawfries, and cotton-candle eloquence? Out, you bawling +bandog! fox-furred slave! you dried stock-fish, you, out of my sight! + + [_Exit the_ PLAYER. + +Well, 'tis no matter! I'll sit me down and see it; and, for fault of a +better, I'll supply the place of a scurvy prologue. + + Spectrum is a looking-glass, indeed, + Wherein a man a history may read + Of base conceits and damned roguery: + The very sink of hell-bred villany. + + _Enter a_ JUGGLER. + +JUGGLER. +Why, how now, humorous George? What, as melancholy as a mantle-tree? +Will you see any tricks of legerdemain, sleight of hand, cleanly +conveyance, or _deceptio visus_? What will you see, gentleman, to drive +you out of these dumps. + +PROLOGUE. +Out, you soused gurnet, you woolfist! Begone, I say, and bid the players +despatch, and come away quickly; and tell their fiery poet that, before +I have done with him I'll make him do penance upon a stage in a calf's +skin. + +JUGGLER. +O Lord, sir, ye are deceived in me, I am no tale-carrier; I am a +juggler. I have the superficial skill of all the seven liberal sciences +at my fingers' end. I'll show you a trick of the twelves, and turn him +over the thumbs with a trice; I'll make him fly swifter than meditation. +I'll show you as many toys as there be minutes in a month, and as many +tricks as there be motes in the sun. + +PROLOGUE. +Prythee, what tricks canst thou do? + +JUGGLER. +Marry, sir, I will show you a trick of cleanly conveyance--_Hei, fortuna +furim nunquam credo_--with a cast of clean conveyance. Come aloft, Jack, +for thy master's advantage. He's gone, I warrant ye. + + [SPECTRUM _is conveyed away, and_ WILY BEGUILED + _stands in the place of it_. + +PROLOGUE. + +Mass, and 'tis well done! Now I see thou canst do something. Hold thee; +there is twelvepence for thy labour. + +Go to that barm-froth poet, and to him say, +He quite hath lost the title of his play; +His calf-skin jests from hence are clean exil'd. +Thus once you see, that Wily is beguil'd. + + [_Exit the_ JUGGLER. + +Now, kind spectators, I dare boldly say, +You all are welcome to our author's play: +Be still awhile, and, ere we go, +We'll make your eyes with laughter flow. +Let Momus' mates judge how they list. +We fear not what they babble; +Nor any paltry poet's pen +Amongst that rascal rabble. +But time forbids me further speech, +My tongue must stop her race; +My time is come, I must be dumb, +And give the actors place. + + [_Exit_. + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + +GRIPE, _an Usurer_. +PLOD-ALL, _a Farmer_. +SOPHOS, _a Scholar_. +CHURMS, _a Lawyer_. +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +FORTUNATUS, _Gripe's son_. +LELIA, _Gripe's daughter_. +_Nurse_. +PETER PLOD-ALL, _Plod-all's son_. +PEG, _Nurse's daughter_. +WILL CRICKET. +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +_An Old Man_. +SYLVANUS. +_Clerk_. + + + +WILY BEGUILED.[140] + + + _Enter_ GRIPE, _solus_. + +A heavy purse makes a light heart. O, the consideration of this pouch, +this pouch! Why, he that has money has heart's ease, and the world in a +string. O, this rich chink and silver coin! it is the consolation of the +world. I can sit at home quietly in my chair, and send out my angels by +sea and by land, and bid--_Fly, villains, and fetch in ten in the +hundred_. Ay, and a better penny too. Let me see: I have but two +children in all the world to bestow my goods upon--Fortunatus, my son, +and Lelia, my daughter. For my son, he follows the wars, and that which +he gets with swaggering he spends in swaggering. But I'll curb him; his +allowance, whilst I live, shall be small, and so he shall be sure not to +spend much: and if I die, I will leave him a portion that, if he will be +a good husband, and follow his father's steps, shall maintain him like a +gentleman, and if he will not, let him follow his own humour till he be +weary of it, and so let him go. Now for my daughter, she is my only joy, +and the staff of my age; and I have bestowed good bringing-up upon her, +by'r Lady. Why, she is e'en modesty itself; it does me good to look on +her. Now, if I can hearken out some wealthy marriage for her, I have my +only desire. Mass, and well-remembered: here's my neighbour Plod-all +hard by has but one only son; and let me see--I take it, his lands are +better than five thousand pounds. Now, if I can make a match between his +son and my daughter, and so join his land and my money together--O, +'twill be a blessed union. Well, I'll in, and get a scrivener: I'll +write to him about it presently. But stay, here comes Master Churms the +lawyer; I'll desire him to do so much. + + _Enter_ CHURMS. + +CHURMS. +Good morrow, Master Gripe. + +GRIPE. +O, good morrow, Master Churms. What say my two debtors, that I lent two +hundred pound to? Will they not pay use and charges of suit? + +CHURMS. +Faith, sir, I doubt they are bankrouts: I would you had your principal. + +GRIPE. +Nay, I'll have all, or I'll imprison their bodies. But, Master Churms, +there is a matter I would fain have you do; but you must be very secret. + +CHURMS. +O sir, fear not that; I'll warrant you. + +GRIPE. +Why then, this it is: my neighbour Plod-all here by, you know, is a man +of very fair land, and he has but one son, upon whom he means to bestow +all that he has. Now I would make a match between my daughter Lelia and +him. What think you of it? + +CHURMS. +Marry, I think 'twould be a good match. But the young man has had very +simple bringing-up. + +GRIPE. +Tush! what care I for that? so he have lands and living enough, my +daughter has bringing up will serve them both. Now I would have you to +write me a letter to goodman Plod-all concerning this matter, and I'll +please you for your pains. + +CHURMS. +I'll warrant you, sir; I'll do it artificially. + +GRIPE. +Do, good Master Churms; but be very secret. I have some business this +morning, and therefore I'll leave you a while; and if you will come to +dinner to me anon, you shall be very heartily welcome. + +CHURMS. +Thanks, good sir; I'll trouble you. [_Exit_ GRIPE.] Now 'twere a good +jest, if I could cosen the old churl of his daughter, and get the wench +for myself. Zounds, I am as proper a man as Peter Plod-all: and though +his father be as good a man as mine, yet far-fetched and dear-bought is +good for ladies; and, I am sure, I have been as far as Cales[141] to +fetch that I have. I have been at Cambridge, a scholar; at Cales, a +soldier; and now in the country a lawyer; and the next degree shall be a +coneycatcher: for I'll go near to cosen old father share-penny[142] of +his daughter; I'll cast about, I'll warrant him: I'll go dine with him, +and write him his letter; and then I'll go seek out my kind companion +Robin Goodfellow: and, betwixt us, we'll make her yield to anything. +We'll ha' the common law o' the one hand, and the civil law o' the +other: we'll toss Lelia like a tennis-ball. [_Exit_. + + + _Enter old_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_ PETER, _an_ OLD MAN, + _Plod-all's tenant, and_ WILL CRICKET, _his son_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Ah, tenant, an ill-husband, by'r Lady: thrice at thy house, and never at +home? You know my mind: will you give ten shillings more rent? I must +discharge you else. + +OLD MAN. +Alas! landlord, will you undo me! I sit of a great rent already, and am +very poor. + +WILL CRICKET. +Very poor? you're a very ass. Lord, how my stomach wambles at the same +word _very poor_! Father, if you love your son William, never name that +same word, _very poor_; for, I'll stand to it, that it's petty larceny +to name _very poor_ to a man that's o' the top of his marriage. + +OLD MAN. +Why, son, art o' the top of thy marriage? To whom, I prythee? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, to pretty Peg, Mistress Lelia's nurse's daughter. O, 'tis the +dapp'rest wench that ever danced after a tabor and pipe-- + + For she will so heel it, + And toe it, and trip it;-- + O, her buttocks will quake like a custard. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Why, William, when were you with her? + +WILL CRICKET. +O Peter, does your mouth water at that? Truly, I was never with her; but +I know I shall speed: 'for t'other day she looked on me and laughed, and +that's a good sign, ye know. And therefore, old Silver-top, never talk +of charging or discharging: for I tell you, I am my father's heir; and +if you discharge me, I'll discharge my pestilence at you: for to let my +house before my lease be out, is cut-throatery; and to scrape for more +rent, is poll-dennery;[143] and so fare you well, good grandsire Usury. +Come, father, let's be gone. + + [_Exeunt_ WILL _and his father_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Well, I'll make the beggarly knaves to pack for this: I'll have it every +cross, income and rent too. + + _Enter_ CHURMS _with a letter_. + +But stay, here comes one. O, 'tis Master Churms: I hope he brings me +some good news. Master Churms, you're well-met; I am e'en almost starved +for money: you must take some damnable course with my tenants; they'll +not pay. + +CHURMS. +Faith, sir, they are grown to be captious knaves: but I'll move them +with a _habeas corpus_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Do, good Master Churms, or use any other villanous course shall please +you. But what news abroad? + +CHURMS. +Faith, little news; but here's a letter which Master Gripe desired me to +deliver you: and though it stand not with my reputation to be a carrier +of letters, yet, not knowing how much it might concern you, I thought it +better something to abase myself, than you should be anyways hindered. + +PLOD-ALL. +Thanks, good sir; and I'll in and read it. + + [_Exeunt_ PLOD-ALL _and his son. Manet_ CHURMS. + +CHURMS. +Thus men of reach must look to live: +I cry content, and murder where I kiss. +Gripe takes me for his faithful friend, +Imparts to me the secrets of his heart; +And Plod-all thinks I am as true a friend +To every enterprise he takes in hand, +As ever breath'd under the cope of heaven: +But damn me if they find it so. +All this makes for my [own] avail; +I'll ha' the wench myself, or else my wits shall fail. + + _Enter_ LELIA _and_ NURSE, _gathering of flowers_. + +LELIA. +See how the earth this fragrant spring is clad, +And mantled round in sweet nymph Flora's robes: +Here grows th'alluring rose, sweet marigolds +And the lovely hyacinth. Come, nurse, gather: +A crown of roses shall adorn my head, +I'll prank myself with flowers of the prime; +And thus I'll spend away my primrose-time. + +NURSE. +Rufty-tufty, are you so frolic? O, that you knew as much as I do; +'twould cool you. + +LELIA. +Why, what knowest thou, nurse I prythee, tell me. + +NURSE. +Heavy news, i' faith, mistress: you must be matched, and married to a +husband. Ha, ha, ha, ha! a husband, i' faith. + +LELIA. +A husband, nurse? why, that's good news, if he be a good one. + +NURSE. +A good one, quotha? ha, ha, ha, ha! why, woman, I heard your father say +that he would marry you to Peter Plod-all, that puck-fist, that +snudge-snout, that coal-carrierly clown. Lord! 'twould be as good as +meat and drink to me to see how the fool would woo you. + +LELIA. +No, no; my father did but jest: think'st thou, +That I can stoop so low to take a brown-bread crust, +And wed a clown, that's brought up at the cart? + +NURSE. +Cart, quotha? Ay, he'll cart you; for he cannot tell how to court you. + +LELIA. +Ah, nurse! sweet Sophos is the man, +Whose love is lock'd in Lelia's tender breast: +This heart hath vow'd, if heav'ns do not deny, +My love with his entomb'd in earth shall lie. + +NURSE. +Peace, mistress, stand aside; here comes somebody. + + _Enter_ SOPHOS. + +SOPHOS. +_Optatis non est spes ulla potiri_. +Yet, Phoebus, send down thy tralucent beams, +Behold the earth that mourns in sad attire; +The flowers at Sophos' presence 'gin to droop, +Whose trickling tears for Lelia's loss +Do turn the plains into a standing pool. +Sweet Cynthia, smile, cheer up the drooping flowers; +Let Sophos once more see a sunshine-day: +O, let the sacred centre of my heart-- +I mean fair Lelia, nature's fairest work-- +Be once again the object to mine eyes. +O, but I wish in vain, whilst her I wish to see: +Her father he obscures her from my sight, +He pleads my want of wealth, +And says it is a bar in Venus' court. +How hath fond fortune by her fatal doom +Predestin'd me to live in hapless hopes, +Still turning false her fickle, wavering wheel! +And love's fair goddess with her Circian cup +Enchanteth so fond Cupid's poison'd darts, +That love, the only loadstar of my life, +Doth draw my thoughts into a labyrinth. +But stay: +What do I see? what do mine eyes behold? +O happy sight! It is fair Lelia's face! +Hail, heav'n's bright nymph, the period of my grief, +Sole guidress of my thoughts, and author of my joy. + +LELIA. +Sweet Sophos, welcome to Lelia; +Fair Dido, Carthaginians' beauteous queen, +Not half so joyful was, when as the Trojan prince +Aeneas landed on the sandy shores +Of Carthage' confines, as thy Lelia is +To see her Sophos here arriv'd by chance. + +SOPHOS. +And bless'd be chance, that hath conducted me +Unto the place where I might see my dear, +As dear to me as is the dearest life. + +NURSE. +Sir, you may see that fortune is your friend. + +SOPHOS. +Yet fortune favours fools. + +NURSE. +By that conclusion you should not be wise. [_Aside_. + +LELIA. +Foul fortune sometimes smiles on virtue fair. + +SOPHOS. +'Tis then to show her mutability: +But since, amidst ten thousand frowning threats +Of fickle fortune's thrice-unconstant wheel, +She deigns to show one little pleasing smile, +Let's do our best false fortune to beguile, +And take advantage of her ever-changing moods. +See, see, how Tellus' spangled mantle smiles, +And birds do chant their rural sugar'd notes, +As ravish'd with our meeting's sweet delights: +Since then, there fits for love both time and place, +Let love and liking hand in hand embrace. + +NURSE. +Sir, the next way to win her love is to linger her leisure. I measure my +mistress by my lovely self: make a promise to a man, and keep it. I have +but one fault--I ne'er made promise in my life, but I stick to it tooth +and nail. I'll pay it home, i' faith. If I promise my love a kiss, I'll +give him two; marry, at first I will make nice, and cry _Fie, fie_; and +that will make him come again and again. I'll make him break his wind +with come-agains. + +SOPHOS. +But what says Lelia to her Sophos' love? + +LELIA. +Ah, Sophos, that fond blind boy, +That wrings these passions from my Sophos' heart, +Hath likewise wounded Lelia with his dart; +And force perforce, I yield the fortress up: +Here, Sophos, take thy Lelia's hand, +And with this hand receive a loyal heart. +High Jove, that ruleth heaven's bright canopy, +Grant to our love a wish'd felicity! + +SOPHOS. +As joys the weary pilgrim by the way, +When Phoebus wanes[144] unto the western deep, +To summon him to his desired rest; +Or as the poor distressed mariner, +Long toss'd by shipwreck on the foaming waves, +At length beholds the long-wish'd haven, +Although from far his heart doth dance for joy: +So love's consent at length my mind hath eas'd; +My troubled thoughts by sweet content are pleas'd. + +LELIA. +My father recks not virtue, +But vows to wed me to a man of wealth: +And swears his gold shall counterpoise his worth. +But Lelia scorns proud Mammon's golden mines, +And better likes of learning's sacred lore, +Than of fond fortune's glistering mockeries. +But, Sophos, try thy wits, and use thy utmost skill +To please my father, and compass his goodwill. + +SOPHOS. +To what fair Lelia wills doth Sophos yield content; +Yet that's the troublous gulf my silly ship must pass: +But, were that venture harder to atchieve +Than that of Jason for the golden fleece, +I would effect it for sweet Lelia's sake, +Or leave myself as witness of my thoughts. + +NURSE. +How say you by that, mistress? He'll do anything for your sake. + +LELIA. +Thanks, gentle love: +But, lest my father should suspect-- +Whose jealous head with more than Argus' eyes +Doth measure ev'ry gesture that I use-- +I'll in, and leave you here alone. +Adieu, sweet friend, until we meet again. +Come, nurse, follow me. + + [_Exeunt_ LELIA _and_ NURSE. + +SOPHOS. +Farewell, my love, fair fortune be thy guide! +Now, Sophos, now bethink thyself, how thou +May'st win her father's will to knit this happy knot. +Alas! thy state is poor, thy friends are few. +And fear forbids to tell my fate to friends:[145] +Well, I'll try my fortunes; +And find out some convenient time, +When as her father's leisure best shall serve +To confer with him about fair Lelia's love. + [_Exit_ SOPHOS. + + _Enter_ GRIPE, _old_ PLOD-ALL, CHURMS, _and_ WILL CRICKET. + +GRIPE. +Neighbour Plod-all and Master Churms, y'are welcome to my house. What +news in the country, neighbour? You are a good husband; you ha' done +sowing barley, I am sure? + +PLOD-ALL. +Yes, sir, an't please you, a fortnight since. + +GRIPE. +Master Churms, what say my debtors? can you get any money of them yet? + +CHURMS. +Not yet, sir; I doubt they are scarce able to pay. You must e'en forbear +them awhile; they'll exclaim on you else. + +GRIPE. +Let them exclaim, and hang, and starve, and beg. Let me ha' my money. + +PLOD-ALL. +Here's this good fellow too, Master Churms, I must e'en put him and his +father over into your hands; they'll pay me no rent. + +WILL CRICKET. +This good fellow, quotha? I scorn that base, broking, brabbling, +brawling, bastardly, bottle-nosed, beetle-browed, bean-bellied name. +Why, Robin Goodfellow is this same cogging, pettifogging, crackropes, +calf-skin companion. Put me and my father over to him? Old Silver-top, +and you had not put me before my father, I would ha'-- + +PLOD-ALL. +What wouldst ha' done? + +WILL CRICKET. +I would have had a snatch at you, that I would. + +CHURMS. +What, art a dog? + +WILL CRICKET. +No; if I had been a dog, I would ha' snapped off your nose ere this, and +so I should have cosened the devil of a maribone. + +GRIPE. +Come, come: let me end this controversy. Prythee, go thy ways in, and +bid the boy bring in a cup of sack here for my friends. + +WILL CRICKET. +Would you have a sack, sir? + +GRIPE. +Away, fool: a cup of sack to drink. + +WILL CRICKET. +O, I had thought you would have had a sack to have put this law-cracking +cogfoist in, instead of a pair of stocks. + +GRIPE. +Away, fool; get thee in, I say. + +WILL CRICKET. +Into the buttery, you mean? + +GRIPE. +I prythee, do. + +WILL CRICKET. +I'll make your hogshead of sack rue that word. [_Aside. Exit_.] + +GRIPE. +Neighbour Plod-all, I sent a letter to you by Master Churms; how like +you of the motion? + +PLOD-ALL. +Marry, I like well of the motion. My son, I tell you, is e'en all the +stay I have, and all my care is to have him take one that hath +something, for, as the world goes now, if they have nothing, they may +beg. But I doubt he's too simple for your daughter; for I have brought +him up hardly, with brown bread, fat bacon, puddings, and souse; and, +by'r Lady, we think it good fare too. + +GRIPE. +Tush, man! I care not for that. You ha' no more children; you'll make +him your heir, and give him your lands, will you not? + +PLOD-ALL. +Yes; he's e'en all I have; I have nobody else to bestow it upon. + +GRIPE. +You say well. + + _Enter_ WILL CRICKET _and a boy, with wine and a napkin_. + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, hear you; drink, afore you bargain. + +GRIPE. +Mass, and 'tis a good motion. Boy, fill some wine, [_He fills them wine, +and gives them the napkin_.] Here, neighbour and Master Churms, I drink +to you. + +BOTH. +We thank you, sir. + +WILL CRICKET. +Lawyer, wipe clean. Do you remember? + +CHURMS. +Remember? why? + +WILL CRICKET. +Why, since you know when. + +CHURMS. +Since when? + +WILL CRICKET. +Why, since you were bumbasted, that your lubberly legs would not carry +your lobcock body; when you made an infusion of your stinking excrements +in your stalking implements. O, you were plaguy frayed, and foully +rayed-- + +GRIPE. +Prythee, peace, Will! Neighbour Plod-all, what say you to this match? +shall it go forward? + +PLOD-ALL. +Sir, that must be as our children like. For my son, I think I can rule +him; marry, I doubt your daughter will hardly like of him; for, God wot, +he's very simple. + +GRIPE. +My daughter's mine to command; have I not brought her up to this? She +shall have him. I'll rule the roost for that. I'll give her pounds and +crowns, gold and silver. I'll weigh her down in pure angel gold. Say, +man, is't a match? + +PLOD-ALL. +Faith, I agree. + +CHURMS. +But, sir, if you give your daughter so large a dowry, you'll have some +part of his land conveyed to her by jointure? + +GRIPE. +Yes, marry, that I will, and we'll desire your help for conveyance. + +PLOD-ALL. +Ay, good Master Churms, and you shall be very well contented for your +pains. + +WILL CRICKET. +Ay, marry; that's it he looked for all this while. [_Aside_. + +CHURMS. +Sir, I will do the best I can. + +WILL CRICKET. +But, landlord, I can tell you news, i' faith. There is one Sophos, a +brave gentleman; he'll wipe your son Peter's nose of Mistress Lelia. I +can tell you, he loves her well. + +GRIPE. +Nay, I trow. + +WILL CRICKET. +Yes, I know, for I am sure I saw them close together at poop-noddy in +her closet. + +GRIPE. +But I am sure she loves him not. + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, I dare take it on my death she loves him, for he's a scholar, and +'ware scholars! they have tricks for love, i' faith; for with a little +logic and _Pitome colloquium_ they'll make a wench do anything. +Landlord, pray ye, be not angry with me for speaking my conscience. In +good faith, your son Peter's a very clown to him. Why, he's as fine a +man as a wench can see in a summer's day. + +GRIPE. +Well, that shall not serve his turn; I'll cross him, I warrant ye. I am +glad I know it. I have suspected it a great while. Sophos! Why, what's +Sophos? a base fellow. Indeed he has a good wit, and can speak well. +He's a scholar, forsooth--one that hath more wit than money--and I like +not that; he may beg, for all that. Scholars! why, what are scholars +without money? + +PLOD-ALL. +Faith, e'en like puddings without suet. + +GRIPE. +Come, neighbour, send your son to my house, for he shall be welcome to +me, and my daughter shall entertain him kindly. What? I can and will +rule Lelia. Come, let's in; I'll discharge Sophos from my house +presently. + + [_Exit_ GRIPE, PLOD-ALL, _and_ CHURMS. + +WILL CRICKET. + +A horn plague of this money, for it causeth many horns to bud; and for +money many men are horned; for when maids are forced to love where they +like not, it makes them lie where they should not. I'll be hanged, if +e'er Mistress Lelia will ha' Peter Plod-all; I swear by this button-cap +(do you mark?), and by the round, sound, and profound contents (do you +understand?) of this costly codpiece (being a good proper man, as you +see), that I could get her as soon as he myself. And if I had not a +month's mind in another place, I would have a fling at her, that's flat; +but I must set a good holiday-face on't, and go a wooing to pretty Peg: +well, I'll to her, i' faith, while 'tis in my mind. But stay; I'll see +how I can woo before I go: they say use makes perfectness. Look you now; +suppose this were Peg: now I set my cap o' the side on this fashion (do +ye see?); then say I, sweet honey, honey, sugar-candy Peg. + +Whose face more fair than Brock my father's cow; + + Whose eyes do shine, + Like bacon-rine; + Whose lips are blue, + Of azure hue; + +Whose crooked nose down to her chin doth bow. For, you know, I must +begin to commend her beauty, and then I will tell her plainly that I am +in love with her over my high shoes; and then I will tell her that I do +nothing of nights but sleep, and think on her, and specially of mornings: +and that does make my stomach so rise, that I'll be sworn I can turn me +three or four bowls of porridge over in a morning afore breakfast. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +How now, sirrah? what make you here, with all that timber in your neck? + +WILL CRICKET. +Timber? Zounds, I think he be a witch; how knew he this were timber? +Mass, I'll speak him fair, and get out on's company; for I am afraid on +him. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Speak, man; what, art afraid? what makest here? + +WILL CRICKET. +A poor fellow, sir: ha' been drinking two or three pots of ale at an +alehouse, and ha' lost my way, sir. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O! nay, then I see, thou art a good fellow: seest thou not Master +Churms the lawyer to-day? + +WILL CRICKET. +No, sir; would you speak with him? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Ay, marry, would I. + +WILL CRICKET. +If I see him, I'll tell him you would speak with him. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Nay, prithee, stay. Who wilt thou tell him would speak with him? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, you, sir. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +I? who am I? + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, sir, I know not. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +If thou seest him, tell him Robin Goodfellow would speak with him. + +WILL CRICKET. +O, I will sir. [Exit WILL CRICKET. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Mass, the fellow was afraid. I play the bugbear wheresoe'er I come, and +make them all afraid. But here comes Master Churms. + + _Enter_ CHURMS. + +CHURMS. +Fellow Robin, God save you: I have been seeking for you in every +alehouse in the town. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +What, Master Churms? What's the best news abroad? 'tis long since I +see you. + +CHURMS. +Faith, little news: but yet I am glad I have met with you. I have a +matter to impart to you wherein you may stand me in some stead, and make +a good benefit to yourself: if we can deal cunningly, 'twill be worth a +double fee to you, by the Lord. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +A double fee? speak, man; what is't? If it be to betray mine own father, +I'll do it for half a fee; and for cunning let me alone. + +CHURMS. +Why then, this it is: here is Master Gripe hard by, a client of mine, a +man of mighty wealth, who has but one daughter; her dowry is her weight +in gold. Now, sir, this old pennyfather would marry her to one Peter +Plod-all, rich Plod-all's son and heir; whom though his father means to +leave very rich, yet he's a very idiot and brownbread clown, and one I +know the wench does deadly hate: and though their friends have given +their full consent, and both agreed on this unequal match, yet I know +that Lelia will never marry him. But there's another rival in her +love--one Sophos; and he's a scholar, one whom I think fair Lelia dearly +loves, but her father hates him as he hates a toad; for he's in want, +and Gripe gapes after gold, and still relies upon the old-said saw, _Si +nihil attuleris_, &c. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +And wherein can I do you any good in this? + +CHURMS. +Marry, thus, sir: I am of late grown passing familiar with Master Gripe; +and for Plod-all, he takes me for his second self. Now, sir, I'll fit +myself to the old crummy churls' humours, and make them believe I'll +persuade Lelia to marry Peter Plod-all, and so get free access to the +wench at my pleasure. Now, o' the other side, I'll fall in with the +scholar, and him I'll handle cunningly too; I'll tell him that Lelia has +acquainted me with her love to him, and for +Because her father much suspects the same, +He mews her up as men do mew their hawks; +And so restrains her from her Sophos' sight. +I'll say, because she doth repose more trust +Of secrecy in me than in another man, +In courtesy she hath requested me +To do her kindest greetings to her love. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +An excellent device, i' faith! + +CHURMS. +Ay, sir, and by this means I'll make a very gull of my fine Diogenes: I +shall know his secrets even from the very bottom of his heart. Nay more, +sir; you shall see me deal so cunningly, that he shall make me an +instrument to compass his desire; when, God knows, I mean nothing less. +_Qui dissimulare nescit, nescit vivere_. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Why, this will be sport alone; but what would you have me do in this +action? + +CHURMS. +Marry, as I play with th'one hand, play you with t'other. Fall you +aboard with Peter Plod-all; make him believe you'll work miracles, and +that you have a powder will make Lelia love him. Nay, what will he not +believe, and take all that comes? you know my mind: and so we'll make a +gull of the one and a goose of the other. And if we can invent any +device to bring the scholar in disgrace with her, I do not doubt but +with your help to creep between the bark and the tree, and get Lelia +myself. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Tush! man. I have a device in my head already to do that. But they say +her brother Fortunatus loves him dearly. + +CHURMS. +Tut! he's out of the country; he follows the drum and the flag. He may +chance to be killed with a double cannon before he come home again. But +what's your device? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Marry, I'll do this: I'll frame an indictment against Sophos in manner +and form of a rape, and the next law-day you shall prefer it, that so +Lelia may loath him, her father still deadly hate him, and the young +gallant her brother utterly forsake him. + +CHURMS. +But how shall we prove it? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Zounds, we'll hire some strumpet or other to be sworn against him. + +CHURMS. +Now, by the substance of my soul, 'tis an excellent device. Well, let's +in. I'll first try my cunning otherwise, and if all fail, we'll try this +conclusion. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT, NURSE, _and_ PEG. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Y'faith, Marget, you must e'en take your daughter Peg home again, for +she'll not be ruled by me. + +NURSE. +Why, mother, what will she not do? + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Faith, she neither did, nor does, nor will do anything. Send her to the +market with eggs, she'll sell them, and spend the money. Send her to +make a pudding, she'll put in no suet. She'll run out o' nights +a-dancing, and come no more home till day-peep. Bid her come to bed, +she'll come when she list. Ah, 'tis a nasty shame to see her +bringing-up. + +NURSE. +Out, you rogue! you arrant, &c. What, knowest not thy granam? + +PEG. +I know her to be a testy old fool; She's never well, but grunting in a +corner. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Nay, she'll camp, I warrant ye. O, she has a tongue! But, Marget, e'en +take her home to your mistress, and there keep her, for I'll keep her no +longer. + +NURSE. +Mother, pray ye, take ye some pains with her, and keep her awhile +longer, and if she do not mend, I'll beat her black and blue. I' faith, +I'll not fail you, minion. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Faith, at thy request, I'll take her home, and try her a week longer. + +NURSE. +Come on, huswife; please your granam, and be a good wench, and you shall +ha' my blessing. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Come, follow us, good wench. + + [_Exeunt_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT _and_ NURSE. _Manet_ PEG. + +PEG. +Ay, farewell; fair weather after you. Your blessing, quotha? I'll not +give a single halfpenny for't. Who would live under a mother's nose and +a granam's tongue? A maid cannot love, or catch a lip-clip or a +lap-clap, but here's such tittle-tattle, and _Do not so_, and _Be not so +light_, and _Be not so fond_, and _Do not kiss_, and _Do not love_, and +I cannot tell what; and I must love, an I hang for't. + + [_She sings_. + + _A sweet thing is love, + That rules both heart and mind: + There is no comfort in the world + To women that are kind_. + +Well. I'll not stay with her; stay, quotha? To be yawled and jawled at, +and tumbled and thumbled, and tossed and turned, as I am by an old hag, +I will not: no, I will not, i' faith. + + + _Enter_ WILL CRICKET. + +But stay, I must put on my smirking looks and smiling countenance, for +here comes one makes 'bomination suit to be my sprused husband. + +WILL CRICKET. +Lord, that my heart would serve me to speak to her, now she talks of her +sprused husband! Well, I'll set a good face on't. Now I'll clap me as +close to her as Jone's buttocks of a close-stool, and come over her with +my rolling, rattling, rumbling eloquence. Sweet Peg, honey Peg, fine +Peg, dainty Peg, brave Peg, kind Peg, comely Peg; my nutting, my +sweeting, my love, my dove, my honey, my bunny, my duck, my dear, and my +darling: + + Grace me with thy pleasant eyes, + And love without delay; + And cast not with thy crabbed looks + A proper man away. + +PEG. +Why, William, what's the matter? + +WILL CRICKET. +What's the matter, quotha? Faith, I ha' been in a fair taking for you, a +bots on you! for t'other day, after I had seen you, presently my belly +began to rumble. What's the matter, thought I. With that I bethought +myself, and the sweet comportance of that same sweet round face of thine +came into my mind. Out went I, and, I'll be sworn, I was so near taken, +that I was fain to cut all my points. And dost hear, Peg? if thou dost +not grant me thy goodwill in the way of marriage, first and foremost +I'll run out of my clothes, and then out of my wits for thee. + +PEG. +Nay, William, I would be loth you should do so for me. + +WILL CRICKET. +Will you look merrily on me, and love me then? + +PEG. +Faith, I care not greatly if I do. + +WILL CRICKET. +Care not greatly if I do? What an answer's that? If thou wilt say, I, +Peg, take thee, William, to my spruse husband-- + +PEG. +Why, so I will. But we must have more company for witnesses first. + + [_Enter Dancers and Piper_.] + +WILL CRICKET. +That needs not. Here's good store of young men and maids here. + +PEG. +Why, then, here's my hand. + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, that's honestly spoken. Say after me: I, Peg Pudding, promise +thee, William Cricket, that I'll hold thee for my own sweet lily, while +I have a head in mine eye and a face on my nose, a mouth in my tongue +and all that a woman should have from the crown of my foot to the sole +of my head. I'll clasp thee and clip thee, coll thee and kiss thee, +till I be better than nought and worse than nothing. When thou art ready +to sleep, I'll be ready to snort; when thou art in health, I'll be in +gladness; when thou art sick, I'll be ready to die; when thou art mad, +I'll run out of my wits, and thereupon I strike thee good luck. Well +said, i' faith. O, I could find in my hose to pocket thee in my heart! +Come, my heart of gold, let's have a dance at the making up of this +match. Strike up, Tom Piper. [_They dance_. +Come, Peg, I'll take the pains to bring thee homeward; and at twilight +look for me again. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW _and_ PETER PLOD-ALL. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Come hither, my honest friend. Master Churms told me you had a suit to +me; what's the matter? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Pray ye, sir, is your name Robin Goodfellow? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +My name is Robin Goodfellow. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Marry, sir, I hear you're a very cunning man, sir, and sir reverence of +your worship, sir, I am going a-wooing to one Mistress Lelia, a +gentlewoman here hard by. Pray ye, sir, tell me how I should behave +myself, to get her to my wife, for, sir, there is a scholar about her; +now, if you can tell me how I should wipe his nose of her, I would +bestow a fee of you. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Let me see't, and thou shalt see what I'll say to thee. [_He gives him +money_.] Well, follow my counsel, and, I'll warrant thee, I'll give thee +a love-powder for thy wench, and a kind of _nux vomica_ in a potion +shall make her come off, i' faith. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Shall I trouble you so far as to take some pains with me? I am loth to +have the dodge. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Tush! fear not the dodge. I'll rather put on my flashing red nose and my +flaming face, and come wrapped in a calf's skin, and cry _Bo bo_. I'll +fray the scholar, I warrant thee. But first go to her, try what thou +canst do; perhaps she'll love thee without any further ado. But thou +must tell her thou hast a good stock, some hundred or two a year, and +that will set her hard, I warrant thee; for, by the mass, I was once in +good comfort to have cosened a wench, and wott'st thou what I told her? +I told her I had a hundred pound land a year in a place, where I have +not the breadth of my little finger. I promised her to enfeoff her in +forty pounds a year of it, and I think of my conscience, if I had had +but as good a face as thine, I should have made her have cursed the time +that ever she see it. And thus thou must do: crack and lie, and face, +and thou shalt triumph mightily. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +I need not do so, for I may say, and say true, I have lands and living +enough for a country fellow. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +By'r Lady, so had not I. I was fain to overreach, as many times I do; +but now experience hath taught me so much craft that I excel in cunning. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Well, sir, then I'll be bold to trust to your cunning, and so I'll bid +you farewell, and go forward. I'll to her, that's flat. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Do so, and let me hear how you speed. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +That I will, sir. [_Exit_ PETER. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Well, a good beginning makes a good end. Here's ten groats for doing +nothing. I con Master Churms thanks for this, for this was his device; +and therefore I'll go seek him out, and give him a quart of wine, and +know of him how he deals with the scholar. [_Exit_. + + _Enter_ CHURMS _and_ SOPHOS. + +CHURMS. +Why, look ye, sir; by the Lord, I can but wonder at her father; he knows +you to be a gentleman of good bringing up, and though your wealth be +not answerable to his, yet, by heavens, I think you are worthy to do far +better than Lelia--yet I know she loves you dearly. + +SOPHOS. +The great Tartarian emperor, Tamar Cham, +Joy'd not so much in his imperial crown, +As Sophos joys in Lelia's hoped-for love, +Whose looks would pierce an adamantine heart, +And makes the proud beholders stand at gaze, +To draw love's picture from her glancing eye. + +CHURMS. +And I will stretch my wits unto the highest strain, +To further Sophos in his wish'd desires. + +SOPHOS. +Thanks, gentle sir. +But truce awhile; here comes her father. + + _Enter_ GRIPE. + +I must speak a word or two with him. + +CHURMS. +Ay, he'll give you your answer, I warrant ye. [_Aside_. + +SOPHOS. +God save you, sir. + +GRIPE. +O Master Sophos, I have longed to speak with you a great while. I hear +you seek my daughter Lelia's love. I hope you will not seek to dishonest +me, nor disgrace my daughter. + +SOPHOS. +No, sir; a man may ask a yea; a woman may say nay. She is in choice to +take her choice, yet I must confess I love Lelia. + +GRIPE. +Sir, I must be plain with you. I like not of your love. Lelia's mine. +I'll choose for Lelia, and therefore I would wish you not to frequent my +house any more. It's better for you to ply your book, and seek for some +preferment that way, than to seek for a wife before you know how to +maintain her. + +SOPHOS. +I am not rich, I am not very poor; +I neither want, nor ever shall exceed: +The mean is my content; I live 'twixt two extremes. + +GRIPE. +Well, well; I tell ye I like not you should come to my house, and +presume so proudly to match your poor pedigree with my daughter Lelia, +and therefore I charge you to get off my ground, come no more at my +house. I like not this learning without living, I. + +SOPHOS. +He needs must go that the devil drives: +_Sic virtus sine censu languet_. [_Exit_ SOPHOS. + +GRIPE. +O Master Churms, cry you mercy, sir; I saw not you. I think I have sent +the scholar away with a flea in his ear. I trow, he'll come no more at +my house. + +CHURMS. +No; for if he do, you may indict him for coming of your ground. + +GRIPE. +Well, now I'll home, and keep in my daughter. She shall neither go to +him nor send to him; I'll watch her, I'll warrant her. Before God, +Master Churms, it is the peevishest girl that ever I knew in my life; +she will not be ruled, I doubt. Pray ye, sir, do you endeavour to +persuade her to take Peter Plod-all. + +CHURMS. +I warrant ye, I'll persuade her; fear not. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ LELIA _and_ NURSE. + +LELIA. +What sorrow seizeth on my heavy heart! +Consuming care possesseth ev'ry part: +Heart-sad Erinnis keeps his mansion here +Within the closure of my woful breast; +And black Despair with iron sceptre stands, +And guides my thoughts down to his hateful cell. +The wanton winds with whistling murmur bear +My piercing plaints along the desert plains; +And woods and groves do echo forth my woes: +The earth below relents in crystal tears, +When heav'ns above, by some malignant course +Of fatal stars, are authors of my grief. +Fond love, go hide thy shafts in folly's den, +And let the world forget thy childish force; +Or else fly, fly, pierce Sophos' tender breast, +That he may help to sympathise these plaints, +That wring these tears from Lelia's weeping eyes. + +NURSE. +Why, how now, mistress? what, is it love that makes you weep, and toss, +and turn so a-nights, when you are in bed? Saint Leonard grant you fall +not love-sick. + +LELIA. +Ay, that's the point that pierceth to the quick. +Would Atropos would cut my vital thread, +And so make lavish of my loathed life: +Or gentle heav'ns would smile with fair aspect, +And so give better fortunes to my love! +Why, is't not a plague to be a prisoner to mine own father? + +NURSE. +Yes, and 't's a shame for him to use you so too: +But be of good cheer, mistress; I'll go +To Sophos ev'ry day; I'll bring you tidings +And tokens too from him, I'll warrant ye; +And if he'll send you a kiss or two, I'll bring it. +Let me alone; I am good at a dead lift: +Marry, I cannot blame you for loving of Sophos; +Why, he's a man as one should picture him in wax. +But, mistress--out upon's! wipe your eyes, +For here comes another wooer. + + _Enter_ PETER PLOD-ALL. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Mistress Lelia, God speed you. + +LELIA. +That's more than we +Need at this time, for we are doing nothing. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +'Twere as good say a good word as a bad. + +LELIA. +But it's more wisdom to say nothing at all, +Than speak to no purpose. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +My purpose is to wive you. + +LELIA. +And mine is never to wed you. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Belike, you are in love with somebody else. + +NURSE. +No, but she's lustily promised. Hear you--you with [the] long rifle by +your side--do you lack a wife? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Call ye this [a] rifle? it's a good backsword. + +NURSE. +Why, then, you with [the] backsword, let's see your back. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Nay, I must speak with Mistress Lelia Before I go. + +LELIA. +What would you with me? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Marry, I have heard very well of you, and so has my father too; and he +has sent me to you a-wooing; and if you have any mind of marriage, I +hope I shall maintain you as well as any husbandman's wife in the +country. + +NURSE. +Maintain her? with what? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Marry, with my lands and livings my father has promised me. + +LELIA. +I have heard much of your wealth, but +I never knew you manners before now. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Faith, I have no manors, but a pretty home-stall; and we have great +store of oxen and horses, and carts and ploughs and household-stuff +'bomination, and great flocks of sheep, and flocks of geese and capons, +and hens and ducks. O, we have a fine yard of pullen! And, thank God, +here's a fine weather for my father's lambs. + +LELIA. +I cannot live content in discontent: +For as no music can delight the ears, +Where all the parts of discords are composed. +So wedlock-bands will still consist in jars, +Where in condition there's no sympathy; +Then rest yourself contented with this answer-- +I cannot love. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +It's no matter what you say: for my father told me thus much before I +came, that you would be something nice at first; but he bad me like you +ne'er the worse for that, for I were the liker to speed. + +LELIA. +Then you were best leave off your suit till +Some other time: and when my leisure serves me +To love you, I'll send you word. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Will you? well then I'll take my leave of you; and if I may hear from +you, I'll pay the messenger well for his pains. But stay--God's death! I +had almost forgot myself! pray ye, let me kiss your hand, ere I go. + +NURSE. +Faith, mistress, his mouth runs a-water for a kiss; a little would serve +his turn, belike: let him kiss your hand. + +LELIA. +I'll not stick for that. [_He kisseth her hand_. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Mistress Lelia, God be with you. + +LELIA. +Farewell, Peter. [_Exit_ PETER. +Thus lucre's set in golden chair of state, +When learning's bid stand by, and keeps aloof: +This greedy humour fits my father's vein, +Who gapes for nothing but for golden gain. + + _Enter_ CHURMS. + +NURSE. +Mistress, take heed you speak nothing that will bear action, for here +comes Master Churms the pettifogger. + +CHURMS. +Mistress Lelia, rest you merry: what's the reason you and your nurse +walk here alone? + +LELIA. +Because, sir, we desire no other company but our own. + +CHURMS. +Would I were then your own, that I might keep you company. + +NURSE. +O sir, you and he that is her own are far asunder. + +CHURMS. +But if she please, we may be nearer. + +LELIA. +That cannot be; mine own is nearer than myself: +And yet myself, alas! am not mine own. +Thoughts, fears, despairs, ten thousand dreadful dreams, +Those are mine own, and those do keep me company. + +CHURMS. +Before God, +I must confess, your father is too cruel, +To keep you thus sequester'd from the world, +To spend your prime of youth thus in obscurity, +And seek to wed you to an idiot fool, +That knows not how to use himself: +Could my deserts but answer my desires, +I swear by Sol, fair Phoebus' silver eye, +My heart would wish no higher to aspire, +Than to be grac'd with Lelia's love. +By Jesus, I cannot play the dissembler, +And woo my love with courting ambages, +Like one whose love hangs on his smooth tongue's end; +But, in a word, I tell the sum of my desires, +I love fair Lelia: +By her my passions daily are increas'd; +And I must die, unless by Lelia's love they be releas'd. + +LELIA. +Why, Master Churms, I had thought that you had been my father's great +councillor in all these actions. + +CHURMS. +Nay, damn me, if I be: by heav'ns, sweet nymph, I am not! + +NURSE. +Master Churms, you are one can do much with her father: and if you love +as you say, persuade him to use her more kindly, and give her liberty to +take her choice; for these made marriages prove not well. + +CHURMS. +I protest I will. + +LELIA. +So Lelia shall accept thee as her friend:-- +Meanwhile, nurse, let's in: +My long absence, I know, will make my father muse. + + [_Exeunt_ LELIA and NURSE. + +CHURMS. +_So Lelia shall accept thee as her friend_:--who can but ruminate upon +these words? Would she had said, her love: but 'tis no matter; first +creep, and then go; now her friend: the next degree is Lelia's love. +Well, I'll persuade her father to let her have a little more liberty. +But soft; I'll none of that neither: so the scholar may chance cosen me. +Persuade him to keep her in still: and before she'll have Peter +Plod-all, she'll have anybody; and so I shall be sure that Sophos shall +never come at her. Why, I'll warrant ye, she'll be glad to run away with +me at length. Hang him that has no shifts. I promised Sophos to further +him in his suit; but if I do, I'll be pecked to death with hens. I swore +to Gripe I would persuade Lelia to love Peter Plod-all; but, God forgive +me, 'twas the furthest end of my thought. Tut! what's an oath? every man +for himself: I'll shift for one, I warrant ye. + [_Exit_. + + _Enter_ FORTUNATUS _solus_. + +FORTUNATUS. +Thus have I pass'd the beating billows of the sea, +By Ithac's rocks and wat'ry Neptune's bounds: +And wafted safe from Mars his bloody fields, +Where trumpets sound tantara to the fight, +And here arriv'd for to repose myself +Upon the borders of my native soil. +Now, Fortunatus, bend thy happy course +Unto thy father's house, to greet thy dearest friends; +And if that still thy aged sire survive, +Thy presence will revive his drooping spirits, +And cause his wither'd cheeks be sprent with youthful blood, +Where death of late was portray'd to the quick. +But, soft; who comes here? [_Stand aside_. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +I wonder I hear not of Master Churms; I would fain know how he speeds, +and what success he has in Lelia's love. Well, if he cosen the scholar +of her, 'twould make my worship laugh; and if he have her, he may +say,--Godamercy, Robin Goodfellow: O, ware a good head as long as you +live. Why, Master Gripe, he casts beyond the moon, and Churms is the +only man he puts in trust with his daughter; and, I'll warrant, the old +churl would take it upon his salvation that he will persuade her to +marry Peter Plod-all. But I will make a fool of Peter Plod-all; I'll +look him in the face, and pick his purse, whilst Churms cosen him of his +wench, and my old grandsire Holdfast of his daughter: and if he can do +so, I'll teach him a trick to cosen him of his gold too. Now, for +Sophos, let him wear the willow garland, and play the melancholy +malcontent, and pluck his hat down in his sullen eyes, and think on +Lelia in these desert groves: 'tis enough for him to have her in his +thoughts, although he ne'er embrace her in his arms. But now there's a +fine device comes into my head to scare the scholar: you shall see, I'll +make fine sport with him. They say that every day he keeps his walk +amongst these woods and melancholy shades, and on the bark of every +senseless tree engraves the tenor of his hapless hope. Now when he's at +Venus' altar at his orisons, I'll put me on my great carnation-nose, and +wrap me in a rowsing calf-skin suit, and come like some hobgoblin, or +some devil ascended from the grisly pit of hell, and like a scarbabe +make him take his legs: I'll play the devil, I warrant ye. + + [_Exit_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW. + +FORTUNATUS. +And if you do, by this hand, I'll play the conjuror. +Blush, Fortunatus, at the base conceit! +To stand aloof, like one that's in a trance, +And with thine eyes behold that miscreant imp, +Whose tongue['s] more venom['s] than the serpent's sting, +Before thy face thus taunt thy dearest friends-- +Ay, thine own father--with reproachful terms! +Thy sister Lelia, she is bought and sold, +And learned Sophos, thy thrice-vowed friend, +Is made a stale by this base cursed crew +And damned den of vagrant runagates: +But here, in sight of sacred heav'ns, I swear +By all the sorrows of the Stygian souls, +By Mars his bloody blade, and fair Bellona's bowers, +I vow, these eyes shall ne'er behold my father's face, +These feet shall never pass these desert plains; +But pilgrim-like, I'll wander in these woods, +Until I find out Sopho's secret walks. +And sound the depth of all their plotted drifts. +Nor will I cease, until these hands revenge +Th'injurious wrong, that's offer'd to my friend, +Upon the workers of this stratagem. + [_Exit_. + + _Enter_ PEG _sola_. + +I' faith, i' faith, I cannot tell what to do; +I love, and I love, and I cannot tell who: +Out upon this love! for, wot you what? +I have suitors come huddle, twos upon twos, +And threes upon threes: and what think you +Troubles me? I must chat and kiss with all comers, +Or else no bargain. + + _Enter_ WILL CRICKET, _and kisses her_. + +WILL CRICKET. +A bargain, i' faith: ha, my sweet honey-sops! how dost thou? + +PEG. +Well, I thank you, William; now I see y'are a man of your word. + +WILL CRICKET. +A man o' my word, quotha? why, I ne'er broke promise in my life that +I kept. + +PEG. +No, William, I know you did not; but I had forgotten me. + +WILL CRICKET. +Dost hear, Peg? if e'er I forget thee, I pray God, I may never remember +thee. + +PEG. +Peace! here comes my granam Midnight. + + _Enter_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +What, Peg! what, ho! what, Peg, I say! what, Peg, my wench? where art +thou, trow? + +PEG. +Here, granam, at your elbow. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +What mak'st thou here this twatter light? I think thou'rt in a dream; +I think the fool haunts thee. + +WILL CRICKET. +Zounds, fool in your face! Fool? O monstrous intitulation. Fool? O, +disgrace to my person. Zounds, fool not me, for I cannot brook such a +cold rasher, I can tell you. Give me but such another word, and I'll be +thy tooth-drawer--even of thy butter-tooth, thou toothless trot, thou! + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Nay, William, pray ye, be not angry; you must bear with old folks, they +be old and testy, hot and hasty. Set not your wit against mine, William; +for I thought you no harm, by my troth. + +WILL CRICKET. +Well, your good words have something laid my choler. But, granam, shall +I be so bold to come to your house now and then to keep Peg company? + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Ay, and beshrew thy good heart, and thou dost not. Come, and we'll have +a piece of a barley bag-pudding or something, and thou shalt be very +heartily welcome, that thou shalt, and Peg shall bid thee welcome too. +Pray ye, maid, bid him welcome, and make much of him, for, by my vay, +he's a good proper springal.[146] + +PEG. +Granam, if you did but see him dance, 'twould do your heart good. Lord! +'twould make anybody love him, to see how finely he'll foot it. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +William, prythee, go home to my house with us, and take a cup of our +beer, and learn to know the way again another time. + +WILL CRICKET. +Come on, granam. I'll man you home, i' faith. +Come, Peg. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ GRIPE, _old_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_ PETER, _and_ + CHURMS _the lawyer_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Come hither, Peter; hold up your head. +Where's your cap and leg, sir boy, ha? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +By your leave, Master Gripe. + +GRIPE. +Welcome, Peter; give me thy hand: thou'rt welcome. By'r Lady, this is a +good, proper, tall fellow, neighbour; call you him a boy? + +PLOD-ALL. +A good, pretty, square springal,[147] sir. + +GRIPE. +Peter, you have seen my daughter, I am sure. +How do you like her? What says she to you? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Faith, I like her well, and I have broken my mind to her, and she would +say neither ay nor no. But, thank God, sir, we parted good friends, for +she let me kiss her hand, and bad, _Farewell, Peter_, and therefore I +think I am like enough to speed. How think you, Master Churms? + +CHURMS. +Marry, I think so too, for she did show no token of any dislike of your +motion, did she? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +No, not a whit, sir. + +CHURMS. +Why then, I warrant ye, for we hold in our law that, _idem est non +apparere et non esse_. + + +GRIPE. +Master Churms, I pray you, do so much as call my daughter hither. I will +make her sure here to Peter Plod-all, and I'll desire you to be a +witness. + +CHURMS. +With all my heart, sir. [_Exit_ CHURMS. + +GRIPE. +Before God, neighbour, this same Master Churms is a very good lawyer, +for, I warrant, you cannot speak anything, but he has law for it _ad +unguem_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Marry, even the more joy on him, and he's one that I am very much +beholding to: but here comes your daughter. + + _Enter_ CHURMS, LELIA, _and_ NURSE. + +LELIA. +Father, did you send for me? + +GRIPE. +Ay, wench, I did. Come hither, Lelia; give me thy hand. Master Churms, +I pray you, bear witness, I here give Lelia to Peter Plod-all. [_She +plucks away her hand_.] How now? + +NURSE. +She'll none, she thanks you, sir. + +GRIPE. +Will she none? Why, how now, I say? What, you puling, peevish thing, you +untoward baggage, will you not be ruled by your father? Have I taken +care to bring you up to this, and will you do as you list? Away, I say; +hang, starve, beg; begone, pack, I say; out of my sight! Thou never +gettest pennyworth of my goods for this. Think on't, I do not use to +jest. Begone, I say; I will not hear thee speak. + + [_Exeunt_ LELIA _and_ NURSE. + +CHURMS. +I pray you, sir, patient yourself; she's young. + +GRIPE. +I hold my life, this beggarly scholar hankers about her still, makes her +so untoward. But I'll home; I'll set her a harder task. I'll keep her +in, and look to her a little better than I ha' done. I'll make her have +little mind of gadding, I warrant her. Come, neighbour, send your son to +my house, for he's welcome thither, and shall be welcome; and I'll make +Lelia bid him welcome too, ere I ha' done with her. Come, Peter, follow +us. + [_Exeunt all but_ CHURMS. + +CHURNS. +Why, this is excellent: better and better still. This is beyond +expectation; why, now this gear begins to work. But, beshrew my heart, I +was afraid that Lelia would have yielded. When I saw her father take her +by the hand and call me for a witness, my heart began to quake; but, to +say the truth, she had little reason to take a cullian lug-loaf, milksop +slave, when she may have a lawyer, a gentleman that stands upon his +reputation in the country, one whose diminutive defect of law may +compare with his little learning. Well, I see that Churms must be the +man must carry Lelia, when all's done. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +How now, Master Churms? What news abroad? Methinks you look very spruce; +y'are very frolic now a-late. + +CHURMS. +What, fellow Robin? How goes the squares with you? Y'are waxen very +proud a-late; you will not know your own friends. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Faith, I even came to seek you, to bestow a quart of wine of you. + +CHURMS. +That's strange; you were never wont to be so liberal. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Tush, man; one good turn asks another; clear gains, man, clear gains! +Peter Plod-all shall pay for all. I have gulled him once, and I'll come +over him again and again, I warrant ye. + +CHURMS. +Faith, Lelia has e'en given him the doff[148] here, and has made her +father almost stark-mad. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O, all the better; then I shall be sure of more of his custom. But what +success have you in your suit with her? + +CHURMS. +Faith, all hitherto goes well. I have made the motion to her, but as yet +we are grown to no conclusion. But I am in very good hope. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +But do you think you shall get her father's goodwill? + +CHURMS. +Tut, if I get the wench, I care not for that; that will come afterward; +and I'll be sure of something in the meantime, for I have outlawed a +great number of his debtors, and I'll gather up what money I can amongst +them, and Gripe shall never know of it neither. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Ay, and of those that are scarce able to pay, take the one half, and +forgive them the other, rather than sit out at all. + +CHURMS. +Tush! let me alone for that; but, sirrah, I have brought the scholar +into a fool's paradise. Why, he has made me his spokesman to Mistress +Lelia, and, God's my judge, I never so much as name him to her. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O, by the mass, well-remembered. +I'll tell you what I mean to do: +I'll attire myself fit for the same purpose, +Like to some hellish hag or damned fiend, +And meet with Sophos wandering in the woods. +O, I shall fray him terribly. + +CHURMS. +I would thou couldst scare him out of his wits, then should I ha' the +wench, cocksure. I doubt nobody but him. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Well, let's go drink together, +And then I'll go put on my devilish robes-- +I mean, my Christmas calf-skin suit, +And then walk to the woods. +O, I'll terrify him, I warrant ye. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _A Wood_. + + _Enter_ SOPHOS _solus_. + +SOPHOS. +Will heavens still smile at Sophos' miseries, +And give no end to my incessant moans? +These cypress shades are witness of my woes; +The senseless trees do grieve at my laments; +The leafy branches drop sweet Myrrha's tears: +For love did scorn me in my mother's womb, +And sullen Saturn, pregnant at my birth, +With all the fatal stars conspir'd in one +To frame a hapless constellation, +Presaging Sophos' luckless destiny. +Here, here doth Sophos turn Ixion's restless wheel, +And here lies wrapp'd in labyrinths of love-- +Of his sweet Lelia's love, whose sole idea still +Prolongs the hapless date of Sophos' hopeless life. +Ah! said I life? a life far worse than death-- +Than death? ay, than ten thousand deaths. +I daily die, in that I live love's thrall; +They die thrice happy that once die for all. +Here will I stay my weary wand'ring steps, +And lay me down upon this solid earth, [_He lies down_. +The mother of despair and baleful thoughts. +Ay, this befits my melancholy moods. +Now, now, methinks I hear the pretty birds +With warbling tunes record Fair Lelia's name, +Whose absence makes warm blood drop from my heart, +And forceth wat'ry tears from these my weeping eyes. +Methinks I hear the silver-sounding stream +With gentle murmur summon me to sleep, +Singing a sweet, melodious lullaby. +Here will I take a nap, and drown my hapless hopes +In the ocean seas of _Never like to speed_. + [_He falls in a slumber, and music sounds_. + + _Enter_ SYLVANUS. + +SYLVANUS. +Thus hath Sylvanus left his leafy bowers, +Drawn by the sound of Echo's sad reports, +That with shrill notes and high resounding voice +Doth pierce the very caverns of the earth, +And rings through hills and dales the sad laments +Of virtue's loss and Sophos' mournful plaints. +Now, Morpheus, rouse thee from thy sable den, +Charm all his senses with a slumb'ring trance; +Whilst old Sylvanus send[s] a lovely train +Of satyrs, dryades, and water[149] nymphs +Out of their bowers to tune their silver strings, +And with sweet-sounding music sing +Some pleasing madrigals and roundelays, +To comfort Sophos in his deep distress. + [_Exit_ SYLVANUS. + + _Enter the Nymphs and Satyrs singing_. + + THE SONG. + + 1. + + _Satyrs, sing, let sorrow keep her cell, + Let warbling Echoes ring, + And sounding music yell[150] + Through hills, through dales, sad grief and care to kill + In him long since, alas! hath griev'd his fill_. + + 2. + + _Sleep no more, but wake and live content, + Thy grief the Nymphs deplore: + The Sylvan gods lament + To hear, to see thy moan, thy loss, thy love, + Thy plaints to tears the flinty rocks do move_. + + 3. + + _Grieve not, then; the queen of love is mild, + She sweetly smiles on men, + When reason's most beguil'd; + Her looks, her smiles are kind, are sweet, are fair: + Awake therefore, and sleep not still in care_. + + 4. + + _Love intends to free thee from annoy, + His nymphs Sylvanus sends + To bid thee live in joy, + In hope, in joy, sweet love, delight's embrace: + Fair love herself will yield thee so much grace_. + + [_Exeunt the Nymphs and Satyrs_. + +SOPHOS. +What do I hear? what harmony is this, +With silver sound that glutteth Sophos' ears. +And drives sad passions from his heavy heart, +Presaging some good future hap shall fall, +After these blust'ring blasts of discontent? +Thanks, gentle Nymphs, and Satyrs too, adieu; +That thus compassionate a loyal lover's woe, +When heav'n sits smiling at his dire mishaps. + + _Enter_ FORTUNATUS. + +FORTUNATUS. +With weary steps I trace these desert groves, +And search to find out Sophos' secret walks, +My truest vowed friend and Lelia's dearest love. + +SOPHOS. +What voice is this sounds Lelia's sacred name? [_He riseth_. +Is it some satyr that hath view'd her late, +And's grown enamour'd of her gorgeous hue? + +FORTUNATUS. +No satyr, Sophos; but thy ancient friend, +Whose dearest blood doth rest at thy command: +Hath sorrow lately blear'd thy wat'ry eyes, +That thou forgett'st the lasting league of love, +Long since was vowed betwixt thyself and me? +Look on me, man; I am thy friend. + +SOPHOS. +O, now I know thee, now thou nam'st my friend; +I have no friend, to whom I dare +Unload the burden of my grief, +But only Fortunatus, he's my second self: +_Mi Fortunate, ter fortunaté venis_.[151] + +FORTUNATUS. +How fares my friend? methinks you look not well; +Your eyes are sunk, your cheeks look pale and wan: +What means this alteration? + +SOPHOS. +My mind, sweet friend, is like a mastless ship, +That's hurl'd and toss'd upon the surging seas +By Boreas' bitter blast and Ae'lus' whistling winds, +On rocks and sands far from the wished port, +Whereon my silly ship desires to land: +Fair Lelia's love, that is the wished haven, +Wherein my wand'ring mind would take repose; +For want of which my restless thoughts are toss'd, +For want of which all Sophos' joys are lost. + +FORTUNATUS. +Doth Sophos love my sister Lelia? + +SOPHOS. +She, she it is, whose love I wish to gain, +Nor need I wish, nor do I love in vain: +My love she doth repay with equal meed-- +'Tis strange, you'll say, that Sophos should not speed. + +FORTUNATUS. +Your love repaid with equal meed, +And yet you languish still in love? 'tis strange. +From whence proceeds your grief, +Unfold unto your friend: a friend may yield relief. + +SOPHOS. +My want of wealth is author of my grief; +Your father says, my state is too-too low: +I am no hobby bred; I may not soar so high +As Lelia's love, +The lofty eagle will not catch at flies. +When I with Icarus would soar against the sun, +He is the only fiery Phaeton +Denies my course, and sears my waxen wings, +When as I soar aloft. +He mews fair Lelia up from Sophos' sight, +That not so much as paper pleads remorse. +Thrice three times Sol hath slept in Thetis' lap, +Since these mine eyes beheld sweet Lelia's face: +What greater grief, what other hell than this, +To be denied to come where my beloved is? + +FORTUNATUS. +Do you alone love Lelia? +Have you no rivals with you in your love? + +SOPHOS. +Yes, only one; and him your father backs: +'Tis Peter Plod-all, rich Plod-all's son and heir, +One whose base, rustic, rude desert +Unworthy far to win so fair a prize; +Yet means your father for to make a match +For golden lucre with this Coridon, +And scorns at virtue's lore: hence grows my grief. + +FORTUNATUS. +If it be true I hear, there is one Churms beside +Makes suit to win my sister to his bride. + +SOPHOS. +That cannot be; Churms is my vowed friend, +Whose tongue relates the tenor of my love +To Lelia's ears: I have no other means. + +FORTUNATUS. +Well, trust him not: the tiger hides his claws, +When oft he doth pretend[152] the greatest guiles. +But stay: here comes Lelia's nurse. + + _Enter_ NURSE. + +SOPHOS. +Nurse, what news? How fares my love? + +NURSE. +How fares she, quotha? marry, she may fare how she will for you. Neither +come to her nor send to her of a whole fortnight! Now I swear to you by +my maidenhead, if my husband should have served me so when he came a +wooing me, I would never have looked on him with a good face, as long as +I had lived. But he was as kind a wretch as ever laid lips of a woman: +he would a'come through the windows, or doors, or walls, or anything, +but he would have come to me. Marry, after we had been married a while, +his kindness began to slack, for I'll tell you what he did: he made me +believe he would go to Green-goose fair; and I'll be sworn he took his +legs, and ran clean away. And I am afraid you'll prove e'en such another +kind piece to my mistress; for she sits at home in a corner weeping for +you: and, I'll be sworn, she's ready to die upward for you. And her +father o' the other side, he yawls at her, and jawls at her; and she +leads such a life for you, it passes: and you'll neither come to her, +nor send to her. Why, she thinks you have forgotten her. + +SOPHOS. +Nay, then let heav'ns in sorrow end my days, +And fatal fortune never cease to frown: +And heav'n and earth, and all conspire to pull me down, +If black oblivion seize upon my heart, +Once to estrange my thoughts from Lelia's love. + +FORTUNATUS. +Why, nurse, I am sure that Lelia hears +From Sophos once a day at least by Churms +The lawyer, who is his only friend. + +NURSE. +What, young master! God bless mine eyesight. Now, by my maidenhead, +y'are welcome home: I am sure my mistress will be glad to see you. But +what said you of Master Churms? + +FORTUNATUS. +Marry, I say he's a well-wisher to my sister Lelia, +And a secret friend to Sophos. + +NURSE. +Marry, the devil he is! trust him, and hang him. Why, he cannot speak a +good word on him to my old master; and he does so ruffle before my +mistress with his barbarian eloquence,[153] and strut before her in a +pair of Polonian legs, as if he were a gentleman-usher to the great Turk +or to the devil of Dowgate. And if my mistress would be ruled by him, +Sophos might go snick-up: but he has such a butter-milk face, that +she'll never have him. + +SOPHOS. +Can falsehood lurk in those enticing looks! +And deep dissemblance lie, where truth appears? + +FORTUNATUS. +Injurious villain, to betray his friend! + +NURSE. +Sir, do you know the gentleman? + +FORTUNATUS. +Faith, not well. + +NURSE. +Why, sir, he looks like a red herring at a nobleman's table on +Easter-day, and he speaks nothing but almond-butter and sugarcandy. + +FORTUNATUS. +That's excellent. + +SOPHOS. +This world's the chaos of confusion; +No world at all, but mass of open wrongs, +Wherein a man, as in a map, may see +The highroad way from woe to misery. + +FORTUNATUS. +Content yourself, and leave these passions: +Now do I sound the depth of all their drifts, +The devil's[154] device and Churms his knavery; +On whom this heart hath vow'd to be reveng'd. +I'll scatter them: the plot's already in my head. +Nurse, hie thee home, commend me to my sister; +Bid her this night send for Master Churms: +To him she must recount her many griefs, +Exclaim against her father's hard constraint, and so +Cunningly temporise with this cunning Catso, +That he may think she loves him as her life; +Bid her tell him that, if by any means +He can convey her forth her father's gate +Unto a secret friend of hers, +The way to whom lies by this forest-side; +That none but he shall have her to his bride. +For her departure let her 'ppoint the time +To-morrow night, when Vesper 'gins to shine; +Here will I be when Lelia comes this way, +Accompani'd with her gentleman-usher, +Whose am'rous thoughts do dream on nought but love: +And if this bastinado hold, I'll make +Him leave his wench with Sophos for a pawn. +Let me alone to use him in his kind; +This is the trap which for him I have laid, +Thus craft by cunning once shall be betray'd: +And, for the devil,[155] I will conjure him. +Good nurse, begone; bid her not fail: +And for a token bear to her this ring, +Which well she knows; for, when I saw her last, +It was her favour, and she gave it me. + +SOPHOS. +And bear her this from me, +And with this ring bid her receive my heart-- +My heart! alas, my heart I cannot give; +How should I give her that which is her own? + +NURSE. +And your heart be hers, her heart is yours, and so change is no robbery. +Well, I'll give her your tokens, and tell her what ye say. + +FORTUNATUS. +Do, good nurse; but in any case let not my father know that I am here, +until we have effected all our purposes. + +NURSE. +I'll warrant you, I will not play with you, as Master Churms does with +Sophos; I would ha' my ears cut from my head first. + [_Exit_ NURSE. + +FORTUNATUS. +Come, Sophos, cheer up yourself, man; +Let hope expel these melancholy dumps. +Meanwhile, let's in, expecting +How the events of this device will fall, +Until to-morrow at th'appointed time, +When we'll expect the coming of your love. +What, man, I'll work it through the fire, +But you shall have her. + +SOPHOS. +And I will study to deserve this love. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ WILLIAM CRICKET _solus_. + +WILL CRICKET. +Look on me, and look of Master Churms, a good, proper man. Marry, Master +Churms has something a better pair of legs indeed, but for a sweet face, +a fine beard, comely corpse, and a carousing codpiece. + + All England, if it can, + Show me such a man, + To win a wench, by Gis, + To clip, to coll, to kiss, + As William Cricket is. + +Why, look you now: if I had been such a great, long, large, lobcocked, +loselled lurden, as Master Churms is, I'll warrant you, I should never +have got Peg as long as I had lived, for, do you mark, a wench will +never love a man that has all his substance in his legs. But stay: here +comes my landlord; I must go salute him. + + _Enter old_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_ PETER. + +PLOD-ALL. +Come hither, Peter. When didst thou see Robin Goodfellow? He's the man +must do the fact. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Faith, father, I see him not this two days, but I'll seek him out, for +I know he'll do the deed, and she were twenty Leilas. For, father, he's +a very cunning man for give him but ten groats, and he'll give me a +powder that will make Lelia come to bed to me, and when I have her there, +I'll use her well enough. + +PLOD-ALL. +Will he so? Marry, I will give him vorty shillings, if he can do it. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Nay, he'll do more than that too, for he'll make himself like a devil, +and fray the scholar that hankers about her out on's wits. + +PLOD-ALL. +Marry, Jesus bless us! will he so? Marry, thou shalt have vorty +shillings to give him, and thy mother shall bestow a hard cheese +on him beside. + +WILL CRICKET. +Landlord, a pox on you, this good morn! + +PLOD-ALL. +How now, fool? what, dost curse me? + +WILL CRICKET. +How now, fool! How now, caterpillar? It's a sign of death, when such +vermin creep hedges so early in the morning. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Sirrah foul manners, do you know to whom you speak? + +WILL CRICKET. +Indeed, Peter, I must confess I want some of your wooing manners, or +else I might have turned my fair bushtail to you instead of your father, +and have given you the ill salutation this morning. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Let him alone, Peter; I'll temper him well enough. Sirrah, I hear say, +you must be married shortly. I'll make you pay a sweet fine for your +house for this. Ha, sirrah! am not I your landlord? + +WILL CRICKET. +Yes, for fault of a better; but you get neither sweet fine nor sour +fine of me. + +PLOD-ALL. +My masters, I pray you bear witness I do discharge him then. + +WILL CRICKET. +My masters, I pray you bear witness my landlord has given me a general +discharge. I'll be married presently. My fine's paid; I have a discharge +for it. [_He offers to go away_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Nay, prythee, stay. + +WILL CRICKET. +No, I'll not stay. I'll go call the clerk. I'll be cried out upon i' the +church presently. What, ho! what, clerk, I say? where are you? + + _Enter_ CLERK. + +CLERK. +Who calls me? what would you with me? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, sir, I would have you to make proclamation that, if any manner of +man, o' the town or the country, can lay any claim to Peg Pudding, let +him bring word to the crier, or else William Cricket will wipe his nose +of her. + +CLERK. +You mean, you would be asked i' the church? + +WILL CRICKET. +Ay, that's it. A bots on't, I cannot hit of these marrying terms yet. +And I'll desire my landlord here and his son to be at the celebration of +my marriage too. I' faith, Peter, you shall cram your guts full of +cheesecakes and custards there; and, sirrah clerk, if thou wilt say amen +stoutly, i' faith, my powder-beef-slave, I'll have a rump of beef for +thee, shall make thy mouth stand o' the tother side. + +CLERK. +When would you have it done? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, e'en as soon as may be. Let me see; I will be asked i' the church +of Sunday morning prayer, and again at evening prayer, and the next +holyday that comes, I will be asked i' the forenoon and married i' the +afternoon, for, do you mark, I am none of these sneaking fellows that +will stand thrumming of caps and studying upon a matter, as long as +Hunks with the great head has been about to show his little wit in the +second part of his paltry poetry,[156] but if I begin with wooing, I'll +end with wedding, and therefore, good clerk, let me have it done with +all speed; for, I promise you, I am very sharp-set. + +CLERK. +Faith, you may be asked i' the church on Sunday at morning prayer, but +Sir John cannot 'tend[157] to do it at evening prayer, for there comes a +company of players to the town on Sunday i' the afternoon, and Sir John +is so good a fellow that I know he'll scarce leave their company to say +evening prayer; for, though I say it, he's a very painful man, and takes +so great delight in that faculty, that he'll take as great pain about +building of a stage or so, as the basest fellow among them. + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, if he have so lawful an excuse, I am content to defer it one day +the longer; and, landlord, I hope you and your son Peter will make bold +with us, and trouble us. + +PLOD-ALL. +Nay, William, we would be loth to trouble you; but you shall have our +company there. + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, you shall be very heartily welcome, and we will have good merry +rogues there, that will make you laugh till you burst. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Why, William, what company do you mean to have? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, first and foremost, there will be an honest Dutch cobbler, that +will sing _I will noe meare to Burgaine[158] go_, the best that ever you +heard. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +What, must a cobbler be your chief guest? Why, he's a base fellow. + +WILL CRICKET. +A base fellow! You may be ashamed to say so, for he's an honest fellow +and a good fellow; and he begins to carry the very badge of +good-fellowship upon his nose, that I do not doubt but in time he will +prove as good a cup-companion as Robin Goodfellow himself. Ay, and he's +a tall fellow, and a man of his hands too, for, I'll tell you what--tie +him to the bull-ring, and for a bag-pudding, a custard, a cheesecake, a +hog's cheek, or a calf's head, turn any man i' the town to him, and if +he do not prove himself as tall a man as he, let blind Hugh bewitch him, +and turn his body into a barrel of strong ale, and let his nose be the +spigot, his mouth the faucet, and his tongue a plug for the bunghole. +And then there will be Robin Goodfellow, as good a drunken rogue as +lives, and Tom Shoemaker; and I hope you will not deny that he's an +honest man, for he was constable o' the town; and a number of other +honest rascals which, though they are grown bankrouts, and live at the +reversion of other men's tables, yet, thanks be to God, they have a +penny amongst them at all times at their need. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Nay, if Robin Goodfellow be there, you shall be sure to have our +company; for he's one that we hear very well of, and my son here has +some occasion to use him, and therefore, if we may know when 'tis, +we'll make bold to trouble you. + +WILL CRICKET. +Yes, I'll send you word. + +PLOD-ALL. +Why then farewell, till we hear from you. + + [_Exeunt_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_. + +WILL CRICKET. +Well, clerk, you'll see this matter bravely performed; let it be +done as it should be. + +CLERK. +I'll warrant ye; fear it not. + +WILL CRICKET. +Why, then, go you to Sir John, and I'll to my wench, and bid her give +her maidenhead warning to prepare itself; for the destruction of it is +at hand. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ LELIA _sola_. + +LELIA. +How love and fortune both with eager mood, +Like greedy hounds, do hunt my tired heart, +Rous'd forth the thickets of my wonted joys! +And Cupid winds his shrill-note buglehorn, +For joy my silly heart so near is spent: +Desire, that eager cur, pursues the chase, +And fortune rides amain unto the fall; +Now sorrow sings, and mourning bears a part, +Playing harsh descant on my yielding heart. + + _Enter_ NURSE. + +Nurse, what news? + +NURSE. +Faith, a whole sackful of news. You love Sophos, and Sophos loves you, +and Peter Plod-all loves you, and you love not him, and you love not +Master Churms, and he loves you; and so, here's love and no love, and I +love and I love not, and I cannot tell what; but of all and of all +Master Churms must be the man you must love. + +LELIA. +Nay, first I'll mount me on the winged wind, +And fly for succour to the furthest Ind. +Must I love Master Churms? + +NURSE. +Faith, you must, and you must not. + +LELIA. +As how, I pray thee? + +NURSE. +Marry, I have commendations to you. + +LELIA. +From whom? + +NURSE. +From your brother Fortunatus. + +LELIA. +My brother Fortunatus! + +NURSE. +No, from Sophos. + +LELIA. +From my love? + +NURSE. +No, from neither. + +LELIA. +From neither? + +NURSE. +Yes, from both. + +LELIA. +Prythee, leave thy foolery, and let me know thy news. + +NURSE. +Your brother Fortunatus and your love to-morrow night will meet you by +the forest-side, there to confer about I know not what: but it is like +that Sophos will make you of his privy council, before you come again. + +LELIA. +Is Fortunatus then returned from the wars? + +NURSE. +He is with Sophos every day: but in any case you must not let your +father know; for he hath sworn he will not be descried, until he have +effected your desires; for he swaggers and swears out of all cry, that +he will venture all, + + Both fame and blood, and limb and life, + But Lelia shall be Sophos' wedded wife. + +LELIA. +Alas! nurse, my father's jealous brain +Doth scarce allow me once a month to go +Beyond the compass of his watchful eyes, +Nor once afford me any conference +With any man, except with Master Churms, +Whose crafty brain beguiles my father so, +That he reposeth trust in none but him: +And though he seeks for favour at my hands, +He takes his mark amiss, and shoots awry; +For I had rather see the devil himself +Than Churms the lawyer. Therefore +How I should meet them by the forest-side +I cannot possibly devise. + +NURSE. +And Master Churms must be the man must work the means: you must this +night send for him; make him believe you love him mightily; tell him you +have a secret friend dwells far away beyond the forest, to whom, if he +can secretly convey you from your father, tell him, you will love him +better than ever God loved him: and when you come to the place +appointed, let them alone to discharge the knave of clubs: and that you +must not fail, here receive this ring, which Fortunatus sent you for a +token, that this is the plot that you must prosecute; and this from +Sophos, as his true love's pledge. + +LELIA. +This ring my brother sent, I know right well: +But this my true love's pledge I more esteem +Than all the golden mines the solid earth contains-- +And see, in happy time, here comes Master Churms. + + _Enter_ CHURMS. + +Now love and fortune both conspire, +And sort their drifts to compass my desire. +Master Churms, y'are well met; I am glad to see you. + +CHURMS. +And I as glad to see fair Lelia, +As ever Paris was to see his dear; +For whom so many Trojans' blood was spilt: +Nor think I would do less than spend my dearest blood +To gain fair Lelia's love, although by loss of life. + +NURSE. +'Faith, mistress, he speaks like a gentleman. Let me persuade you; be +not hard-hearted. Sophos? Why, what's he? If he had loved you but half +so well, he would ha' come through stone walls, but he would have come +to you ere this. + +LELIA. +I must confess, I once lov'd Sophos well; +But now I cannot love him, whom +All the world knows to be a dissembler. + +CHURMS. +Ere I would wrong my love with one day's absence, +I would pass the boiling Hellespont, +As once Leander did for Hero's love, +Or undertake a greater task than that, +Ere I would be disloyal to my love. +And if that Lelia give her free consent, +That both our loves may sympathise in one, +My hand, my heart, my love, my life, and all, +Shall ever tend on Lelia's fair command. + +LELIA. +Master Churms, +Methinks 'tis strange you should make such a motion: +Say, I should yield and grant you love, +When most you did expect a sunshine day, +My father's will would mar your hop'd-for hay; +And when you thought to reap the fruits of love, +His hard constraint would blast it in the bloom: +For he so doats on Peter Plod-all's pelf, +That none but he forsooth must be the man: +And I will rather match myself +Unto a groom of Pluto's grisly den, +Than unto such a silly golden ass. + +CHURMS. +Bravely resolved, i' faith! + +LELIA. +But, to be short-- +I have a secret friend, that dwells from hence +Some two days' journey, that's the most; +And if you can, as well I know you may, +Convey me thither secretly-- +For company I desire no other than your own-- +Here take my hand: +That once perform'd, my heart is next. + +CHURMS. +If on th'adventure all the dangers lay, +That Europe or the western world affords; +Were it to combat Cerberus himself, +Or scale the brazen walls of Pluto's court, +When as there is so fair a prize propos'd; +If I shrink back, or leave it unperform'd, +Let the world canonise me for a coward: +Appoint the time, and leave the rest to me. + +LELIA. +When night's black mantle overspreads the sky, +And day's bright lamp is drenched in the west-- +To-morrow night I think the fittest time, +That silent shade[s] may give us[159] safe convoy +Unto our wished hopes, unseen of living eye. + +CHURMS. +And at that time I will not fail +In that, or ought may make for our avail. + +NURSE. +But what if Sophos should meet you by the forest-side, and encounter +you with his single rapier? + +CHURMS. +Sophos? a hop of my thumb! +A wretch, a wretch! Should Sophos meet +Us there accompani'd with some champion +With whom 'twere any credit to encounter, +Were he as stout as Hercules himself, +Then would I buckle with them hand to hand, +And bandy blows, as thick as hailstones fall, +And carry Lelia away in spite of all their force. +What? love will make cowards fight-- +Much more a man of my resolution. + +LELIA. +And on your resolution I'll depend. +Until to-morrow at th'appointed time, +When I look for you: till when I leave you, +And go make preparation for our journey. + +CHURMS. +Farewell, fair love, until we meet again. Why so: did I not tell you she +would be glad to run away with me at length? Why, this falls out, e'en +as a man would say, thus I would have it. But now I must go cast about +for some money too. Let me see, I have outlawed three or four of Gripe's +debtors; and I have the bonds in mine own hands. The sum that is due to +him is some two or three hundred pounds. Well, I'll to them; if I can +get but one half, I'll deliver them their bonds, and leave the other +half to their own consciences: and so I shall be sure to get money to +bear charges. When all fails, well fare a good wit! But soft; no more of +that. Here comes Master Gripe. + + _Enter_ GRIPE. + +GRIPE. +What, Master Churms? what, all alone? How fares your body? + +CHURMS. +Faith, sir, reasonable well: I am e'en walking here to take the +fresh air. + +GRIPE. +'Tis very wholesome, this fair weather. But, Master Churms, how like you +my daughter? Can you do any good on her? Will she be ruled yet? How +stands she affected to Peter Plod-all? + +CHURMS. +O, very well, sir; I have made her very conformable. O, let me alone to +persuade a woman. I hope you shall see her married within this week at +most,--(_Aside_) I mean to myself. + +GRIPE. +Master Churms, I am so exceedingly beholding to you, I cannot tell how I +shall requite your kindness. But, i' the meantime, here's a brace of +angels for you to drink for your pains. This news hath e'en lightened my +heart. O sir, my neighbour Plod-all is very wealthy. Come, Master +Churms, you shall go home with me: we'll have good cheer, and be merry +for this to-night, i' faith. + +CHURMS. +Well, let them laugh that win. [_Aside. Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ PEG _and her_ GRANAM. + +PEG. +Granam, give me but two crowns of red gold, and I'll give you twopence +of white silver, if Robin the devil be not a water-witch. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Marry, Jesus bless us! why, prythee? + +PEG. +Marry, I'll tell you why. Upon the morrow after the blessed new year, I +came trip, trip, trip, over the market hill, holding up my petticoat to +the calves of my legs, to show my fine coloured stockings, and how +finely I could foot it in a pair of new corked shoes I had bought; and +there I spied this Monsieur Muffe lie gaping up into the skies, to know +how many maids would be with child in the town all the year after. O, +'tis a base vexation slave! How the country talks of the large-ribbed +varlet! + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Marry, out upon him. What a Friday-faced slave it is: I think in my +conscience, his face never keeps holiday. + +PEG. +Why, his face can never be at quiet. He has such a choleric nose, I +durst ha' sworn by my maidenhead (God forgive me, that I should take +such an oath), that if William had had such a nose, I would never ha' +loved him. + + _Enter_ WILLIAM CRICKET. + +WILL CRICKET. +What a talking is here of noses? Come, Peg, we are toward marriage; let +us talk of that may do us good. Granam, what will you give us toward +housekeeping? + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Why, William, we are talking of Robin Goodfellow. What think you of him? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, I say, he looks like a tankard-bearer that dwells in Petticoat +Lane at the sign of the Mermaid; and I swear by the blood of my +codpiece, and I were a woman, I would lug off his lave[160] ears, or +run him to death with a spit. And, for his face, I think 'tis pity there +is not a law made, that it should be felony to name it in any other +places than in bawdy-houses. But, Granam, what will you give us? + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Marry, I will give Peg a pot and a pan, two platters, a dish and a +spoon, a dog and a cat. I trow, she'll prove a good huswife, and love +her husband well too. + +WILL CRICKET. +If she love me, I'll love her. I' faith, my sweet honeycomb, I'll love +thee _A per se A_. We must be asked in church next Sunday; and we'll be +married presently. + +PEG. +I' faith, William, we'll have a merry day on't. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +That we will, i' faith, Peg; we'll have a whole noise of fiddlers there. +Come, Peg, let's hie us home; we'll make a bag-pudding to supper, and +William shall go and sup with us. + +WILL CRICKET. +Come on, i' faith. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ FORTUNATUS _and_ SOPHOS. + +FORTUNATUS. +Why, how now, Sophos? all _amort_? still languishing in love? +Will not the presence of thy friend prevail, +Nor hope expel these sullen fits? +Cannot mirth wring if but a forged smile +From those sad drooping looks of thine? +Rely on hope, whose hap will lead thee right +To her, whom thou dost call thy heart's delight: +Look cheerly, man; the time is near at hand, +That Hymen, mounted on a snow-white coach, +Shall tend on Sophos and his lovely bride. + +SOPHOS. +'Tis impossible: her father, man, her father-- +He's all for Peter Plod-all. + +FORTUNATUS. +Should I but see that Plod-all offer love, +This sword should pierce the peasant's breast, +And chase his soul from his accursed corpse +By an unwonted way unto the grisly lake. +But now th'appointed time is near, +That Churms should come with his supposed love: +Then sit we down under these leafy shades, +And wait the time of Lelia's wish'd approach. + + [_They sit down_. + +SOPHOS. +Ay, here I'll wait for Lelia's wish'd approach; +More wish'd to me than is a calm at sea[161] +To shipwreck'd souls, when great god Neptune frowns. +Though sad despair hath almost drown'd my hopes, +Yet would I pass the burning vaults of Ork[162], +As erst did Hercules to fetch his love, +If I might meet my love upon the strond, +And but enjoy her love one minute of an hour. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW. + +But stay; what man or devil, or hellish fiend comes here, +Transformed in this ugly, uncouth shape? + +FORTUNATUS. +O, peace a while; you shall see good sport anon. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Now I am clothed in this hellish shape, +If I could meet with Sophos in these woods, +O, he would take me for the devil himself: +I should ha' good laughing, beside the forty +Shillings Peter Plod-all has given me; and if +I get no more, I'm sure of that. But soft; +Now I must try my cunning, for here he sits.-- +The high commander of the damned souls, +Great Dis, the duke of devils, and prince of Limbo lake, +High regent of Acheron, Styx, and Phlegeton, +By strict command from Pluto, hell's great monarch, +And fair Proserpina, the queen of hell, +By full consent of all the damned hags, +And all the fiends that keep the Stygian plains, +Hath sent me here from depth of underground +To summon thee to appear at Pluto's court. + +FORTUNATUS. +A man or devil, or whatsoe'er thou art, +I'll try if blows will drive thee down to hell: +Belike, thou art the devil's parator, +The basest officer that lives in hell; +For such thy words import thee for to be. +'Tis pity you should come so far without a fee; +And because I know money goes low with Sophos, +I'll pay you your fees: [_He beats him_. +Take that and that, and that, upon thee. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O good sir, I beseech you; I'll do anything. + +FORTUNATUS. +Then down to hell; for sure thou art a devil. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O, hold your hands; I am not a devil, by my troth. + +FORTUNATUS. +Zounds, dost thou cross me? I say thou art a devil. + [_Beats him again_. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O Lord! sir, save my life, and I'll say as you say, +Or anything else you'll ha' me do. + +FORTUNATUS. +Then stand up, +And make a preachment of thy pedigree, +And how at first thou learn'dst this devilish trade: +Up, I say. [_Beats him_. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O, I will, sir: although in some places [_Stands upon a stool_. +I bear the title of a scurvy gentleman, +By birth I am a boat-wright's son of Hull, +My father got me of a refus'd hag, +Under the old ruins of Booby's barn; +Who, as she liv'd, at length she likewise died, +And for her good deeds went unto the devil: +But, hell not wont to harbour such a guest, +Her fellow-fiends do daily make complaint +Unto grim Pluto and his lady queen +Of her unruly misbehaviour; +Entreating that a passport might be drawn +For her to wander till the day of doom +On earth again, to vex the minds of men, +And swore she was the fittest fiend in hell +To drive men to desperation. +To this intent her passport straight was drawn, +And in a whirlwind forth of hell she came: +O'er hills she hurls, and scours along the plains; +The trees flew up by th'roots, the earth did quake for fear; +The houses tumble down; she plays the devil and all: +At length, not finding any one so fit +To effect her devilish charge as I, +She comes to me, as to her only child, +And me her instrument on earth she made: +And by her means I learn'd that devilish trade. + +SOPHOS. +O monstrous villain! + +FORTUNATUS. +But tell me, what's thy course of life, +And how thou shift'st for maintenance in the world? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Faith, sir, I am in a manner a promoter, +Or (more fitly term'd) a promoting knave; +I creep into the presence of great men, +And, under colour of their friendships, +Effect such wonders in the world, +That babes will curse me that are yet unborn. +Of the best men I raise a common fame, +And honest women rob of their good name: +Thus daily tumbling in comes all my thrift; +That I get best, is got but by a shift: +But the chief course of all my life +Is to set discord betwixt man and wife. + +FORTUNATUS. +Out upon thee, cannibal! [_He beats him_. +Dost thou think thou shalt ever come to heaven? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +I little hope for heav'n or heavenly bliss: +But if in hell doth any place remain +Of more esteem than is another room, +I hope, as guerdon for my just desert, +To have it for my detestable acts. + +FORTUNATUS. +Were't not thy tongue condemns thy guilty soul, +I could not think that on this living earth +Did breathe a villain more audacious. +Go, get thee gone, and come not in my walk; [_Beats him_. +For, if thou dost, thou com'st unto thy woe. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +The devil himself was never conjur'd so. + [_Exit_ ROBIN. + +SOPHOS. +Sure, he's no man, but an incarnate devil, +Whose ugly shape bewrays his monstrous mind. + +FORTUNATUS. +And if he be a devil, I am sure he's gone: +But Churms the lawyer will be here anon, +And with him comes my sister Lelia; +'Tis he I am sure you look for. + +SOPHOS. +Nay, she it is that I expect so long. + +FORTUNATUS. +Then sit we down, until we hear more news, +This but a prologue to our play ensues. + + [_They sit down_. + + _Enter_ CHURMS _and_ LELIA. + +But see where Churms and Lelia comes along: +He walks as stately as the great baboon. +Zounds, he looks as though his mother were a midwife. + +SOPHOS. +Now, gentle Jove, great monarch of the world, +Grant good success unto my wand'ring hopes. + +CHURMS. +Now Phoebus' silver eye is drench'd in western deep, +And Luna 'gins to show her splendent rays, +And all the harmless quiristers of woods +Do take repose, save only Philomel; +Whose heavy tunes do evermore record +With mournful lays the losses of her love. +Thus far, fair love, we pass in secret sort +Beyond the compass of thy father's bounds, +Whilst he on down-soft bed securely sleeps, +And not so much as dreams of our depart +The dangers pass'd, now think on nought but love; +I'll be thy dear, be thou my heart's delight. + +SOPHOS. +Nay, first I'll send thy soul to coal-black night. [_Aside_.] + +CHURMS. +Thou promis'dst love, now seal it with a kiss. + +FORTUNATUS. +Nay, soft, sir; your mark is at the fairest. +Forswear her love, and seal it with a kiss +Upon the burnish'd splendour of this blade, +Or it shall rip the entrails of thy peasant heart. + +SOPHOS. +Nay, let me do it, that's my part. + +CHURMS. +You wrong me much, to rob me of my love. + +SOPHOS. +Avaunt, base braggard! Lelia's mine. + +CHURMS. +She lately promis'd love to me. + +FORTUNATUS. +Peace, night-raven, peace! I'll end this controversy. +Come, Lelia, stand between them both, +As equal judge to end this strife: +Say which of these shall have thee to his wife. +I can devise no better way than this. +Now choose thy love, and greet him with a kiss. + +LELIA. +My choice is made, and here it is. + [_She kisses Sophos_. + +SOPHOS. +See here the mirror of true constancy, +Whose steadfast love deserves a prince's worth. + +LELIA. +Master Churms, are you not well? +I must confess I would have chosen you, +But that I ne'er beheld your legs till now; +Trust me, I never look'd so low before. + +CHURMS. +I know, you use to look aloft. + +LELIA. +Yet not so high as your crown. + +CHURMS. +What, if you had? + +LELIA. +Faith, I should ha' spied but a calf's head. + +CHURMS. +Zounds, cosen'd of the wench, and scoff'd at too! +'Tis intolerable; and shall I lose her thus? +How it mads me, that I brought not my sword +And buckler with me. + +FORTUNATUS. +What, are you in your sword-and-buckler terms? +I'll put you out of that humour. +There, Lelia sends you that by me, +And that, to recompense your love's desires; +And that, as payment for your well-earn'd hire. [_Beats him_. +Go, get thee gone, and boast of Lelia's love. + +CHURMS. +Where'er I go, I'll leave with her my curse, +And rail on you with speeches vild. + +FORTUNATUS. +A crafty knave was never so beguil'd. +Now Sophos' hopes have had their lucky haps, +And he enjoys the presence of his love: +My vow's perform'd, and I am full reveng'd +Upon this hell-bred race of cursed imps. +Now rests nought but my father's free consent, +To knit the knot that time can ne'er untwist, +And that, as this, I likewise will perform. +No sooner shall Aurora's pearled dew +O'erspread the mantled earth with silver drops, +And Phoebus bless the orient with a blush, +To chase black night to her deformed cell, +But I'll repair unto my father's house, +And never cease with my enticing words, +To work his will to knit this Gordian knot: +Till when I'll leave you to your am'rous chat. +Dear friend, adieu; fair sister, too, farewell: +Betake yourselves unto some secret place, +Until you hear from me how things fall out. + [_Exit_ FORTUNATUS. + +SOPHOS. +We both do wish a fortunate good-night. + +LELIA. +And pray the gods to guide thy steps aright. + +SOPHOS. +Now come, fair Lelia, let's betake ourselves +Unto a little hermitage hereby, +And there to live obscured from the world, +Till fates and fortune call us thence away, +To see the sunshine of our nuptial day. +See how the twinkling stars do hide their borrow'd shine, +As half-asham'd their lustre is so stain'd +By Lelia's beauteous eyes, that shine more bright +Than twinkling stars do in a winter's night-- +In such a night did Paris win his love. + +LELIA. +In such a night Aeneas prov'd unkind. + +SOPHOS. +In such a night did Troilus court his dear. + +LELIA. +In such a night fair Phillis was betray'd. + +SOPHOS. +I'll prove as true as ever Troilus was. + +LELIA. +And I as constant as Penelope. + +SOPHOS. +Then let us solace, and in love's delight +And sweet embracings spend the livelong night; +And whilst love mounts her on her wanton wings, +Let descant run on music's silver strings. + + [_Exeunt_. + + A SONG. + + 1. + _Old Triton must forsake his dear, + The lark doth chant her cheerful lay; + Aurora smiles with merry cheer, + To welcome in a happy day_. + + 2. + _The beasts do skip, + The sweet birds sing; + The wood-nymphs dance, + The echoes ring_. + + 3. + _The hollow caves with joy resounds, + And pleasure ev'rywhere abounds; + The Graces, linking hand in hand, + In love have knit a glorious band_. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW, _old_ PLOD-ALL, _and his son_ PETER. + +PLOD-ALL. +Hear you, Master Goodfellow, how have you sped? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Ha' you played the devil bravely, and feared the scholar out on's wits? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +A pox of the scholar! + +PLOD-ALL. +Nay, hark you: I sent you vorty shillings, and you shall have the cheese +I promised you too. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +A plague of the vorty shillings, and the cheese too! + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Hear you, will you give me the powder you told me of? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +How you vex me! Powder, quotha? zounds, I have been powdered. + +PLOD-ALL. +Son, I doubt he will prove a crafty knave, and cosen us of our money. +We'll go to Master Justice, and complain on him, and get him whipped out +o' the country for a coneycatcher. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Ay, or have his ears nailed to the pillory. Come, let's go. + + [_Exeunt_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_. + + _Enter_ CHURMS. + +CHURMS. +Fellow Robin, what news? how goes the world? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Faith, the world goes, I cannot tell how. How sped you with your wench? + +CHURMS. +I would the wench were at the devil! A plague upon't, I never say my +prayers; and that makes me have such ill-luck. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +I think the scholar be hunted with some demi-devil. + +CHURMS. +Why, didst thou fray him? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Fray him? a vengeance on't! all our shifting knavery's known; we are +counted very vagrants. Zounds, I am afraid of every officer for +whipping. + +CHURMS. +We are horribly haunted: our behaviour is so beastly, that we are grown +loathsome; our craft gets us nought but knocks. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +What course shall we take now? + +CHURMS. +Faith, I cannot tell: let's e'en run our country; for here's no staying +for us. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Faith, agreed: let's go into some place where we are not known, and +there set up the art of knavery with the second edition. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ GRIPE _solus_. + +GRIPE. +Every one tells me I look better than I was wont: my heart's lightened, +and my spirits are revived. Why, methinks I am e'en young again. It joys +my heart that this same peevish girl, my daughter, will be ruled at the +last yet; but I shall never be able to make Master Churms amends for the +great pains he hath taken. + + _Enter_ NURSE. + +NURSE. +Master, now out upon's. Well-a-day! we are all undone. + +GRIPE. +Undone! what sudden accident hath chanced? Speak! what's the matter? + +NURSE. +Alas! that ever I was born! My mistress and Master Churms are run away +together. + +GRIPE. +'Tis not possible; ne'er tell me: I dare trust Master Churms with a +greater matter than that. + +NURSE. +Faith, you must trust him, whether you will or no; for he's gone. + + _Enter_ WILL CRICKET. + +WILL CRICKET. +Master Gripe, I was coming to desire that I might have your absence at +my wedding; for I hear say you are very liberal grown o' late. For I +spake with three or four of your debtors this morning, that ought you +hundred pounds a piece; and they told me that you sent Master Churms to +them, and took of some ten pounds, and of some twenty, and delivered +them their bonds, and bad them pay the rest when they were able. + +GRIPE. +I am undone, I am robbed! My daughter! my money! Which way are they +gone? + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, sir, it's all to nothing, but your daughter and Master Churms are +gone both one way. Marry, your money flies, some one way, and some +another; and therefore 'tis but a folly to make hue and cry after it. + +GRIPE. +Follow them, make hue and cry after them. My daughter! my money! all's +gone! what shall I do? + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, if you will be ruled by me, I'll tell you what you shall do. Mark +what I say; for I'll teach you the way to come to heaven, if you stumble +not--give all you have to the poor but one single penny, and with that +penny buy you a good strong halter; and when you ha' done so, come to +me, and I'll tell you what you shall do with it. [_Aside_. + +GRIPE. +Bring me my daughter: that Churms, that villain! I'll tear him with my +teeth. + +NURSE. +Master, nay, pray you, do not run mad: I'll tell you good news; my young +Master Fortunatus is come home: and see where he comes. + + _Enter_ FORTUNATUS. + +GRIPE. +If thou hadst said Lelia, it had been something. + +FORTUNATUS. +Thus Fortunatus greets his father, +And craves his blessing on his bended knee. + +GRIPE. +Ay, here's my son; but Lelia she'll not come. +Good Fortunatus, rise: wilt thou shed tears, +And help thy father moan? +If so, say ay; if not, good son, begone. + +FORTUNATUS. +What moves my father to these uncouth fits? + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, sir, he's almost mad; I think he cannot tell you: and therefore +I--presuming, sir, that my wit is something better than his at this +time--do you mark, sir?--out of the profound circumambulation of my +supernatural wit, sir--do you understand?--will tell you the whole +superfluity of the matter, sir. Your sister Lelia, sir, you know, is a +woman, as another woman is, sir. + +FORTUNATUS. +Well, and what of that? + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, nothing, sir; but she fell in love with one Sophos, a very proper, +wise young man, sir. Now, sir, your father would not let her have him, +sir; but would have married her to one, sir, that would have fed her +with nothing but barley bag-puddings and fat bacon. Now, sir, to tell +you the truth, the fool, ye know, has fortune to land; but Mistress +Lelia's mouth doth not hang for that kind of diet. + +FORTUNATUS. +And how then? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry then, there was a certain cracking, cogging, pettifogging, +butter-milk slave, sir, one Churms, sir, that is the very quintessence +of all the knaves in the bunch: and if the best man of all his kin had +been but so good as a yeoman's son, he should have been a marked knave +by letters patents. And he, sir, comes me sneaking, and cosens them both +of their wench, and is run away with her. And, sir, belike, he has +cosened your father here of a great deal of his money too. + +NURSE. +Sir, your father did trust him but too much; but I always thought he +would prove a crafty knave. + +GRIPE. +My trust's betray'd, my joy's exil'd: +Grief kills the heart, my hope's beguil'd. + +FORTUNATUS. +Where golden gain doth blear a father's eyes, +That precious pearl, fetch'd from Parnassus' mount, +Is counted refuse, worse than bull'on brass; +Both joys and hopes hang of a silly twine, +That still is subject unto flitting time, +That turns joy into grief, and hope to sad despair, +And ends his days in wretched worldly care. +Were I the richest monarch under heaven, +And had one daughter thrice as fair +As was the Grecian Menelaus' wife, +Ere I would match her to an untaught swain, +Though one whose wealth exceeded Croesus' store, +Herself should choose, and I applaud her choice +Of one more poor than ever Sophos was, +Were his deserts but equal unto his. +If I might speak without offence, +You were to blame to hinder Lelia's choice; +As she in nature's graces doth excel, +So doth Minerva grace him full as well. + +NURSE. +Now, by cock and pie, you never spake a truer word in your life. He's a +very kind gentleman, for, last time he was at our house, he gave me +three-pence. + +WILL CRICKET. +O, nobly spoken: God send Peg to prove as wise a woman as her mother, +and then we shall be sure to have wise children. Nay, if he be so +liberal, old grandsire, you shall give him the goodwill of your +daughter. + +GRIPE. +She is not mine, I have no daughter now: +That I should say--I had, thence comes my grief. +My care of Lelia pass'd a father's love; +My love of Lelia makes my loss the more; +My loss of Lelia drowns my heart in woe; +My heart's woe makes this life a living death: +Care, love, loss, heart's woe, living death, +Join all in one to stop this vital breath. +Curs'd be the time I gap'd for golden gain, +I curse the time I cross'd her in her choice; +Her choice was virtuous, but my will was base: +I sought to grace her from the Indian mines, +But she sought honour from the starry mount. +What frantic fit possess'd my foolish brain? +What furious fancy fired so my heart, +To hate fair virtue, and to scorn desert? + +FORTUNATUS. +Then, father, give desert his due; +Let nature's graces and fair virtue's gifts +One sympathy and happy consort make +'Twixt Sophos' and my sister Lelia's love: +Conjoin their hands, whose hearts have long been one. +And so conclude a happy union. + +GRIPE. +Now 'tis too late: +What fates decree can never be recall'd; +Her luckless love is fall'n to Churms his lot, +And he usurps fair Lelia's nuptial bed. + +FORTUNATUS. +That cannot be; fear of pursuit +Must needs prolong his nuptial rights: +But if you give your full consent, +That Sophos may enjoy his long-wish'd love, +And have fair Lelia to his lovely bride, +I'll follow Churms whate'er betide; +I'll be as swift as is the light-foot roe, +And overtake him ere his journey's end, +And bring fair Lelia back unto my friend. + +GRIPE. +Ay, here's my hand; I do consent, +And think her happy in her happy choice; +Yet half forejudge my hopes will be deceiv'd. +But, Fortunatus, I must needs commend +Thy constant mind thou bear'st unto thy friend: +The after-ages, wond'ring at the same, +Shall say 't's a deed deserveth lasting fame. + +FORTUNATUS. +Then rest you here, till I return again; +I'll go to Sophos, ere I go along, +And bring him here to keep you company. +Perhaps he hath some skill in hidden arts, +Of planets' course, or secret magic spells, +To know where Lelia and that fox lies hid, +Whose craft so cunningly convey'd her hence. + [_Exit_ FORTUNATUS. + +GRIPE. +Ay, here I'll rest an hour or twain, +Till Fortunatus do return again. + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, sir, this same Churms is a very scurvy lawyer; for once I put a +case to him, and methought his law was not worth a pudding. + +GRIPE. +Why, what was your case? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, sir, my case was a goose's case; for my dog wearied[163] my +neighbour's sow, and the sow died. + +NURSE. +And he sued you upon wilful murder? + +WILL CRICKET. +No; but he went to law with me, and would make me either pay for his +sow, or hang my dog. Now, sir, to the same returna[164] I went. + +NURSE. +To beg a pardon for your dog? + +WILL CRICKET. +No; but to have some of his wit for my money. I gave him his fee, and +promised him a goose beside for his counsel. Now, sir, his counsel was +to deny all was asked me, and to crave a longer time to answer, though I +knew the case was plain. So, sir, I take his counsel; and always when he +sends to me for his goose, I deny it, and crave a longer time to answer. + +NURSE. +And so the case was yours, and the goose was his: and so it came to be a +goose's case. + +WILL CRICKET. +True: but now we are talking of geese, see where Peg and my granam +Midnight comes. + + _Enter_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT _and_ PEG. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Come, Peg, bestir your stumps, make thyself smug, wench; thou must be +married to-morrow: let's go seek out thy sweetheart, to prepare all +things in readiness. + +PEG. +Why, granam, look where he is. + +WILL CRICKET. +Ha, my sweet tralilly: I thought thou couldst spy me amongst a hundred +honest men. A man may see that love will creep where it cannot go. Ha, +my sweet and too sweet: shall I say the tother sweet? + +PEG. +Ay, say it and spare not. + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, I will not say it: I will sing it. + + _Thou art mine own sweetheart, + From thee I'll never depart; + Thou art my Ciperlillie, + And I thy Trangdidowne-dilly: + And sing, Hey ding a ding ding, + And do the tother thing: + And when 'tis done, not miss + To give my wench a kiss: + And then dance_, Canst thou not hit it? + _Ho, brave William Cricket_! + +How like you this, granam? + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Marry, God's benison light o' thy good heart for't. Ha, that I were +young again! i' faith, I was an old doer at these love-songs when I was +a girl. + +NURSE. +Now, by the Mary matins, Peg, thou hast got the merriest wooer in all +womanshire. + +PEG. +Faith, I am none of those that love nothing but _tum, dum, diddle_. If +he had not been a merry shaver, I would never have had him. + +WILL CRICKET. + + But come, my nimble lass, + Let all these matters pass, + And in a bouncing bravation, + Let's talk of our copulation. + +What good cheer shall we have to-morrow? Old grandsire Thickskin, you +that sit there as melancholy as a mantle-tree, what will you give us +toward this merry meeting? + +GRIPE. +Marry, because you told me a merry goose case, I'll bestow a fat goose +on ye, and God give you good luck. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Marry, well-said, old master: e'en God give them joy indeed; for, by my +vay, they are a good, sweet young couple. + +WILL CRICKET. +Granam, stand out o' the way; for here come gentlefolk will run o'er +you else. + + _Enter_ FORTUNATUS, SOPHOS, _and_ LELIA. + +NURSE. +Master, here comes your son again. + +GRIPE. +Is Fortunatus there? Welcome, Fortunatus: Where's Sophos? + +FORTUNATUS. +Here Sophos is, as much o'erworn with love, +As you with grief for loss of Lelia. + +SOPHOS. +And ten times more, if it be possible: +The love of Lelia is to me more dear, +Than is a kingdom or the richest crown +That e'er adorn'd the temples of a king. + +GRIPE. +Thou welcome, Sophos--thrice more welcome now, +Than any man on earth--to me or mine: +It is not now with me as late it was; +I low'r'd at learning, and at virtue spurn'd: +But now my heart and mind, and all, is turn'd. +Were Lelia here, I soon would knit the knot +'Twixt her and thee, that time could ne'er untie, +Till fatal sisters victory had won, +And that your glass of life were quite outrun. + +WILL CRICKET. +Zounds, I think he be spurblind; why, Lelia stands hard by him. + +LELIA. +And Lelia here falls prostrate on her knee, +And craves a pardon for her late offence. + +GRIPE. +What, Lelia my daughter? Stand up, wench: +Why, now my joy is full; +My heart is lighten'd of all sad annoy: +Now fare well, grief, and welcome home, my joy.-- +Here, Sophos, take thy Lelia's hand: +Great God of heav'n your hearts combine, +In virtue's lore to raise a happy line. + +SOPHOS. +Now Phaeton hath check'd his fiery steeds, +And quench'd his burning beams that late were wont +To melt my waxen wings, when as I soar'd aloft; +And lovely Venus smiles with fair aspect +Upon the spring-time of our sacred love. +Thou great commander of the circled orbs, +Grant that this league of lasting amity +May lie recorded by eternity. + +LELIA. +Then wish'd content knit up our nuptial right; +And future joys our former griefs requite. + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, and you be good at that, I'll tell you what we'll do: Peg and I +must be married to-morrow; and if you will, we'll go all to the church +together, and so save Sir John a labour. + +ALL. +Agreed. + +FORTUNATUS. +Then march along, and let's be gone, +To solemnise two marriages in one. + + [_Exeunt omnes_. + + +FINIS. + + + + + + +LINGUA. + + + + +_EDITIONS_. + + +(1.) _Lingva: Or, The Combat of the Tongue, And the fiue Senses for +Superiority. A pleasant Comoedie, At London Printed by G. Eld, for Simon +Waterson_, 1607, 4to[165]. + +(2.) _Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Senses, for +Superiority. A pleasant Comoedie. London, Printed by N. Okes, for Simon +Waterson_, [circâ 1610], 4to. + +(3.) _Lingua; or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Senses, for +Superiority. A pleasant Comoedie. London, Printed by Nicholas Okes, for +Simon Waterson_, 1617, 4to. + +(4.) _Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Sences, for +Superiority. A pleasant Comedy. London, Printed by Nicholas Okes, for +Simon Waterson_, 1622, 4to. + +(5.) _Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Sences, for +Superioritie. A pleasant Comoedie. London, Printed by Augustine +Matthewes, for Simon Waterson_, 1632, 4to. + +(6.) _Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Senses, for +Superiority. A pleasant Comoedy. London, Printed for Simon Miller, at +the Starre in St Paul's Churchyard_, 1657, 8vo. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +[Of the author of "Lingua" nothing is known. By some of our earlier +bibliographers the play was ascribed, without the slightest authority, +to Anthony Brewer. + +In the former edition it was pointed out that Winstanley gave to the +same writer (among other pieces which he probably did _not_ write) +"Pathomachia; or, Love's Loadstone," published in 1630, upon which +point Reed observes:--"Whoever was the real author of 'Lingua,' there +is some plausibility in assigning to him also 'Pathomachia; or, Love's +Lodestone,' for they are certainly written upon the same plan, and very +much in the same stile, although the former is considerably superior +to the latter, both in design and execution. The first scene of +'Pathomachia' contains an allusion by Pride, one of the characters, to +'Lingua,' where it is said, 'Methinks it were fit now to renew the claim +to our old title of Affections, which we have lost, as sometimes Madame +Lingua did to the title of a Sense, for it is good fishing in troubled +waters.' + +"'Pathomachia' was not printed until 1630, and most likely was not +written until some years after 'Lingua,' from the allusion it contains +in act ii. to the stile of the stage, and the mention in act i. of +Coriat, the traveller, who did not become notorious until after the +publication of his 'Crudities' in 1611.... + +"The first edition of 'Lingua' is dated 1607, but from a passage in act +iv. sc. 7, it is evident that it was produced before the death of +Elizabeth. The last edition, in 1657, is rendered curious by the +circumstance that the bookseller, Simon Miller, asserts that it was +acted by Oliver Cromwell, the late usurper. This fact is not stated on +the title-page to the play, but in a list of works printed for the same +stationer, placed at the end of Heath's 'New Book of Loyal Martyrs' +[12mo, 1663][166].... Winstanley adds that the late usurper Cromwell +[when a young man] had therein the part of _Tactus_; and this mock +ambition for the Crown is said to have swollen his ambition so high, +that afterwards he contended for it in earnest...." + +The present text is taken from the 4to of 1607.] + + + +PROLOGUE + +Our Muse describes no lover's passion, +No wretched father, no unthrifty son! +No craving, subtle whore or shameless bawd, +Nor stubborn clown or daring parasite, +No lying servant or bold sycophant. +We are not wanton or satirical. +These have their time and places fit, but we +Sad hours and serious studies to reprieve, +Have taught severe Philosophy to smile, +The Senses' rash contentions we compose, +And give displeas'd ambitious Tongue her due: +Here's all; judicious friends, accept what is not ill. +Who are not such, let them do what they will. + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + +LINGUA, _Comoedus. Tragoedus_. +AUDITUS, _Comoedus. Tragoedus_. +MENDACIO, _Lingua's page_. +TACTUS, | _Odor_. +OLFACTUS, | _Tobacco_. +VISUS, | _Lumen_, + | _Coelum_, + | _Terra_, + | _Heraldry_, + | _Colour_. +GUSTUS; _Bacchus, Ceres, Beer_. +APPETITUS, _a parasite_. +PHANTASTES. +HEURESIS, _Phantastes's page_. +CRAPULA, _Gustus's follower_. +COMMUNIS SENSUS. +MEMORIA. +ANAMNESTES, _Memoria's page_. +SOMNUS. +Personae quarum mentio tantum fit. | _Psyche_, + | _Acrasia_, + | _Veritas_, + | _Oblivio_. + +_The scene is Microcosmus[167] in a grove. +The time from morning till night_. + + + + +LINGUA. + + + +ACTUS PRIMUS, SCAENA PRIMA. + + + LINGUA _apparelled in a crimson satin gown, a dressing of + white roses, a little skene[168] tied in a purple scarf, + a pair of white buskins[169] drawn with white ribbon, silk + garters, gloves, &c_. AUDITUS _in a garland of bays + intermingled with red and white roses upon a false hair, + a cloth of silver mantle upon a pair of satin bases, wrought + sleeves, buskins, gloves, &c_. + + LINGUA, AUDITUS. + +LIN. Nay, good Auditus, do but hear me speak. + +AUD. Lingua, thou strik'st too much upon one string, +Thy tedious plain-song[170] grates my tender ears. + +LIN. 'Tis plain indeed, for truth no descant needs; +Una's her name, she cannot be divided. + +AUD. O, but the ground[171] itself is naught, from whence +Thou canst not relish out a good division: +Therefore at length surcease, prove not stark-mad, +Hopeless to prosecute a hapless suit: +For though (perchance) thy first strains pleasing are, +I dare engage mine ear the close[172] will jar. + +LIN. If then your confidence esteem my cause +To be so frivolous and weakly wrought, +Why do you daily subtle plots devise, +To stop me from the ears of common sense? +Whom since our great queen Psyche hath ordain'd, +For his sound wisdom, our vice-governor, +To him and to his two so wise assistants, +Nimble Phantastes and firm Memory, +Myself and cause I humbly do commit. +Let them but hear and judge; I wish no more. + +AUD. Should they but know thy rash presumption, +They would correct it in the sharpest sort: +Good Jove! what sense hast thou to be a sense! +Since from the first foundation of the world, +We never were accounted more than five. +Yet you, forsooth, an idle prating dame, +Would fain increase the number, and upstart +To our high seats, decking your babbling self +With usurp'd titles of our dignity. + +LIN. An idle prating dame! know, fond Auditus, +Records affirm my title full as good, +As his amongst the five is counted best. + +AUD. Lingua, confess the truth: thou'rt wont to lie. + +LIN. I say so too, therefore I do not lie. +But now, spite of you all, I speak the truth. +You five among us subjects tyrannise; +Making the sacred name of Common Sense +A cloak to cover your enormities: +He bears the rule; he's judge, but judgeth still, +As he's inform'd by your false evidence: +So that a plaintiff cannot have access, +But through your gates. He hears, but what? nought else, +But what thy crafty ears to him conveys: +And all he sees is by proud Visus show'd him: +And what he touches is by Tactus' hand; +And smells, I know, but through Olfactus' nose; +Gustus begins to him whate'er he tastes: +By these quaint tricks free passage hath been barr'd, +That I could never equally be heard. +But well, 'tis well. + +AUD. Lingua, thy feeble sex +Hath hitherto withheld my ready hands, +That long'd to pluck that nimble instrument. + +LIN. O horrible ingratitude! that thou-- +That thou of all the rest should'st threaten me: +Who by my means conceiv'st as many tongues, +As Neptune closeth lands betwixt his arms: +The ancient Hebrew clad with mysteries: +The learned Greek rich in fit epithets, +Bless'd in the lovely marriage of pure words: +The Chaldee wise, th'Arabian physical, +The Roman eloquent and Tuscan grave, +The braving Spanish and the smooth-tongu'd French: +These precious jewels that adorn thine ears, +All from my mouth's rich cabinet are stolen. +How oft hast thou been chain'd unto my tongue, +Hang'd at my lips, and ravish'd with my words; +So that a speech fair-feather'd could not fly, +But thy ear's pitfall caught it instantly? +But now, O heavens! + +AUD. O heavens! thou wrong'st me much, +Thou wrong'st me much thus falsely to upbraid me: +Had not I granted thee the use of hearing, +That sharp-edged tongue whetted against her master, +Those puffing lungs, those teeth, those drowsy lips, +That scalding throat, those nostrils full of ire, +Thy palate, proper instrument of speech, +Like to the winged chanters of the wood, +Uttering nought else but idle sifflements,[173] +Tunes without sense, words inarticulate, +Had ne'er been able t' have abus'd me thus. +Words are thy children, but of my begetting. + +LIN. Perfidious liar, how can I endure thee! +Call'st my unspotted chastity in question? +O, could I use the breath mine anger spends, +I'd make thee know-- + +AUD. Heav'ns look on my distress, +Defend me from this railing viperess! +For if I stay, her words' sharp vinegar +Will fret me through. Lingua, I must be gone: +I hear one call me more than earnestly. + [_Exit_ AUDITUS. + +LIN. May the loud cannoning of thunderbolts, +Screeking of wolves, howling of tortur'd ghosts, +Pursue thee still, and fill thy amaz'd ears +With cold astonishment and horrid fears! +O, how these senses muffle Common Sense! +And more and more with pleasing objects strive +To dull his judgment and pervert his will +To their behests: who, were he not so wrapp'd +I'the dusky clouds of their dark policies, +Would never suffer right to suffer wrong. +Fie, Lingua, wilt thou now degenerate? +Art not a woman? dost not love revenge? +Delightful speeches, sweet persuasions, +I have this long time us'd to get my right. +My right--that is, to make the senses six; +And have both name and power with the rest. +Oft have I season'd savoury periods +With sugar'd words, to delude Gustus' taste, +And oft embellish'd my entreative phrase +With smelling flow'rs of vernant rhetoric, +Limning and flashing it with various dyes, +To draw proud Visus to me by the eyes; +And oft perfum'd my petitory[174] style +With civet-speech, t'entrap Olfactus' nose; +And clad myself in silken eloquence, +To allure the nicer touch of Tactus' hand. +But all's become lost labour, and my cause +Is still procrastinated: therefore now, +Hence, ye base offspring of a broken mind, +Supple entreaties and smooth flatteries: +Go kiss the love-sick lips of puling gulls,[175] +That 'still their brain to quench their love's disdain: +Go gild the tongues of bawds and parasites; +Come not within my thoughts. But thou, deceit, +Break up the pleasure of my brimful breast, +Enrich my mind with subtle policies. +Well then, I'll go; whither? nay, what know I? +And do, in faith I will, the devil knows what. +What, if I set them all at variance, +And so obtain to speak? it must be so. +It must be so, but how? there lies the point: +How? thus: tut, this device will never prove, +Augment it so: 'twill be too soon descried; +Or so, nor so; 'tis too-too dangerous. +Pish, none of these! what, if I take this course? ha! +Why, there it goes; good, good; most excellent! +He that will catch eels must disturb the flood; +The chicken's hatch'd, i' faith; for they are proud, +And soon will take a cause of disagreement. + + + +SCAENA SECUNDA. + + + MENDACIO, _attired in a taffeta suit of a light colour + changeable, like an ordinary page_.[176] + + LINGUA, MENDACIO. + +LIN. I see the heavens nurse my new-born device; +For lo, my page Mendacio comes already, +To file and burnish that I hammer'd out. +Never in better time, Mendacio, +What! hast thou done? + +MEN. Done? yes, long ago. + +LIN. Is't possible thou shouldst despatch so soon? + +MEN. Madam, I had no sooner told +Tactus that Gustus would fain speak with him, +But I spied Visus, Gustus, and the rest, +And serv'd them all with sauce of several lies. +Now the last sense I spake with was Olfactus +Who, having smelt the meaning of my message, +Straight blew his nose, and quickly puff'd me hither; +But in the whirlwind of his furious blast, +Had not by chance a cobweb held me fast, +Mendacio had been with you long ere this. + +LIN. Witness this lie, Mendacio's with me now; +But, sirrah, out of jesting will they come? + +MEN. Yes, and it like your ladyship, presently; +Here may you have me prest[177] to flatter them. + +LIN. I'll flatter no such proud companions, +'Twill do no good, therefore I am determin'd +To leave such baseness. + +MEN. Then shall I turn and bid them stay at home? + +LIN. No; for their coming hither to this grove +Shall be a means to further my device. +Therefore I pray thee, Mendacio, go presently; +Run, you vile ape. + +MEN. Whither? + +LIN. What, dost thou stand? + +MEN. Till I know what to do. + +LIN. 'Sprecious, 'tis true, +So might'st thou finely overrun thine errand. +Haste to my chest. + +MEN. Ay, ay. + +LIN. There shalt thou find +A gorgeous robe and golden coronet; +Convey them hither nimbly, let none see them. + +MEN. Madam, I fly, I fly. [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + +LIN. But hear you, sirrah? +Lock up your fellow-servant Veritas. + +MEN. I warrant you, +You need not fear so long as I am with you. + [_He goes out, and comes in presently_. +What colour is the robe? + +LIN. There is but one. + + [MENDACIO, _going, turns in haste_. + +MEN. The key, madam, the key. + +LIN. By Juno, how forgetful +Is sudden speed! Here, take it, run. + +MEN. I'll be here instantly. + + [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + + + +SCAENA TERTIA. + + + LINGUA _sola_. + +LIN. Whilome this crown and gorgeous ornament +Were the great prize for which five orators +With the sharp weapons of their tongues contended: +But all their speeches were so equal wrought +And alike gracious,[178] that, if his were witty, +His was as wise; the third's fair eloquence +Did parallel the fourth's firm gravity; +The last's good gesture kept the balance even +With all the rest; so that the sharpest eye +And most judicious censor could not judge, +To whom the hanging victory should fall. +Therefore with one consent they all agreed +To offer up both crown and robe to me, +As the chief patroness of their profession, +Which heretofore I holily have kept, +Like to a miser's gold, to look on only. +But now I'll put them to a better use, +And venture both, in hope to-- + + + +SCAENA QUARTA. + + + MENDACIO, LINGUA. + +MEN. Have I not hied me, madam? look you here, +What shall be done with these temptations? + +LIN. They say a golden Ball +Bred enmity betwixt three goddesses; +So shall this crown be author of debate +Betwixt five senses. + +MEN. Where shall it be laid! + +LIN. There, there, there; 'tis well; so, so, so. + +MEN. A crown's a pleasing bait to look upon; +The craftiest fox will hardly 'scape this trap. + +LIN. Come, let us away, and leave it to the chance. + +MEN. Nay, rather let me stand close hereabouts, +And see the event. + +LIN. Do so, and if they doubt, +How it came there, feign them some pretty fable, +How that some god-- + +MEN. Tut, tut, tut, let me alone: +I that have feign'd so many hundred gods, +Can easily forge some fable for the turn: +Whist, madam; away, away: you fright the fowl; +Tactus comes hard by, look you. + +LIN. Is't he for certain? + +MEN. Yes, yes, yes, 'tis he. + +LIN. 'Tis he indeed. + + [_Exit_ LINGUA. + + + +SCAENA QUINTA. + + + TACTUS, _in a dark-coloured satin mantle over a pair + of silk bases, a garland of bays, mixed with white and + red roses, upon a black grogram, a falchion, wrought + sleeves, buskins, &c_. + + MENDACIO, TACTUS. + +MEN. Now, chaste Diana, grant my nets to hold. + +TAC. The blushing[179] childhood of the cheerful morn +Is almost grown a youth, and overclimbs[180] +Yonder gilt eastern hills; about which time +Gustus most earnestly importun'd me +To meet him hereabouts, what cause I know not. + +MEN. You shall do shortly, to your cost, I hope. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. Sure by the sun it should be nine o'clock. + +MEN. What, a star-gazer! will you ne'er look down? [Aside.] + +TAC. Clear is the sun and blue the firmament; +Methinks the heavens do smile-- [TACTUS _sneezeth_. + +MEN. At thy mishap! +To look so high, and stumble in a trap. + [_Aside_. TACTUS _stumbleth at the robe and crown_. + +TAC. High thoughts have slipp'ry feet, I had well-nigh fallen. + +MEN. Well doth he fall that riseth with a fall. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. What's this? + +MEN. O, are you taken? 'tis in vain to strive. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. How now? + +MEN. You'll be so entangled straight-- [_Aside_.] + +TAC. A crown! + +MEN. That it will be hard-- [_Aside_.] + +TAC. And a robe. + +MEN. To loose yourself. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. A crown and a robe. + +MEN. It had been fitter for you to have found a fool's coat and a +bauble[181], eh, eh? [_Aside_.] + +TAC. Jupiter, Jupiter, how came this here? + +MEN. O sir, Jupiter is making thunder, he hears you not: here's one +knows better. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. 'Tis wondrous rich, ha! but sure it is not so, ho! +Do I not sleep and dream of this good luck, ha? +No, I am awake and feel it now; +Whose should it be? [_He takes it up_. + +MEN. Set up a _si quis_ for it. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. Mercury! all's mine own; here's none to cry half's mine. + +MEN. When I am gone. + + [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + + + +SCAENA SEXTA. + + + TACTUS _solus_. + +TAC. Tactus, thy sneezing somewhat did portend. +Was ever man so fortunate as I? +To break his shins at such a stumbling-block! +Roses and bays, pack hence[182]: this crown and robe +My brows and body circles and invests; +How gallantly it fits me! sure the slave +Measur'd my head that wrought this coronet. +They lie that say complexions cannot change: +My blood's ennobled, and I am transform'd +Unto the sacred temper of a king. +Methinks I hear my noble parasites +Styling me Caesar or great Alexander; +Licking my feet, and wondering where I got +This precious ointment. How my pace is mended! +How princely do I speak! how sharp I threaten! +Peasants, I'll curb your headstrong impudence, +And make you tremble when the lion roars, +Ye earth-bred worms. O, for a looking-glass! +Poets will write whole volumes of this scorce[183]; +Where's my attendants? Come hither, sirrah, quickly; +Or by the wings of Hermes-- + + + +SCAENA SEPTIMA. + + + OLFACTUS, _in a garland of bays intermingled with + white and red roses upon a false hair, his sleeves + wrought with flowers under a damask mantle, over a + pair of silk bases; a pair of buskins drawn with + ribbon, a flower in his hand_. + + TACTUS, OLFACTUS. + +TAC. Ay me! Olfactus comes; I call'd too soon, +He'll have half part, I fear; what shall I do! +Where shall I run? how shall I shift him off? + [TACTUS _wraps up the robe and crown, and sits upon them_. + +OLF. This is the time, and this the place appointed, +Where Visus promis'd to confer with me. +I think he's there--no, no, 'tis Tactus sure. +How now? what makes you sit so nicely? + +TAC. 'Tis past imagination, 'tis so indeed. + +OLF. How fast his hands[184] are fixed, and how melancholy he looks! +Tactus! Tactus! + +TAC. For this is true, man's life is wondrous brittle. + +OLF. He's mad, I think, he talks so idly. So ho, Tactus! + +TAC. And many have been metamorphosed +To stranger matters and more uncouth forms. + +OLF. I must go nearer him; he doth not hear. + +TAC. And yet methinks, I speak as I was wont; +And-- + +OLF. Tactus, Tactus! + +TAC. Olfactus, as thou lov'st me, come not near me. + +OLF. Why, art thou hatching eggs? th'art afeard[185] to break them? + +TAC. Touch me not, lest thou chance to break my life. + +OLF. What's this under thee? + +TAC. If thou meddle with me, I am utterly undone. + +OLF. Why, man, what ails thee? + +TAC. Let me alone, and I'll tell thee; +Lately I came from fine Phantastes' house. + +OLF. So I believe, for thou art very foolish. + +TAC. No sooner had I parted out of doors[186], +But up I held my hands before my face, +To shield mine eyes from th'light's piercing beams; +When I protest I saw the sun as clear +Through these my palms, as through a perspective. +No marvel; for when I beheld my fingers, +I saw my fingers were transform'd to glass; +Opening my breast, my breast was like a window, +Through which I plainly did perceive my heart: +In whose two concaves[187] I discern'd my thoughts +Confus'dly lodged in great multitudes. + +OLF. Ha, ha, ha, ha! why, this is excellent, +Momus himself can find no fault with thee, +Thou'dst make a passing live anatomy; +And decide the question much disputed +Betwixt the Galenists and Aristotle. + +TAC. But when I had arriv'd, and set me down +Viewing myself--myself, ay me! was changed, +As thou now seest, to a perfect urinal. + +OLF. T'a perfect urinal? O monstrous, monstrous! +Art not mad to think so? + +TAC. I do not think so, but I say I am so, +Therefore, Olfactus, come not near, I advise you. + +OLF. See the strange working of dull melancholy! +Whose drossy thoughts, drying the feeble brain, +Corrupts the sense, deludes the intellect, +And in the soul's fair table falsely graves +Whole squadrons of fantastical chimeras +And thousand vain imaginations, +Making some think their heads as big as horses, +Some that th'are dead[188], some that th'are turn'd to wolves[189], +As now it makes him think himself all glass. +Tactus, dissuade thyself; thou dost but think so. + +TAC. Olfactus, if thou lov'st me, get thee gone; +I am an urinal, I dare not stir +For fear of cracking in the bottom. + +OLF. Wilt thou sit thus all day? + +TAC. Unless thou help me. + +OLF. Bedlam must help thee. What wouldst have me do? + +TAC. Go to the city, make a case for me; +Stuff it with wool, then come again and fetch me. + +OLF. Ha, ha, ha! +Thou'lt be laughed out of case and countenance. + +TAC. I care not. So it must be, or I cannot stir. + +OLF. I had best leave troubling him; he's obstinate. Urinal, I leave you, +but above all things take heed Jupiter sees you not; for, if he do, he'll +ne'er make water in a sieve again; thou'lt serve his turn so fit, to +carry his water unto Esculapius. Farewell, Urinal, farewell. + [_Exit_ OLFACTUS. + +TAC. Speak not so loud; the sound's enough to crack me. What, is he +gone? I an urinal! ha, ha, ha! I protest I might have had my face washed +finely if he had meant to abuse me. I an urinal! ha, ha, ha! Go to, +Urinal; you have 'scaped a fair scouring. Well, I'll away, and get me to +mine own house; there I'll lock up myself fast, playing the chemic, +Augmenting this one crown to troops of angels, +With which gold-winged messengers I mean +To work great wonders, as to build and purchase; +Fare daintily; tie up men's tongues and loose them; +Command their lives, their goods, their liberties, +And captive all the world with chains of gold. +Hey, hey, tery, linkum tinkum. + [_He offers to go out, but comes in suddenly amazed_. +O Hercules! +Fortune, the queen, delights to play with me, +Stopping my passage with the sight of Visus: +But as he makes hither, I'll make hence, +There's more ways to the wood than one[190]. +What, more devils to affright me? +O Diabolo! Gustus comes here to vex me. +So that I, poor wretch, am like +A shuttlecock betwixt two battledoors. +If I run there, Visus beats me to Scylla; +If here, then Gustus blows me to Charybdis. +Neptune hath sworn my hope shall suffer shipwreck. +What shall I say? mine Urinal's too thin +To bide the fury of such storms as these. + + + +SCAENA OCTAVA. + + + VISUS _in a garland of bays, mixed with white and + red roses, a light-coloured taffeta mantle striped + with silver, and fringed upon green silk bases, + buskins, &c_. GUSTUS _in the same fashion, differing + only in colour_. TACTUS _in a corner of the stage_. + + VISUS, GUSTUS, TACTUS. + +VIS. Gustus, good day. + +GUS. I cannot have a bad, +Meeting so fair an omen as yourself. + +TAC. Shall I? will't prove? ha! well, 'tis best to venture. + [TACTUS _puts on the robes_. + +GUS. Saw you not Tactus? I should speak with him. + +TAC. Perchance so; a sudden lie hath best luck. + +VIS. That face is his, or else mine eye's deceiv'd. +Why, how now, Tactus! what, so gorgeous? + +GUS. Where didst thou get these fair habiliments? + +TAC. Stand back, I charge you, as you love your lives; +By Styx, the first that toucheth me shall die. + +VIS. I can discern no weapons. Will he kill us? + +TAC. Kill you? not I, but come not near me, +You had best. + +VIS. Why, art thou mad? + +TAC. Friends, as you love your lives, +Venture not once to come within my reach. + +GUS. Why dost threaten so? + +TAG. I do not threaten, +But in pure love advise you for the best: +Dare not to touch me, but hence fly apace; +Add wings unto your feet, and save your lives. + +VIS. Why, what's the matter, Tactus? prythee, tell me? + +TAC. If you will needs jeopard your lives so long, +As hear the ground of my amazedness, +Then for your better safety stand aside. + +GUS. How full of ceremonies! sure he'll conjure; +For such like robes magicians use to wear. + +VIS. I'll see the end, though he should unlock hell, +And set th'infernal hags at liberty. + +TAC. How rash is man on hidden harms[191] to rush! +It was my chance--O chance most miserable!-- +To walk that way that to Crumena leads. + +GUS. You mean Cremona, a little town hard-by. + +TAC. I say Crumena, called Vacua, +A town which doth, and always hath belong'd, +Chiefly to scholars. From Crumena walls +I saw a man come stealing craftily, +Apparell'd in this vesture which I wear; +But, seeing me, eftsoons[192] he took his heels, +And threw his garment from him all in haste, +Which I perceiving to be richly wrought, +Took it me up; but, good, now get you gone, +Warn'd by my harms, and 'scape my misery. + +VIS. I know no danger: leave these circumstances. + +TAC. No sooner had I put it on my back, +But suddenly mine eyes began to dim, +My joints wex[193] sore, and all my body burn['d] +With most intestine torture, and at length +It was too evident, I had caught the plague. + +VIS. The plague! away, good Gustus, let's be gone; +I doubt 'tis true, now I remember me, +Crumena Vacua never wants the plague. + +GUS. Tactus, I'll put myself in jeopardy +To pleasure thee. + +TAC. No, gentle Gustus, +Your absence is the only thing I wish, +Lest I infect you with my company. + +GUS. Farewell. [_Exit_ GUSTUS. + +VIS. I willingly would stay to do thee good. + +TAC. A thousand thanks; but since I needs must die, +Let it suffice, death only murders me. +O, 'twould augment the dolour of my death, +To know myself the most unhappy bow, +Through which pale death should aim his shafts at you. + +VIS. Tactus, farewell; yet die with this good hope, +Thy corpse shall be interred as it ought. + [_Exit_ VISUS. + +TAC. Go, make my tomb, provide my funerals; ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! +Excellent asses thus to be deluded, +Bewail his death and cruel destinies, +That lives, and laughs your fooleries to scorn. +But where's my crown! O, here: I well deserve +Thus to be crown'd for two great victories! +Ha, ha, ha! +Visus, take care my corpse be well interr'd: +Go make my tomb, and write upon the stone, + + _Here lies the Sense that living[194] gull'd them all + With a false plague and feigned urinal_. + + + +SCAENA NONA. + + + AUDITUS, TACTUS. + +AUD. Tactus, Tactus! + +TAC. O Jupiter, 'tis Auditus, all's marred, I doubt: the sly knave +hears so far; but yet I'll grope him. How now, Ears[195], what make +you here, ha? + +AUD. Nay, what make you here, I pray? What were you talking even now +of an ass, and a crown, and an urinal, and a plague? + +TAC. A plague on you! what, I? + +AUD. O, what you! + +TAC. O, I had well-nigh forgot; nothing; but I say-- + +AUD. What? + +TAC. That if a man (do you mark, sir?), being sick of the plague (do you +see, sir?), had a, a, a--hem, hem (this cold troubles me; it makes me +cough sometimes extremely)--had a French crown, sir, (you understand +me?) lying by him, and (come hither, come hither), and would not bestow +twopence (do you hear?) to buy an urinal (do you mark me?) to carry his +water to the physician, hem! + +AUD. What of all this? + +TAC. I say such a one was a very ass. This was all. I use to speak to +myself, when I am alone; but, Auditus, when shall we hear a new set of +singing-books? Or the viols? Or the concert of instruments? + +AUD. This was not all, for I heard mention of a tomb and an epitaph. + +TAC. True, true, I made myself merry with this epitaph upon such a +fool's tomb thus a--thus, thus: plague brought this man--foh, I have +forgotten--O, thus, plague brought this man (so, so, so), unto his +burial, because, because, because (hem, hem)--because he would not buy +an urinal. Come, come, Auditus, shall we hear thee play the lyreway or +the luteway, shall we? Or the cornet, or any music? I am greatly +revived, when I hear. + +AUD. Tactus, Tactus, this will not serve; I heard all. You have not +found a crown, you? no, you have not! + + + +SCAENA ULTIMA. + + + TACTUS, AUDITUS, VISUS, GUSTUS, MENDACIO. + +TAC. Peace, peace, faith, peace; come hither, hark thee, +Good [Auditus], now. + +AUD. I cannot hold, I must needs tell. + +TAC. O, do not, do not, do not; come hither. +Will you be a fool? + +VIS. Had he not wings upon his feet and shoulders? + +MEN. Yes, yes, and a fine wand in his hand, +Curiously wrapped with a pair of snakes. + +TAC. Will half content you? pish, 'twill ne'er be known. + +GUS. My life, 'twas Mercury. + +MEN. I do not know his name; +But this I'm sure, his hat had wings upon't. + +VIS. Doubtless 'twas he; but say, my boy, what did he? + +MEN. First I beheld him hovering in the air, +And then down stooping with an hundred gyres:[196] +His feet he fixed on Mount Cephalon;[197] +From whence he flew and lighted on that plain, +And with disdainful steps soon glided thither: +Whither arrived, he suddenly unfolds +A gorgeous robe and glittering ornament, +And lays them all upon that hillock: +This done, he wafts his wand, took wing again, +And in a moment vanish'd out of sight. +With that mine eyes 'gan stare, and heart grew cold, +And all my quiv'ring joints with sweat bedew'd: +My heels (methought) had wings as well as his, +And so away I ran; but by the way +I met a man, as I thought, coming thither. + +GUS. What marks had he? + +MEN. He had a great--what! this is he, this is he. + +VIS. What, Tactus? + +GUS. This was the plague vex'd him so: +Tactus, your grave gapes for you; are you ready? + +VIS. Since you must needs die, do as others do, +Leave all your goods behind you; bequeath +The crown and robe to your executors. + +TAC. No such matter; I, like the Egyptian kings,[198] +For the more state will be buried in them. + +VIS. Come, come, deliver. + [VISUS _snatcheth the crown, and sees letters graven in it_. + +TAC. What, will you take my purse from me? + +VIS. No, but a crown, that's just more than your own. +Ha, what's this? 'tis a very small hand, +What inscription is this? + + _He of the five that proves himself the best, + Shall have his temples with this coronet blest_. + +This crown is mine, and mine this garment is; +For I have always been accounted best-- + +TAC. Next after me--high[199] as yourself at any time: +Besides, I found it first, therefore 'tis mine. + +GUS. Neither of yours, but mine as much as both. + +AUD. And mine the most of any of you all. + +VIS. Give me it, or else-- + +TAC. I'll make you late repent it-- + +GUS. Presumptuous as you are-- + +AUD. Spite of your teeth-- + +MEN. Never till now. Ha, ha! it works apace. [_Aside_. +Visus, I know 'tis yours; and yet methinks, +Auditus, you should have some challenge to it; +But that your title, Tactus, is so good, +Gustus, I would swear the coronet were yours: +What, will you all go brawl about a trifle? +View but the pleasant coast of Microcosm, +Is't not great pity to be rent with wars? +Is't not a shame to stain with brinish tears +The smiling cheeks of ever-cheerful peace? +Is't not far better to live quietly, +Than broil in fury of dissension? +Give me the crown, ye shall not disagree, +If I can please you. I'll play Paris' part, +And, most impartial, judge the controversy. + +VIS. Sauce-box! go meddle with your lady's fan, +And prate not here. + +MEN. I speak not for myself, +But for my country's sole[200] commodity. + +VIS. Sirrah, be still. + +MEN. Nay, and you be so hot, the devil part you! +I'll to Olfactus, and send him amongst you. +O, that I were Alecto for your sakes! +How liberally would I bestow my snakes! + [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + +VIS. Tactus, upon thine honour, +I challenge thee to meet me here, +Strong as thou canst provide, in th'afternoon. + +TAC. I undertake the challenge, and here's my hand, +In sign thou shalt be answered. + +GUS. Tactus, I'll join with thee, on this condition +That, if we win, he that fought best of us +Shall have the crown, the other wear the robe. + +TAC. Give me your hand: I like the motion. + +VIS. Auditus, shall we make our forces double +Upon the same terms? + +AUD. Very willingly. + +VIS. Come, let's away: fear not the victory; +Right's more advantage than an host of soldiers. + + [_Exeunt omnes_. + + + + +ACTUS SECUNDUS, SCAENA PRIMA. + + + APPETITUS, _a long, lean, raw-boned fellow, + in a soldier's coat, a sword, &c_. + + MENDACIO, APPETITUS. + +MEN. I long to see those hotspur Senses at it: they say they have +gallant preparations, and not unlikely, for most of the soldiers are +ready in arms, since the last field fought against their yearly enemy +Meleager[201] and his wife Acrasia; that conquest hath so fleshed them, +that no peace can hold them. But had not Meleager been sick, and +Acrasia drunk, the Senses might have whistled for the victory. + +APP. Foh, what a stink of gunpowder is yonder! + +MEN. Who's this? O, O, 'tis Appetitus, Gustus's hungry parasite. + [_Aside_.] + +APP. I cannot endure the smoking of guns, the thundering of drums: I +had rather hear the merry hacking of pot-herbs, and see the reeking of +a hot capon. If they would use no other bucklers in war but shields of +brawn, brandish no swords but sweards of bacon,[202] trail no spears +but spare-ribs of pork, and instead of arquebuss pieces discharge +artichoke-pies: toss no pikes but boiled pickrels, then Appetitus would +rouse up his crest, and bear up himself with the proudest. + +MEN. Ah! here's a youth stark naught at a trench, but an old dog at a +trencher, a tall squire at a square table. [_Aside_.] + +APP. But now my good masters must pardon me; I am not one for their +service, for their service is without service, and indeed their service +is too hot for my diet. But what, if I be not myself, but only this be +my spirit that wanders up and down, and Appetitus be killed in the camp? +the devil he is as soon. How's that possible? tut, tut, I know I am. I +am Appetitus, and alive, too--by this infallible token, that I feel +myself hungry. + +MEN. Thou mightest have taken a better token of thyself, by knowing thou +art a fool. [_Aside_.] + +APP. Well, then, though I made my fellow-soldiers admire the beauty of +my back, and wonder at the nimbleness of my heels, yet now will I, at +safety at home, tell in what dangers they are in abroad. I'll speak +nothing but guns and glaves,[203] and staves and phalanges,[204] and +squadrons and barricadoes, ambuscadoes, palmedoes, blank-point, +demi-point,[205] counterpoint, counterscarp, sallies and lies, saladoes, +tarantantaras, ranta, tara, tara, hey. + +MEN. I must take the fife out of his mouth, or he'll ne'er ha' done. + [_Aside_.] + +APP. But, above all, I'll be sure on my knees to thank the great-- + + [MENDACIO _blinds him_. + +MEN. Who am I, who am I, who I? + +APP. By the blood-stained falchion of Mavors,[206] I am on your side. + +MEN. Why, who am I? + +APP. Are you a soldier? + +MEN. No. + +APP. Then you are Master Helluo the bearward. + +MEN. No, no; he's dead. + +APP. Or Gulono the gutty serjeant, or Delphino the vintner, or else I +know you not; for these are all my acquaintance. + +MEN. Would I were hanged, if I be any of these! + +APP. What, Mendacio! By the faith of a knight, thou art welcome; I must +borrow thy whetstone, to sharpen the edges of my martial compliments. + +MEN. By the faith of a knight! What a pox, where are thy spurs?[207] + +APP. I need no spurs; I ride, like Pegasus, on a winged horse--on a +swift jennet, my boy, called Fear. + +MEN. What shouldst thou fear in the wars? He's not a good soldier that +hath not a good stomach. + +APP. O, but the stink of powder spoils Appetitus's stomach, and then +thou knowest, when 'tis gone, Appetitus is dead; therefore I very +manfully drew my sword, and flourished it bravely about mine ears, +hist![208] and finding myself hurt, most manfully ran away. + +MEN. All heart indeed, for thou rann'st like a hart out of the field. It +seems, then, the Senses mean to fight it out. + +APP. Ay, and outfight themselves, I think; and all about a trifle, a +paltry bauble found, I know not where. + +MEN. Thou art deceived: they fight for more than that; a thing called +superiority, of which the crown is but an emblem. + +APP. Mendacio, hang this superiority; crown me no crown, but Bacchus's +crown of roses; give me no sceptre but a fat capon's leg, to show that I +am the great king of Hungary! Therefore, I prythee, talk no more of +state-matters: but in brief, tell me, my little rascal, how thou hast +spent thy time this many a day. + +MEN. Faith, in some credit, since thou sawest me last. + +APP. How so? where? + +MEN. Everywhere. In the court your gentlewomen hang me at their +apron-strings, and that makes them answer so readily. In the city I am +honoured like a god; none so well acquainted with your tradesmen. Your +lawyers, all the termtime, hire me of my lady; your gallants, if they +hear my name abused, they stab for my sake; your travellers so doat upon +me as passes.[209] O, they have good reason; for I have carried them to +many a good meal under the countenance of my familiarity. Nay, your +statesmen have oftentimes closely conveyed me under their tongues, to +make their policies more current. As for old men, they challenge my +company by authority. + +APP. I am exceeding glad of your great promotion. + +MEN. Now, when I am disposed, I can philosophy it in the university with +the subtlest of them all. + +APP. I cannot be persuaded that thou art acquainted with scholars, ever +since thou wert pressed to death in a printing-house. + +MEN. No? why, I was the first founder of the three sects of philosophy, +except one of the Peripatetics, who acknowledge Aristotle, I confess, +their great grandfather. + +APP. Thou boy! how is this possible? Thou art but a child, and there +were sects of philosophy, before thou wert born. + +MEN. Appetitus, thou mistakest me. I tell thee, three thousand years ago +was Mendacio born in Greece,[210] nursed in Crete, and ever since +honoured everywhere. I'll be sworn I held old Homer's pen, when he writ +his Iliads and his Odysseys. + +APP. Thou hadst need, for I hear say he was blind. + +MEN. I helped Herodotus to pen some part of his "Muses";[211] lent Pliny +ink to write his history; rounded Rabelais in the ear,[212] when he +historified Pantagruel: as for Lucian, I was his genius. O, those two +books "De Vera Historia," howsoever they go under his name, I'll be +sworn I writ them every tittle. + +APP. Sure as I am hungry, thou'st have it for lying. But hast thou +rusted this latter time for want of exercise? + +MEN. Nothing less. I must confess I would fain have jogged Stow and +great Hollingshed on their elbows, when they were about their +chronicles; and, as I remember, Sir John Mandeville's "Travels" and a +great part of the "Decads"[213] were of my doing. But for the "Mirror of +Knighthood," "Bevis of Southampton," "Palmerin of England," "Amadis of +Gaul," "Huon de Bordeaux," "Sir Guy of Warwick," "Martin Marprelate," +"Robin Hood," "Garragantua," "Gerileon," and a thousand such exquisite +monuments as these, no doubt but they breathe in my breath up and down. + +APP. Downwards, I'll swear, for there's stinking lies in them. + +MEN. But what, should I light a candle to the bright sunshine of my +glorious renown? The whole world is full of Mendacio's fame. + +APP. And so it will be so long as the world is full of fame. + +MEN. But, sirrah, how hast thou done this long time? + +APP. In as much request as thyself. To begin with the court, as thou +didst: I lie with the ladies all night, and that's the reason they call +for cullies and gruellies so early before their prayers. Your gallants +never sup, breakfast, or bever[214] without me. + +MEN. That's false, for I have seen them eat with a full stomach. + +APP. True, but because they know a little thing drives me from them, +therefore in midst of meat they present me with some sharp sauce or a +dish of delicate anchovies, or a caviare,[215] to entice me back again. +Nay, more: your old sires, that hardly go without a prop, will walk a +mile or two every day to renew their acquaintance with me. As for the +academy, it is beholding to me for adding the eighth province unto the +noble Heptarchy of the liberal sciences.[216] + +MEN. What's that, I prythee? + +APP. The most desired and honourable art of cookery. Now, sirrah, in the +city I am------'st, 'st! O, the body of a louse! + +MEN. What, art a louse in the city? + +APP. Not a word more; for yonder comes Phantastes and somebody else. + +MEN. What a pox can Phantastes do? + +APP. Work a miracle, if he would prove wise. + +MEN. 'Tis he indeed, the vilest nup.[217] Yet the fool loves me +exceedingly; but I care not for his company, for if he once catch me, +I shall never be rid of him. + + [_Exeunt_ APPETITUS _and_ MENDACIO. + + + +SCAENA SECUNDA. + + + PHANTASTES, _a swart-complexioned fellow, but quick-eyed, in a + white satin doublet of one fashion, green velvet hose of another, + a fantastical hat with a plume of feathers of several colours, a + little short taffeta cloak, a pair of buskins cut, drawn out with + sundry-coloured ribbands, with scarfs hung about him after all + fashions and of all colours, rings, jewels, a fan, and in every + place other odd complements_.[218] HEURESIS, _a nimble-sprited + page in the newest fashion, with a garland of bays, &c_. + + PHANTASTES, HEURESIS. + +PHA. Sirrah boy! Heuresis! boy! how now, biting your nails? + +HEU. Three things have troubled my brain this many a day, and just now, +when I was laying hold on the invention of them, your sudden call made +them, like Tantalus's apples, fly from my fingers. + +PHA. Some great matters, questionless; what were they? + +HEU. The quadrature of a circle, the philosopher's stone, and the next +way to the Indies. + +PHA. Thou dost well to meditate on these three things at once, for +they'll be found out altogether--_ad Graecas Calendas_; but let them +pass, and carry the conceit I told you this morning to the party you wot +of. In my imagination 'tis capricious; 'twill take, I warrant thee. + +HEU. I will, sir. But what say you to the gentleman that was with you +yesterday? + +PHA. O, I think thou meanest him that made nineteen sonnets of his +mistress's busk-point.[219] + +HEU. The same, the same, sir. You promised to help him out with the +twentieth. + +PHA. By Jupiter's cloven pate, 'tis true. But we witty fellows are so +forgetful; but stay, Heu, Heu,[220] carry him this. + + _The Gordian knot, which Alexander great + Did whilom, cut with his all-conquering sword, + Was nothing like thy busk-point, pretty peat,[221] + Nor could so fair an augury afford_. + +Then to conclude, let him pervert Catullas's _Zonam solvit diu ligatum_ +thus, thus-- + + _Which if I chance to cut, or else untie, + Thy little world I'll conquer presently_. + +'Tis pretty, pretty, tell him 'twas extemporal. + +HEU. Well, sir, but now for Master Inamorato's love-letter. + +PHA. Some nettling stuff, i'faith; let him write thus: _Most +heart-commanding-faced gentlewoman, even as the stone in India, called +Basaliscus, hurts all that looks on it, and as the serpent in Arabia, +called Smaragdus, delighteth the sight, so does thy celestial +orb-assimilating eyes both please, and in pleasing wound my love-darted +heart_. + +HEU. But what trick shall I invent for the conclusion? + +PHA. Pish, anything, love will minister ink for the rest. He that [hath] +once begun well, hath half done; let him begin again, and there's all. + +HEU. Master Gullio spoke for a new fashion; what for him? + +PHA. A fashion for his suit! Let him button it down the sleeve with four +elbows, and so make it the pure hieroglyphic of a fool. + +HEU. Nay, then let me request one thing of you. + +PHA. What's that, boy? By this fair hand, thou shalt have it. + +HEU. Mistress Superbia, a gentlewoman of my acquaintance, wished me to +devise her a new set for her ruff and an odd tire. I pray, sir, help me +out with it. + +PHA. Ah, boy, in my conceit 'tis a hard matter to perform. These women +have well-nigh tired me with devising tires for them, and set me at a +nonplus for new sets. Their heads are so light, and their eyes so coy, +that I know not how to please them. + +HEU. I pray, sir, she hath a bad face, and fain would have suitors. +Fantastical and odd apparel would perchance draw somebody to look on +her. + +PHA. If her face be nought, in my opinion, the more view it the worse. +Bid her wear the multitude of her deformities under a mask, till my +leisure will serve to devise some durable and unstained blush of +painting. + +HEU. Very good, sir. + +PHA. Away, then, hie thee again; meet me at the court within this hour +at the farthest. [_Exit_ HEURESIS.] O heavens! how have I been troubled +these latter times with women, fools, babes, tailors, poets, swaggerers, +gulls, ballad-makers! They have almost disrobed me of all the toys and +trifles I can devise. Were it not that I pity the multitude of printers, +these sonnet-mongers should starve for conceits for all Phantastes. But +these puling lovers--I cannot but laugh at them, and their encomiums of +their mistresses. They make, forsooth, her hair of gold, her eyes of +diamond, her cheeks of roses, her lips of rubies, her teeth of pearl, +and her whole body of ivory; and when they have thus idoled her like +Pygmalion, they fall down and worship her.[222] Psyche, thou hast laid a +hard task upon my shoulders to invent at every one's ask. Were it not +that I refresh my dulness once a day with thy most angelical presence, +'twere impossible for me to undergo it. + + + +SCAENA TERTIA. + + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, _a grave man, in a black velvet cassock + like a councillor, speaks coming out of the door_. + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, PHANTASTES. + +COM. SEN. I cannot stay, I tell you. 'Tis more than time I were at +court. I know my sovereign Psyche hath expected me this hour. + +PHA. In good time; yonder comes Common Sense. I imagine it should be +he by his voice. + +COM. SEN. Crave my counsel! Tell me what manner of man he is? Can he +entertain a man in his house? Can he hold his velvet cap in one hand, +and vail[223] his bonnet with the other? Knows he how to become a +scarlet gown? Hath he a pair of fresh posts at his door?[224] + +PHA. He's about some hasty state matters. He talks of posts, methinks. + +COM. SEN. Can he part a couple of dogs brawling in the street? Why, +then, choose him mayor. Upon my credit, he'll prove a wise officer. + +PHA. Save you, my lord; I have attended your leisure this hour. + +COM. SEN. Fie upon't! What a toil have I had to choose them a mayor +yonder? There's a fusty currier will have this man; there's a chandler +wipes his nose on his sleeve, and swears it shall not be so; there's a +mustard-maker looks as keen as vinegar will have another. O, this +many-headed multitude, 'tis a hard matter to please them! + +PHA. Especially where the multitude is so well-headed. But I pray you, +where's Master Memory? Hath he forgotten himself, that he is not here? + +COM. SEN. 'Tis high time he were at court. I would he would come. + + + + +SCAENA QUARTA. + + + MEMORY, _an old decrepit man, in a black velvet cassock,[225] + a taffeta gown furred with white grogram, a white beard, velvet + slippers, a watch, staff, &c_. ANAMNESTES, _his page, in a grave + satin suit, purple buskins, a garland of bays and rosemary, a + gimmal ring[226] with one link hanging, ribbons and threads tied + to some of his fingers; in his hand a pair of table-books, &c_. + + MEMORY, ANAMNESTES, PHANTASTES, COMMUNIS SENSUS. + +MEM. How soon a wise man shall have his wish! + +COM. SEN. Memory, the season of your coming is very ripe. + +PHA. Had you stayed a little longer, 'twould have been stark rotten. + +MEM. I am glad I saved it from the swine. 'Sprecious, I have forgot +something. O, my purse, my purse! Why, Anamnestes, Remembrance? that +wild boy is always gadding. I remember he was at my heels even now, and +now the vile rascal is vanished. + +PHA. Is he not here? Why, then in my imagination he's left behind. +Hollo! Anamnestes, Remembrance! + +ANA. [_Running in haste_.] Anon, anon, sir; anon, anon, sir; anon, +anon, sir; anon, anon, sir. + +MEM. Ha, sirrah, what a brawling's here? + +ANA. I do but give you an answer with, anon, sir. + +MEM. You answer sweetly; I have called you three or four times one +after another. + +ANA. Sir, I hope I answered you three or four times, one in the neck of +another. But if your good worship have lent me any more calls, tell me, +and I'll repay them, as I'm a gentleman. + +MEM. Leave your tattle. Had you come at first, I had not spent so much +breath in vain. + +ANA. The truth is, sir, the first time you called I heard you not: the +second, I understood you not: the third, I knew not whether it were you +or no: the fourth, I could not tell where you were, and that's the +reason I answered so suddenly. + +MEM. Go, sirrah: run: seek everywhere. I have lost my purse somewhere. + +ANA. I go, sir. _Go, sirrah, seek, run; I have lost; bring_! here's a +dog's life, with a pox! Shall I be always used like a water-spaniel? + [_Exit_ ANAMNESTES. + +COM. SEN. Come, good Master Register, I wonder you be so late now-a-days. + +MEM. My good lord, I remember that I knew your grandfather in this your +place, and I remember your grandfather's great grandfather's +grandfather's father's father; yet in those days I never remember that +any of them could say that Register Memory ever broke one minute of his +appointment. + +COM. SEN. Why, good father, why are you so late now-a-days? + +MEM. Thus 'tis; the most customers I remember myself to have, are, as +your lordship knows, scholars; and now-a-days the most of them are +become critics, bringing me home such paltry things to lay up for them, +that I can hardly find them again. + +PHA. Jupiter, Jupiter, I had thought these flies had bit none but +myself: do critics tickle you, i'faith? + +MEM. Very familiarly: for they must know of me, forsooth, how every idle +word is written in all the musty moth-eaten manuscripts, kept in all the +old libraries in every city betwixt England and Peru. + +COM. SEN. Indeed, I have noted these times to affect antiquities more +than is requisite. + +MEM. I remember, in the age of Assaracus and Ninus, and about the wars +of Thebes and the siege of Troy, there were few things committed to my +charge, but those that were well worthy the preserving; but now every +trifle must be wrapped up in the volume of eternity. A rich pudding-wife +or a cobbler cannot die but I must immortalise his name with an epitaph; +a dog cannot piss in a nobleman's shoe, but it must be sprinkled into +the chronicles; so that I never could remember my treasure more full, +and never emptier of honourable and true heroical actions. + +PHA. By your leave, Memory, you are not alone troubled; chronologers +many of them are so fantastic, as when they bring a captain to the +combat, lifting up his revengeful arm to dispart the head of his enemy, +they'll hold up his arms so long, till they have bestowed three or four +pages in describing the gold hilts of his threatening falchion: so that +in my fancy the reader may well wonder his adversary stabs him not, +before he strikes. Moreover, they are become most palpable flatterers, +always begging at my gates for invention. + +COM. SEN. This is a great fault in a chronologer to turn parasite: an +absolute historian should be in fear of none;[227] neither should he +write anything more than truth for friendship, or less for hate; but +keep himself equal and constant in all his discourses. But, for us, we +must be contented; for, as our honours increase, so must the burthen of +the cares of our offices urge us to wax heavy. + +PHA. But not till our backs break; 'slud, there was never any so haunted +as I am: this day there comes a sophister to my house, knocks at my +door; his errand being asked, forsooth his answer was to borrow a fair +suit of conceits out of my wardrobe, to apparel a show he had in hand: +and what think you is the plot? + +COM. SEN. Nay, I know not, for I am little acquainted with such toys. + +PHA. Meanwhile, he's somewhat acquainted with you, for he's bold to +bring your person upon the stage. + +COM. SEN. What, me? I can't remember that I was ever brought upon the +stage before. + +PHA. Yes, you, and you, and myself with all my fantastical tricks and +humours: but I trow I have fitted him with fooleries: I trust he'll +never trouble me again. + +COM. SEN. O times! O manners! when boys dare to traduce men in +authority; was ever such an attempt heard? + +MEM. I remember there was: for, to say the truth, at my last being at +Athens--it is now, let me see, about one thousand eight hundred years +ago--I was at a comedy of Aristophanes' making.[228] I shall never +forget it; the arch-governor of Athens took me by the hand, and placed +me; and there, I say, I saw Socrates abused most grossly, himself being +then a present spectator: I remember he sat full against me, and did not +so much as show the least countenance of discontent. + +COM. SEN. In those days it was lawful; but now the abuse of such liberty +is insufferable. + +PHA. Think what you will of it, I think 'tis done, and I think it is +acting by this time: hark, hark; what drumming's yonder! I'll lay my +life they are come to present the show I spake of. + +COM. SEN. It may be so; stay, we'll see what 'tis. + + + +SCAENA QUINTA. + + + LINGUA, MENDACIO, COMMUNIS SENSUS, _and the rest_. + +LIN. Feign thyself in great haste. + +MEN. I warrant you, madam: I doubt 'tis in vain to run, by this they are +all past overtaking. + +COM. SEN. Is not this Lingua, that is in such haste? + +PHA. Yes, yes, stand still. + +MEN. I must speak with him. + +COM. SEN. With whom? + +MEN. Assure yourself they are all at court ere this. + +LIN. Run after them, for, unless he know it-- + +COM. SEN. Lingua! + +LIN. O, is't your lordship? I beseech you, pardon me. Haste and fear, I +protest, put out mine eyes: I looked so long for you, that I knew not, +when I had found you. + +PHA. In my conceit that's like the man that inquired who saw his ass, +when himself rid on him. + +LIN. O, my heart beats so! fie, fie, fie, fie! + +MEN. I am so weary; so, so, so, so. + +COM. SEN. I prythee, Lingua, make an end. + +LIN. Let me begin first, I beseech you; but if you will needs have the +end first--thus 'tis: the commonwealth of Microcosm at this instant +suffers the pangs of death, 'tis gasping for breath. Will you have all? +'tis poisoned. + +PHA. What apothecary durst be so bold as make such a confection? ha, +what poison is't? + +LIN. A golden crown. + +MEN. I mistake; or else Galen, in his book "De Sanitate Tuenda," +commends gold as restorative. + +COM. SEN. Lingua, express yourself. + +MEN. Madam, if you want breath, let me help you out. + +LIN. I prythee do, do. + +MEN. My lord, the report is that Mercury, coming late into this country, +in this very place left a coronet with this inscription, _that the best +of the five should have it_, which the Senses thinking to belong unto +them-- + +LIN. Challenge each other, and are now in arms, and't like your +lordship. + +COM. SEN. I protest it likes not me. + +LIN. Their battles are not far hence; ready ranged. + +COM. SEN. O monstrous presumption! what shall we do? + +MEM. My lord, in your great grandfather's time there was, I remember, +such a breach amongst them; therefore my counsel is that, after his +example, by the strength of your authority you convene them before you. + +COM. SEN. Lingua, go presently; command the Senses, upon their +allegiance to our dread sovereign Queen Psyche, to dismiss their +companies, and personally to appear before me without any pretence of +excuse. + +LIN. I go, my lord. + +PHA. But hear you, madam? I pray you, let your Tongue's page[229] walk +with us a little, till you return again. + +LIN. With all my heart. [_Exit_ LINGUA. + +PHA.[230] Hot youths, I protest: saw you those warlike preparations? + +MEN, Lately, my lords, I sped into the army; +But O, 'tis far beyond my reach of wit +Or strength of utterance to describe their forces. + +COM. SEN. Go to; speak what thou canst. + +MEN. Upon the right hand of a spacious hill +Proud Visus marshalleth a puissant army, +Three thousand eagles strong, whose valiant captain +Is Jove's swift thunder-bearer, that same bird, +That hoist up Ganymede from the Trojan plains. +The vanguard strengthened with a wondrous flight +Of falcons, haggards, hobbies, terselets,[231] +Lanards and goshawks, sparhawks, and ravenous birds. +The rearward granted to Auditus' charge, +Is stoutly follow'd with an impetuous herd +Of stiff-neck'd bulls and many horn-mad stags, +Of the best head the forest can afford. + +PHA. I promise you, a fearful troop of soldiers. + +MEN. Right opposite stands Tactus, strongly mann'd +With three thousand bristled urchens[232] for his pikemen, +Four hundred tortoises for elephants; +Besides a monstrous troop of ugly spiders, +Within an ambushment he hath commanded +Of their own guts to spin a cordage fine, +Whereof t'have fram'd a net (O wondrous work!) +That, fastened by the concave of the moon, +Spreads down itself to th'earth's circumference. + +MEM. 'Tis very strange; I cannot remember the like engine at any time. + +MEN. Nay more, my lord, the masks[233] are made so strong, +That I myself upon them scal'd the heavens, +And boldly walk'd about the middle region, +Where, in the province of the meteors, +I saw the cloudy shops of hail and rain, +Garners of snow, and crystals full of dew; +Rivers of burning arrows, dens of dragons, +Huge beams of flames, and spears like firebrands. +Where I beheld hot Mars and Mercury, +With rackets made of spheres and balls of stars, +Playing at tennis for a tun of Nectar. +And that vast gaping of the firmament +Under the southern pole is nothing else +But the great hazard[234] of their tennis-court; +The Zodiac is the line; the shooting stars, +Which in an eye-bright evening seem to fall, +Are nothing but the balls they lose at bandy. +Thus, having took my pleasure with those sights, +By the same net I went up I descended. + +COM. SEN. Well, sirrah, to what purpose tends this stratagem? + +MEN. None know directly; but I think it is +T'entrap the eagles, when the battles join. + +PHA. Who takes Tactus his part? + +MEN. Under the standard of thrice-hardy Tactus, +Thrice-valiant Gustus leads his warlike forces; +An endless multitude of desperate apes; +Five hundred marmosets and long-tail'd monkeys, +All trained to the field, and nimble gunners. + +PHA. I imagine there's old moving[235] amongst them: methinks a handful +of nuts would turn them all out of their soldiers' coats. + +MEN. Ramparts of pasty-crust and forts of pies, +Entrench'd with dishes full of custard stuff, +Hath Gustus made, and planted ordinance-- +Strange ordinance, cannons of hollow canes, +Whose powder's rape-seed, charg'd with turnip-shot. + +MEM. I remember, in the country of Utopia[236] they use no other kind of +artillery. + +COM. SEN. But what's become of Olfactus? + +MEN. He politicly leans to neither part, +But stands betwixt the camps as at receipt, +Having great swine[237] his pioneers to entrench them. + +PHA. In my foolish imagination Olfactus is very like the Goddess of +Victory, that never takes any part but the conqueror's. + +MEN. And in the woods be[238] placed secretly +Two hundred couple of hounds and hungry mastiffs; +And o'er his head hover at his command +A cloud of vultures, which o'erspread the light, +Making a night before the day be done: +But to what end not known, but fear'd of all. + +PHA. I conjecture he intends to see them fight, and after the battle to +feed his dogs, hogs, and vultures upon the murdered carcases. + +MEN. My lord, I think the fury of their anger will not be obedient to +the message of Lingua; for otherwise, in my conceit, they should have +been here ere this. With your lordship's good liking, we'll attend upon +you to see the field for more certainty. + +COM. SEN. It shall be so; come, Master Register, let's walk. + + [_Exeunt omnes_. + + + + +ACTUS TERTIUS, SCAENA PRIMA. + + + ANAMNESTES, _with a purse in his hand_. + +ANA. Forsooth, Oblivio, shut the door upon me; I could come no sooner: +ha! is he not here? O excellent! would I were hanged, but I looked for a +sound rap on the pate, and that made me beforehand to lift up this +excuse for a buckler. I know he's not at court, for here is his purse, +without which warrant there's no coming thither; wherefore now, +Anamnestes, sport thyself a little, while thou art out of the prison of +his company. What shall I do? by my troth, anatomise his purse in his +absence. Plutus send there be jewels in it, that I may finely geld it of +the stones--the best, sure, lies in the bottom; pox on't, here's nothing +but a company of worm-eaten papers: what's this? Memorandum that Master +Prodigo owes me four thousand pounds, and that his lands are in pawn for +it. Memorandum that I owe. That he owes? 'Tis well the old slave hath +some care of his credit; to whom owes he, trow I? that I owe Anamnestes; +what, me? I never lent him anything; ha, this is good, there's something +coming to me more than I looked for. Come on; what is't? Memorandum that +I owe Anamnestes------a breeching;[239] i'faith, sir, I will ease you +of that payment. [_He rends the bill_.] Memorandum that, when I was a +child, Robusto tripped up my heels at football: what a revengeful +dizard[240] is this? + + + +SCAENA SECUNDA. + + + MENDACIO, _with cushions under his arms, + trips up_ ANAMNESTES' _heels_. + + MENDACIO, ANAMNESTES. + +ANA. How now? + +MEN. Nothing, but lay you upon the cushion, sir, or so. + +ANA. Nothing, but lay the cushion upon you, sir. + +MEN, What, my little Nam? By this foot, I am sorry I mistook thee. + +ANA. What, my little Men? By this hand, it grieves me I took thee so +right. But, sirrah, whither with these cushions? + +MEN. To lay them here, that the judges may sit softly, lest my Lady +Lingua's cause go hard with her. + +ANA. They should have been wrought with gold; these will do nothing. But +what makes my lady with the judges? + +MEN. Pish! know'st not? She sueth for the title of a Sense, as well as +the rest that bear the name of the Pentarchy. + +ANA. Will Common Sense and my master leave their affairs to determine +that controversy? + +MEN. Then thou hear'st nothing. + +ANA. What should I hear? + +MEN. All the Senses fell out about a crown fallen from heaven, and +pitched a field for it; but Vicegerent Common Sense, hearing of it, took +upon him to umpire the contention, in which regard he hath appointed +them (their arms dismissed) to appear before him, charging every one to +bring, as it were in a show, their proper objects, that by them he may +determine of their several excellencies. + +ANA. When is all this? + +MEN. As soon as they can possibly provide. + +ANA. But can he tell which deserves best by their objects? + +MEN. No, not only; for every Sense must describe his instrument, that +is, his house, where he performs his daily duty, so that by the object +and the instrument my lord can with great ease discern their place and +dignities. + +ANA. His lordship's very wise. + +MEN. Thou shalt hear all anon. Fine Master Phantastes and thy master +will be here shortly. But how is't, my little rogue? methinks thou +look'st lean upon't! + +ANA. Alas! how should I do otherwise, that lie all night with such a +raw-boned skeleton as Memory, and run all day on his errands? The +churl's grown so old and forgetful, that every hour he's calling, +Anamnestes, Remembrance; where art, Anamnestes? Then presently +something's lost. Poor I must run for it, and these words, _Run, boy; +come, sirrah, quick, quick, quick_! are as familiar with him as the +cough, never out on's mouth. + +MEN. Alack, alack! poor rogue, I see my fortunes are better. My lady +loves me exceedingly; she's always kissing me, so that I tell thee, Nam, +Mendacio's never from betwixt her lips. + +ANA. Nor I out of Memory's mouth,[241] but in a worse sort, always +exercising my stumps, and, which is more, when he favours best, then I +am in the worst taking. + +MEN. How so? + +ANA. Thus: when we are friends, then must I come and be dandled upon his +palsy-quaking knees, and he'll tell me a long story of his acquaintance +with King Priamus and his familiarity with Nestor, and how he played at +blowpoint[242] with Jupiter, when he was in his sidecoats, and how he +went to look bird-nests with Athous,[243] and where he was at +Deucalion's flood, and twenty such old wives' tales. + +MEN. I wonder he, being so old, can talk so much. + +ANA. Nature, thou know'st, knowing what an unruly engine the tongue is, +hath set teeth round about for watchmen. Now, sir, my master's old age +hath coughed out all his teeth, and that's the cause it runs so much at +liberty. + +MEN. Philosophical! + +ANA. O, but there's one thing stings me to the very heart--to see an +ugly, foul, idle, fat, dusty cloghead, called Oblivio, preferred before +me. Dost know him? + +MEN. Who, I? Ay, but care not for his acquaintance. Hang him, blockhead! +I could never abide him. Thou, Remembrance, are the only friend that the +arms of my friendship shall embrace. Thou hast heard _Oportet mendacem +esse memorem_. But what of Oblivio? + +ANA. The very naming of him hath made me forget myself. O, O, O, O, that +rascal is so made of everywhere! + +MEN. Who, Oblivio? + +ANA. Ay, for our courtiers hug him continually in their ungrateful +bosoms, and your smooth-bellied,[244] fat-backed, barrel-paunched, +tun-gutted drones are never without him. As for Memory, he's a +false-hearted fellow; he always deceives them; they respect not him, +except it be to play a game at chests,[245] primero,[246] saunt,[247] +maw,[248] or such like. + +MEN. I cannot think such fellows have to do with Oblivio, since they +never got anything to forget. + +ANA. Again, these prodigal swaggerers that are so much bound to their +creditors, if they have but one cross about them, they'll spend it in +wine upon Oblivio. + +MEN. To what purpose, I prythee? + +ANA. Only in hope he'll wash them in the Lethe of their cares. + +MEN. Why, then, no man cares for thee. + +ANA. Yes, a company of studious paperworms and lean scholars, and +niggarly scraping usurers, and a troop of heart-eating, envious persons, +and those canker-stomached, spiteful creatures that furnish up +commonplace books with other men's faults. The time hath been, in those +golden days when Saturn reigned, that, if a man received a benefit of +another, I was presently sent for to put him in mind of it; but now, in +these iron afternoons, save your friend's life, and Oblivio will be more +familiar with him than you. + + + +SCAENA TERTIA. + + + HEURESIS, MENDACIO, ANAMNESTES. + +HEU. Phantastes not at court? Is't possible? 'Tis the strangest accident +that ever was heard of. I had thought the ladies and gallants would +never lie without him. + +ANA. Hist, hist, Mendacio; I prythee observe Heuresis. It seems he +cannot find his master, that's able to find out all things. And art thou +now at a fault? Canst not find out thine own master? + +HEU. I'll try one more way. O yes![249] + +MEN. What a proclamation for him? + +ANA. Ay, ay, his nimble head is always full of proclamations. + +HEU. O yes! + +MEN. But doth he cry him in the wood? + +ANA. O good sir, and good reason, for every beast hath Phantasy at his +pleasure. + +HEU. O yes! If any man can tell any tidings of a spruce, neat, apish, +nimble, fine, foolish, absurd, humorous, conceited, fantastic gallant, +with hollow eyes, sharp look, swart complexion, meagre face, wearing as +many toys in his apparel as fooleries in his looks and gesture, let him +come forth and certify me thereof, and he shall have for his +reward-- + +ANA. I can tell you where he is. What shall he have? + +HEU. A box o' the ear, sirrah. [_Snap_.] + +ANA. How now, Invention, are you so quick-fingered? I'faith, there's +your principal, sirrah, [_snap_], and here's the interest ready in my +hand [_snap. They fall together by the ears_.] Yea, have you found out +scratching? Now I remember me-- + +HEU. Do you bite me, rascal? + +MEN. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Here's the lively picture of this axiom, +_A quick invention and a good memory can never agree_. Fie, fie, fie: +Heuresis! beat him, when he's down? + +ANA. Prythee, let's alone: proud jackanapes, I'll-- + +HEU. What will you do? + +ANA. Untruss thy points, and whip thee, thou paltry ----. Let me go, +Mendacio, if thou lov'st me. Shall I put up the-- + +MEN. Come, come, come, you shall fight no more, in good faith. Heuresis, +your master will catch you anon. + +HEU. My master! where is he? + +MEN. I'll bring you to him; come away. + +HEU. Anamnestes, I scorn that thou shouldst think I go away for fear of +anything thou canst do unto me. Here's my hand, as soon as thou canst +pick the least occasion, put up thy finger, I am for thee. + +ANA. When thou dar'st, Heuresis, when thou dar'st, I'll be as ready as +thyself at any time. [_Exeunt_ MENDACIO _and_ HEURESIS.] This Heuresis, +this Invention, is the proudest jackanapes, the pertest, self-conceited +boy that ever breathed. Because, forsooth, some odd poet or some such +fantastic fellows make much on him, there's no ho with him.[250] The +vile dandi-prat will overlook the proudest of his acquaintance; but well +I remember me, I learned a trick t'other day to bring a boy o'er the +thigh finely. If he come, i'faith, I'll tickle him with it. + + [MENDACIO _comes running back in great haste_. + +MEN. As I am a rascal, Nam, they are all coming. I see Master Register +trudging hither as fast as his three feet will carry up his four ages. + + [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + + + +SCAENA QUARTA. + + + MEMORIA, ANAMNESTES. + +MEM. Ah, you leaden-heeled rascal! + +ANA. Here 'tis, sir; I have it, I have it. + +MEM. Is this all the haste you make? + +ANA. An't like your worship, your cloghead Oblivio went before me, and +foiled the trail of your footsteps, that I could hardly undertake the +quest of your purse, forsooth. + +MEM. You might have been here long ere this. Come hither, sirrah, come +hither: what, must you go round about? Goodly, goodly, you are full of +circumstances. + +ANA. In truth, sir, I was here before, and missing you, went back into +the city, sought you in every alehouse, inn, tavern, dicing-house, +tennis-court, stews, and such like places, likely to find your worship +in. + +MEM. Ha, villain! am I a man likely to be found in such places, ha? + +ANA. No, no, sir; but I was told by my Lady Lingua's page that your +worship was seeking me; therefore I inquired for you in those places, +where I knew you would ask for me, an it please your worship. + +MEM. I remember another quarrel, sirrah; but--well, well, I have no +leisure. + + + +SCAENA QUINTA. + + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, LINGUA, PHANTASTES, MEMORY, ANAMNESTES. + +COM. SEN. Lingua, the Senses, by our appointment, anon are to present +their objects before us. Seeing, therefore, they be not in readiness, we +license you in the meanwhile, either in your own person or by your +advocate, to speak what you can for yourself. + +LIN. My lord, if I should bring before your honour all my friends, ready +to importune you in my behalf, I should have so many rhetoricians, +logicians, lawyers, and (which is more) so many women, to attend me, +that this grove would hardly contain the company; wherefore, to avoid +the tediousness, I will lay the whole cause upon the tip of mine own +tongue. + +COM. SEN. Be as brief as the necessity of our short time requires. + +LIN. My lord, though the _imbecillitas_ of my feeble sex might draw me +back from this tribunal, with the _habenis_, to wit _timoris_ and the +_Catenis pudoris_, notwithstanding being so fairly led on with the +gracious [Greek: epiecheia] of your _justissime_ [Greek: dikaiosynaes]. +Especially so _aspremente spurd' con gli sproni di necessita mia +pugente_, I will without the help of orators commit the _totam salutem_ +of my action to the _volutabilitati_ [Greek: ton gynaicheion logon], +which _avec vostre bonne plaisir_, I will finish with more than +_Laconicâ brevitate_. + +COM. SEN. What's this? here's a gallimaufry of speech indeed. + +MEM. I remember about the year 1602 many used this skew kind of language +which, in my opinion, is not much unlike the man Platony,[251] the son +of Lagus, king of Egypt, brought for a spectacle, half-white, half-black. + +COM. SEN. I am persuaded these same language-makers have the very +quality of cold in their wit, that freezeth all heterogeneal languages +together, congealing English tin, Grecian gold, Roman latten[252] all in +a lump. + +PHA. Or rather, in my imagination, like your fantastical gull's apparel, +wearing a Spanish felt, a French doublet, a Granado stocking, a Dutch +slop, an Italian cloak, with a Welsh freeze jerkin. + +COM. SEN. Well, leave your toying: we cannot pluck the least feather +from the soft wing of time. Therefore, Lingua, go on, but in a less +formal manner. You know an ingenious oration must neither swell above +the banks with insolent words, nor creep too shallow in the ford with +vulgar terms; but run equally, smooth and cheerful, through the clean +current of a pure style. + +LIN. My lord, this one thing is sufficient to confirm my worth to be +equal or better than the Senses, whose best operations are nothing till +I polish them with perfection; for their knowledge is only of things +present, quickly sublimed with the deft[253] file of time: whereas the +tongue is able to recount things past, and often pronounce things to +come, by this means re-edifying such excellences as time and age do +easily depopulate. + +COM. SEN. But what profitable service do you undertake for our dread +queen Psyche? + +LIN. O, how I am ravished to think how infinitely she hath graced me +with her most acceptable service! But above all (which you, Master +Register, well remember), when her highness, taking my mouth for her +instrument, with the bow of my tongue struck so heavenly a touch upon my +teeth, that she charmed the very tigers asleep, the listening bears and +lions to couch at her feet, while the hills leaped, and the woods danced +to the sweet harmony of her most angelical accents. + +MEM. I remember it very well. Orpheus played upon the harp, while she +sung, about some four years after the contention betwixt Apollo and Pan, +and a little before the excoriation of Marsyas. + +ANA. By the same token the river Alpheus, at that time pursuing his +beloved Arethusa, dischannelled himself of his former course, to be +partaker of their admirable consort[254], and the music being ended, +thrust himself headlong into earth, the next way to follow his amorous +chace. If you go to Arcadia, you shall see his coming up again. + +COM. SEN. Forward, Lingua, with your reason. + +LIN. How oft hath her excellency employed me as ambassador in her most +urgent affairs to foreign kings and emperors--I may say to the gods +themselves? How many bloodless battles have my persuasions attained, +when the Senses' forces have been vanquished? how many rebels have I +reclaimed, when her sacred authority was little regarded? Her laws +(without exprobation be it spoken) had been altogether unpublished, her +will unperformed, her illustrious deeds unrenowned, had not the silver +sound of my trumpet filled the whole circuit of the universe with her +deserved fame. Her cities would dissolve, traffic would decay, +friendships be broken, were not my speech the knot, mercury, and mastic, +to bind, defend, and glue them together. What should I say more? I can +never speak enough of the unspeakable praise of speech, wherein I can +find no other imperfection at all, but that the most exquisite power and +excellency of speech cannot sufficiently express the exquisite power and +excellency of speaking. + +COM. SEN. Lingua, your service and dignity we confess to be great; +nevertheless these reasons prove you not to have the nature of a Sense. + +LIN. By your ladyship's favour, I can soon prove that a Sense is a +faculty, by which our queen sitting in her privy chamber hath +intelligence of exterior occurrences. That I am of this nature, I prove +thus. The object which I challenge is-- + + _Enter_ APPETITUS _in haste_. + +APP. Stay, stay, my lord; defer, I beseech you, defer the judgment. + +COM. SEN. Who's this that boldly interrupts us thus? + +APP. My name is Appetitus, common servant to the pentarchy of the Senses +who, understanding that your honour was handling this action of +Lingua's, sent me hither thus hastily, most humbly requesting the Bench +to consider these articles they allege against her, before you proceed +to judgment. + +COM. SEN. Hum, here's good stuff; Master Register, read them. Appetitus, +you may depart, and bid your mistress make convenient speed. + +APP. At your lordship's pleasure. [_Exit_ APPETITUS. + +MEM. I remember that I forgot my spectacles; I left them in the 349th +page of Hall's "Chronicles," where he tells a great wonder of a +multitude of mice, which had almost destroyed the country, but that +there resorted a great mighty flight of owls, that destroyed them. +Anamnestes, read these articles distinctly. + +ANA. Art. 1. Imprimis, We accuse Lingua of high treason and sacrilege +against the most honourable commonwealth of letters; for, under pretence +of profiting the people with translations, she hath most vilely +prostituted the hard mysteries of unknown languages to the profane ears +of the vulgar. + +PHA. This is as much as to make a new hell in the upper world; for in +hell they say Alexander is no better than a cobbler, and now by these +translations every cobbler is as familiar with Alexander as he that +wrote his life. + +ANA. Art. 2. Item, that she hath wrongfully imprisoned a lady called +Veritas. + +Art. 3. Item, That she's a witch, and exerciseth her tongue in exorcisms. + +Art. 4. Item, That she's a common whore, and lets every one lie with her. + +Art. 5. Item, that she rails on men in authority, depraving their honours +with bitter jests and taunts; and that she's a backbiter, setting strife +betwixt bosom friends. + +Art. 6. Item, that she lends wives weapons to fight against their +husbands. + +Art. 7. Item, that she maintains a train of prating pettifoggers, +prowling sumners[255], smooth-tongued bawds, artless[256] empirics, +hungry parasites, newscarriers, janglers[257], and such like idle +companions, that delude the commonalty. + +Art. 8. Item, that she made rhetoric wanton, logic to babble, astronomy +to lie. + +Art. 9. Item that she's an incontinent tell-tale. + +Art. 10. Item (which is the last and worst), that she's a woman in every +respect, and for these causes not to be admitted to the dignity of a +Sense. That these articles be true, we pawn our honours, and subscribe +our names. + + 1. VISUS. 4. OLFACTUS. + 3. GUSTUS. + 2. AUDITUS. 5. TACTUS. + +COM. SEN. Lingua, these be shrewd allegations, and, as I think, +unanswerable. I will defer the judgment of your cause, till I have +finished the contention of the Senses. + +LIN. Your lordship must be obeyed. But as for them, most ungrateful and +perfidious wretches-- + +COM. SEN. Good words become you better; you may depart, if you will, +till we send for you. Anamnestes, run, remember Visus; 'tis time he were +ready. + +ANA. I go. [_Exit_ ANAMNESTES _et redit_.] He stays here, expecting your +lordship's pleasure. + + + +SCAENA SEXTA. + + + _A page carrying a scutcheon argent, charged with an eagle displayed + proper: then_ VISUS, _with a fan of peacock's feathers: next_ LUMEN, + _with a crown of bays and a shield with a bright sun in it, + apparelled in tissue: then a page bearing a shield before_ COELUM, + _clad in azure taffeta, dimpled with stars, a crown of stars on his + head, and a scarf resembling the zodiac overthwart the shoulders: + next a page clad in green, with a terrestrial globe before_ TERRA, + _in a green velvet gown stuck with branches and flowers, a crown of + turrets upon her head, in her hand a key: then a herald, leading in + his hand_ COLOUR, _clad in changeable silk, with a rainbow out of a + cloud on her head: last, a boy_. VISUS _marshalleth his show about + the stage, and presents it before the Bench_. + + VISUS, LUMEN, COELUM, PHANTASTES, COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORY. + +VIS. Lo, here the objects that delight the sight! +The goodliest objects that man's heart can wish! +For all things, that the orb first movable +Wraps in the circuit of his large-stretch'd arms, +Are subject to the power of Visus' eyes. +That you may know what profit light doth bring, +Note Lumen's words, that speaks next following. + +LUM. Light, the fair grandchild to the glorious sun, +Opening the casements of the rosy morn, +Makes the abashed heavens soon to shun +The ugly darkness it embrac'd beforn;[258] +And, at his first appearance, puts to flight +The utmost relics of the hell-born night. +This heavenly shield, soon as it is display'd, +Dismays the vices that abhor the light; +To wanderers by sea and land gives aid; +Conquers dismay, recomforteth affright; +Rouseth dull idleness, and starts soft sleep, +And all the world to daily labour keep. +This a true looking-glass impartial, +Where beauty's self herself doth beautify +With native hue, not artificial, +Discovering falsehood, opening verity: +The day's bright eye colours distinction, +Just judge of measure and proportion. +The only means by which each mortal eye +Sends messengers to the wide firmament, +That to the longing soul brings presently +High contemplation and deep wonderment; +By which aspirement she her wings displays, +And herself thither, whence she came, upraise. + +PHA. What blue thing's that, that's dappled so with stars. + +VIS. He represents the heaven. + +PHA. In my conceit +'Twere pretty, if he thundered when he speaks. + +VIS. Then none could understand him. + +COEL. Tropic, colures, the equinoctial, +The zodiac, poles, and line ecliptical, +The nadir, zenith, and anomalies, +The azimuth and ephimerides, +Stars, orbs, and planets, with their motions, +The oriental regradations, +Eccentrics, epicyctes, and--and--and-- + +PHA. How now, Visus, is your heaven at a stay, +Or is it his _motus trepidationis_ that makes him stammer? +I pray you, Memory, set him a-gate[259] again. + +MEM. I remember, when Jupiter made Amphitryo cuckold, and lay with his +wife Alcmena, Coelum was in this taking for three days space, and stood +still just like him at a nonplus. + +COM. SEN. Leave jesting; you'll put the fresh actor out of countenance. + +COEL. Eccentrics, epicyctes, and aspects +In sextile, trine and quadrate, which effects +Wonders on earth: also the oblique part +Of signs, that make the day both long and short, +The constellations, rising cosmical, +Setting of stars, chronic, and heliacal, +In the horizon or meridional, +And all the skill in deep astronomy, +Is to the soul derived by the eye. + +PHA. Visus, you have made Coelum a heavenly speech, past earthly +capacity; it had been as good for him he had thundered. But I pray +you, who taught him to speak and use no action? methinks it had been +excellent to have turned round about in his speech. + +VIS. He hath so many motions, he knows not which to begin withal. + +PHA. Nay, rather it seems he's of Copernicus' opinion, and that makes +him stand still. + + [TERRA _comes to the midst of the stage, stands still + a while, saith nothing, and steps back_. + +COM. SEN. Let's hear what Terra can say--just nothing? + +VIS. And't like your lordship, 'twere an indecorum Terra should speak. + +MEM. You are deceived; for I remember, when Phaeton ruled the sun (I +shall never forget him, he was a very pretty youth), the Earth opened +her mouth wide, and spoke a very good speech to Jupiter. + +ANA. By the same token Nilus hid his head then, he could never find it +since. + +PHA. You know, Memory, that was an extreme hot day, and 'tis likely +Terra sweat much, and so took cold presently after, that ever since she +hath lost her voice. + +HER. A canton ermine added to the field +Is a sure sign the man that bore these arms +Was to his prince as a defensive shield, +Saving him from the force of present harms[260]. + +PHA. I know this fellow of old, 'tis a herald: many a centaur, +chimaera[261], barnacle[262], crocodile, hippopotame, and such like +toys hath he stolen out of the shop of my Invention, to shape new coats +for his upstart gentlemen. Either Africa must breed more monsters,[263] +or you make fewer gentlemen, Master Herald, for you have spent all my +devices already. But since you are here, let me ask you a question in +your own profession: how comes it to pass that the victorious arms of +England, quartered with the conquered coat of France, are not placed on +the dexter side, but give the flower-de-luce the better hand? + +HER. Because that the three lions are one coat made of two French +dukedoms, Normandy and Aquitain. + +[PHA.][264] But I pray you, Visus, what joy is that, that follows him? + +VIS. 'Tis Colour, an object of mine, subject to his commandment. + +PHA. Why speaks he not? + +VIS. He is so bashful, he dares not speak for blushing: +What thing is that? tell me without delay. + +BOY. That's nothing of itself, yet every way +As like a man as a thing like may be: +And yet so unlike as clean contrary, +For in one point it every way doth miss, +The right side of it a man's left side is; +'Tis lighter than a feather, and withal +It fills no place nor room, it is so small. + +COM. SEN. How now, Visus, have you brought a boy with a riddle to pose +us all? + +PHA. Pose us all, and I here? That were a jest indeed. My lord, if he +have a Sphinx, I have an Oedipus, assure yourself; let's hear it once +again. + +BOY. What thing is that, sir, &c. + +PHA. This such a knotty enigma? Why, my lord, I think 'tis a woman, for +first a woman is nothing of herself, and, again, she is likest a man of +anything. + +COM. SEN. But wherein is she unlike? + +PHA. In everything: in peevishness, in folly. 'St, boy? + +HEU. In pride, deceit, prating, lying, cogging, coyness, spite, hate, +sir. + +PHA. And in many more such vices. Now, he may well say, the left side a +man's right side is, for a cross wife is always contrary to her husband, +ever contradicting what he wisheth for, like to the verse in Martial, +_Velle tuum_. + +MEM. _Velle tuum nolo, Dindyme, nolle volo_. + +PHA. Lighter than a feather--doth any man make question of that? + +MEM. They need not, for I remember I saw a cardinal weigh them once, and +the woman was found three grains lighter. + +COM. SEN. 'Tis strange, for I have seen gentlewomen wear feathers +oftentimes. Can they carry heavier things than themselves? + +MEM. O, sir, I remember, 'tis their only delight to do so. + +COM. SEN. But how apply you the last verse? it fills no place, sir. + +PHA. By my faith, that spoils all the former, for these farthingales +take up all the room now-a-days; 'tis not a woman, questionless. Shall I +be put down with a riddle? Sirrah Heuresis, search the corners of your +conceit, and find it me quickly. + +HEU. Eh, [Greek: heureka, heureka] I have it: 'tis a man's face in a +looking-glass. + +PHA. My lord, 'tis so indeed. Sirrah let's see it, for do you see my +right eye here? + +COM. SEN. What of your eye? + +PHA. O lord, sir, this kind of frown is excellent, especially when 'tis +sweetened with such a pleasing smile. + +COM. SEN. Phantastes! + +PHA. O sir, my left eye is my right in the glass, do you see? By these +lips, my garters hang so neatly, my gloves and shoes become my hands and +feet so well. Heuresis, tie my shoe-strings with a new knot--this point +was scarce well-trussed, so, 'tis excellent. Looking-glasses were a +passing invention. I protest the fittest books for ladies to study on-- + +MEM. Take heed you fall not in love with yourself. Phantastes, as I +remember--Anamnestes, who was't that died of the looking disease? + +ANA. Forsooth, Narcissus: by the same token he was turned to a daffodil, +and as he died for love of himself, so, if you remember, there was an +old ill-favoured, precious-nosed, babber-lipped, beetle-browed, +blear-eyed, slouch-eared slave that, looking himself by chance in a +glass, died for pure hate. + +PHA. By the lip of my ---- I could live and die with this face. + +COM. SEN. Fie, fie, Phantastes, so effeminate! for shame, leave off. +Visus, your objects I must needs say, are admirable, if the house and +instrument be answerable. Let's hear therefore in brief your +description. + +VIS. Under the forehead of Mount Cephalou,[265] +That overpeers the coast of Microcosm, +All in the shadow of two pleasant groves, +Stand by two mansion-houses, both as round +As the clear heavens: both twins, as like each other +As star to star, which by the vulgar sort, +For their resplendent composition, +Are named the bright eyes of Mount Cephalon: +With four fair rooms those lodgings are contrived, +Four goodly rooms in form most spherical, +Closing each other like the heavenly orbs: +The first whereof, of nature's substance wrought, +As a strange moat the other to defend, +Is trained movable by art divine, +Stirring the whole compacture of the rest: +The second chamber is most curiously +Compos'd of burnish'd and transparent horn. + +PHA. That's a matter of nothing. I have known many have such +bed-chambers. + +MEM. It may be so, for I remember, being once in the town's library, I +read such a thing in their great book of monuments, called "Cornucopia," +or rather their "Copiacornu." + +VIS. The third's a lesser room of purest glass; +The fourth's smallest, but passeth all the former +In worth of matter: built most sumptuously, +With walls transparent of pure crystalline. +This the soul's mirror and the body's guide, +Love's cabinet, bright beacons of the realm, +Casements of light, quiver of Cupid's shafts, +Wherein I sit, and immediately receive +The species of things corporeal, +Keeping continual watch and sentinel; +Lest foreign hurt invade our Microcosm, +And warning give (if pleasant things approach), +To entertain them. From this costly room +Leadeth, my lord, an entry to your house, +Through which I hourly to yourself convey +Matters of wisdom by experience bred: +Art's first invention, pleasant vision, +Deep contemplation, that attires the soul +In gorgeous robes of flowing literature: +Then, if that Visus have deserved best, +Let his victorious brow with crown be blest. + +COM. SEN. Anamnestes, see who's to come next. + +ANA. Presently, my lord. + +PHA. Visus, I wonder that amongst all your objects, you presented us +not with Plato's idea, or the sight of Nineveh,[266] Babylon, London, or +some Stourbridge-fair monsters; they would have done passing well. Those +motions, in my imagination, are very delightful. + +VIS. I was loth to trouble your honours with such toys, neither could I +provide them in so short a time. + +COM. SEN. We will consider your worth; meanwhile, we dismiss you. + + [VISUS _leads his show about the stage, and so goeth out with it_. + + + +SCAENA ULTIMA. + + + AUDITUS, _&c_. + +AUD. Hark, hark, hark, hark! peace, peace, O, peace! O sweet, admirable, +swanlike, heavenly! hark, O most mellifluous strain! O, what a pleasant +close was there! O fall[267] most delicate! + +COM. SEN. How now, Phantastes! is Auditus mad? + +PHA. Let him alone, his musical head is always full of old crotchets. + +AUD. Did you mark the dainty driving of the last point, an excellent +maintaining of the song; by the choice timpan of mine ear, I never heard +a better! hist, 'st, 'st, hark! why, there's a cadence able to ravish +the dullest stoic. + +COM. SEN. I know not what to think on him. + +AUD. There how sweetly the plain-song was dissolved into descant, and +how easily they came off with the last rest. Hark, hark, the +bitter'st[268] sweetest achromatic. + +COM. SEN. Auditus! + +AUD. Thanks, good Apollo, for this timely grace, +Never couldst thou in fitter hour indulge it: +O more than most musical harmony! +O most admirable concert! have you no ears? +Do you not hear this music? + +PHA. It may be good; but, in my opinion, they rest too long in the +beginning. + +AUD. Are you then deaf? do you not yet perceive +The wondrous sound the heavenly orbs do make +With their continual motion? hark, hark, +O honey-sweet! + +COM. SEN. What tune do they play? + +AUD. Why such a tune as never was, nor ever shall be heard. +Mark now, now mark: now, now! + +PHA. List, list, list. + +AUD. Hark! O sweet, sweet, sweet. + +PHA. List! how my heart envies my happy ears. +Hist, by the gold-strung harp of Apollo, +I hear the celestial music of the spheres, +As plainly as ever Pythagoras did. +O most excellent diapason! good, good. +It plays _Fortune my foe_,[269] as distinctly as may be. + +COM. SEN. As the fool thinketh, so the bell clinketh. I protest I hear +no more than a post. + +PHA. What, the Lavolta![270] eh? nay, if the heavens fiddle, Fancy must +needs dance. + +COM. SEN. Prythee, sit still, thou must dance nothing but the passing +measures[271]. Memory, do you hear this harmony of the spheres? + +MEM. Not now, my lord; but I remember about some four thousand years +ago, when the sky was first made, we heard very perfectly. + +ANA. By the same token, the first tune the planets played, I remember +Venus the treble ran sweet division upon Saturn the bass. The first tune +they played was Sellenger's round[272], in memory whereof ever since it +hath been called "the beginning of the world." + +COM. SEN. How comes it we cannot hear it now? + +MEM. Our ears are so well acquainted with the sound, that we never mark +it. As I remember, the Egyptian Catadupes[273] never heard the roaring +of the fall of Nilus, because the noise was so familiar unto them. + +COM. SEN. Have you no other objects to judge by than these, Auditus? + +AUD. This is the rarest and most exquisite: +Most spherical, divine, angelical; +But since your duller ears cannot perceive it, +May it please your lordship to withdraw yourself +Unto this neighbouring grove: there shall you see +How the sweet treble of the chirping birds, +And the soft stirring of the moved leaves, +Running delightful descant to the sound +Of the base murmuring of the bubbling brook[274], +Becomes a concert of good instruments; +While twenty babbling echoes round about, +Out of the stony concave of their mouths, +Restore the vanished music of each close, +And fill your ears full with redoubled pleasure. + +COM. SEN. I will walk with you very willingly, for I grow weary of +sitting. Come, Master Register and Master Phantastes. + + [_Exeunt_ OMNES. + + + + +ACTUS QUARTUS, SCAENA PRIMA. + + + MENDACIO, ANAMNESTES, HEURESIS. + +MEN. Prythee, Nam, be persuaded: is't not better to go to a feast, than +stay here for a fray? + +ANA. A feast? dost think Auditus will make the judges a feast? + +MEN. Faith, ay. Why should he carry them to his house else? + +ANA. Why, sirrah, to hear a set or two of songs: 'slid, his banquets are +nothing but fish, all sol, sol, sol.[275] I'll teach thee wit, boy; +never go thee to a musician's house for junkets, unless thy stomach lies +in thine ears; for there is nothing but commending this song's delicate +air, that ode's dainty air, this sonnet's sweet air, that madrigal's +melting air, this dirge's mournful air: this church air, that chamber +air: French air, English air, Italian air. Why, lad, they be pure +camelions; they feed only upon air. + +MEN. Camelions? I'll be sworn some of your fiddlers be rather camels, +for by their good wills they will never leave eating. + +ANA. True, and good reason, for they do nothing all the day but stretch +and grate their small guts. But, O, yonder's the ape Heuresis; let me +go, I prythee. + +MEN. Nay, good-now, stay a little, let's see his humour. + +HEU. I see no reason to the contrary, for we see the quintessence of +wine will convert water into wine; why therefore should not the elixir +of gold turn lead into pure gold? [_Soliloquises_.] + +MEN. Ha, ha, ha, ha! He is turned chemic, sirrah; it seems so by his +talk. + +HEU. But how shall I devise to blow the fire of beechcoals with a +continual and equal blast? ha? I will have my bellows driven with a +wheel, which wheel shall be a self-mover. + +ANA. Here's old turning[276]; these chemics, seeking to turn lead into +gold, turn away all their own silver. + +HEU. And my wheel shall be geometrically proportioned into seven or nine +concave encircled arms, wherein I will put equal poises: ay, ay; [Greek: +heureka, heureka] I have it, I have it, I have it. + +MEN. Heuresis! + +HEU. But what's best to contain the quicksilver, ha? + +ANA. Do you remember your promise, Heuresis? + +HEU. It must not be iron; for quicksilver is the tyrant of metals, and +will soon fret it. + +ANA. Heuresis? Heuresis? + +HEU. Nor brass, nor copper, nor mastlin[277], nor mineral: [Greek: +heureka, heureka] I have it, I have it, it must be-- + +ANA. You have, indeed, sirrah, and thus much more than you looked for. + [_Snap_. + + [HEURESIS _and_ ANAMNESTES _about to fight, + but_ MENDACIO _parts them_. + +MEN. You shall not fight; but if you will always disagree, let us have +words and no blows. Heuresis, what reason have you to fall out with him? + +HEU. Because he is always abusing me, and takes the upper hand of me +everywhere. + +ANA. And why not, sirrah? I am thy better in any place. + +HEU. Have I been the author of the seven liberal sciences, and +consequently of all learning, have I been the patron of all mechanical +devices, to be thy inferior? I tell thee, Anamnestes, thou hast not so +much as a point, but thou art beholding to me for it. + +ANA. Good, good; but what had your invention been, but for my +remembrance? I can prove that thou, belly-sprung invention, art the most +improfitable member in the world; for ever since thou wert born, thou +hast been a bloody murderer; and thus I prove it: In the quiet years of +Saturn (I remember Jupiter was then but in his swathe-bands), thou +rentest the bowels of the earth, and broughtest gold to light, whose +beauty, like Helen, set all the world by the ears. Then, upon that, thou +foundest out iron, and puttest weapons in their hands, and now in the +last populous age thou taughtest a scabshin friar the hellish invention +of powder and guns. + +HEU. Call'st it hellish? thou liest! It is the admirablest invention of +all others, for whereas others imitate nature, this excels nature +herself. + +MEM. True; for a cannon will kill as many at one shot as thunder doth +commonly at twenty. + +ANA. Therefore more murdering art thou than the light-bolt[278]. + +HEU. But to show the strength of my conceit, I have found out a means to +withstand the stroke of the most violent culverin. Mendacio, thou saw'st +it, when I demonstrated the invention. + +ANA. What, some woolpacks or mud walls, or such like? + +HEU. Mendacio, I prythee tell it him, for I love not to be a trumpeter +of mine own praises. + +MEN. I must needs confess this device to pass all that ever I heard or +saw, and thus it was--first he takes a falcon, and charges it (without +all deceits) with dry powder well-camphired[279], then did he put in a +single bullet, and a great quantity of drop-shot both round and +lachrymal. This done, he sets me a boy sixty paces off, just point blank +over against the mouth of the piece. Now in the very midst of the direct +line he fastens a post, upon which he hangs me in a cord a siderite of +Herculean stone[280]. + +ANA. Well, well, I know it well, it was found out in Ida, in the year of +the world ---- by one Magnes, whose name it retains, though vulgarly +they call it the Adamant. + +MEN. When he had hanged this adamant in a cord, he comes back, and gives +fire to the touchhole: now the powder consumed to a void vacuum-- + +HEU. Which is intolerable in nature, for first shall the whole machine +of the world, heaven, earth, sea, and air, return to the misshapen house +of Chaos, than the least vacuum be found in the universe. + +MEN. The bullet and drop-shot flew most impetuously from the fiery +throat of the culverin; but, O, strange, no sooner came they near the +adamant in the cord, but they were all arrested by the serjeant of +nature, and hovered in the air round about it, till they had lost the +force of their motion, clasping themselves close to the stone in most +lovely manner, and not any one flew to endanger the mark; so much did +they remember their duty to nature, that they forgot the errand they +were sent of. + +ANA. This is a very artificial lie. + +MEN. Nam, believe it, for I saw it, and which is more, I have practised +this device often. Once when I had a quarrel with one of my lady +Veritas' naked knaves, and had 'ppointed him the field, I conveyed into +the heart of my buckler an adamant, and when we met, I drew all the +foins of his rapier, whithersoever he intended them, or howsoever I +guided mine arm, pointed still to the midst of my buckler, so that by +this means I hurt the knave mortally, and myself came away untouched, to +the wonder of all the beholders. + +ANA. Sirrah, you speak metaphorically, because thy wit, Mendacio, always +draws men's objections to thy forethought excuses. + +HEU. Anamnestes, 'tis true, and I have an addition to this, which is to +make the bullet shot from the enemy to return immediately upon the +gunner. But let all these pass, and say the worst thou canst against me. + +ANA. I say, guns were found out for the quick despatch of mortality; and +when thou sawest men grow wise, and beget so fair a child as Peace of so +foul and deformed a mother as War, lest there should be no murder, thou +devisedst poison. + +MEN. Nay, fie, Nam, urge him not too far. + +ANA. And last and worst, thou foundest out cookery, that kills more than +weapons, guns, wars, or poisons, and would destroy all, but that thou +invented'st physic, that helps to make away some. + +HEU. But, sirrah, besides all this, I devised pillories for such forging +villains as thyself. + +ANA. Call'st me villain? + + [_They fight, and are parted by_ MENDACIO. + +MEN. You shall not fight as long as I am here. Give over, I say. + +HEU. Mendacio, you offer me great wrong to hold me: in good faith, +I shall fall out with you. + +MEN. Away, away, away; you are Invention, are you not? + +HEU. Yes, sir; what then? + +MEN. And you Remembrance? + +ANA. Well, sir, well? + +MEN. Then I will be Judicium, the moderator betwixt you, and make you +both friends; come, come, shake hands, shake hands. + +HEU. Well, well, if you will needs have it so. + +ANA. I am in some sort content. + + [MENDACIO _walks with them, holding them by the hands_. + +MEN. Why, this is as it should be; when Mendacio hath Invention on the +one hand, and Remembrance on the other, as he'll be sure never to be +found with truth in his mouth, so he scorns to be taken in a lie. Eh, +eh, eh, my fine wags? Whist! + + [COMMUNIS SENSUS _and the rest are seen to approach_.] + +ANA. Whist! + +HEU. Whist! + + + +SCAENA SECUNDA. + + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORY, PHANTASTES, HEURESIS, ANAMNESTES, + _take their places on the bench as before_, AUDITUS _on the + stage, a page before him, bearing his target, the field Sable, + a heart Or; next him_ TRAGEDUS _apparelled in black velvet, fair + buskins, a falchion, &c.; then_ COMEDUS, _in a light-coloured + green taffeta robe, silk stockings, pumps, gloves, &c_. + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORY, PHANTASTES, HEURESIS, ANAMNESTES, &c. + +COM. SEN. They had some reason that held the soul a harmony, for it is +greatly delighted with music; how fast we were tied by the ears to the +consort of Voice's power! but all is but a little pleasure; what +profitable objects hath he? + +PHA. Your ears will teach you presently, for now he is coming. That +fellow in the bays, methinks I should have known him; O, 'tis Comedus, +'tis so; but he has become nowadays something humorous, and too-too +satirical up and down, like his great grandfather Aristophanes. + +ANA. These two, my lord, Comedus and Tragedus, +My fellows both, both twins, but so unlike, +As birth to death, wedding to funeral. +For this, that rears himself in buskins quaint, +Is pleasant at the first, proud in the midst, +Stately in all, and bitter death at end. +That in the pumps doth frown at first acquaintance, +Trouble in the midst, but in the end concludes, +Closing up all with a sweet catastrophe. +This grave and sad, distain'd with brinish tears; +That light and quick with wrinkled laughter[281] painted; +This deals with nobles, kings, and emperors, +Full of great fears, great hopes, great enterprises. +This other trades with men of mean condition: +His projects small, small hopes, and dangers little. +This gorgeous-broider'd with rich sentences: +That fair and purfled round with merriments. +Both vice detect and virtue beautify, +By being death's mirror, and life's looking-glass. + +COM[282]. _Salutem primum jam a principio propitiam. +Mihi atque vobis, spectatores, nuntio_[283]-- + +PHA. Pish, pish, this is a speech with no action; let's hear Terence, +_Quid igitur faciam, &c_. + +COM. _Quid igitur faciam? non eam? ne nunc quidem, +Cum arcessor ultro?[284] + +PHA. Fie, fie, fie, no more action! lend me your bays, do it thus--_Quid +igitur, &c_. + [_He acts it after the old kind of pantomimic action_. + +COM. SEN. I should judge this action, Phantastes, most absurd, unless we +should come to a comedy, as gentlewomen to the Commencement[285], only +to see men speak. + +PHA. In my imagination, 'tis excellent; for in this kind the hand, you +know, is harbinger to the tongue, and provides the words a lodging in +the ears of the auditors. + +COM. SEN. Auditus, it is now time you make us acquainted with the +quality of the house you keep in, for our better help in judgment. + +AUD. Upon the sides of fair mount Cephalon +Have I two houses passing human skill: +Of finest matter by Dame Nature wrought, +Whose learned fingers have adorn'd the same +With gorgeous porches of so strange a form, +That they command the passengers to stay. +The doors whereof in hospitality +Nor day nor night are shut, but, open wide, +Gently invite all comers; whereupon +They are named the open ears of Cephalon. +But lest some bolder sound should boldly rush, +And break the nice composure of the work, +The skilful builder wisely hath enrang'd +An entry from each port with curious twines +And crook'd meanders, like the labyrinth +That Daedalus fram'd t'enclose the Minotaur; +At th'end whereof is plac'd a costly portal, +Resembling much the figure of a drum, +Granting slow entrance to a private closet. +Where daily, with a mallet in my hand, +I set and frame all words and sounds that come +Upon an anvil, and so make them fit +For the periwinkling porch[286], that winding leads +From my close chamber to your lordship's cell. +Thither do I, chief justice of all accents, +Psyche's next porter, Microcosm's front, +Learning's rich treasure, bring discipline, +Reason's discourse, knowledge of foreign states, +Loud fame of great heroes' virtuous deeds; +The marrow of grave speeches, and the flowers +Of quickest wits, neat jests, and pure conceits; +And oftentimes, to ease the heavy burthen +Of government your lordship's shoulders bear, +I thither do conduce the pleasing nuptials +Of sweetest instruments with heavenly noise. +If then Auditus have deserv'd the best, +Let him be dignified before the rest. + +COM. SEN. Auditus, I am almost a sceptic in this matter, scarce knowing +which way the balance of the cause will decline. When I have heard the +rest, I will despatch judgment; meanwhile, you may depart. + + [AUDITUS _leads his show about the stage, and then goes out_. + + + +SCAENA TERTIA. + + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORIA, PHANTASTES, ANAMNESTES, HEURESIS, + _as before_; OLFACTUS _in a garment of several flowers, a + page before him, bearing his target, his field Vert, a hound + Argent, two boys with casting-bottles[287], and two censers + with incense[288], another with a velvet cushion stuck with + flowers, another with a basket of herbs, another with a box + of ointment_. OLFACTUS _leads them about, and, making obeisance, + presents them before the Bench_. + +1ST BOY. Your only way to make a good pomander[289] is this:--Take an +ounce of the purest garden mould, cleansed and steeped seven days in +change of motherless rosewater; then take the best ladanum, benzoine, +both storaxes, ambergris, civet, and musk: incorporate them together, +and work them into what form you please. This, if your breath be not too +valiant, will make you smell as sweet as my lady's dog. + +PHA. This boy, it should seem, represents Odour, he is so perfect a +perfumer. + +ODOUR. I do, my lord, and have at my command +The smell of flowers and odoriferous drugs, +Of ointments sweet and excellent perfumes, +And courtlike waters, which if once you smell, +You in your heart would wish, as I suppose, +That all your body were transform'd to nose. + +PHA. Olfactus, of all the Senses, your objects have the worst luck; they +are always jarring with their contraries; for none can wear civet, but +they are suspected of a proper bad scent[290]; whence the proverb +springs, He smelleth best, that doth of nothing smell. + + + +SCAENA QUARTA. + + + _The Bench and_ OLFACTUS, _as before_. TOBACCO, _apparelled in a + taffeta mantle, his arms brown and naked, buskins made of the + peeling of osiers, his neck bare, hung with Indian leaves, his + face brown, painted with blue stripes, in his nose swines' teeth, + on his head a painted wicker crown with tobacco-pipes set in it, + plumes of tobacco leaves, led by two Indian boys naked, with + tapers in their hands, tobacco-boxes, and pipes lighted_. + +PHA. Foh, foh, what a smell is here! Is this one of your delightful +objects? + +OLF. It is your only scent in request, sir. + +COM. SEN. What fiery fellow is that, which smokes so much in the mouth? + +OLF. It is the great and puissant God of Tobacco. + +TOB. _Ladoch guevarroh pufuer shelvaro baggon, +Olfia di quanon, Indi cortilo vraggon_. + +PHA. Ha, ha, ha, ha! this, in my opinion, is the tongue of the +Antipodes. + +MEM. No, I remember it very well, it was the language the Arcadians +spake that lived long before the moon. + +COM. SEN. What signifies it, Olfactus? + +OLF. This is the mighty Emperor Tobacco, king of Trinidado, that, in +being conquered, conquered all Europe, in making them pay tribute for +their smoke. + +TOB. _Erfronge inglues conde hesingo, +Develin floscoth ma pu cocthingo_. + +OLF. Expeller of catarrhs, banisher of all agues, your guts' only salve +for the green wounds of a _non-plus_. + +TOB. _All vulcam vercu, I parda pora si de gratam, ka famala mora, che +Bauho respartera, quirara_. + +OLF. Son to the god Vulcan and Tellus, kin to the father of mirth, +called Bacchus. + +TOB. _Viscardonok, pillostuphe, pascano tinaromagas, +Pagi dagon stollisinfe, carocibato scribas_. + +OLF. Genius of all swaggerers, professed enemy to physicians, sweet +ointment for sour teeth, firm knot of good fellowship, adamant of +company, swift wind to spread the wings of time, hated of none but +those that know him not, and of so great deserts that, whoso is +acquainted with him can hardly forsake him. + +PHA. It seems these last words were very significant. I promise you, +a god of great denomination; he may be my Lord Tappes for his large +titles[291]. + +COM. SEN. But forward, Olfactus, as they have done before you, with your +description? + +OLF. Just in the midst of Cephalon's round face, +As 'twere a frontispiece unto the hill, +Olfactus' lodging built in figure long, +Doubly disparted with two precious vaults, +The roofs whereof most richly are enclos'd +With orient pearls and sparkling diamonds +Beset at th'end with emerauds and turchis[292], +And rubies red and flaming chrysolites, +At upper end whereof, in costly manner, +I lay my head between two spongeous pillows, +Like fair Adonis 'twixt the paps of Venus, +Where I, conducting in and out the wind, +Daily examine all the air inspir'd +By my pure searching, if that it be pure, +And fit to serve the lungs with lively breath: +Hence do I likewise minister perfume[s] +Unto the neighbour brain--perfumes of force +To cleanse your head, and make your fancy bright, +To refine wit and sharp[293] invention, +And strengthen memory: from whence it came, +That old devotion incense did ordain +To make man's spirit more apt for things divine. +Besides a thousand more commodities, +In lieu whereof your lordships I request, +Give me the crown, if I deserve it best. + + [OLFACTUS _leads his company about the stage, and goes out_. + + + +SCAENA QUINTA. + + + _The Bench as before. A page with a shield Argent, an ape proper + with an apple; then_ GUSTUS _with a cornucopia in his hand_. + BACCHUS _in a garland of leaves and grapes, a white suit, and + over it a thin sarcenet to his foot, in his hand a spear wreathed + with vine leaves, on his arm a target with a tiger_. CERES _with a + crown of ears of corn, in a yellow silk robe, a bunch of poppy in + her hand, a scutcheon charged with a dragon_. + +COM. SEN. In good time, Gustus. Have you brought your objects? + +GUS. My servant Appetitus followeth with them. + +APP. Come, come, Bacchus, you are so fat; enter, enter. + +PHA. Fie, fie, Gustus! this is a great indecorum to bring Bacchus alone; +you should have made Thirst lead him by the hand. + +GUS. Right, sir; but men nowadays drink often when they be not dry; +besides, I could not get red herrings and dried neats' tongues enough to +apparel him in. + +COM. SEN. What, never a speech of him? + +GUS. I put an octave of iambics in his mouth, and he hath drunk it down. + +APP. Well done, muscadine and eggs stand hot. What, buttered claret? go +thy way, thou hadst best; for blind men that cannot see how wickedly +thou look'st--How now, what small, thin fellow are you here? ha? + +BOY. Beer, forsooth: Beer, forsooth. + +APP. Beer forsooth, get you gone to the buttery, till I call for you; +you are none of Bacchus's attendants, I am sure; he cannot endure the +smell of malt. Where's Ceres? O, well, well, is the march-pane broken? +Ill luck, ill luck! Come hang't, never stand to set it together again. +Serve out fruit there. + + [_Enter boys with a banquet, marmalade, sweets, &c.; + deliver it round among the gentlewomen, and go out_.] + +What, do you come with roast-meat after apples? Away with it. Digestion, +serve out cheese. What, but a pennyworth! It is just the measure of his +nose that sold it! Lamb's wool, the meekest meat in the world; 'twill +let any man fleece it. Snapdragon there! + +MEM. O, I remember this dish well: it was first invented by Pluto, to +entertain Proserpina withal. + +PHA. I think not so, Memory; for when Hercules had killed the flaming +dragon of Hesperia with the apples of that orchard, he made this fiery +meat; in memory whereof he named it Snapdragon. + +COM. SEN. Gustus, let's hear your description? + +GUS. Near to the lowly base of Cephalon, +My house is plac'd not much unlike a cave: +Yet arch'd above by wondrous workmanship, +With hewen stones wrought smoother and more fine +Than jet or marble fair from Iceland brought. +Over the door directly doth incline +A fair percullis of compacture strong, +To shut out all that may annoy the state +Or health of Microcosm; and within +Is spread a long board like a pliant tongue, +At which I hourly sit, and trial take +Of meats and drinks needful and delectable: +Twice every day do I provision make +For the sumptuous kitchen of the commonwealth; +Which, once well-boil'd, is soon distributed +To all the members, well refreshing them +With good supply of strength-renewing food. +Should I neglect this nursing[294] diligence, +The body of the realm would ruinate; +Yourself, my lord, with all your policies +And wondrous wit, could not preserve yourself: +Nor you, Phantastes; nor you, Memory. +Psyche herself, were't not that I repair +Her crazy house with props of nourishment, +Would soon forsake us: for whose dearest sake +Many a grievous pain have I sustain'd +By bitter pills and sour purgations; +Which if I had not valiantly abiden, +She had been long ere this departed. +Since the whole Microcosm I maintain, +Let me, as Prince, above the Senses reign. + +COM. SEN. The reasons you urge, Gustus, breed a new doubt, whether it +be commodious or necessary, the resolution whereof I refer to your +judgment, licensing you meanwhile to depart. + + [GUSTUS _leads his show about the stage, and goes out_. + + + +SCAENA SEXTA. + + + _The Bench as before_; TACTUS, _a page before him + bearing his scutcheon, a tortoise Sable_. + +TAC. Ready anon, forsooth! the devil she will! +Who would be toil'd with wenches in a show? + +COM. SEN. Why in such anger, Tactus? what's the matter? + +TAC. My lord, I had thought, as other Senses did, +By sight of objects to have prov'd my worth; +Wherefore considering that, of all the things +That please me most, women are counted chief, +I had thought to have represented in my show +The queen of pleasure, Venus and her son, +Leading a gentleman enamoured +With his sweet touching of his mistress' lips, +And gentle griping of her tender hands, +And divers pleasant relishes of touch, +Yet all contained in the bounds of chastity. + +PHA. Tactus, of all I long to see your objects; +How comes it we have lost those pretty sports? + +TAC. Thus 'tis: five hours ago I set a dozen maids to attire a boy like +a nice gentlewoman; but there is such doing with their looking-glasses, +pinning, unpinning, setting, unsetting, formings and conformings; +painting blue veins and cheeks; such stir with sticks and combs, +cascanets, dressings, purls, falls, squares, busks, bodies, scarfs, +necklaces, carcanets, rebatoes, borders, tires, fans, palisadoes, puffs, +ruffs, cuffs, muffs, pusles, fusles, partlets, frislets, bandlets, +fillets, crosslets, pendulets, amulets, annulets, bracelets, and so many +lets, that yet she's scarce dressed to the girdle; and now there is such +calling for fardingales, kirtles, busk-points, shoe-ties, &c., that +seven pedlars' shops--nay, all Stourbridge fair, will scarce furnish +her. A ship is sooner rigged by far, than a gentlewoman made ready. + +PHA. 'Tis strange that women, being so mutable, +Will never change in changing their apparel. + +COM. SEN. Well, let them pass; Tactus, we are content +To know your dignity by relation. + +TAC. The instrument of instruments, the hand, +Courtesy's index, chamberlain to nature, +The body's soldier, and mouth's caterer, +Psyche's great secretary, the dumb's eloquence, +The blind man's candle, and his forehead's buckler, +The minister of wrath, and friendship's sign, +This is my instrument: nevertheless my power +Extends itself far as our queen commands, +Through all the parts and climes of Microcosm. +I am the root of life, spreading my virtue +By sinews, that extend from head to foot +To every living part. +For as a subtle spider, closely sitting +In centre of her web that spreadeth round, +If the least fly but touch the smallest thread, +She feels it instantly; so doth myself, +Casting my slender nerves and sundry nets +O'er every particle of all the body, +By proper skill perceive the difference +Of several qualities, hot, cold, moist, and dry; +Hard, soft, rough, smooth, clammy, and slippery: +Sweet pleasure and sharp pain profitable, +That makes us (wounded) seek for remedy. +By these means do I teach the body fly +From such bad things as may endanger it. +A wall of brass can be no more defence +Unto a town than I to Microcosm. +Tell me what Sense is not beholden to me? +The nose is hot or cold, the eyes do weep, +The ears do feel, the taste's a kind of touching: +Thus, when I please, I can command them all, +And make them tremble, when I threaten them. +I am the eldest and biggest of all the rest, +The chiefest note and first distinction +Betwixt a living tree and living beast; +For though one hear and see, and smell and taste, +If he wants touch, he is counted but a block. +Therefore, my lord, grant me the royalty; +Of whom there is such great necessity. + +COM. SEN. Tactus, stand aside. You, sirrah Anamnestes, +tell the Senses we expect their appearance. + +ANA. At your lordship's pleasure. + + [_Exit_ ANAMNESTES. + + + +SCAENA SEPTIMA. + + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, PHANTASTES, MEMORIA, HEURESIS, ANAMNESTES, + _upon the Bench consulting among themselves. _VISUS, AUDITUS, + TACTUS, GUSTUS, _and_ OLFACTUS, _every one with his shield + upon his arm_. LINGUA, _and_ MENDACIO _with them_. + +COM. SEN. Though you deserve no small punishment for these uproars, yet +at the request of these my assistants I remit it; and by the power of +judgment our gracious sovereign Psyche hath given me, thus I determine +of your controversies: hum! By your former objects, instruments and +reasons, I conceive the state of sense to be divided into two parts; one +of commodity, the other of necessity; both which are either for our +queen or for our country; but as the soul is more excellent than the +body, so are the Senses that profit the soul to be estimated before +those that are needful for the body. Visus and Auditus, serve +yourselves. Master Register, give me the crown; because it is better to +be well, than simply to be, therefore I judge the crown by right to +belong to you of the commodity's part, and the robe to you of the +necessity's side: and since you, Visus, are the author of invention, and +you, Auditus, of increase and addition to the same, seeing it is more +excellent to invent than to augment, I establish you, Visus, the better +of the two, and chief of all the rest: in token whereof I bestow upon +you this crown, to wear at your liberty. + +VIS. I most humbly thank your lordships. + +COM. SEN. But lest I should seem to neglect you, Auditus, I here choose +you to be the lord intelligencer to Psyche her majesty: and you, +Olfactus, we bestow upon you the chief priesthood of Microcosm, +perpetually to offer incense in her majesty's temple. As for you, +Tactus, upon your reasons alleged I bestow upon you the robe. + +TAC. I accept it most gratefully at your just hands, and will wear it in +the dear remembrance of your good lordship. + +COM. SEN. And lastly, Gustus, we elect you Psyche's only taster, and +great purveyor for all her dominions both by sea and land, in her realm +of Microcosm. + +GUS. We thank your lordship, and rest well content with equal +arbitrament. + +COM. SEN. Now for you, Lingua. + +LIN. I beseech your honour, let me speak; I will neither trouble the +company, nor offend your patience. + +COM. SEN. I cannot stay so long; we have consulted about you, and find +your cause to stand upon these terms and conditions. The number of the +Senses in this world is answerable to the first[295] bodies in the great +world: now, since there be but fire in the universe, the four elements +and the pure substance of the heavens, therefore there can be but five +Senses in our Microcosm, correspondent to those; as the sight to the +heavens, hearing to the air, touching to the earth, smelling to the +fire, tasting to the water, by which five means only the understanding +is able to apprehend the knowledge of all corporeal substances: +wherefore we judge you to be no sense simply: only thus much we from +henceforth pronounce, that all women for your sake shall have six +senses--that is, seeing hearing, tasting, smelling, touching, and the +last and feminine sense, the sense of speaking. + +GUS. I beseech your lordship and your assistants (the only cause of our +friendship) to grace my table with your most welcome presence this night +at supper. + +COM. SEN. I am sorry I cannot stay with you: you know we may by no means +omit our daily attendance at the court, therefore I pray you pardon us. + +GUS. I hope I shall not have the denial at your hands, my masters, and +you, my Lady Lingua. Come, let us drown all our anger in a bowl of +hippocras[296]. + + [_Exeunt_ SENSUS _omnes exteriores_. + +COM. SEN. Come, Master Register, shall we walk? + +MEM. I pray you, stay a little. Let me see! ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! + +PHA. How now, Memory, so merry? what, do you trouble yourself with two +palsies at once, shaking and laughing? + +MEM. 'Tis a strange thing that men will so confidently oppose themselves +against Plato's great year. + +PHA. Why not? + +MEM. 'Tis as true an opinion as need be; for I remember it very readily +now, that this time 49,000 years ago all we were in this very place, and +your lordship judged the very same controversy, after the very same +manner, in all respects and circumstances alike. + +COM. SEN. 'Tis wondrous strange. + +ANA. By the same token you held your staff in your right hand, just as +you do now; and Master Phantastes stood wondering at you, gaping as wide +as you see him. + +PHA. Ay, but I did not give you a box on the ear, sirrah, 49,000 years +ago, did I? [_Snap_.] + +ANA. I do not remember that, sir. + +PHA. This time Plato's twelvemonth to come, look you save your cheeks +better. + +COM. SEN. But what entertainment had we at court for our long staying? + +MEM. Let's go, I'll tell you as we walk. + +PHA. If I do not seem pranker[297] now than I did in those days, I'll be +hanged. + + [_Exeunt omnes interiores Sensus: manet_ LINGUA. + + + +SCAENA OCTAVA. + + + LINGUA, MENDACIO. + +LIN. Why, this is good. By Common Sense's means, +Lingua, thou hast fram'd a perfect comedy. +They are all good friends, whom thou mad'st enemies; +And I am half a Sense: a sweet piece of service, +I promise you, a fair step to preferment! +Was this the care and labour thou hast taken +To bring thy foes together to a banquet, +To lose thy crown, and be deluded thus! +Well, now I see my cause is desperate, +The judgment's pass'd, sentence irrevocable, +Therefore I'll be content and clap my hands, +And give a plaudite to their proceedings. +What, shall I leave my hate begun unperfect? +So foully vanquish'd by the spiteful Senses! +Shall I, the embassadress of gods and men, +That pull'd proud Phoebe from her brightsome sphere, +And dark'd Apollo's countenance with a word, +Raising at pleasure storms, and winds, and earthquakes, +Be overcrow'd, and breathe without revenge? +Yet they forsooth, base slaves, must be preferred, +And deck themselves with my right ornaments. +Doth the all-knowing Phoebus see this shame +Without redress? will not the heavens help me? +Then shall hell do it; my enchanting tongue +Can mount the skies, and in a moment fall +From the pole arctic to dark Acheron. +I'll make them know mine anger is not spent; +Lingua hath power to hurt, and will to do it. +Mendacio, come hither quickly, sirrah. + +MEN. Madam. + +LIN. Hark, hither in thine ear. + +MEN. Why do you whisht[298] thus? here's none to hear you. + +LIN. I dare not trust these secrets to the earth, +E'er since she brought forth reeds, whose babbling noise +Told all the world of Midas' ass's ears. +[_She whispers him in the ear_.] Dost understand me? + +MEN. Ay, ay, ay--never fear that--there's a jest indeed-- +Pish, pish--madam--do you think me so foolish?--Tut, tut, doubt not. + +LIN. Tell her, if she do not-- + +MEN. Why do you make any question of it?--what a stir is here--I +warrant you--presently! + [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + +LIN. Well, I'll to supper, and so closely cover +The rusty canker of mine iron spite +With golden foil of goodly semblances. +But if I do not trounce them-- + + [_Exit_ LINGUA. + + + + +ACTUS QUINTUS, SCAENA PRIMA. + + + MENDACIO, _with a bottle in his hand_. + +MEN. My Lady Lingua is just like one of these lean-witted comedians +who, disturbing all to the fifth act, bring down some Mercury or Jupiter +in an engine to make all friends: so she, but in a contrary manner, +seeing her former plots dispurposed, sends me to an old witch called +Acrasia to help to wreak her spite upon the Senses. The old hag, after +many an encircled circumstance, and often naming of the direful Hecate +and Demogorgon. gives me this bottle of wine, mingled with such hellish +drugs and forcible words that, whosoever drinks of it shall be presently +possessed with an enraged and mad kind of anger. + + + +SCAENA SECUNDA. + + + MENDACIO, CRAPULA, APPETITUS _crying_. + +MEN. What's this, Crapula beating Appetitus out of doors? ha? + +CRA. You filthy long crane, you mean slave, will you kill your guests +with blowing continual hunger in them? The Senses have overcharged their +stomachs already, and you, sirrah, serve them up a fresh appetite with +every new dish. They had burst their guts if thou hadst stayed but a +thought longer. Begone, or I'll set thee away; begone, ye gnaw-bone, +raw-bone rascal![299] [_Beats him_. + +MEN. Then my device is clean spoiled. Appetitus should have been as the +bowl to present this medicine to the Senses, and now Crapula hath beaten +him out of doors; what shall I do? [_Aside_.] + +CRA. Away, sirrah. [_Beats him_. + +APP. Well, Crapula, well; I have deserved better at your hands than so. +I was the man, you know, first brought you into Gustus's service. I +lined your guts there, and you use me thus? but grease a fat sow, &c. + +CRA. Dost thou talk? Hence, hence; avaunt, cur; avaunt, you dog! + [_Exit_ CRAPULA. + +APP. The belching gorbelly[300] hath well-nigh killed me; I am shut out +of doors finely. Well, this is my comfort, I may walk now in liberty at +my own pleasure. + +MEN. Appetitus, Appetitus! + +APP. Ah, Mendacio, Mendacio! + +MEN. Why, how now, man, how now? how is't? canst not speak? + +APP. Faith, I am like a bagpipe, that never sounds but when the belly +is full. + +MEN. Thou empty, and com'st from a feast? + +APP. From a fray. I tell thee, Mendacio, I am now just like the ewe that +gave suck to a wolf's whelp; I have nursed up my fellow Crapula so long, +that he's grown strong enough to beat me. + +MEN. And whither wilt thou go, now thou art banished out of service? + +APP. Faith, I'll travel to some college or other in an university. + +MEN. Why so? + +APP. Because Appetitus is well-beloved amongst scholars, for there I can +dine and sup with them, and rise again as good friends as we sat down. +I'll thither, questionless. + +MEN. Hear'st thou? give me thy hand. By this, I love thee: go to, then. +Thou shalt not forsake thy masters thus, I say thou shalt not. + +APP. Alas! I am very loth; but how should I help it? + +MEN. Why, take this bottle of wine, come on; go thy ways to them again. + +APP. Ha, ha, ha! what good will this do? + +MEN. This is the Nepenthe that reconciles the gods. Do but let the +Senses taste of it, and fear not, they'll love thee as well as ever +they did. + +APP. I pray thee, where hadst it? + +MEN. My lady gave it me to bring her. Mercury stole it from Hebe for +her. Thou knowest there were some jars betwixt her and thy masters, and +with this drink she would gladly wash out all the relics of their +disagreement. Now, because I love thee, thou shalt have the grace of +presenting it to them, and so come in favour again. + +APP. It smells well. I would fain begin to them. + +MEN. Nay, stay no longer, lest they have supped before thou come. + +APP. Mendacio, how shall I requite thy infinite courtesy? + +MEN. Nay, pray thee leave, go catch occasion by the foretop. But hear'st +thou? As soon as it is presented, round[301] my Lady Lingua in the ear, +and tell her of it. + +APP. I will, I will: adieu, adieu, adieu. + + [_Exit_ APPETITUS. + + + +SCAENA TERTIA. + + + MENDACIO _solus_. + +MEN. Why. this is better than I could have wish'd it; +Fortune, I think, is fallen in love with me, +Answering so right my expectation. +By this time Appetite is at the table, +And with a lowly cringe presents the wine +To his old master Gustus; now he takes it, +And drinks, perchance, to Lingua; she craftily +Kisses the cup, but lets not down a drop, +And gives it to the rest: 'tis sweet, they'll swallow it: +But when 'tis once descended to the stomach, +And sends up noisome vapours to the brain, +'Twill make them swagger gallantly; they'll rage +Most strangely, or Acrasia's art deceives her; +When if my lady stir her nimble tongue, +And closely sow contentious words amongst them, +O, what a stabbing there will be! what bleeding! + + + +SCAENA QUARTA. + + + LINGUA, MENDACIO. + +LIN. What, art thou there, Mendacio? pretty rascal! +Come let me kiss thee for thy good deserts. + +MEN. Madam, does't take? Have they all tasted it? + +LIN. All, all, and all are well-nigh mad already. +O, how they stare and swear, and fume, and brawl! +Wrath gives them weapons; pots and candlesticks, +Joint stools and trenchers, fly about the room, +Like to the bloody banquet of the centaurs. +But all the sport's to see what several thoughts +The potion works in their imaginations. +For Visus thinks himself a ----, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! + + + +SCAENA QUINTA. + + + APPETITUS, MENDACIO, LINGUA. + +APP. So ho, Mendacio! so ho, so ho! + +MEN. Madam, I doubt they come; yonder is Appetitus. You had best be +gone, lest in their outrage they should injure you. [_Exit_ LINGUA.] +How now, Hunger? How dost thou, my fine maypole, ha? + +APP. I may well be called a maypole, for the Senses do nothing but dance +a morrice about me. + +MEN. Why, what ails them? Are they not (as I promised thee) friends with +thee? + +APP. Friends with me! nay, rather frenzy. I never knew them in such a +case in all my life. + +MEN. Sure, they drank too much, and are mad for love of thee. + +APP. They want Common Sense amongst them. There's such a hurlyburly. +Auditus is stark deaf, and wonders why men speak so softly that he +cannot hear them. Visus hath drunk himself stark blind, and therefore +imagineth himself to be Polyphemus. Tactus is raging mad, and cannot be +otherwise persuaded but he is Hercules _furens_. There's such conceits +amongst them. + + + +SCAENA SEXTA. + + + VISUS, APPETITUS, MENDACIO. + +VIS. O, that I could but find the villain Outis[302], +Outis the villain, that thus blinded me! + +MEN. Who is this? Visus? + +APP. Ay, ay, ay; otherwise called Polyphemus. + +VIS. By heaven's bright sun, the day's most glorious eye, +That lighteneth all the world but Polypheme. +And by mine eye, that once was answerable +Unto that sun, but now's extinguished-- + +MEN. He can see to swear, methinks. + +VIS. If I but once lay hands upon the slave, +That thus hath robb'd me of my dearest jewel, +I'll rend the miscreant to a thousand pieces, +And gnash his trembling members 'twixt my teeth, +Drinking his live-warm blood to satisfy +The boiling thirst of pain and furiousness, +That thus exasperates great Polypheme. + +MEN. Pray thee, Appetitus, see how he grasps for that he would be loth +to find. + +APP. What's that? a stumblingblock? + +VIS. These hands, that whilom tore up sturdy oaks, +And rent the rock that dash'd out Acis' brains, +Bath'd[303] in the stole bliss of my Galatea, +Serve now (O misery!) to no better use, +But for bad guides to my unskilful feet, +Never accustom'd thus to be directed. + +MEN. As I am a rogue, he wants nothing but a wheel to make him the true +picture of fortune; how say'st? what, shall we play at blind-man's-buff +with him? + +APP. Ay, if thou wilt; but first I'll try whether he can see? + +VIS. Find me out Outis, search the rocks and woods, +The hills and dales, and all the coasts adjoining, +That I may have him, and revenge my wrong. + +APP. Visus, methinks your eyes are well enough. + +VIS. What's he that calls me Visus? dost not know-- + + [_They run about him, playing with him, and abusing him_. + +APP. To him, Mendacio, to him, to him. + +MEN. There, there, Appetitus, he comes, he comes; ware, ware, he comes; +ha, ha, ha, ha! + + [VISUS _stumbles, falls down, and sits still_. + + + +SCAENA SEPTIMA. + + + MENDACIO, APPETITUS, TACTUS, _with a great blackjack in his hand_. + +MEN. Is this he that thinks himself Hercules? + +APP. Ay, wilt see me outswagger him? + +MEN. Ay, do, do; I love not to sport with such mad playfellows: tickle +him, Appetitus; tickle him, tickle him. [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + +TAC. Have I not here the great and puissant club, +Wherewith I conquer'd three-chapp'd Cerberus? + +APP. Have I not here the sharp and warlike teeth, +That at one breakfast quail'd thrice-three hogs' faces? + +TAC. And are not these Alcides' brawny arms, +That rent the lion's jaws, and kill'd the boar? + +APP. And is not this the stomach that defeated +Nine yards of pudding and a rank[304] of pies? + +TAC. Did not I crop the sevenfold hydra's crest, +And with a river cleans'd Augaea's stable? + +APP. Did not I crush a sevenfold custard's crust, +And with my tongue swept a well-furnish'd table? + +TAC. Did not these feet and hands o'ertake and slay +The nimble stag and fierce impetuous bull? + +APP. Did not this throat at one good meal devour +That stag's sweet venison and that strong bull's beef? + +TAC. Shall Hercules be thus disparaged? +Juno! you pouting quean, you louring trull, +Take heed I take you not; for by Jove's thunder +I'll be reveng'd. + + [APPETITUS _draws_ VISUS _backward from_ TACTUS. + +APP. Why, Visus, Visus, will you be kill'd? away, away. + + [_Exit_ VISUS. + +TAC. Who have we here? see, see, the giant Cacus +Draws an ox backward to his thievish den. +Hath this device so long deluded me? +Monster of men, Cacus, restore my cattle, +Or instantly I'll crush thy idle coxcomb, +And dash thy doltish brains against thy cave. + +APP. Cacus! I Cacus? ha, ha, ha! Tactus, you mistake me; +I am yours to command, Appetitus. + +TAC. Art Appetitus? Th'art so; run quickly, villain; +Fetch a whole ox to satisfy my stomach. + +APP. Fetch an ass to keep you company. + +TAC. Then down to hell: tell Pluto, prince of devils, +That great Alcides wants a kitchen wench +To turn his spit. Command him from myself +To send up Proserpine; she'll serve the turn. + +APP. I must find you meat, and the devil find you cooks! +Which is the next[305] way? + +TAC. Follow the beaten path, thou canst not miss it. +'Tis a wide causeway that conducteth thither, +An easy track, and down-hill all the way. +But if the black prince will not send her quickly, +But still detain her for his bedfellow, +Tell him I'll drag him from his iron chair +By the steel tresses, and then sew him fast +With the three furies in a leathern bag, +And thus will drown them in the ocean. + _He pours the jack of beer upon_ APPETITUS. + +APP. You had better keep him alive to light tobacco-pipes, or to sweep +chimneys. + +TAC. Art thou not gone? nay, then I'll send thy soul +Before thee; 'twill do thy message sooner. [_Beats him_. + +APP. Hercules, Hercules, Hercules! do not you hear Omphale? hark how she +calls you, hark! + +TAC. 'Tis she indeed, I know her sugar'd voice: +Omphale, dear commandress of my life, +My thoughts' repose, sweet centre of my cares, +Where all my hopes and best desires take rest. +Lo! where the mighty son of Jupiter +Throws himself captive at your conquering feet! +Do not disdain my voluntary humbleness: +Accept my service, bless me with commanding. +I will perform the hardest imposition, +And run through twelve new labours for thy sake. +Omphale, dear commandress of my life. + +APP. Do you not see how she beckons to you to follow her? Look how she +holds her distaff, look ye? + +TAC. Where is she gone, that I may follow her? +Omphale, stay, stay, take thy Hercules! + +APP. There, there, man, you are right. + + [_Exit_ TACTUS. + + + +SCAENA OCTAVA. + + + APPETITUS _solus_. + +APP. What a strange temper are the Senses in! +How come their wits thus topsy-turvy turn'd? +Hercules Tactus, Visus Polypheme! +Two goodly surnames have they purchased. +By the rare ambrosia[306] of an oyster-pie, +They have got such proud imaginations, +That I could wish I were mad for company: +But since my fortunes cannot stretch so high, +I'll rest contented with this wise estate. + + + +SCAENA NONA. + + + APPETITUS: [_to him enter_] AUDITUS _with a candlestick_. + +APP. What, more anger? Auditus got abroad too? + +AUD. Take this abuse at base Olfactus' hands? +What, did he challenge me to meet me here, +And is not come? well, I'll proclaim the slave +The vilest dastard that e'er broke his word. +But stay, yonder's Appetitus. + +APP. I pray you, Auditus, what ails you? + +AUD. Ha, ha! + +APP. What ails you? + +AUD. Ha! what say'st thou? + +APP. Who hath abused you thus? + +AUD. Why dost thou whisper thus? Canst not speak out? + +APP. Save me, I had clean forgotten. Why are you so angry, Auditus? + +AUD. Bite us! who dare bite us? + +APP. I talk of no biting; I say, what's the matter between Olfactus +and you? + +AUD. Will Olfactus bite me? do, if he dares; would he would meet me here +according to his promise! Mine ears are somewhat thick of late; I pray +thee, speak out louder. + +APP. Ha, ha, ha, ha! this is fine, i'faith: ha, ha, ha! Hear you, have +you lost your ears at supper? + +AUD. Excellent cheer at supper, I confess it; +But when 'tis sauc'd with sour contentions, +And breeds such quarrels, 'tis intolerable. + +APP. Pish, pish, this is my question: hath your supper spoiled your +hearing? + +AUD. Hearing at supper? tell not me of hearing? +But if thou saw'st Olfactus, bring me to him. + +APP. I ask you, whether you have lost your hearing? + +AUD. O, dost thou hear them ring? what a grief is this +Thus to be deaf, and lose such harmony. +Wretched Auditus, now shalt thou never hear +The pleasing changes that a well-tun'd chord +Of trolling bells will make, when they are rung. + +APP. Here's ado indeed! I think he's mad, as well as drunk or deaf. + +AUD. Ha, what's that? + +APP. I say you have made me hoarse with speaking so loud. + +AUD. Ha, what say'st thou of a creaking crowd?[307] + +APP. I am hoarse, I tell you, and my head aches. + +AUD. O, I understand thee! the first crowd was made of a horse-head. +'Tis true, the finding of a dead horse-head +Was the first invention of string instruments, +Whence rose the gittern, viol, and the lute: +Though others think the lute was first devis'd +In imitation of a tortoise-back, +Whose sinews, parched by Apollo's beams, +Echo'd about the concave of the shell: +And seeing the shortest and smallest gave shrill'st sound, +They found out frets, whose sweet diversity +(Well-touched by the skilful learned fingers) +Raiseth so strange a multitude of chords. +Which their opinion many do confirm, +Because Testado signifies a lute. +But if I by no means-- + +APP. Nay, if you begin to critic once, we shall never have done. + + [_Exit_ APPETITUS, _and carries away_ AUDITUS _perforce_. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA. + + + CRAPULA, _a fat-bellied slave, clothed in a light veil of + sarsanet, a garland of vine-leaves on his head, &c_. SOMNUS + _in a mantle of black cobweb lawn down to the foot, over a + dusky-coloured taffeta coat, and a crown of poppy-tops on + his head, a company of dark-coloured silk scarfs in one hand, + a mace of poppy in the other, leaving his head upon a pillow + on_ CRAPULA'S _shoulders_. + +CRA. Somnus, good Somnus, sweet Somnus, come apace! + +SOM. Eh, O, O; are you sure they be so? oho, oho, oho; eh, waw? +What good can I do? ou, hoh, haw. + +CRA. Why, I tell you, unless you help-- + [SOMNUS _falls down and sleeps_. +Soft son of night, right heir to quietness, +Labour's repose, life's best restorative, +Digestion's careful nurse, blood's comforter, +Wit's help, thought's charm, the stay of Microcosm, +Sweet Somnus, chiefest enemy to care: +My dearest friend, lift up thy lumpish head, +Ope thy dull eyes, shake off this drowsiness, +Rouse up thyself. + +SOM. O Crapula, how now, how now! O, O, how; who's there? +Crapula, speak quickly, what's the matter? + +CRA. As I told you, the noble Senses, peers of Microcosm, +Will eftsoon fall to ruin perpetual. +Unless your ready helping-hand recure them. +Lately they banqueted at Gustus' table, +And there fell mad or drunk, I know not whether; +So that it's doubtful in these outrageous fits, +That they'll murder one another. + +SOM. Fear it not. +If they have 'scap'd already, bring me to them +Or them to me; I'll quickly make them know +The power of my large-stretched authority. +These cords of sleep, wherewith I wont to bind +The strongest arm that e'er resisted me, +Shall be the means whereby I will correct +The Senses' outrage and distemperature. + +CRA. Thanks, gentle Somnus, I'll go seek them out, +And bring them to you soon as possible. + +SOM. Despatch it quickly, lest I fall asleep for want of work. + +CRA. Stand still, stand still! Visus, I think, comes yonder. +If you think good, begin and bind him first; +For, he made fast, the rest will soon be quiet. + + [_Exit_ CRAPULA. + + + +SCAENA UNDECIMA. + + + VISUS, SOMNUS. + +VIS. Sage Telemus, I now too late admire +Thy deep foresight and skill in prophecy, +Who whilom told'st me, that in time to come +Ulysses should deprive me of my sight. +And now the slave, that march'd in Outis' name, +Is prov'd Ulysses; and by this device +Hath 'scap'd my hands, and fled away by sea, +Leaving me desolate in eternal night. +Ah, wretched Polypheme! where's all thy hope, +And longing for thy beauteous Galatea? +She scorn'd thee once, but now she will detest +And loathe to look upon thy dark'ned face; +Ah me, most miserable Polyphemus! +But as for Ulysses, heaven and earth +Send vengeance ever on thy damned head, +In just revenge of my great injury! + [SOMNUS _binds him_. +Who is he that dares to touch me? Cyclops, come, +Come, all ye Cyclops, help to rescue me. + [SOMNUS _charms him; he sleeps_. + +SOM. There rest thyself, and let thy quiet sleep +Restore thy weak imaginations. + + + +SCAENA DUODECIMA. + + + LINGUA, SOMNUS, VISUS. + +LIN. Ha, ha, ha! O, how my spleen is tickled with this sport +The madding Senses make about the woods! +It cheers my soul, and makes my body fat, +To laugh at their mischances: ha, ha, ha, ha! +Heigho, the stitch hath caught me: O, my heart! +Would I had one to hold my sides awhile, +That I might laugh afresh: O, how they run, +And chafe, and swear, and threaten one another! + [SOMNUS _binds her_. +Ay me, out, alas! ay me, help, help, who's this that binds me? +Help, Mendacio! Mendacio, help! Here's one will ravish me. + +SOM. Lingua, content yourself, you must be bound. + +LIN. What a spite's this? Are my nails pared so near? Can I not scratch +his eyes out? What have I done? What, do you mean to kill me? Murder, +murder, murder! + + [_She falls asleep_. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA TERTIA. + + + GUSTUS, _with a voiding knife[308] in his hand_. + SOMNUS, LINGUA, VISUS. + +GUS. Who cries out murder? What, a woman slain! +My Lady Lingua dead? O heavens unjust! +Can you behold this fact, this bloody fact, +And shower not fire upon the murderer? +Ah, peerless Lingua! mistress of heavenly words, +Sweet tongue of eloquence, the life of fame, +Heart's dear enchantress! What disaster, fates, +Hath reft this jewel from our commonwealth? +Gustus, the ruby that adorns the ring, +Lo, here defect, how shalt thou lead thy days, +Wanting the sweet companion of thy life, +But in dark sorrow and dull melancholy? +But stay, who's this? inhuman wretch! +Bloodthirsty miscreant! is this thy handiwork? +To kill a woman, a harmless lady? +Villain, prepare thyself; +Draw, or I'll sheathe my falchion in thy sides. +There, take the guerdon[309] fit for murderers. + + [GUSTUS _offers to run at_ SOMNUS, _but being + suddenly charmed, falls asleep_. + +SOM. Here's such a stir, I never knew the Senses in such disorder. + +LIN. Ha, ha, ha! Mendacio, Mendacio! See how Visus hath broke his +forehead against the oak yonder, ha, ha, ha! + +SOM. How now? is not Lingua bound sufficiently? I have more trouble +to make one woman sleep than all the world besides; they are so full +of tattle. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA QUARTA. + + + SOMNUS, CRAPULA, LINGUA, VISUS, GUSTUS, AUDITUS _pulling_ OLFACTUS + _by the nose, and_ OLFACTUS _wringing_ AUDITUS _by the ears_. + +AUD. O, mine ears, mine ears, mine ears! + +OLF. O, my nose, my nose, my nose! + +CRA. Leave, leave, at length, these base contentions: +Olfactus, let him go. + +OLF. Let him first loose my nose. + +CRA. Good Auditus, give over. + +AUD. I'll have his life that sought to kill me. + +SOM. Come, come, I'll end this quarrel; bind them[310], Crapula. + + [_They bind them both_. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA QUINTA. + + + TACTUS, _with the robe in his hand_, SOMNUS, + CRAPULA, LINGUA, GUSTUS, OLFACTUS VISUS, AUDITUS. + +TAC. Thanks, Dejanira, for thy kind remembrance, +'Tis a fair shirt: I'll wear it for thy sake. + +CRA. Somnus, here's Tactus, worse than all his fellows: +Stay but awhile, and you shall see him rage! + +SOM. What will he do? see that he escapes us not. + +TAC. 'Tis a good shirt: it fits me passing well: +'Tis very warm indeed: but what's the matter? +Methinks I am somewhat hotter than I was, +My heart beats faster than 'twas wont to do, +My brain's inflam'd, my temples ache extremely; O, O! +O, what a wildfire creeps among my bowels! +Aetna's within my breast, my marrow fries, +And runs about my bones; O my sides! O my sides! +My sides, my reins: my head, my reins, my head! +My heart, my heart: my liver, my liver, O! +I burn, I burn, I burn; O, how I burn +With scorching heat of implacable fire! +I burn extreme with flames insufferable. + +SOM. Sure he doth but try how to act Hercules. + +TAC. Is it this shirt that boils me thus? O heavens! +It fires me worse, and heats more furiously +Than Jove's dire thunderbolts! O miserable! +They bide less pain that bathe in Phlegeton! +Could not the triple kingdom of the world, +Heaven, earth, and hell, destroy great Hercules? +Could not the damned spite[311] of hateful Juno, +Nor the great dangers of my labours kill me? +Am I the mighty son of Jupiter, +And shall this poison'd linen thus consume me? +Shall I be burnt? Villains, fly up to heaven, +Bid Iris muster up a troop of clouds, +And shower down cataracts of rain to cool me; +Or else I'll break her speckled bow in pieces. +Will she not? no, she hates me like her mistress. +Why then descend, you rogues, to the vile deep. +Fetch Neptune hither: charge him bring the sea +To quench these flames, or else the world's fair frame +Will be in greater danger to be burnt, +Than when proud Phaeton rul'd the sun's rich chariot. + +SOM. I'll take that care the world shall not be burnt, +If Somnus' cords can hold you. [SOMNUS _binds him_. + +TAC. What Vulcan's this that offers to enchain +A greater soldier than the god of war?[312] + +SOM. He that each night with bloodless battle conquers +The proudest conqueror that triumphs by wars. + +CRA. Now, Somnus, there's but only one remaining, +That was the author of these outrages. + +SOM. Who's that? is he under my command? + +CRA. Yes, yes, 'tis Appetitus; if you go that way and look about those +thickets, I'll go hither, and search this grove. I doubt not but to +find him. + +SOM. Content. + + [_Exeunt_ SOMNUS _et_ CRAPULA. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA SEXTA. + + + APPETITUS IRASCIBILIS _with a willow in his hand, pulled up + by the roots_, SOMNUS, CRAPULA. _The Senses all asleep_. + +APP. So now's the time that I would gladly meet +These madding Senses that abus'd me thus; +What, haunt me like an owl? make an ass of me? +No, they shall know I scorn to serve such masters, +As cannot master their affections. +Their injuries have chang'd my nature now; +I'll be no more call'd hungry parasite, +But henceforth answer to the wrathful name +Of Angry Appetite. My choler's up. +Zephyrus, cool me quickly with thy fan, +Or else I'll cut thy cheeks. Why this is brave, +Far better than to fawn at Gustus' table +For a few scraps; no, no such words as these-- +By Pluto, stab the villain, kill the slave: +By the infernal hags I'll hough[313] the rogue, +And paunch the rascal that abus'd me thus. +Such words as these fit angry Appetite. + + _Enter_ CRAPULA. + +CRA. Somnus, Somnus, come hither, come hither quickly, he's here, +he's here! + +APP. Ay, marry is he, sirrah, what of that base miscreant Crapula? + +CRA. O gentle Appetitus! + +APP. You muddy gulch[314], dar'st look me in the face, +While mine eyes sparkle with revengeful fire? [_Beats him_. + +CRA. Good Appetitus! + +APP. Peace, you fat bawson[315], peace, +Seest not this fatal engine of my wrath? +Villain, I'll maul thee for thine old offences, +And grind thy bones to powder with this pestle! +You, when I had no weapons to defend me, +Could beat me out of doors; but now prepare: +Make thyself ready, for thou shalt not 'scape. +Thus doth the great revengeful Appetite +Upon his fat foe wreak his wrathful spite. + + [APPETITUS _heaveth up his club to brain_ CRAPULA; _but_ + SOMNUS _in the meantime catcheth him behind, and binds him_. + +SOM. Why, how now, Crapula? + +CRA. Am I not dead? is not my soul departed? + +SOM. No, no, see where he lies, +That would have hurt thee: fear nothing. + + [SOMNUS _lays the Senses all in a circle, feet to feet, + and wafts his wand over them_. + +So rest you all in silent quietness; +Let nothing wake you, till the power of sleep, +With his sweet dew cooling your brains enflam'd, +Hath rectified the vain and idle thoughts, +Bred by your surfeit and distemperature; +Lo, here the Senses, late outrageous, +All in a round together sleep like friends; +For there's no difference 'twixt the king and clown, +The poor and rich, the beauteous and deform'd, +Wrapp'd in the veil of night and bonds of sleep; +Without whose power and sweet dominion +Our life were hell, and pleasure painfulness. +The sting of envy and the dart of love, +Avarice' talons, and the fire of hate, +Would poison, wound, distract, and soon consume +The heart, the liver, life, and mind of man. +The sturdy mower, that with brawny arms +Wieldeth the crooked scythe, in many a swath +Cutting the flowery pride on velvet plain, +Lies down at night, and in the weird[316] folds +Of his wife's arms forgets his labour past. +The painful mariner and careful smith, +The toiling ploughman, all artificers, +Most humbly yield to my dominion: +Without due rest nothing is durable. +Lo, thus doth Somnus conquer all the world +With his most awful wand, and half the year +Reigns o'er the best and proudest emperors. +Only the nurslings of the Sisters nine +Rebel against me, scorn my great command; +And when dark night from her bedewed[317] wings +Drops sleepy silence to the eyes of all, +They only wake, and with unwearied toil +Labour to find the _Via Lactea_, +That leads to the heaven of immortality; +And by the lofty towering of their minds, +Fledg'd with the feathers of a learned muse, +They raise themselves unto the highest pitch, +Marrying base earth and heaven in a thought. +But thus I punish their rebellion: +Their industry was never yet rewarded: +Better to sleep, than wake and toil for nothing. + + [_Exeunt_ SOMNUS _and_ CRAPULA. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA SEPTIMA. + + + _The five Senses_, LINGUA, APPETITUS, _all asleep + and dreaming_; PHANTASTES, HEURESIS. + +AUD. So ho, Rockwood;[318] so ho, Rockwood; Rockwood, your organ: eh, +Chanter, Chanter; by Acteon's head-tire, it's a very deep-mouthed dog, +a most admirable cry of hounds. Look here, again, again: there, there, +there! ah, ware counter![319] + +VIS. Do you see the full moon yonder, and not the man in it? why, +methinks 'tis too-too evident: I see his dog very plain, and look you, +just under his tail is a thorn-bush of furze. + +GUS. 'Twill make a fine toothpick, that lark's heel there: O, do not +burn it. + +PHA. Boy Heuresis, what think'st thou I think, when I think nothing? + +HEU. And it please you, sir, I think you are devising how to answer a +man that asks you nothing. + +PHA. Well-guessed, boy; but yet thou mistook'st it, for I was thinking +of the constancy of women[320]. [APPETITUS _snores aloud_.] Beware, +sirrah, take heed; I doubt me there's some wild boar lodged hereabout. +How now? methinks these be the Senses; ha? in my conceit the elder +brother of death has kissed them. + +TAC. O, O, O, I am stabbed, I am stabbed; hold your hand, O, O, O. + +PHA. How now? do they talk in their sleep? are they not awake, Heuresis? + +HEU. No, questionless, they be all fast asleep. + +GUS. Eat not too many of those apples, they be very flative[321]. + +OLF. Foh, beat out this dog here; foh, was it you, Appetitus? + +AUD. In faith, it was most sweetly-winded, whosoever it was; the warble +is very good, and the horn is excellent. + +TAC. Put on, man, put on; keep your head warm, 'tis cold. + +PHA. Ha, ha, ha, ha? 'st: Heuresis, stir not, sirrah. + +APP. Shut the door, the pot runs over, sirrah. Cook, that will be a +sweet pasty, if you nibble the venison so. + +GUS. Say you so? is a marrow-pie the Helena of meats? give me't; if I +play not Paris, hang me. Boy, a clean trencher. + +APP. Serve up, serve up; this is a fat rabbit, would I might have the +maidenhead of it: come, give me the fish there; who hath meddled with +these maids, ha? + +OLF. Fie, shut your snuffers closer for shame; 'tis the worst smell that +can be. + +TAC. O, the cramp, the cramp, the cramp: my leg, my leg! + +LIN. I must abroad presently: reach me my best necklace presently. + +PHA. Ah, Lingua, are you there? + +AUD. Here take this rope, and I'll help the leader close with the second +bell. Fie, fie, there's a goodly peal clean-spoiled. + +VIS. I'll lay my life that gentlewoman is painted: well, well, I know +it; mark but her nose: do you not see the complexion crack out? I must +confess 'tis a good picture. + +TAC. Ha, ha, ha! fie, I pray you leave, you tickle me so: oh, ha, ha, +ha! take away your hands, I cannot endure; ah, you tickle me, ha, ha, +ha, ha, ha! + +VIS. Hai, Rett, Rett, Rett, now, bird, now,--look about that bush, she +trussed her thereabout.--Here she is, ware wing, Cater,[322] ware wing, +avaunt. + +LIN. Mum, mum, mum, mum. + +PHA. Hist, sirrah, take heed you wake her not. + +HEU. I know, sir, she is fast asleep, for her mouth is shut. + +LIN. This 'tis to venture upon such uncertainties; to lose so rich a +crown to no end, well, well. + +PHA. Ha, ha, ha! we shall hear anon where she lost her maidenhead: 'st, +boy, my Lord Vicegerent and Master Register are hard by: run quickly; +tell them of this accident, wish them come softly. + + [_Exit_ HEURESIS. + +LIN. Mendacio, never talk farther, I doubt 'tis past recovery, and my +robe likewise: I shall never have them again. Well, well. + +PHA. How? her crown and her robe, never recover them? hum, was it not +said to be left by Mercury, ha? I conjecture here's some knavery,--fast +locked with sleep, in good faith. Was that crown and garment yours, +Lingua? + +LIN. Ay, marry were they, and that somebody hath felt, and shall feel +more, if I live. + +PHA. O, strange, she answers in her sleep to my question: but how come +the Senses to strive for it? + +LIN. Why, I laid it on purpose in their way, that they might fall +together by the ears. + +PHA. What a strange thing is this! + + + +SCAENA DECIMA OCTAVA. + + + _The Senses_, APPETITUS, _and_ LINGUA, _asleep_. + PHANTASTES, COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORIA, ANAMNESTES. + +PHA. Hist, my lord: softly, softly! here's the notablest piece of +treason discovered; how say you? Lingua set all the Senses at odds, she +hath confessed it to me in her sleep. + +COM. SEN. Is't possible, Master Register? did you ever know any talk in +their sleep. + +MEM. I remember, my lord, many have done so very oft; but women are +troubled especially with this talking disease; many of them have I heard +answer in their dreams, and tell what they did all day awake. + +ANA. By the same token, there was a wanton maid, that being asked by her +mother what such a one did with her so late one night in such a room, +she presently said that-- + +MEM. Peace, you vile rake-hell, is such a jest fit for this company? no +more, I say, sirrah. + +PHA. My lord, will you believe your own ears? you shall hear her answer +me as directly and truly as may be. Lingua, what did you with the crown +and garments? + +LIN. I'll tell thee, Mendacio. + +PHA. She thinks Mendacio speaks to her; mark now, mark how truly she +will answer. What say you, madam? + +LIN. I say Phantastes is a foolish, transparent gull; a mere fanatic +napson[323], in my imagination not worthy to sit as a judge's assistant. + +COM. SEN. Ha, ha, ha! how truly and directly she answers. + +PHA. Faw, faw, she dreams now; she knows not what she says. I'll try her +once again. Madam, what remedy can you have for your great losses? + +LIN. O, are you come, Acrasia? welcome, welcome! boy, reach a cushion, +sit down, good Acrasia: I am so beholding to you, your potion wrought +exceedingly; the Senses were so mad: did not you see how they raged +about the woods? + +COM. SEN. Hum, Acrasia? is Acrasia her confederate? my life, that witch +hath wrought some villainy. [LINGUA _riseth in her sleep, and walketh_.] +How is this? is she asleep? have you seen one walk thus before? + +MEM. It is a very common thing; I have seen many sick of the peripatetic +disease. + +ANA. By the same token, my lord, I knew one that went abroad in his +sleep, bent his bow, shot at a magpie, killed her, fetched his arrow, +came home, locked the doors, and went to bed again. + +COM. SEN. What should be the reason of it? + +MEM. I remember Scaliger told me the reason once, as I think thus: the +nerves that carry the moving faculty from the brains to the thighs, +legs, feet, and arms, are wider far than the other nerves; wherefore +they are not so easily stopped with the vapours of sleep, but are night +and day ready to perform what fancy shall command them. + +COM. SEN. It may be so. But, Phantastes, inquire more of Acrasia. + +PHA. What did you with the potion Acrasia made you? + +LIN. Gave it to the Senses, and made them as mad as--well, if I cannot +recover it--let it go. I'll not leave them thus. + [_She lies down again_. + +COM. SEN. Boy, awake the Senses there. + +ANA. Ho, ho, Auditus, up, up; so ho, Olfactus, have at your nose; up, +Visus, Gustus, Tactus, up: what, can you not feel a pinch? have at you +with a pin. + +TAC. O, you stab me, O! + +COM. SEN. Tactus, know you how you came hither? + +TAC. No, my lord, not I; this I remember, +We supp'd with Gustus, and had wine good store, +Whereof I think I tasted liberally. +Amongst the rest, we drunk a composition +Of a most delicate and pleasant relish, +That made our brains somewhat irregular. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA NONA. + + + _The Senses awake_, LINGUA _asleep_, COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORY, + PHANTASTES, ANAMNESTES, HEURESIS _drawing_ CRAPULA. + +HEU. My lord, here's a fat rascal was lurking in a bush very +suspiciously: his name, he says, is Crapula. + +COM. SEN. Sirrah, speak quickly what you know of these troubles. + +CRA. Nothing, my lord, but that the Senses were mad, and that Somnus, at +my request, laid them asleep, in hope to recover them. + +COM. SEN. Why then, 'tis too evident Acrasia, at Lingua's request, +bewitched the Senses: wake her quickly, Heuresis. + +LIN. Heigho, out alas, ah me, where am I? how came I here? +where am I? ah! + +COM. SEN. Lingua, look not so strangely upon the matter; you have +confessed in your sleep, that with a crown and a robe you have disturbed +the Senses, using a crafty help to enrage them: can you deny it? + +LIN. Ah me, most miserable wretch! I beseech your lordship forgive me. + +COM. SEN. No, no, 'tis a fault unpardonable. + [_He consults with_ MEMORY. + +PHA. In my conceit, Lingua, you should seal up your lips when you go to +bed, these feminine tongues be so glib. + +COM. SEN. Visus, Tactus, and the rest, our former sentence concerning +you we confirm as irrevocable, and establish the crown to you, Visus, +and the robe to you, Tactus; but as for you, Lingua-- + +LIN. Let me have mine own, howsoever you determine, I beseech you. + +COM. SEN. That may not be: your goods are fallen into our hands; my +sentence cannot be recalled: you may see, those that seek what is not +theirs, oftentimes lose what's their own: therefore, Lingua, granting +you your life, I commit you to close prison in Gustus's house, and +charge you, Gustus, to keep her under the custody of two strong doors, +and every day, till she come to eighty years of age, see she be +well-guarded with thirty tall watchmen, without whose licence she shall +by no means wag abroad. Nevertheless, use her ladylike, according to her +estate. + +PHA. I pray you, my lord, add this to the judgment--that, whensoever +she obtaineth licence to walk abroad, in token the tongue was the cause +of her offence, let her wear a velvet hood, made just in the fashion of +a great tongue. In my conceit, 'tis a very pretty emblem of a woman. + +TAC. My lord, she hath a wild boy to her page, a chief agent in this +treason: his name's Mendacio. + +COM. SEN. Ha! well, I will inflict this punishment on him for this time: +let him be soundly whipped, and ever after, though he shall strengthen +his speeches with the sinews of truth, yet none shall believe him. + +PHA. In my imagination, my lord, the day is dead to the great toe, and +in my conceit it grows dark, by which I conjecture it will be cold; and +therefore, in my fancy and opinion, 'tis best to repair to our lodgings. + + [_Exeunt omnes, praeter_ ANAMNESTES _et_ APPETITUS. + + + +SCAENA VIGESSIMA. + + + ANAMNESTES, APPETITUS, _asleep in a corner_. + +ANA. What's this? a fellow whispering so closely with the earth? so ho, +so ho, Appetitus? faith, now I think Morpheus himself hath been here. +Up, with a pox to you; up, you lusk[324]? I have such news to tell thee, +sirrah: all the Senses are well, and Lingua is proved guilty: up, up, +up; I never knew him so fast asleep in my life. [APPETITUS _snorts_.] +Nay, then, have at you afresh. [_Jogs him_. + +APP. Jog me once again, and I'll throw this whole mess of pottage into +your face; cannot one stand quiet at the dresser for you. + +ANA. Ha, ha, ha! I think 'tis impossible for him to sleep longer than +he dreams of his victuals. What, Appetitus, up quickly: quickly up, +Appetitus, quickly, sirrah. [_Jogs him_. + +APP. I'll come presently; but I hope you'll stay till they be roasted: +will you eat them raw? + +ANA. Roasted? ha, ha, ha, ha! up, up, up, away! + +APP. Reach the sauce quickly; here's no sugar: whaw, whaw, O, O, O! + +ANA. What, never wake? [_Jogs him_.] Wilt never be? Then I must try +another way, I see. + + + +EPILOGUE + +Judicious friends, it is so late at night, +I cannot waken hungry Appetite: +Then since the close upon his rising stands, +Let me obtain this at your courteous hands; +Try, if this friendly opportunity +Of your good-will and gracious plaudite, +With the thrice-welcome murmur it shall keep, +Can beg this prisoner from the bands of sleep. + +[_Upon the plaudite_ APPETITUS _awakes, and runs in after_ ANAMNESTES. + + + + + + +THE MISERIES OF ENFORCED MARRIAGE. + + + + +_EDITIONS_. + + +(1.) _The Miseries of Inforst Mariage. As it is now playd by his +Maiesties Servants. Qui alios (seipsum) docet. By George Wilkins. +London. Printed for George Vincent, and are to be sold at his shop +in Woodstreete_. 1607, 4to. + +(2.) _The Miseries of Inforst Marriage. Playd by his Maiesties +Seruantes. Qui Alios, (seipsum) docet. By George Wilkins. London +Printed for George Vincent, and are to be sold at his Shoppe in +Woodstreete_. 1611. 4to. + +(3.) _The Miseries of Inforst Marriage. Playd by his Maiesties Servants. +Qui alios (seipsum) docet. By George Wilkins. London, Printed by Aug. +Mathewes for Richard Thrale, and are to bee sold at his Shop at Pauls +gate, next to Cheape-side_. 1629. 4to. + +(4.) _The Miseries of Inforst Marriage. Playd by his Majesties Servants. +Qui alios (seipsum) docet. By George Wilkins. London, Printed by I.N. +for Richard Thrale, and are to be sold at his Shop at Pauls gate; next +to Cheape-side_. M.DC.XXXVII. 4to. + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +George Wilkins, like many other minor poets of his time, has had no +memorials concerning him transmitted to us. He wrote no play alone, +except that which is here reprinted; but he joined with John Day and +William Rowley in "The Travels of the Three English Brothers, Sir +Thomas, Sir Anthony, and Sir Robert Shirley," an historical play, +printed in 4to, 1607[325]. He was also the author of "Three Miseries +of Barbary: Plague, Famine, Civill warre." [1603.] 4to. B.L.[326] + +[There was a second writer of both these names, probably a son, +who published in 1608 a prose novel, founded on the play of +"Pericles."[327]] + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE[328]. + +SIR FRANCIS ILFORD. +WENTLOE. +BARTLEY. +WILLIAM SCARBOROW. +THOMAS SCARBOROW, | _his brothers_ +JOHN SCARBOROW, | +SIR JOHN HARCOP. +LORD FALCONBRIDGE. +SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW. +DOCTOR BAXTER. +GRIPE, _the usurer_. +_Butler_. +_Clown_. +_Secretary_. +_Steward_. +_Page_. +_Children_. +CLARE, _daughter to Sir John Harcop_. +KATHERINE, _wife to William Scarborow_. +_Sister to William Scarborow_. + + + + +THE MISERIES OF ENFORCED MARRIAGE[329]. + + + + _Enter_ SIR FRANCIS ILFORD, WENTLOE, _and_ BARTLEY. + +BAR. But Frank, Frank, now we are come to the house, what shall we make +to be our business? + +ILF. Tut, let us be impudent enough, and good enough. + +WEN. We have no acquaintance here, but young Scarborow. + +ILF. How no acquaintance? Angels guard me from thy company. I tell thee, +Wentloe, thou art not worthy to wear gilt spurs[330], clean linen, nor +good clothes. + +WEN. Why, for God's sake? + +ILF. By this hand, thou art not a man fit to table at an ordinary, keep +knights company to bawdy-houses, nor beggar thy tailor. + +WEN. Why, then, I am free from cheaters, clear from the pox, and escape +curses. + +ILF. Why, dost thou think there is any Christians in the world? + +WEN. Ay, and Jews too, brokers, puritans, and sergeants. + +ILF. Or dost thou mean to beg after charity, that goes in a cold suit +already, that thou talkest thou hast no acquaintance here? I tell thee, +Wentloe, thou canst not live on this side of the world, feed well, drink +tobacco[331], and be honoured into the presence, but thou must be +acquainted with all sorts of men; ay, and so far in too, till they +desire to be more acquainted with thee. + +BAR. True, and then you shall be accounted a gallant of good credit. + + _Enter_ CLOWN. + +ILF. But stay, here is a scrape-trencher arrived: +How now, blue-bottle,[332] are you of the house? + +CLOWN. I have heard of many black-jacks, sir, but never of a +blue-bottle. + +ILF. Well, sir, are you of the house? + +CLOWN. No, sir, I am twenty yards without, and the house stands +without me. + +BAR. Prythee, tell's who owes[333] this building? + +CLOWN. He that dwells in it, sir. + +ILF. Who dwells in it, then? + +CLOWN. He that owes it. + +ILF. What's his name? + +CLOWN. I was none of his god-father. + +ILF. Does Master Scarborow lie here? + +CLOWN. I'll give you a rhyme for that, sir-- +Sick men may lie, and dead men in their graves. +Few else do lie abed at noon, but drunkards, punks, and knaves. + +ILF. What am I the better for thy answer? + +CLOWN. What am I the better for thy question? + +ILF. Why, nothing. + +CLOWN. Why, then, of nothing comes nothing. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +WEN. 'Sblood, this is a philosophical fool. + +CLOWN. Then I, that am a fool by art, am better than you, that are fools +by nature. [_Exit_. + +SCAR. Gentlemen, welcome to Yorkshire. + +ILF. And well-encountered, my little villain of fifteen hundred a year. +'Sfoot, what makest thou here in this barren soil of the North, when +thy honest friends miss thee at London? + +SCAR. Faith, gallants, 'tis the country where my father lived, where +first I saw the light, and where I am loved. + +ILF. Loved! ay, as courtiers love usurers, and that is just as long as +they lend them money. Now, dare I lay-- + +WEN. None of your land, good knight, for that is laid to mortgage +already. + +ILF. I dare lay with any man, that will take me up. + +WEN. _Who list to have a lubberly load_. [_Sings this_.[334] + +ILF. Sirrah wag, this rogue was son and heir to Antony Now-now[335] and +Blind Moon. And he must needs be a scurvy musician, that hath two +fiddlers to his fathers: but tell me, in faith, art thou not--nay, I +know thou art, called down into the country here by some hoary knight or +other who, knowing thee a young gentleman of good parts and a great +living, hath desired thee to see some pitiful piece of his workmanship +--a daughter, I mean. Is't not so? + +SCAR. About some such preferment I came down. + +ILF. Preferment's a good word. And when do you commence into the +cuckold's order--the preferment you speak of? when shall we have +gloves;[336] when, when? + +SCAR. Faith, gallants, I have been guest here but since last night. + +ILF. Why, and that is time enough to make up a dozen marriages, as +marriages are made up nowadays. For look you, sir; the father, according +to the fashion, being sure you have a good living, and without +encumbrance, comes to you thus:--takes you by the hand thus:--wipes his +long beard thus:--or turns up his moustachio thus:--walks some turn or +two thus:--to show his comely gravity thus:--and having washed his foul +mouth thus: at last breaks out thus.---- + +WEN. O God! let us hear no more of this? + +ILF.----Master Scarborow, you are a young gentleman; I knew your +father well, he was my worshipful good neighbour, for our demesnes lay +near together. Then, sir, you and I must be of more near acquaintance, +at which you must make an eruption thus:--O God (sweet sir)-- + +BAR. 'Sfoot, the knight would have made an excellent Zany in an Italian +comedy. + +ILF. When he goes forward thus: Sir, myself am lord of some thousand a +year, a widower (Master Scarborow). I have a couple of young gentlewomen +to my daughters: a thousand a year will do well divided among them; ha, +will't not, Master Scarborow? At which you out of your education must +reply thus: The portion will deserve them worthy husbands: on which +tinder he soon takes fire, and swears you are the man his hopes shot at, +and one of them shall be yours. + +WEN. If I did not like her, should he swear himself[337] to the devil, I +would make him foresworn. + +ILF. Then putting you and the young pug[338] too in a close room +together---- + +WEN. If he should lie with her there, is not the father partly the bawd? + +ILF.----Where the young puppet, having the lesson before from the old +fox, gives the son half a dozen warm kisses which, after her father's +oaths, takes such impression in thee, thou straight call'st, By Jesu, +mistress, I love you!--when she has the wit to ask, But, sir, will you +marry me? and thou, in thy cock-sparrow humour, repliest, Ay, before +God, as I am a gentleman, will I; which the father overhearing, leaps +in, takes you at your word, swears he is glad to see this; nay, he will +have you contracted straight, and for a need makes the priest of +himself. +Thus in one hour, from a quiet life, +Thou art sworn in debt, and troubled with a wife. + +BAR. But can they love one another so soon? + +ILF. O, it is no matter nowadays for love; 'tis well, and they can but +make shift to lie together. + +WEN. But will your father do this too, if he know the gallant breathes +himself at some two or three bawdy-houses in a morning? + +ILF. O, the sooner; for that and the land together tell the old lad, he +will know the better how to deal with his daughter. +The wise and ancient fathers know this rule, +Should both wed maids, the child would be a fool. +Come, wag, if thou hast gone no further than into the ordinary fashion-- +meet, see, and kiss--give over; marry not a wife, to have a hundred +plagues for one pleasure: let's to London, there's variety: and change +of pasture makes fat calves. + +SCAR. But change of women bald knaves, sir knight. + +ILF. Wag, and thou beest a lover but three days, thou wilt be heartless, +sleepless, witless, mad, wretched, miserable, and indeed a stark fool; +and by that thou hast been married but three weeks, though thou shouldst +wed a _Cynthia rara avis_, thou wouldst be a man monstrous--a cuckold, +a cuckold. + +BAR. And why is a cuckold monstrous, knight? + +ILF. Why, because a man is made a beast by being married. Take but +example thyself from the moon: as soon as she is delivered of her great +belly, doth she not point at the world with a pair of horns, as who +would say: Married men, ye are cuckolds. + +SCAR. I construe more divinely of their sex: +Being maids, methinks they are angels; and being wives, +They are sovereign cordials that preserve our lives,[339] +They are like our hands that feed us; this is clear, +They renew man, as spring renews the year. + +ILF. There's ne'er a wanton wench that hears thee, but thinks thee a +coxcomb for saying so: marry none of them; if thou wilt have their true +characters, I'll give it thee. Women are the purgatory of men's purses, +the paradise of their bodies, and the hell of their minds; marry none of +them. Women[340] are in churches saints, abroad angels, at home devils. +Here are married men enough know this: marry none of them. + +SCAR. Men that traduce by custom, show sharp wit +Only in speaking ill; and practice it +Against the best creatures, divine women, +Who are God's agents' here, and the heavenly eye, +By which this orb hath her maturity: +Beauty in women gets the world with child, +Without whom she were barren, faint and wild. +They are the stems on which do angels grow, +From whence virtue is still'd, and arts do flow. + + _Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP _and his daughter_ CLARE. + +ILF. Let them be what flowers they will; and they were roses, I will +pluck none of them for pricking my fingers. But soft, here comes a +voider for us: and I see, do what I can, as long as the world lasts, +there will be cuckolds in it. Do you hear, child, here's one come to +blend you together: he has brought you a kneading-tub, if thou dost +take her at his hands. +Though thou hadst Argus' eyes, be sure of this, +Women have sworn with more than one to kiss. + +HAR. Nay, no parting, gentlemen. Hem! + +WEN. 'Sfoot, does he make punks of us, that he hems already? + +HAR. Gallants, +Know old John Harcop keeps a wine-cellar, +Has travell'd, been at court, known fashions, +And unto all bear habit like yourselves-- +The shapes of gentlemen and men of sort, +I have a health to give them, ere they part. + +WEN. Health, knight! not as drunkards give their healths, I hope: to go +together by the ears when they have done? + +HAR. My healths are Welcome: Welcome, gentlemen. + +ILF. Are we welcome, knight, in faith? + +HAR. Welcome, in faith, sir. + +ILF. Prythee, tell me, hast not thou been a whoremaster? + +HAR. In youth I swill'd my fill at Venus' cup, +Instead of full draughts now I am fain to sup. + +ILF. Why then thou art a man fit for my company: +Dost thou hear? (_to_ WEN. _and_ BAR.) he is a good fellow of our stamp. +Make much of this[341] father. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Manent_ SCARBOROW _and_ CLARE. + +SCAR. The father and the gallants have left me here with a gentlewoman, +and if I know what to say to her, I am a villain. Heaven grant her life +hath borrowed so much impudence of her sex but to speak to me first: +for, by this hand, I have not so much steel of immodesty in my face to +parley to a wench without blushing. I'll walk by her, in hope she can +open her teeth. Not a word? Is it not strange a man should be in a +woman's company all this while and not hear her tongue. I'll go +further. God of his goodness! not a syllable. I think if I should take +up her clothes too, she would say nothing to me. With what words, trow, +does a man begin to woo. Gentlewoman, pray you, what is't a clock? + +CLARE. Troth, sir, carrying no watch about me but mine eyes, I answer +you: I cannot tell. + +SCAR. And if you cannot tell, beauty, I take the adage for my reply: you +are naught to keep sheep. + +CLARE. Yet I am big enough to keep myself. + +SCAR. Prythee tell me: are you not a woman? + +CLARE. I know not that neither, till I am better acquainted with a man. + +SCAR. And how would you be acquainted with a man? + +CLARE. To distinguish betwixt himself and myself. + +SCAR. Why, I am a man? + +CLARE. That's more than I know, sir. + +SCAR. To approve I am no less, thus I kiss thee. + +CLARE. And by that proof I am a man too; for I have kissed you. + +SCAR. Prythee, tell me, can you love? + +CLARE. O Lord, sir, three or four things: I love my meat, choice of +suitors, clothes in the fashion, and, like a right woman, I love to have +my will. + +SCAR. What think you of me for a husband? + +CLARE. Let me first know what you think of me for a wife? + +SCAR. Troth, I think you are a proper gentlewoman. + +CLARE. Do you but think so? + +SCAR. Nay, I see you are a very perfect proper gentlewoman. + +CLARE. It is great pity then I should be alone without a proper man. + +SCAR. Your father says I shall marry you. + +CLARE. And I say, God forbid, sir! alas, I am a great deal too young. + +SCAR. I love thee, by my troth. + +CLARE. O, pray you do not so; for then you stray from the steps of +gentility; the fashion among them is to marry first, and love after by +leisure. + +SCAR. That I do love thee, here by heaven I swear, And call it as a +witness to this kiss. + +CLARE. You will not enforce me, I hope, sir? + +SCAR. Make me this woman's husband! thou art my Clare: +Accept my heart, and prove as chaste as fair. + +CLARE. O God! you are too hot in your gifts; should I accept them, we +should have you plead nonage some half a year hence, sue for +reversement, and say the deed was done under age. + +SCAR. Prythee, do not jest. + +CLARE. No (God is my record), I speak in earnest: and desire to know +Whether ye mean to marry me, yea or no? + +SCAR. This hand thus takes thee as my loving wife. + +CLARE. For better, for worse. + +SCAR. Ay, till death us depart,[342] love. + +CLARE. Why, then, I thank you, sir, and now I am like to have +That I long look'd for--a husband. +How soon from our own tongues is the word said +Captives our maiden-freedom to a head! + +SCAR. Clare, you are now mine, and I must let you know, +What every wife doth to her husband owe: +To be a wife, is to be dedicate, +Not to a youthful course, wild and unsteady, +But to the soul of virtue, obedience, +Studying to please, and never to offend. +Wives have two eyes created, not like birds +To roam about at pleasure, but for[343] sentinels, +To watch their husbands' safety as their own. +Two hands; one's to feed him, the other herself: +Two feet, and one of them is their husbands'. +They have two of everything, only of one, +Their chastity, that should be his alone. +Their very thoughts they cannot term their own.[344] +Maids, being once made wives, can nothing call +Rightly their own; they are their husbands' all: +If such a wife you can prepare to be, +Clare, I am yours: and you are fit for me. + +CLARE. We being thus subdued, pray you know then, +As women owe a duty, so do men. +Men must be like the branch and bark to trees, +Which doth defend them from tempestuous rage, +Clothe them in winter, tender them in age: +Or as ewes love unto their eanlings gives,[345] +Such should be husbands' custom to their wives. +If it appear to them they've stray'd amiss, +They only must rebuke them with a kiss; +Or clock them, as hens chickens, with kind call, +Cover them under wing, and pardon all: +No jars must make two beds, no strife divide them, +Those betwixt whom a faith and troth is given, +Death only parts, since they are knit by heaven: +If such a husband you intend to be, +I am your Clare, and you are fit for me. + +SCAR. By heaven-- + +CLARE. Advise, before you swear, let me remember you,[346] +Men never give their faith and promise marriage, +But heaven records their oath: if they prove true, +Heaven smiles for joy; if not, it weeps for you: +Unless your heart, then, with your words agree, +Yet let us part, and let us both be free. + +SCAR. If ever man, in swearing love, swore true, +My words are like to his. Here comes your father. + + _Enter SIR JOHN HARCOP, ILFORD, WENTLOE, BARTLEY, _and Butler_. + +HAR. Now, Master Scarborrow. + +SCAR. Prepar'd to ask, how you like that we have done: +Your daughter's made my wife, and I your son. + +HAR. And both agreed so? + +BOTH. We are, sir. + +HAR. Then long may you live together, have store of sons! + +ILF. 'Tis no matter who is the father. [_Aside_.] + +HAR. But, son, here is a man of yours is come from London. + +BUT. And brought you letters, sir. + +SCAR. What news from London, butler? + +BUT. The old news, sir. The ordinaries are full of cheaters, some +citizens are bankrupts, and many gentlemen beggars. + +SCAR. Clare, here is an unwelcome pursuivant; +My lord and guardian writes to me, with speed +I must return to London. + +HAR. And you being ward to him, son Scarborow, +And no ingrate,[347] it fits that you obey him. + +SCAR.[348] It does, it does; for by an ancient law +We are born free heirs, but kept like slaves in awe. +Who are for London, gallants? + +ILF. Switch and Spur, we will bear you company. + +SCAR. Clare, I must leave thee--with what unwillingness, +Witness this dwelling kiss upon thy lip; +And though I must be absent from thine eye, +Be sure my heart doth in thy bosom lie. +Three years I am yet a ward, which time I'll pass, +Making thy faith my constant looking-glass, +Till when-- + +CLARE. Till when you please, where'er you live or lie, +Your love's here worn: you're present[349] in my eye. + + _Enter_ LORD FALCONBRIDGE _and_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW. + +LORD. Sir William, +How old, say you, is your kinsman Scarborow? + +WIL. Eighteen, my lord, next Pentecost. + +LORD. Bethink you, good Sir William, +I reckon thereabout myself; so by that account +There's full three winters yet he must attend +Under our awe, before he sue his livery: +Is it not so? + +WIL. Not a day less, my lord. + +LORD. Sir William, you are his uncle, and I must speak, +That am his guardian; would I had a son +Might merit commendations equal[350] with him. +I'll tell you what he is: he is a youth, +A noble branch, increasing blessed fruit, +Where caterpillar vice dare not to touch: +He bears[351] himself with so much gravity, +Praise cannot praise him with hyperbole: +He is one, whom older look upon as on a book: +Wherein are printed noble sentences +For them to rule their lives by. Indeed he is one, +All emulate his virtues, hate him none. + +WIL. His friends are proud to hear this good of him. + +LORD. And yet, Sir William, being as he is, +Young and unsettled, though of virtuous thoughts +By genuine disposition, yet our eyes +See daily precedents, [how] hopeful gentlemen, +Being trusted in the world with their own will, +Divert the good is look'd from them to ill; +Make their old names forgot, or not worth note: +With company they keep such revelling, +With panders, parasites, prodigies of knaves, +That they sell all, even their old fathers' graves. +Which to prevent we'll match him to a wife: +Marriage restrains the scope of single life. + +WIL. My lord speaks like a father for my kinsman. + +LORD. And I have found him one of noble parentage, +A niece of mine; nay, I have broke with her, +Know thus much of her mind, that[352] for my pleasure, +As also for the good appears in him, +She is pleased of all that's hers to make him king. + +WIL. Our name is bless'd in such an honoured marriage. + + _Enter_ DOCTOR BAXTER. + +LORD. Also I have appointed Doctor Baxter, +Chancellor of Oxford, to attend me here: +And see, he is come. Good Master Doctor. + +BAX. My honourable lord. + +WIL. I have possess'd you[353] with this business, Master Doctor. + +BAX. To see the contract 'twixt your honoured niece +And Master Scarborow? + +LORD. 'Tis so, and I did look for him by this. + +BAX. I saw him leave his horse, as I came up. + +LORD. So, so. +Then he will be here forthwith: you, Master Baxter, +Go usher hither straight young Katherine, +Sir William here and I will keep this room, +Till you return. + [_Exit_ DOCTOR. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +SCAR. My honourable[354] lord. + +LORD. 'Tis well-done, Scarborow. + +SCAR. Kind uncle. + +WIL. Thanks, my good coz. + +LORD. You have been welcome in your country Yorkshire? + +SCAR. The time that I spent there, my lord, was merry. + +LORD. 'Twas well, 'twas very well! and in your absence +Your uncle here and I have been bethinking, +What gift 'twixt us we might bestow on you, +That to your house large dignity might bring, +With fair increase, as from a crystal spring. + + _Enter_ DOCTOR _and_ KATHERINE. + +SCAR. My name is bound to your benificence, +Your hands have been to me like bounty's purse, +Never shut up, yourself my foster nurse: +Nothing can from your honour come, prove me so rude, +But I'll accept, to shun ingratitude. + +LORD. We accept thy promise, now return thee this, +A virtuous wife: accept her with a kiss. + +SCAR. My honourable lord! + +LORD. Fear not to take her, man: she will fear neither, +Do what thou canst, being both abed together. + +SCAR. O, but my lord-- + +LORD. But me? dog of wax! come kiss, and agree, +Your friends have thought it fit, and it must be. + +SCAR. I have no hands to take her to my wife. + +LORD. How, sauce-box? + +SCAR. O, pardon me, my lord; the unripeness of my years, +Too green for government, is old in fears +To undertake that charge. + +LORD. Sir, sir, and sir knave, then here is a mellowed experience knows +how to teach you. + +SCAR. O God. + +LORD. O Jack, +Have[355] both our cares, your uncle and myself, +Sought, studied, found out, and for your good, +A maid, a niece of mine, both fair and chaste; +And must we stand at your discretion? + +SCAR. O good my lord, +Had I two souls, then might I have two wives: +Had I two faiths, then had I one for her; +Having of both but one, that one is given +To Sir John Harcop's daughter. + +LORD. Ha, ha! what's that? let me hear that again. + +SCAR. To Sir John Harcop's Clare I have made an oath: +Part me in twain, yet she's one-half of both. +This hand the which I wear, it is half hers: +Such power hath faith and troth 'twixt couples young, +Death only cuts that knot tied with the tongue. + +LORD. And have you knit that knot, sir? + +SCAR. I have done so much that, if I wed not her, +My marriage makes me an adulterer: +In which black sheets I wallow all my life, +My babes being bastards, and a whore my wife. + + _Enter_ SECRETARY. + +LORD. Ha, is't even so? my secretary there, +Write me a letter straight to Sir John Harcop, +I'll see, sir Jack, and if that Harcop dare, +Being my ward, contract you to his daughter. + + [_Exit_ SECRETARY. + + _Enter_ STEWARD. + +My steward too, post you to Yorkshire, +Where lies my youngster's land; and, sirrah, +Fell me his wood, make havoc, spoil and waste. [_Exit_ STEWARD. +Sir, you shall know that you are ward to me, +I'll make you poor enough: then mend yourself. + +WIL. O cousin! + +SCAR. O uncle! + +LORD. Contract yourself, and where you list? +I'll make you know me, sir, to be your guard. + +SCAR. World, now thou seest what 'tis to be a ward. + +LORD. And where I meant myself to have disburs'd +Four thousand pounds, upon this marriage +Surrendered up your land to your own use, +And compass'd other portions to your hands, +Sir, I'll now yoke you still. + +SCAR. A yoke indeed. + +LORD. And, spite of them[356] dare contradict my will, +I'll make thee marry to my chambermaid. Come, coz. + [_Exit_. + +BAX. Faith, sir, it fits you to be more advis'd. + +SCAR, Do not you flatter for preferment, sir? + +WIL. O, but, good coz! + +SCAR. O, but, good uncle, could I command my love, +Or cancel oaths out of heaven's brazen book, +Engross'd by God's own finger, then you might speak. +Had men that law to love, as most have tongues +To love a thousand women with, then you might speak. +Were love like dust, lawful for every wind +To bear from place to place; were oaths but puffs, +Men might forswear themselves; but I do know, +Though, sin being pass'd with us, the act's forgot, +The poor soul groans, and she forgets it not. + +WIL. Yet hear your own case. + +SCAR. O, 'tis too miserable! +That I, a gentleman, should be thus torn +From mine own right, and forc'd to be forsworn. + +WIL. Yet, being as it is, it must be your care, +To salve it with advice, not with despair; +You are his ward: being so, the law intends +He is to have your duty, and in his rule +Is both your marriage and your heritage. +If you rebel 'gainst these injunctions, +The penalty takes hold on you; which for himself +He straight thus prosecutes; he wastes your land, +Weds you where he thinks fit:[357] but if yourself +Have of some violent humour match'd yourself +Without his knowledge, then hath he power +To merce[358] your purse, and in a sum so great, +That shall for ever keep your fortunes weak, +Where otherwise, if you be rul'd by him, +Your house is rais'd by matching to his kin. + + _Enter_ FALCONBRIDGE. + +LORD. Now, death of me, shall I be cross'd +By such a jack? he wed himself, and where he list: +Sirrah malapert, I'll hamper you, +You that will have your will, come, get you in: +I'll make thee shape thy thoughts to marry her, +Or wish thy birth had been thy murderer. + +SCAR. Fate, pity me, because I am enforc'd: +For I have heard those matches have cost blood, +Where love is once begun, and then withstood. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT II. + + + _Enter_ ILFORD, _and a_ PAGE _with him_. + +ILF. Boy, hast thou delivered my letter? + +BOY. Ay, sir, I saw him open the lips on't. + +ILF. He had not a new suit on, had he? + +BOY. I am not so well acquainted with his wardrobe, sir; but I saw a +lean fellow, with sunk eyes and shamble legs, sigh pitifully at his +chamber door, and entreat his man to put his master in mind of him. + +ILF. O, that was his tailor. I see now he will be blessed, he profits by +my counsel: he will pay no debts, before he be arrested--nor then +neither, if he can find e'er a beast that dare but be bail for him; but +he will seal[359] i' th' afternoon? + +BOY. Yes, sir, he will imprint for you as deep as he can. + +ILF. Good, good, now have I a parson's nose, and smell tithe coming in +then. Now let me number how many rooks I have half-undone already this +term by the first return: four by dice, six by being bound with me, and +ten by queans: of which some be courtiers, some country gentlemen, and +some citizens' sons. Thou art a good Frank; if thou purgest[360] thus, +thou art still a companion for gallants, may'st keep a catamite, take +physic at the spring and the fall. + + _Enter_ WENTLOE. + +WEN. Frank, news that will make thee fat, Frank. + +ILF. Prythee, rather give me somewhat will keep me lean; I have no mind +yet to take physic. + +WEN. Master Scarborow is married, man. + +ILF. Then heaven grant he may (as few married men do) make much of his +wife. + +WEN. Why? wouldst have him love her, let her command all, and make her +his master? + +ILF. No, no; they that do so, make not much of their wives, but give +them their will, and its the marring of them. + + _Enter_ BARTLEY. + +BAR. Honest Frank, valorous Frank, a portion of thy wit, but to help us +in this enterprise, and we may walk London streets, and cry _pish_ at +the serjeants. + +ILF. You may shift out one term, and yet die in the Counter. These are +the scabs now that hang upon honest Job. I am Job, and these are the +scurvy scabs [_aside_]; but what's this your pot seethes over withal? + +BAR. Master Scarborough is married, man. + +WEN. He has all his land in his own hand. + +BAR. His brother's and sister's portions. + +WEN. Besides four thousand pounds in ready money with his wife. + +ILF. A good talent,[361] by my faith; it might help many gentlemen to +pay their tailors, and I might be one of them. + +WEN. Nay, honest Frank, hast thou found a trick for him? if thou hast +not, look, here's a line to direct thee. First draw him into bands[362] +for money, then to dice for it; then take up stuff at the mercer's; +straight to a punk with it; then mortgage his land, and be drunk with +that; so with them and the rest, from an ancient gentleman make him a +young beggar. + +ILF. What a rogue this is, to read a lecture to me--and mine own lesson +too, which he knows I have made perfect to nine hundred fourscore and +nineteen! A cheating rascal! will teach me!--I, that have made them, +that have worn a spacious park, lodge, and all on their backs[363] this +morning, been fain to pawn it afore night! And they that have stalked +like a huge elephant, with a castle on their necks, and removed that to +their own shoulders in one day, which their fathers built up in seven +years--been glad by my means, in so much time as a child sucks, to drink +bottle-ale, though a punk pay for't. And shall this parrot instruct me? + +WEN. Nay, but, Frank-- + +ILF. A rogue that hath fed upon me and the fruit of my wit, like +pullen[364] from a pantler's chippings, and now I have put him into good +clothes to shift two suits in a day, that could scarce shift a patched +shirt once in a year, and say his prayers when he had it--hark, how he +prates! + +WEN. Besides, Frank, since his marriage, he stalks me like a cashiered +captain discontent; in, which melancholy the least drop of mirth, of +which thou hast an ocean, will make him and all his ours for ever. + +ILF. Says mine own rogue so? Give me thy hand then; we'll do't, and +there's earnest. [_Strikes him_.] 'Sfoot, you chittiface, that looks +worse than a collier through a wooden window, an ape afraid of a whip, +or a knave's head, shook seven years in the weather upon London +Bridge[365]--do you catechise me? + +WEN. Nay, but valorous Frank, he that knows the secrets of all hearts +knows I did it in kindness. + +ILF. Know your seasons: besides, I am not of that species for you to +instruct. Then know your seasons. + +BAR. 'Sfoot, friends, friends, all friends; here comes young Scarborow. +Should he know of this, all our designs were prevented. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +ILF. What! melancholy, my young master, my young married man? God give +your worship joy. + +SCAR. Joy of what, Frank? + +ILF. Of thy wealth, for I hear of few that have joy of their wives. + +SCAR. Who weds as I have to enforced sheets, +His care increaseth, but his comfort fleets. + +ILF. Thou having so much wit, what a devil meant'st thou to marry? + +SCAR. O, speak not of it, +Marriage sounds in mine ear like a bell, +Not rung for pleasure, but a doleful knell. + +ILF. A common course: those men that are married in the morning to wish +themselves buried ere night. + +SCAR. I cannot love her. + +ILF. No news neither. Wives know that's a general fault amongst their +husbands. + +SCAR. I will not lie with her. + +ILF. _Caeteri volunt_, she'll say still; +If you will not, another will. + +SCAR. Why did she marry me, knowing I did not love her? + +ILF. As other women do, either to be maintained by you, or to make you +a cuckold. Now, sir, what come you for? + + _Enter_ CLOWN. + +CLOWN. As men do in haste, to make an end of their business. + +ILF. What's your business? + +CLOWN. My business is this, sir--this, sir--and this, sir. + +ILF. The meaning of all this, sir? + +CLOWN. By this is as much as to say, sir, my master has sent unto you; +by this is as much as to say, sir, my master has him humbly commended +unto you; and by this is as much as to say, my master craves your +answer. + +ILF. Give me your letter, and you shall have this, sir, this, sir, and +this, sir. [_Offers to strike him_. + +CLOWN. No, sir. + +ILF. Why, sir? + +CLOWN. Because, as the learned have very well instructed me, _Qui supra +nos, nihil ad nos_, and though many gentlemen will have to do with other +men's business, yet from me know the most part of them prove knaves for +their labour. + +WEN. You ha' the knave, i'faith, Frank. + +CLOWN. Long may he live to enjoy it. From Sir John Harcop, of Harcop, in +the county of York, Knight, by me his man, to yourself my young master, +by these presents greeting. + +ILF. How cam'st thou by these good words? + +CLOWN. As you by your good clothes, took them upon trust, and swore I +would never pay for them. + +SCAR. Thy master, Sir John Harcop, writes to me, +That I should entertain thee for my man. +His wish is acceptable; thou art welcome, fellow. +O, but thy master's daughter sends an article, +Which makes me think upon my present sin; +Here she remembers me to keep in mind +My promis'd faith to her, which I ha' broke. +Here she remembers me I am a man, +Black'd o'er with perjury, whose sinful breast +Is charactered like those curst of the blest. + +ILF. How now, my young bully, like a young wench, forty weeks after the +loss of her maidenhead, crying out. + +SCAR. Trouble me not. Give me pen, ink, and paper; +I will write to her. O! but what shall I write +In mine excuse?[366] why, no excuse can serve +For him that swears, and from his oath doth swerve. +Or shall I say my marriage was enforc'd? +'Twas bad in them; not well in me to yield: +Wretched they two, whose marriage was compell'd. +I'll only write that which my grief hath bred: +Forgive me, Clare, for I am married: +'Tis soon set down, but not so soon forgot +Or worn from hence-- +Deliver it unto her, there's for thy pains. +Would I as soon could cleanse these perjur'd stains! + +CLOWN. Well, I could alter mine eyes from filthy mud into fair water: +you have paid for my tears, and mine eyes shall prove bankrouts, and +break out for you. Let no man persuade me: I will cry, and every town +betwixt Shoreditch Church and York Bridge shall bear me witness. + [_Exit_. + +SCAR. Gentlemen, I'll take my leave of you, +She that I am married to, but not my wife, +Will London leave, in Yorkshire lead our life. [_Exit_. + +ILF. We must not leave you so, my young gallant; we three are sick in +state, and your wealth must help to make us whole again. For this saying +is as true as old-- +Strife nurs'd 'twixt man and wife makes such a flaw, +How great soe'er their wealth, 'twill have a thaw. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP _with his daughter_ CLARE, + _and two younger brothers_, THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +HAR. Brothers to him ere long shall be my son +By wedding this young girl: you are welcome both. +Nay, kiss her, kiss her; though that she shall be +Your brother's wife, to kiss the cheek is free. + +THOM. Kiss, 'sfoot, what else? thou art a good plump wench, I like you +well; prythee, make haste and bring store of boys; but be sure they have +good faces, that they may call me uncle. + +JOHN. Glad of so fair a sister, I salute you. + +HAR. Good, good, i' faith, this kissing's good, i' faith, +I lov'd to smack it too when I was young, +But mum: they have felt thy cheek, Clare, let them hear thy tongue. + +CLARE. Such welcome as befits my Scarborow's brothers, +From me his trothplight wife be sure to have, +And though my tongue prove scant in any part, +The bounds be sure are full large[367] in my heart. + +THOM. Tut, that's not that we doubt on, wench; but do you hear, Sir +John? what do you think drew me from London and the Inns of Court thus +far into Yorkshire? + +HAR. I guess, to see this girl shall be your sister. + +THOM. Faith, and I guess partly so too, but the main was--and I will not +lie to you--that, your coming now in this wise into our kindred, I might +be acquainted with you aforehand, that after my brother had married your +daughter, I his brother might borrow some money of you. + +HAR. What, do you borrow of your kindred, sir? + +THOM. 'Sfoot, what else? they, having interest in my blood, why should I +not have interest in their coin? Besides, sir, I, being a younger +brother, would be ashamed of my generation if I would not borrow of any +man that would lend, especially of my affinity, of whom I keep a +calendar. And look you, sir, thus I go over them. First o'er my uncles: +after, o'er mine aunts: then up to my nephews: straight down to my +nieces: to this cousin Thomas and that cousin Jeffrey, leaving the +courteous claw given to none of their elbows, even unto the third and +fourth remove of any that hath interest in our blood. All which do, upon +their summons made by me, duly and faithfully provide for appearance. +And so, as they are, I hope we shall be, more entirely endeared, better +and more feelingly acquainted.[368] + +HAR. You are a merry gentleman. + +THOM. 'Tis the hope of money makes me so; and I know none but fools use +to be sad with it. + +JOHN. From Oxford am I drawn from serious studies, +Expecting that my brother still hath sojourn'd +With you, his best of choice, and this good knight. + +HAR. His absence shall not make our hearts less merry, +Than if we had his presence. A day ere long +Will bring him back, when one the other meets, +At noon i'th' church, at night between the sheets. +We'll wash this chat with wine. Some wine! fill up; +The sharp'ner of the wit is a full cup. +And so to you, sir. + +THOM. Do, and I'll drink to my new sister; but upon this condition, +that she may have quiet days, little rest o' nights, have pleasant +afternoons, be pliant to my brother, and lend me money, whensoe'er I'll +borrow it. + +HAR. Nay, nay, nay. +Women are weak, and we must bear with them: +Your frolic healths are only fit for men. + +THOM. Well, I am contented; women must to the wall, though it be to a +feather-bed. Fill up, then. [_They drink_. + + _Enter_ CLOWN. + +CLOWN. From London am I come, +Though not with pipe and drum, +Yet I bring matter +In this poor paper +Will make my young mistress, +Delighting in kisses, +Do as all maidens will, +Hearing of such an ill, +As to have lost +The thing they wish'd most, +A husband, a husband, +A pretty sweet husband, +Cry O, O, O, +And alas, and at last +Ho, ho, ho, +As I do. + +CLARE. Return'd so soon from London? what's the news? + +CLOWN. O mistress, if ever you have seen Demoniseacleer, look into mine +eyes: mine eyes are Severn, plain Severn; the Thames nor the river of +Tweed are nothing to them: nay, all the rain that fell at Noah's flood +had not the discretion that my eyes have: that drunk but up the whole +world, and I have drowned all the way betwixt this and London. + +CLARE. Thy news, good Robin. + +CLOWN. My news, mistress? I'll tell you strange news. The dust upon +London way being so great, that not a lord, gentleman, knight, or knave +could travel, lest his eyes should be blown out: at last they all +agreed to hire me to go before them, when I, looking but upon this +letter, did with this water, this very water, lay the dust, as well as +if it had rained from the beginning of April till the last of May. + +CLARE. A letter from my Scarborow I give it thy mistress. + +CLOWN. But, mistress-- + +CLARE. Prythee, begone, +I would not have my father nor these gentlemen +Be witness of the comfort it doth bring. + +CLOWN. O, but mistress-- + +CLARE. Prythee, begone, +With this and the glad news leave me alone. + + [_Exit_ CLOWN. + +THOM. 'Tis your turn, knight; take your liquor, know I am bountiful; +I'll forgive any man anything that he owes me but his drink, and that +I'll be paid for. + +CLARE. Nay, gentlemen, the honesty of mirth +Consists not in carousing with excess; +My father hath more welcomes than in wine. +Pray you, no more. + +THOM. Says my sister so? I'll be ruled by thee then. But do you hear? I +hope hereafter you'll lend me some money. Now we are half-drunk, let's +go to dinner. Come, knight. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Manet_ CLARE. + +CLARE. I am glad you're gone. +Shall I now open't? no, I'll kiss it first, +Because this outside last did kiss his hand. +Within this fold (I'll call't a sacred sheet) +Are writ black lines, where our white hearts shall meet. +Before I ope this door of my delight, +Methinks I guess how kindly he doth write +Of his true love to me; as chuck, sweetheart, +I prythee do not think the time too long +That keeps us from the sweets of marriage rites: +And then he sets my name, and kisses it, +Wishing my lips his sheet to write upon; +With like desire (methinks) as mine own thoughts +Ask him now here for me to look upon; +Yet at the last thinking his love too slack, +Ere it arrive at my desired eyes, +He hastens up his message with like speed, +Even as I break this ope, wishing to read. +O, what is here? mine eyes are not mine own; +Sure, sure, they are not. [O eyes,] +Though you have been my lamps this sixteen years, + [_Lets fall the letter_. +You do belie my Scarborow reading so; +_Forgive him, he is married_, that were ill: +What lying lights are these? look, I have no such letter, +No wedded syllable of the least wrong +Done to a trothplight virgin like myself. +Beshrew you for your blindness: _Forgive him, he is married_! +I know my Scarborow's constancy to me +Is as firm knit as faith to charity, +That I shall kiss him often, hug him thus, +Be made a happy and a fruitful mother +Of many prosperous children like to him; +And read I, he was married! ask'd forgiveness? +What a blind fool was I; yet here's a letter, +To whom, directed too? _To my beloved Clare_. +Why, la! +Women will read, and read not that they saw. +'Twas but my fervent love misled mine eyes, +I'll once again to the inside, _Forgive me, I am married; +William Scarborow_. He has set his name to't too. +O perjury! within the hearts of men +Thy feasts are kept, their tongue proclaimeth them. + + _Enter_ THOMAS SCARBOROW. + +THOM. Sister, God's precious, the cloth's laid, the meat cools, we all +stay, and your father calls for you. + +CLARE. Kind sir, excuse me, I pray you, a little; +I'll but peruse this letter, and come straight. + +THOM. Pray you, make haste, the meat stays for us, and our stomach's +ready for the meat; for believe this-- +Drink makes men hungry, or it makes them lie,[369] +And he that's drunk o'er night, i'th'morning's dry: +Seen and approved. [_Exit_. + +CLARE. He was contracted mine, yet he unjust +Hath married to another: what's my estate, then? +A wretched maid, not fit for any man; +For being united his with plighted faiths, +Whoever sues to me commits a sin, +Besiegeth me; and who shall marry me, +Is like myself, lives in adultery. O God, +That such hard fortune should betide my youth! +I am young, fair, rich, honest, virtuous, +Yet for all this, whoe'er shall marry me, +I'm but his whore, live in adultery. +I cannot step into the path of pleasure +For which I was created, born unto: +Let me live ne'er so honest, rich or poor, +If I once wed, yet I must live a whore. +I must be made a strumpet 'gainst my will, +A name I have abhorr'd; a shameful ill +I have eschewed; and now cannot withstand it +In myself. I am my father's only child: +In me he hath a hope, though not his name +Can be increas'd, yet by my issue +His land shall be possess'd, his age delighted. +And though that I should vow a single life +To keep my soul unspotted, yet will he +Enforce me to a marriage: +So that my grief doth of that weight consist, +It helps me not to yield nor to resist; +And was I then created for a whore? a whore! +Bad name, bad act, bad man, makes me a scorn: +Than live a strumpet, better be unborn.[370] + + _Enter_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +JOHN. Sister, pray you, will you come? Your father and the whole +meeting stays for you. + +CLARE. I come, I come; I pray, return; I come. + +JOHN. I must not go without you. + +CLARE. Be thou my usher, sooth, I'll follow you. [_Exit_. +He writes here to _forgive him, he is married_: +False gentleman, I do forgive thee with my heart; +Yet will I send an answer to thy letter, +And in so short words thou shalt weep to read them, +And here's my agent ready: _Forgive me, I am dead_. +'Tis writ, and I will act it. Be judge, you maids +Have trusted the false promises of men: +Be judge, you wives, the which have been enforc'd +From the white sheets you lov'd to them ye loathed: +Whether this axiom may not be assured,-- +_Better one sin than many be endured_: +My arms embracing, kisses, chastity, +Were his possessions; and whilst I live, +He doth but steal those pleasures he enjoys, +Is an adulterer in his married arms, +And never goes to his defiled bed, +But God writes sin upon the tester's head. +I'll be a wife now, help to save his soul +Though I have lost his body: give a slake +To his iniquities, and with one sin, +Done by this hand, and many done by him. +Farewell the world then, farewell the wedded joys +Till this I have hop'd for from that gentleman! +Scarborow, forgive me; thus thou hast lost thy wife, +Yet record, world,[371] though by an act too foul, +A wife thus died to cleanse her husband's soul. + + [_Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP.] + +HAR. God's precious for his mercy, where's this wench? +Must all my friends and guests attend on you? +Where are you, minion? + +CLARE. Scarborow, come, close mine eyes; for I am dead. + +HAR. That sad voice was not hers, I hope: +Who's this? +My daughter? + +CLARE. Your daughter, +That begs of you to see her buried, +Prays Scarborow to forgive her: she is dead. [_Dies_. + +HAR. Patience, good tears, and let my words have way! +Clare, my daughter! help, my servants, there! +Lift up thine eyes, and look upon thy father, +They were not born to lose their light so soon: +I did beget thee for my comforter, +And not to be the author of my care. +Why speakest thou not? some help, my servants, there! +What hand hath made thee pale? or if thine own, +What cause hadst thou, that wert thy father's joy, +The treasure of his age, the cradle of his sleep, +His all in all? I prythee, speak to me: +Thou art not ripe for death; come back again. +Clare, my Clare, if death must needs have one, +I am the fittest: prythee, let me go. +Thou dying whilst I live, I am dead with woe. + + _Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +THOM. What means this outcry? + +JOHN. O ruthful spectacle! + +HAR. Thou wert not wont to be so sullen, child, +But kind and loving to thy aged father: +Awake, awake! if't be thy lasting sleep, +Would I had not sense for grief, nor eyes to weep. + +JOHN. What paper's this? the sad contents do tell me, +My brother writ he hath broke his faith to her, +And she replies for him she hath kill'd herself. + +HAR. Was that the cause that thou hast soil'd thyself +With these red spots, these blemishes of beauty? +My child, my child! was't perjury in him +Made thee so fair act now so foul a sin? +Hath[372] he deceived thee in a mother's hopes, +Posterity, the bliss of marriage? +Thou hast no tongue to answer no or ay, +But in red letters write,[373] _For him I die_. +Curse on his traitorous tongue, his youth, his blood, +His pleasures, children, and possessions! +Be all his days, like winter, comfortless! +Restless his nights, his wants remorseless![374] +And may his corpse be the physician's stage, +Which play'd upon stands not to honour'd age! +Or with diseases may he lie and pine, +Till grief wax blind his eyes, as grief doth mine! + [_Exit_. + +JOHN. O good old man, made wretched by this deed, +The more thy age, more to be pitied. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW, _his wife_ KATHERINE, ILFORD, + WENTLOE, BARTLEY, _and_ BUTLER. + +ILF. What, ride by the gate, and not call? that were a shame, i'faith. + +WEN. We'll but taste of his beer, kiss his daughter, and to horse again. +Where's the good knight here? + +SCAR. You bring me to my shame unwillingly. + +ILF. Shamed of what? for deceiving of a wench! I have not blushed, +that have done't to a hundred of 'em? +In women's love he's wise that follow this, +Love one so long, till he[375] another kiss. +Where's the good knight here? + +JOHN. O brother, you are come to make your eye +Sad mourner at a fatal tragedy. +Peruse this letter first, and then this corpse. + +SCAR. O wronged Clare! accursed Scarborow! +I writ to her, _that I was married_, +She writes to me, _Forgive her, she is dead_. +I'll balm thy body with my faithful tears, +And be perpetual mourner at thy tomb; +I'll sacrifice this comet into sighs,[376] +Make a consumption of this pile of man, +And all the benefits my parents gave, +Shall turn distemper'd to appease the wrath +For this bloodshed, that[377] I am guilty of. + +KATH. Dear husband! + +SCAR. False woman, not my wife, though married to me: +Look what thy friends and thou art guilty of, +The murder of a creature equall'd heaven +In her creation, whose thoughts (like fire) +Never look'd base, but ever did aspire +To blessed benefits, till you and yours undid her: +Eye her, view her; though dead, yet she does look +Like a fresh frame or a new-printed book +Of the best paper, never look'd into +But with one sullied finger, which did spot her, +Which was her own too; but who was cause of it? +Thou and thy friends, and I will loathe thee for't. + + _Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP. + +HAR. They do belie her that do say she's dead; +She is but stray'd to some by-gallery, +And I must have her again. Clare; where art thou, Clare? + +SCAR. Here laid to take her everlasting sleep. + +HAR. He lies that says so; +Yet now I know thee, I do lie that say it, +For if she be a villain like thyself, +A perjur'd traitor, recreant, miscreant, +Dog--a dog, a dog, has done't. + +SCAR. O Sir John Harcop! + +HAR. O Sir John villain! to betroth thyself +To this good creature, harmless, harmless child: +This kernel, hope, and comfort of my house: +Without enforcement--of thine own accord: +Draw all her soul in th'compass of an oath: +Take that oath from her, make her for none but thee-- +And then betray her! + +SCAR. Shame on them were the cause of it. + +HAR. But hark, what thou hast got by it: +Thy wife is but a strumpet, thy children bastards, +Thyself a murderer, thy wife accessory, +Thy bed a stews, thy house a brothel. + +SCAR. O, 'tis too true! + +HAR. I made a wretched father, childless. + +SCAR. I made a married man, yet wifeless. + +HAR. Thou the cause of it? + +SCAR. Thou the cause of it? [_To his wife_. + +HAR. Curse on the day that e'er it was begun, +For I, an old man, am undone, undone. [_Exit_. + +SCAR. For charity, have care upon that father, +Lest that his grief bring on a more mishap. + [_Exeunt_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW.[378] +This to my arms my sorrow shall bequeath, +Though I have lost her, to the grave I'll bring; +Thou wert my wife, and I'll thy requiem sing. +Go you to the country, I'll to London back: +All riot now, since that my soul's so black. + [_Exit, with_ CLARE. + +KATH. Thus am I left like sea-toss'd mariners. +My fortunes being no more than my distress; +Upon what shore soever I am driven, +Be it good or bad, I must account it heaven:[379] +Though married, I am reputed no wife, +Neglected of my husband, scorn'd, despis'd: +And though my love and true obedience +Lies prostrate to his beck, his heedless eye +Receives my services unworthily. +I know no cause, nor will be cause of none, +But hope for better days, when bad be gone. +You are my guide. Whither must I, butler? + +BUT. Toward Wakefield, where my master's living lies. + +KATH. Toward Wakefield, where thy master we'll attend; +When things are at the worst, 'tis hop'd they'll mend. + + _Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +THOM. How now, sister? no further forward on your journey yet? + +KATH. When grief's before one, who'd go on to grief? +I'd rather turn me back to find some comfort. + +JOHN. And that way sorrow's hurtfuller than this, +My brother having brought unto a grave +That murder'd body whom he call'd his wife, +And spent so many tears upon her hearse, +As would have made a tyrant to relent; +Then, kneeling at her coffin, this he vow'd +From thence he never would embrace your bed. + +THOM. The more fool he. + +JOHN. Never from hence acknowledge you his wife: +Where others strive t'enrich their father's name, +It should be his only aim to beggar ours, +To spend their means should be his only pride: +Which, with a sigh confirm'd, he's rid to London, +Vowing a course,[380] that by his life so foul +Men ne'er should join the hands without the soul. + +KATH. All is but grief, and I am arm'd for it. + +JOHN. We'll bring you on your way in hope thus strong: +Time may at length make straight what yet is wrong. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT III. + + + _An Inn_. + + _Enter_ ILFORD, WENTLOE, BARTLEY. + +WEN. He's our own, he's our own! Come, let's make use of his wealth, +as the sun of ice: melt it, melt it. + +ILF. But art sure he will hold his meeting? + +WEN. As sure as I am now, and was dead drunk last night. + +ILF. Why then so sure will I be arrested by a couple of serjeants, and +fall into one of the unlucky cranks about Cheapside, called Counters. + +BAR. Withal, I have provided Master Gripe the usurer, who upon the +instant will be ready to step in, charge the serjeants to keep thee +fast, and that now he will have his five hundred pounds, or thou shalt +rot for it. + +WEN. When it follows, young Scarborow shall be bound for the one; then +take up as much more. We share the one-half, and help him to be drunk +with the other. + +ILF. Ha, ha, ha! + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +BAR. Why dost laugh, Frank? + +ILF. To see that we and usurers live by the fall of young heirs, as +swine by the dropping of acorns. But he's come. Where be these rogues: +shall we have no 'tendance here? + +SCAR. Good day, gentlemen. + +ILF. A thousand good days, my noble bully, and as many good fortunes as +there were grasshoppers in Egypt, and that's covered over with good +luck. But nouns, pronouns and participles! where be these rogues here? +what, shall we have no wine here? + + _Enter_ DRAWER. + +DRAW. Anon, anon, sir. + +ILF. Anon, goodman rascal, must we stay your leisure? give't us by and +by, with a pox to you. + +SCAR. O, do not hurt the fellow. + + [_Exit_ DRAWER. + +ILF. Hurt him! hang him, scrapetrencher, stair-wearer,[381] +wine-spiller, metal-clanker, rogue by generation. Why, dost hear, Will? +If thou dost not use these grape-spillers as you do their pottle-pots, +quoit them down-stairs three or four times at a supper, they'll grow as +saucy with you as serjeants, and make bills more unconscionable than +tailors. + + _Enter_ DRAWER. + +DRAW. Here's the pure and neat grape, gentlemen, I assure you.[382] + +ILF. Fill up: what have you brought here, goodman rogue? + +DRAW. The pure element of claret, sir. + +ILF. Have you so, and did not I call for Rhenish, you mongrel? + + [_Throws the wine in the_ DRAWER'S _face_. + +SCAR. Thou need'st no wine; I prythee, be more mild. + +ILF. Be mild in a tavern? 'tis treason to the red lattice,[383] enemy to +their sign-post, and slave to humour: prythee, let's be mad. + + _Sings this. + + Then fill our heads with wine + Till every pate be drunk, then piss i'the street, + Jostle all you meet, + And swagger with a punk_-- + +As thou wilt do now and then: thank me, thy good master, that brought +thee to it. + +WEN. Nay, he profits well; but the worst is, he will not swear yet. + +SCAR. Do not belie me: if there be any good in me, that's the best. +Oaths are necessary for nothing; they pass out of a man's mouth, like +smoke through a chimney, that files[384] all the way it goes. + +WEN. Why then I think tobacco to be a kind of swearing; for it furs our +nose pockily. + +SCAR. But, come, let's drink ourselves into a stomach afore supper. + +ILF. Agreed. I'll begin with a new health. Fill up. + + _To them that make land fly, + By wines, whores, and a die: + To them that only thrives + By kissing others' wives: + To them that pay for clothes + With nothing but with oaths: + Care not from whom they get, + So they may be in debt. + This health, my hearts! [_Drinks_. + But who their tailors pay, + Borrow, and keep their day, + We'll hold him like this glass, + A brainless, empty ass, + And not a mate for us_. + Drink round, my hearts! + +WEN. An excellent health. + + _Enter_ DRAWER. + +DRAW. Master Ilford, there's a couple of strangers beneath desires to +speak with you. + +ILF. What beards have they? gentlemenlike-beards, or brokerlike-beards? + +DRAW. I am not so well acquainted with the art of face-mending, sir: but +they would speak with you. + +ILF. I'll go down to them. + +WEN. Do; and we'll stay here and drink tobacco.[385] + +SCAR. Thus like a fever that doth shake a man +From strength to weakness, I consume myself. +I know this company, their custom vile, +Hated, abhorr'd of good men, yet like a child +By reason's rule, instructed how to know +Evil from good, I to the worser go. +Why do you suffer this, you upper powers, +That I should surfeit in the sin of taste, +Have sense to feel my mischiefs, yet make waste +Of heaven and earth? +Myself will answer, what myself doth ask. +Who once doth cherish sin, begets his shame, +For vice being foster'd once, comes impudence, +Which makes men count sin custom, not offence: +When all like me their reputation blot, +Pursuing evil, while the good's forgot. + + _Enter_ ILFORD, _led in by a couple of_ SERJEANTS, + _and_ GRIPE _the usurer_. + +SER. Nay, never strive, we can hold you. + +ILF. Ay, me, and the devil too,[386] and he fall into your clutches. +Let go your tugging; as I am a gentleman, I'll be your true prisoner. + +WEN. How now: what's the matter, Frank? + +ILF. I am fallen into the hands of Serjeants: I am arrested. + +BAR. How, arrested? a gentleman in our company? + +ILF. Put up, put up; for sin's sake put up; let's not all sup in the +Counter to night; let me speak with Master Gripe the creditor. + +GRIPE. Well, what say you to me, sir? + +ILF. You have arrested me here, Master Gripe. + +GRIPE. Not I, sir; the serjeants have. + +ILF. But at your suit, Master Gripe: yet hear me, as I am a gentleman. + +GRIPE. I rather you could say as you were an honest man, and then I +might believe you. + +ILF. Yet hear me. + +GRIPE. Hear me no hearing; I lent you my money for goodwill. + +ILF. And I spent it for mere necessity. I confess I owe you five hundred +pound, and I confess I owe not a penny to any man, but he would be glad +to ha't [on my word]: my bond you have already, Master Gripe; if you +will, now take my word. + +GRIPE. Word me no words! officers, look to your prisoner. If you cannot +either make me present payment, or put me in security--such as I shall +like, too-- + +ILF. Such as you shall like, too: what say you to this young gentleman? +he is the widgeon that we must feed upon. [_Aside_.] + +GRIPE. Who, young Master Scarborow? he's an honest gentleman for aught I +know; I ne'er lost a penny by him. + +ILF. I would be ashamed any man should say so by me, that I have had +dealings withal [_Aside_]: but, my enforced friends, will't please you +but to retire into some small distance, whilst I descend with a few +words to these gentlemen, and I'll commit myself into your merciless +hands immediately. + +SER. Well, sir, we'll wait upon you. [_They retire_. + +ILF. Gentlemen, I am to prefer some conference and especially to you, +Master Scarborow: our meeting here for your mirth hath proved to me thus +adverse, that in your companies I am arrested. How ill it will stand +with the flourish of your reputations, when men of rank and note +communicate that I, Frank Ilford, gentleman, whose fortunes may +transcend to make ample gratuities future, and heap satisfaction for any +present extension of his friends' kindness, was enforced from the Mitre +in Bread Street to the Counter in the Poultry. For mine own part, if +you shall think it meet, and that it shall accord with the state of +gentry to submit myself from the feather-bed in the master's side[387] +or the flock-bed in the knight's ward, to the straw-bed in the hole, I +shall buckle to my heels, instead of gilt spurs, the armour of patience, +and do't. + +WEN. Come, come, what a pox need all this! this is _mellis flora_, the +sweetest of the honey: he that was not made to fat cattle, but to feed +gentlemen. + +BAR. You wear good clothes. + +WEN. Are well-descended. + +BAR. Keep the best company. + +WEN. Should regard your credit. + +BAR. Stand not upon't, be bound, be bound. + +WEN. Ye are richly married. + +BAR. Love not your wife. + +WEN. Have store of friends. + +BAR. Who shall be your heir? + +WEN. The son of some slave. + +BAR. Some groom. + +WEN. Some horse-keeper. + +BAR. Stand not upon't; be bound, be bound. + +SCAR. Well, at your importunance,[388] for once I'll stretch my purse; +Who's born to sink, as good this way as worse. + +WEN. Now speaks my bully like a gentleman of worth. + +BAR. Of merit. + +WEN. Fit to be regarded. + +BAR. That shall command our souls. + +WEN. Our swords. + +BAR. Ourselves. + +ILF. To feed upon you, as Pharaoh's lean kine did upon the fat. + [_Aside_.] + +SCAR. Master Gripe, is my bond current for this gentleman? + +ILF. Good security, you Egyptian grasshopper, good security. + [_Aside_.] + +GRIPE. And for as much more, kind Master Scarborow, +Provided that men, mortal as we are, +May have-- + +SCAR. May have security. + +GRIPE. Your bond with land conveyed, which may assure me of mine own +again. + +SCAR. You shall be satisfied, and I'll become your debtor +For full five hundred more than he doth owe you. +This night we sup here; bear us company, +And bring your counsel, scrivener, and the money +With you, where I will make as full assurance +As in the law you'd wish. + +GRIPE. I take your word, sir, +And so discharge you of your prisoner. + +ILF. Why then let's come +And take up a new room, the infected hath spit in this. +He that hath store of coin wants not a friend; +Thou shalt receive, sweet rogue, and we will spend. + + [_Aside. Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +JOHN. Brother, you see the extremity of want +Enforceth us to question for our own, +The rather that we see, not like a brother, +Our brother keeps from us to spend on other. + +THOM. True, he has in his hands our portions--the patrimony which our +father gave us, with which he lies fatting himself with sack and +sugar[389] in the house, and we are fain to walk with lean purses +abroad. Credit must be maintained, which will not be without money; good +clothes must be had, which will not be without money; company must be +kept, which will not be without money; all which we must have, and from +him we will have money. + +JOHN. Besides, we have brought our sister to this town, +That she herself, having her own from him, +Might bring herself in court to be preferr'd +Under some noble personage; or else that he, +Whose friends are great in court by his late match, +As he is in nature bound, provide for her. + +THOM. And he shall do it, brother, though we have waited at his lodging +longer than a tailor's bill on a young knight for an old reckoning, +without speaking with him. Here we know he is, and we will call him to +parley. + +JOHN. Yet let us do't in mild and gentle terms; +Fair words perhaps may sooner draw our own +Than rougher course,[390] by which is mischief grown. + + _Enter_ DRAWER. + +DRAW. Anon, anon. Look down into the Dolphin[391] there. + +THOM. Here comes a drawer, we will question him. Do you hear, my friend? +is not Master Scarborow here? + +DRAW. Here, sir! what a jest is that! where should he be else? I would +have you well know my master hopes to grow rich,[392] before he leave +him. + +JOHN. How long hath he continued here, since he came hither? + +DRAW. Faith, sir, not so long as Noah's flood, yet long enough to have +drowned up the livings of three knights, as knights go nowadays--some +month, or thereabouts. + +JOHN. Time ill-consum'd to ruinate our house; +But what are they that keep him company? + +DRAW. Pitch, pitch; but I must not say so; but, for your further +satisfaction, did you ever see a young whelp and a lion play together? + +JOHN. Yes. + +DRAW. Such is Master Scarborow's company.[393] + [_Within, Oliver_! +Anon, anon, look down to the Pomegranate[394] there. + +THOM. I prythee, say here's them would speak with him. + +DRAW. I'll do your message. Anon, anon, there. + [_Exit_. + +JOHN. This fool speaks wiser than he is aware. +Young heirs left in this town, where sin's so rank, +And prodigals gape to grow fat by them, +Are like young whelps thrown in the lions' den, +Who play with them awhile, at length devour them. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +SCAR. Who's there would speak with me? + +JOHN. Your brothers, who are glad to see you well. + +SCAR. Well. + +JOHN. 'Tis not your riot, that we hear you use +With such as waste their goods, as tire[395] the world +With a continual spending, nor that you keep +The company of a most leprous rout, +Consumes your body's wealth, infects your name +With such plague sores that, had you reason's eye, +'Twould make you sick to see you visit them-- +Hath drawn us, but our wants to crave the due +Our father gave, and yet remains with you. + +THOM. Our birthright, good brother; this town craves maintenance; silk +stockings must be had, and we would be loth our heritage should be +arraigned at the vintner's bar, and so condemned to the vintner's box. +Though, while you did keep house, we had some belly timber at your table +or so; yet we would have you think we are your brothers, yet no Esaus, +to sell our patrimony for porridge. + +SCAR. So, so; what hath your coming else? + +JOHN. With us our sister joins in our request, +Whom we have brought along with us to London, +To have her portion, wherewith to provide +An honour'd service or an honest bride. + +SCAR. So then you two my brothers, and she my sister, come not, as in +duty you are bound, to an elder brother out of Yorkshire to see us, but +like leeches to suck from us. + +JOHN. We come compelled by want to crave our own. + +SCAR. Sir, for your own? then thus be satisfied, +Both hers and yours were left in trust with me, +And I will keep it for ye: must you appoint us, +Or what we please to like mix with reproof? +You have been too saucy both, and you shall know +I'll curb you for it: ask why? I'll have it so. + +JOHN. We do but crave our own. + +SCAR. Your own, sir? what's your own? + +THOM. Our portions given us by our father's will. + +JOHN. Which here you spend. + +THOM. Consume. + +JOHN. Ways worse than ill. + +SCAR. Ha, ha, ha! + + _Enter_ ILFORD. + +ILF. Nay, nay, nay, Will: prythee, come away, we have a full gallon of +sack stays in the fire for thee. Thou must pledge it to the health of a +friend of thine. + +SCAR. What dost think these are, Frank? + +ILF. Who? They are fiddlers, I think. If they be, I prythee send them +into the next room, and let them scrape there, and we'll send to them +presently. + +SCAR. They are my brothers, Frank, come out of Yorkshire +To the tavern here, to ask their portions: +They call my pleasures riots, my company leprous; +And like a schoolboy they would tutor me. + +ILF. O, thou shouldst have done well to have bound them 'prentices when +they were young; they would have made a couple of good saucy tailors. + +THOM. Tailors? + +ILF. Ay, birdlime tailors. Tailors are good men, and in the term-time +they wear good clothes. Come, you must learn more manners: as to stand +at your brother's back, to shift a trencher neatly, and take a cup of +sack and a capon's leg contentedly. + +THOM. You are a slave, +That feeds upon my brother like a fly, +Poisoning where thou dost suck. + +SCAR. You lie. + +JOHN. O (to my grief I speak it), you shall find +There's no more difference in a tavern-haunter +Than is between a spital and a beggar. + +THOM. Thou work'st on him like tempests on a ship. + +JOHN. And he the worthy traffic that doth sink. + +THOM. Thou mak'st his name more loathesome than a grave. + +JOHN. Livest like a dog by vomit. + +THOM. Die a slave! + + [_Here they draw_, WENTLOE _and_ BARTLEY _come in, and the + two vintner's boys with clubs. All set upon the two brothers_. + BUTLER, _Scarborow's man, comes in, stands by, sees them fight, + takes part with neither_. + +BUT. Do, fight. I love you all well, because you were my old master's +sons, but I'll neither part you, nor be partaker with you. I come to +bring my master news; he hath two sons born at a birth in Yorkshire, and +I find him together by the ears with his brothers in a tavern in London. +Brother and brother at odds, 'tis naught: sure it was not thus in the +days of charity. What's this world like to? Faith, just like an +innkeeper's chamber-pot, receives all waters, good and bad. It had need +of much scouring. My old master kept a good house, and twenty or thirty +tall sword-and-buckler men about him, and i'faith his son differs not +much, he will have metal too; though he hath not store of cutler's +blades, he will have plenty of vintner's pots. His father kept a good +house for honest men his tenants, that brought him in part; and his son +keeps a bad house with knaves that help to consume all. 'Tis but the +change of time; why should any man repine at it? Crickets, good, loving, +and lucky worms, were wont to feed, sing, and rejoice in the father's +chimney, and now carrion crows build in the son's kitchen. I could be +sorry for it, but I am too old to weep. Well then, I will go tell him +news of his offspring. + [_Exit. + + _Enter the two brothers_, THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW, + _hurt, and_ SISTER. + +SIS. Alas! good brothers, how came this mischance? + +THOM. Our portions, our brother hath given us our portions, sister, +hath he not? + +SIS. He would not be so monstrous, I am sure. + +JOHN. Excuse him not; he is more degenerate, +Than greedy vipers that devour their mother, +They eat on her but to preserve themselves, +And he consumes himself, and beggars us. +A tavern is his inn, where amongst slaves +He kills his substance, making pots the graves +To bury that which our forefather's gave. +I ask'd him for our portions, told him that you +Were brought to London, and we were in want; +Humbly we crav'd our own; when his reply +Was, he knew none we had: beg, starve, or die. + +SIS. Alas! +What course is left us to live by, then? + +THOM. In troth, sister, we two to beg in the fields, +And you to betake yourself to the old trade, +Filling of small cans in the suburbs. + +SIS. Shall I be left then like a common road, +That every beast that can but pay his toll +May travel over, and, like to camomile,[396] +Flourish the better being trodden on. + + _Enter_ BUTLER, _bleeding_. + +BUT. Well, I will not curse him: he feeds now upon sack and anchovies, +with a pox to him: but if he be not fain, before he dies, to eat +acorns, let me live with nothing but pollard, and my mouth be made a +cucking-stool for every scold to set her tail on. + +THOM. How now, butler, what's the meaning of this? + +BUT. Your brother means to lame as many as he can, that when he is a +beggar himself, he may live with them in the hospital. His wife sent me +out of Yorkshire to tell him that God had blessed him with two sons; he +bids a plague of them, a vengeance of her, crosses me o'er the pate, and +sends me to the surgeon's to seek salve: I looked, at least he should +have given me a brace of angels for my pains. + +THOM. Thou hast not lost all thy longing; I am sure he hath given thee a +cracked crown! + +BUT. A plague on his fingers! I cannot tell, he is your brother and my +master; I would be loth to prophesy of him; but whosoe'er doth curse his +children being infants, ban his wife lying in childbed, and beats his +man brings him news of it, they may be born rich, but they shall live +slaves, be knaves, and die beggars. + +SIS. Did he do so? + +BUT. Guess you? he bid a plague of them, a vengeance on her, and sent me +to the surgeon's. + +SIS. Why then I see there is no hope of him; +Some husbands are respectless of their wives, +During the time that they are issueless; +But none with infants bless'd can nourish hate, +But love the mother for the children's sake. + +JOHN. But he that is given over unto sin, +Leproused therewith without, and so within-- +O butler, we were issue to one father! + +BUT. And he was an honest gentleman. + +JOHN. Whose hopes were better than the son he left +Should set so soon unto his house's shame. +He lives in taverns, spending of his wealth, +And here his brothers and distressed sister, +Not having any means to help us with. + +THOM. Not a Scots baubee (by this hand) to bless us with. + +JOHN. And not content to riot out his own, +But he detains our portions, suffers us +In this strange air, open to every wrack, +Whilst he in riot swims to be in lack. + +BUT. The more's the pity. + +SIS. I know not what in course to take me to; +Honestly I fain would live, what shall I do? + +BUT. Sooth, I'll tell you; your brother hath hurt us; we three will hurt +you, and then go all to a 'spital together. + +SIS. Jest not at her whose burden is too grievous, +But rather lend a means how to relieve us. + +BUT. Well, I do pity you, and the rather because you say you would fain +live honest, and want means for it; for I can tell you 'tis as strange +here to see a maid fair, poor, and honest, as to see a collier with a +clean face. Maids here do live (especially without maintenance) +Like mice going to a trap, +They nibble long, at last they get a clap. +Your father was my good benefactor, and gave me a house whilst I live +to put my head in: I would be loth then to see his only daughter, for +want of means, turn punk. I have a drift to keep you honest, have you a +care to keep yourself so: yet you shall not know of it, for women's +tongues are like sieves, they will hold nothing they have power to vent. +You two will further me? + +JOHN. In anything, good honest Butler. + +THOM. If't be to take a purse, I'll be one. + +BUT. Perhaps thou speakest righter than thou art aware of. Well, as +chance is, I have received my wages; there is forty shillings for you, +I'll set you in a lodging, and till you hear from us, let that provide +for you: we'll first to the surgeon's. + + To keep you honest, and to keep you brave, + For once an honest man will turn a knave. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW, _having a boy carrying a torch + with him_: ILFORD, WENTLOE, _and_ BARTLEY. + +SCAR. Boy, bear the torch fair: now am I armed to fight with a windmill, +and to take the wall of an emperor; much drink, no money: a heavy head +and a light pair of heels. + +WEN. O, stand, man. + +SCAR. I were an excellent creature to make a punk of; I should down with +the least touch of a knave's finger. Thou hast made a good night of +this: what hast won, Frank? + +ILF. A matter of nothing, some hundred pounds. + +SCAR. This is the hell of all gamesters. I think, when they are at play, +the board eats up the money; for if there be five hundred pound lost, +there's never but a hundred pounds won. Boy, take the wall of any man: +and yet by light such deeds of darkness may not be. + + [_Put out the torch_. + +WEN. What dost mean by that, Will? + +SCAR. To save charge, and walk like a fury with a firebrand in my hand: +every one goes by the light, and we'll go by the smoke. + + _Enter_ LORD FALCONBRIDGE. + +SCAR. Boy, keep the wall: I will not budge[397] for any man, by these +thumbs; and the paring of the nails shall stick in thy teeth. Not for a +world. + +LORD. Who's this? young Scarborow? + +SCAR. The man that the mare rid on. + +LORD. Is this the reverence that you owe to me. + +SCAR. You should have brought me up better. + +LORD. That vice should thus transform man to a beast! + +SCAR. Go to, your name's lord; I'll talk with you, when you're out of +debt and have better clothes. + +LORD. I pity thee even with my very soul. + +SCAR. Pity i' thy throat! I can drink muscadine and eggs, and mulled +sack; do you hear? you put a piece of turned stuff upon me, but I +will-- + +LORD. What will you do, sir? + +SCAR. Piss in thy way, and that's no slander. + +LORD. Your sober blood will teach you otherwise. + + _Enter_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW. + +SIR WIL. My honoured lord, you're happily well-met. + +LORD. Ill met to see your nephew in this case, +More like a brute beast than a gentleman. + +SIR WIL. Fie, nephew! shame you not thus to transform yourself? + +SCAR. Can your nose smell a torch? + +ILF. Be not so wild; it is thine uncle Scarborow. + +SCAR. Why then 'tis the more likely 'tis my father's brother. + +SIR WIL. Shame to our name to make thyself a beast, +Thy body worthy born, and thy youth's breast +Till'd in due time for better discipline. + +LORD. Thyself new-married to a noble house, +Rich in possessions and posterity, +Which should call home thy unstay'd affections. + +SIR WIL. Where thou mak'st havoc. + +LORD. Riot, spoil, and waste. + +SIR WIL. Of what thy father left. + +LORD. And livest disgraced. + +SCAR. I'll send you shorter to heaven than you came to the earth. Do you +catechise? do you catechise? [_He draws, and strikes at them_. + +ILF. Hold, hold! do you draw upon your uncle? + +SCAR. Pox of that lord! +We'll meet at th'Mitre, where we'll sup down sorrow, +We are drunk to-night, and so we'll be to-morrow. + + [_Exeunt_. + +LORD. Why, now I see: what I heard of, I believed not, +Your kinsman lives-- + +SIR WIL. Like to a swine. + +LORD. A perfect Epythite,[398] he feeds on draff, +And wallows in the mire, to make men laugh: +I pity him. + +SIR WIL. No pity's fit for him. + +LORD. Yet we'll advise him. + +SIR WIL. He is my kinsman. + +LORD. Being in the pit, where many do fall in, +We will both comfort him and counsel him. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT IV. + + _A noise within, crying Follow, follow, follow! then enter_ + BUTLER, THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW, _with money-bags_. + +THOM. What shall we do now, butler? + +BUT. A man had better line a good handsome pair of gallows before his +time, than be born to do these sucklings good, their mother's milk not +wrung out of their nose yet; they know no more how to behave themselves +in this honest and needful calling of pursetaking, than I do to piece +stockings. + +WITHIN. This way, this way, this way! + +BOTH. 'Sfoot, what shall we do now? + +BUT. See if they do not quake like a trembling asp-leaf, and look more +miserable than one of the wicked elders pictured in the painted +cloth.[399] Should they but come to the credit to be arraigned for their +valour before a worshipful bench, their very looks would hang 'em, and +they were indicted but for stealing of eggs. + +WITHIN. Follow, follow! This way! Follow! + +THOM. Butler. + +JOHN. Honest butler. + +BUT. Squat, heart, squat, creep me into these bushes, and lie me as +close to the ground as you would do to a wench. + +THOM. How, good butler? show us how. + +BUT. By the moon, patroness of all pursetakers, who would be troubled +with such changelings? squat, heart, squat. + +THOM. Thus, butler? + +BUT. Ay so, suckling, so; stir not now: if the peering rogues chance to +go over you, yet stir not: younger brothers call you them, and have no +more forecast, I am ashamed of you. These are such whose fathers had +need leave them money, even to make them ready withal; for, by these +hilts, they have not wit to button their sleeves without teaching: +close, squat, close. Now if the lot of hanging do fall to my share, so; +then the old father's[400] man drops for his young masters. If it +chance, it chances; and when it chances, heaven and the sheriff send me +a good rope! I would not go up the ladder twice for anything: in the +meantime preventions, honest preventions do well, off with my skin; so; +you on the ground, and I to this tree, to escape the gallows. + [_Ascends a tree_.] + +WITHIN. Follow, follow, follow! + +BUT. Do: follow. If I do not deceive you, I'll bid a pox of this wit, +and hang with a good grace. + + _Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP, _with two or three others with him_. + +HAR. Up to this wood they took: search near, my friends, I am this morn +robbed of three hundred pound. + +BUT. I am sorry there was not four to make even money. Now, by the +devil's horns, 'tis Sir John Harcop. + +HAR. Leave not a bush unbeat nor tree unsearch'd; +As sure as I was robb'd, the thieves went this way. + +BUT. There's nobody, I perceive, but may lie at some time, for one of +them climbed this way. + +1ST MAN. Stand, I hear a voice; and here's an owl in an ivy-bush. + +BUT. You lie, 'tis an old servingman in a nut-tree. + +2D MAN. Sirrah, sir, what make you in that tree? + +BUT. Gathering of nuts, that such fools as you are may crack the shells, +and I eat the kernels. + +HAR. What fellow's that? + +BUT. Sir John Harcop, my noble knight; I am glad of your good health; +you bear your age fair, you keep a good house, I have fed at your board, +and been drunk in your buttery. + +HAR. But sirrah, sirrah, what made you in that tree? +My man and I, at foot of yonder hill, +Were by three knaves robb'd of three hundred pound. + +BUT. A shrewd loss, by'r Lady, sir; but your good worship may now see +the fruit of being miserable: you will ride but with one man to save +horse-meat and man's meat at your inn at night, and lose three hundred +pound in a morning. + +HAR. Sirrah, I say I have lost three hundred pound. + +BUT. And I say, sir, I wish all miserable knights might be served so; +for had you kept half a dozen tall fellows, as a man of your coat should +do, they would have helped now to keep your money. + +HAR. But tell me, sir, why lurked you in that tree? + +BUT. Marry, I will tell you, sir. Coming to the top of the hill where +you (right worshipful) were robbed at the bottom, and seeing some +a-scuffling together, my mind straight gave me there were knaves abroad: +now, sir, I knowing myself to be old, tough, and unwieldy, not being +able to do as I would, as much as to say rescue you (right +worshipful)--I, like an honest man, one of the king's liege people, and +a good subject-- + +SER. But he says well, sir. + +BUT. Got me up to the top of that tree: the tree (if it could speak) +would bear me witness, that there I might see which way the knaves took, +then to tell you of it, and you right worshipfully to send hue and[401] +cry after them. + +HAR. Was it so? + +BUT. Nay, 'twas so, sir. + +HAR. Nay, then, I tell thee they took into this wood. + +BUT. And I tell thee (setting thy worship's knighthood aside) he lies in +his throat that says so: had not one of them a white frock? did they not +bind your worship's knighthood by the thumbs? then faggoted you and the +fool your man back to back. + +MAN. He says true. + +BUT. Why, then, so truly came not they into this wood, but took over the +lawns, and left Winnowe steeple on the left hand. + +HAR. It may be so. By this they are out of reach; +Well, farewell it. + +BUT. Ride with more men, good knight. + +HAR. It shall teach me wit. + + [_Exit_. HARCOP _with followers_. + +BUT. So, if this be not played a weapon beyond a scholar's prize, let me +be hissed at. Now to the next. Come out, you hedgehogs! + +THOM. O butler! thou deserv'st to be chronicled for this. + +BUT. Do not belie me, if I had any right, I deserve to be hanged for't. +But come, down with your dust, our morning's purchase.[402] + +THOM. Here 'tis; thou hast played well; thou deserv'st two shares in it. + +BUT. Three hundred pound! a pretty breakfast: many a man works hard all +his days, and never sees half the money. But come, though it be badly +got, it shall be better bestowed. But do ye hear, gallants? I have not +taught you this trade to get your livings by. Use it not; for if you +do, though I 'scaped by the nut-tree, be sure you'll speed by the rope. +But for your pains at this time, there's a hundred pounds for you; how +you shall bestow it, I'll give you instructions. But do you hear? look +ye, go not to your gills, your punks, and your cock-tricks with it. If I +hear you do, as I am an honest thief, though I helped you now out of the +briars, I'll be a means yet to help you to the gallows. How the rest +shall be employed, I have determined, and by the way I'll make you +acquainted with it. +To steal is bad, but taken, where is store; +The fault's the less, being done to help the poor. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ WENTLOE, BARTLEY, _and_ ILFORD _with a letter in his hand_. + +ILF. Sure, I have said my prayers, and lived virtuously o' late, that +this good fortune's befallen me. Look, gallants, I am sent for to come +down to my father's burial. + +WEN. But dost mean to go? + +ILF. Troth, no; I'll go down to take possession of his land: let the +country bury him, and they will. I'll stay here a while, to save charge +at his funeral. + +BAR. And how dost feel thyself, Frank, now thy father is dead? + +ILF. As I did before, with my hands; how should I feel myself else? but +I'll tell you news, gallants. + +WEN. What's that? dost mean now to serve God? + +ILF. Faith, partly; for I intend shortly to go to church, and from +thence do faithful service to one woman. + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +BUT. Good! I have met my flesh-hooks together. [_Aside_.] + +BAR. What, dost mean to be married? + +ILF. Ay, mongrel, married. + +BUT. That's a bait for me. [_Aside_.] + +ILF. I will now be honestly married. + +WEN. It's impossible, for thou hast been a whoremaster this seven year. + +ILF. 'Tis no matter; I will now marry, and to some honest woman too; and +so from hence her virtues shall be a countenance to my vices. + +BAR. What shall she be, prythee? + +ILF. No lady, no widow, nor no waiting gentlewoman, for under protection +Ladies may lard their husbands' heads, +Widows will woodcocks make, +And chambermaids of servingmen +Learn that they'll never forsake. + +WEN. Who wilt thou wed then, prythee? + +ILF. To any maid, so she be fair: +To any maid, so she be rich: +To any maid, so she be young: +And to any maid-- + +BAR. So she be honest. + +ILF. Faith, it's no great matter for her honesty, for in these days +that's a dowry out of request. + +BUT. From these crabs will I gather sweetness: wherein I'll imitate the +bee, that sucks her honey, not from the sweetest flowers, but [from] +thyme, the bitterest: so these having been the means to beggar my +master, shall be the helps to relieve his brothers and sister. + [_Aside_.] + +ILF. To whom shall I now be a suitor? + +BUT. Fair fall ye, gallants. + +ILF. Nay, and she be fair, she shall fall sure enough. Butler, how +is't, good butler? + +BUT. Will you be made gallants? + +WEN. Ay, but not willingly cuckolds, though we are now talking about +wives. + +BUT. Let your wives agree of that after: will you first be richly +married? + +ALL. How, butler? richly married? + +BUT. Rich in beauty, rich in purse, rich in virtue, rich in all things. +But mum, I'll say nothing, I know of two or three rich heirs. But +cargo![403] my fiddlestick cannot play without rosin: avaunt. + +WEN. Butler. + +ILF. Dost not know me, butler? + +BUT. For kex,[404] dried kex, that in summer has been so liberal to +fodder other men's cattle, and scarce have enough to keep your own in +winter. Mine are precious cabinets, and must have precious jewels put +into them, and I know you to be merchants of stock-fish, dry-meat,[405] +and not men for my market: then vanish. + +ILF. Come, ye old madcap, you: what need all this? cannot a man have +been a little whoremaster in his youth, but you must upbraid him with +it, and tell him of his defects which, when he is married, his wife +shall find in him? Why, my father's dead, man, now; who by his death has +left me the better part of a thousand a year. + +BUT. Tut, she of Lancashire has fifteen hundred. + +ILF. Let me have her then, good butler. + +BUT. And then she, the bright beauty of Leicestershire, has a thousand, +nay, thirteen hundred a year, at least. + +ILF. O, let me have her, honest butler. + +BUT. Besides, she the most delicate, sweet countenanced, black-browed +gentlewoman in Northamptonshire, in substance equals the best of them. + +ILF. Let me have her then. + +BAR. Or I. + +WEN. Or I, good butler. + +BUT. You were best play the parts of right fools and most desperate +whoremasters, and go together by the ears for them, ere ye see them. +But they are the most rare-featured, well-faced, excellent-spoke, +rare-qualitied, virtuous, and worthy-to-be-admired gentlewomen. + +ALL. And rich, butler? + +BUT. Ay, that must be one, though they want all the rest [_Aside_]; +--and rich, gallants, as are from the utmost parts of Asia to the +present confines of Europe. + +ALL. And wilt thou help us to them, butler? + +BUT. Faith, 'tis to be doubted; for precious pearl will hardly be bought +without precious stones, and I think there's scarce one indifferent one +to be found betwixt you three: yet since there is some hope ye may prove +honest, as by the death of your fathers you are proved rich, walk +severally; for I, knowing you all three to be covetous tug-muttons, will +not trust you with the sight of each other's beauty, but will severally +talk with you: and since you have deigned in this needful portion of +wedlock to be ruled by me, Butler will most bountifully provide wives +for you generally. + +ALL. Why, that's honestly said. [_He walks with each apart_. + +BUT. Why so: and now first to you, sir knight. + +ILF. Godamercy. + +BUT. You see this couple of abominable woodcocks here. + +ILF. A pox on them! absolute coxcombs. + +BUT. You heard me tell them I had intelligence to give of three +gentlewomen. + +ILF. True. + +BUT. Now indeed, sir, I have but the performance of one. + +ILF. Good. + +BUT. And her I do intend for you, only for you. + +ILF. Honest butler. + +BUT. Now, sir, she being but lately come to this town, and so nearly +watched by the jealous eyes of her friends, she being a rich heir,[406] +lest she should be stolen away by some dissolute prodigal or +desperate-estated spendthrift, as you have been, sir-- + +ILF. O, but that's passed, butler. + +BUT. True, I know't, and intend now but to make use of them, flatter +them with hopeful promises, and make them needful instruments. + +ILF. To help me to the wench? + +BUT. You have hit it--which thus must be effected: first by keeping +close your purpose. + +ILF. Good. + +BUT. Also concealing from them the lodging, beauty, and riches of your +new, but admirable mistress. + +ILF. Excellent. + +BUT. Of which your following happiness if they should know, either in +envy of your good or hope of their own advancement, they'd make our +labours known to the gentlewoman's uncles, and so our benefit be +frustrate. + +ILF. Admirable, butler. + +BUT. Which done, all's but this: being, as you shall be, brought into +her company, and by my praising your virtues, you get possession of her +love, one morning step to the Tower, or to make all sure, hire some +stipendiary priest for money--for money in these days what will not be +done, and what will not a man do for a rich wife?--and with him make no +more ado but marry her in her lodging, and being married, lie with her, +and spare not. + +ILF. Do they not see us, do they not see us? let me kiss thee, let me +kiss thee, butler! let but this be done, and all the benefit, requital +and happiness I can promise thee for't, shall be this--I'll be thy rich +master, and thou shalt carry my purse. + +BUT. Enough, meet me at her lodging some half an hour hence: hark, she +lies--[407] + +ILF. I ha't. + +BUT. Fail not. + +ILF. Will I live? + +BUT. I will, but shift off these two rhinoceros. + +ILF. Widgeons, widgeons: a couple of gulls! + +BUT. With some discourse of hope to wive them too, and be with you +straight. + +ILF. Blessed day! my love shall be thy cushion, honest butler. + [_Exit_. + +BUT. So now to my t'other gallants. + +WEN. O butler, we have been in passion at thy tediousness. + +BUT. Why, look you, I had all this talk for your good! + +BAR. Hadst? + +BUT. For you know the knight is but a scurvy-proud-prating prodigal, +licentious, unnecessary-- + +WEN. An ass, an ass, an ass. + +BUT. Now you heard me tell him I had three wenches in store. + +BAR. And he would have had them all, would he? + +BUT. Hear me. Though he may live to be an ox, he had not now so much of +the goat in him, but only hopes for one of the three, when indeed I have +but two; and knowing you to be men of more virtue, and dearer in my +respect, intend them to be yours. + +WEN. We shall honour thee. + +BAR. But how, butler? + +BUT. I am now going to their place of residence, situate in the choicest +place of the city, and at the sign of the Wolf, just against Goldsmith's +Row, where you shall meet me; but ask not for me, only walk to and fro, +and to avoid suspicion you may spend some conference with the +shopkeeper's wives[408]; they have seats built a purpose for such +familiar entertainment--where, from a bay-window[409] which is opposite, +I will make you known to your desired beauties, commend the good parts +you have-- + +WEN. By the mass, mine are very few. [_Aside_.] + +BUT. And win a kind of desire, as women are soon won, to make you be +beloved; where you shall first kiss, then woo, at length wed, and at +last bed, my noble hearts. + +BOTH. O butler! + +BUT. Wenches, bona robas[410], blessed beauties, without colour or +counterfeit. Away, put on your best clothes, get you to the barber's, +curl up your hair, walk with the best struts you can: you shall see more +at the window, and I have vowed to make you-- + +BAR. Wilt thou? + +BUT. Both fools [_Aside_]; and I'll want of my wit, but I'll do't. + +BAR. We will live together as fellows. + +WEN. As brothers. + [_Exeunt_. + +BUT. As arrant knaves, if I keep you company. +O, the most wretched season of this time! +These men, like fish, do swim within one stream, +Yet they'd eat one another, making no conscience +To drink with them they'd poison; no offence +Betwixt their thoughts and actions has control, +But headlong run, like an unbiass'd bowl. +Yet I will draw[411] them on; but like to him, +At play knows how to lose, and when to win. + + _Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +THOM. Butler. + +BUT. O, are you come, +And fit as I appointed? so, 'tis well, +You know your cues, and have instructions +How to bear yourselves: all, all is fit, +Play but your part, your states from hence are firm. + [_Exit_. + +JOHN. What shall I term this creature? not a man, + + [_Betwixt this_ BUTLER _leads_ ILFORD _in_. + +He's not of mortal's temper, but he's one +Made all of goodness, though of flesh and bone: +O brother, brother, but for that honest man, +As near to misery had been our breath, +As where the thundering pellet strikes, is death. + +THOM. Ay, my shift of shirts and change of clothes know't. + +JOHN. We'll tell of him, like bells whose music rings +On coronation-day for joy of kings, +That hath preserv'd their steeples, not like tolls, +That summons living tears for the dead souls. + + _Enter_ BUTLER _and_ ILFORD _above_[412]. + +BUT. God's precious, see the hell, sir: even as you had new-kissed, and +were about to court her, if her uncles be not come. + +ILF. A plague on the spite on't. + +BUT. But 'tis no matter, sir; stay you here in this upper chamber, and +I'll stay beneath with her: 'tis ten to one you shall hear them talk now +of the greatness of her possessions, the care they have to see her +well-bestowed, the admirableness of her virtues, all which for all their +coming shall be but happiness ordained for you, and by my means be your +inheritance. + +ILF. Then thou'lt shift them away, and keep me from the sight of them? + +BUT. Have I not promised to make you? + +ILF. Thou hast. + +BUT. Go to, then, rest here with patience, and be confident in my trust; +only in my absence you may praise God for the blessedness you have to +come, and say your prayers, if you will. I'll but prepare her heart for +entertainment of your love, dismiss them for your free access, and +return straight. + +ILF. Honest-blessed-natural-friend, thou dealest with me like a brother, +butler. [_Exit_ BUTLER.] Sure, heaven hath reserved this man to wear +grey hairs to do me good. Now will I listen--listen close to suck in her +uncles' words with a rejoicing ear. + +THOM. As we were saying, brother[413], +Where shall we find a husband for my niece? + +ILF. Marry, she shall find one here, though you little know't. Thanks, +thanks, honest butler. + +JOHN. She is rich in money, plate, and jewels. + +ILF. Comfort, comfort to my soul. + +THOM. Hath all her manor-houses richly furnished. + +ILF. Good, good; I'll find employment for them. + +BUT. _within_. Speak loud enough, that he may hear you. + +JOHN. I take her estate to be about a thousand pound a year. + +ILF. And that which my father hath left me will make it about fifteen +hundred. Admirable! + +JOHN. In debt to no man: then must our natural care be, +As she is wealthy, to see her married well. + +ILF. And that she shall be as well as the priest can; he shall not leave +a word out. + +THOM. I think she has-- + +ILF. What, a God's name? + +THOM. About four thousand pound in her great chest. + +ILF. And I'll find a vent for't, I hope. + +JOHN. She is virtuous, and she is fair. + +ILF. And she were foul, being rich, I would be glad of her. + +BUT. Pish, pish! + +JOHN. Come, we'll go visit her, but with this care, +That to no spendthrift we do marry her. + + [_Exeunt_. + +ILF. You may chance be deceived, old greybeards; here's he will spend +some of it; thanks, thanks, honest butler! Now do I see the happiness of +my future estate. I walk me as to-morrow, being the day after my +marriage, with my fourteen men in livery-cloaks after me, and step to +the wall in some chief streets of the city, though I have no occasion to +use it, that the shopkeepers may take notice how many followers stand +bare to me. And yet in this latter age, the keeping of men being not in +request, I will turn my aforesaid fourteen into two pages and two +coaches. I will get myself into grace at court, run headlong into debt, +and then look scurvily upon the city. I will walk you into the presence +in the afternoon, having put on a richer suit than I wore in the +morning, and call, boy or sirrah. I will have the grace of some great +lady, though I pay for't, and at the next triumphs run a-tilt, that when +I run my course, though I break not my lance, she may whisper to +herself, looking upon my jewel: well-run, my knight. I will now keep +great horses, scorning to have a queen to keep me; indeed I will +practise all the gallantry in use; for by a wife comes all my happiness. + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +BUT. Now, sir, you have heard her uncles, and how do you like them? + +ILF. O butler, they have made good thy words, and I am ravished with +them. + +BUT. And having seen and kissed the gentlewoman, how do you like her? + +ILF. O butler, beyond discourse, beyond any element; she's a paragon for +a prince, rather than a fit implement for a gentleman.[414] + +BUT. Well then, since you like her, and by my means, she shall like you, +nothing rests now, but to have you married. + +ILF. True, butler, but withal to have her portion! + +BUT. Tut, that's sure yours, when you are married once, for 'tis hers by +inheritance; but do you love her? + +ILF. O, with my soul. + +BUT. Have you sworn as much? + +ILF. To thee, to her; and have called heaven to witness. + +BUT. How shall I know that? + +ILF. Butler, here I protest, make vows irrevocable. + +BUT. Upon your knees? + +ILF. Upon my knees, with my heart and soul I love her. + +BUT. Will live with her? + +ILF. Will live with her. + +BUT. Marry her and maintain her? + +ILF. Marry her and maintain her. + +BUT. For her forsake all other women? + +ILF. Nay, for her forswear all other women. + +BUT. In all degrees of love? + +ILF. In all degrees of love, either to court, kiss, give private +favours, or use private means. I'll do nothing that married men, being +close whoremasters, do, so I may have her. + +BUT. And yet you, having been an open whoremaster, I will not believe +you till I hear you swear as much in the way of contract to herself, +and call me to be a witness. + +ILF. By heaven, by earth, by hell, by all that man can swear, I will, so +I may have her. + +BUT. Enough. +Thus at first sight rash men to women swear, +When, such oaths broke, heaven grieves and sheds a tear. +But she's come; ply her, ply her. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW'S SISTER. + +ILF. Kind mistress, as I protested, so again I vow, +I'faith, I love you. + +SIS. And I am not, sir, so uncharitable, +To hate the man that loves me. + +ILF. Love me then, +The which loves you as angels love good men; +Who wisheth them to live with them for ever, +In that high bliss, whom hell cannot dissever. + +BUT. I'll steal away and leave them, as wise men do; +Whom they would match, let them have leave to woo. + [_Exit_ BUTLER. + +ILF. Mistress, I know your worth is beyond my desert; yet by my praising +of your virtues, I would not have you, as women use to do, become proud. + +SIS. None of my affections are pride's children, nor akin to them. + +ILF. Can you love me then? + +SIS. I can; for I love all the world, but am in love with none. + +ILF. Yet be in love with me; let your affections +Combine with mine, and let our souls +Like turtles have a mutual sympathy, +Who love so well, that they die together. +Such is my life, who covets to expire, +If it should lose your love. + +SIS. May I believe you? + +ILF. In troth you may: +Your life's my life, your death my dying-day. + +SIS. Sir, the commendations I have received from Butler of your birth +and worth, together with the judgment of mine own eye, bids me believe +and love you. + +ILF. O, seal it with a kiss. Bless'd hour! my life had never joy till +this. + + _Enter_ WENTLOE _and_ BARTLEY _beneath_. + +BAR. Hereabout is the house, sure. + +WEN. We cannot mistake it; for here's the sign of the Wolf, and the +bay-window. + + _Enter_ BUTLER _above_. + +BUT. What, so close? 'Tis well I have shifted away your uncles, +mistress. But see the spite of Sir Francis! if yon same couple of +smell-smocks, Wentloe and Bartley, have not scented after us. + +ILF. A pox on them! what shall we do then, butler? + +BUT. What, but be married straight, man? + +ILF. Ay, but how, butler? + +BUT. Tut, I never fail at a dead lift; for, to perfect your bliss, I +have provided you a priest. + +ILF. Where? prythee, butler, where? + +BUT. Where but beneath in her chamber? I have filled his hands with +coin, and he shall tie you fast with words; he shall close your hands in +one, and then do clap yourself into her sheets, and spare not. + +ILF. O sweet! + + [_Exit_ ILFORD _with_ SCARBOROW'S SISTER.[415] + +BUT. Down, down, 'tis the only way for you to get up. +Thus in this task for others' good I toil, +And she, kind gentlewoman, weds herself, +Having been scarcely woo'd, and ere her thoughts +Have learn'd to love him that, being her husband, +She may relieve her brothers in their wants; +She marries him to help her nearest kin: +I make the match, and hope it is no sin. + +WEN. 'Sfoot, it is scurvy walking for us so near the two Counters; would +he would come once! + +BAR. Mass, he's yonder: now, Butler. + +BUT. O gallants, are you here? I have done wonders for you, commended +you to the gentlewomen who, having taken note of your good legs and good +faces, have a liking to you; meet me beneath. + +BOTH. Happy butler. + +BUT. They are yours, and you are theirs; meet me beneath, I say. + + [_Exeunt_ WENTLOE _and_ BARTLEY. + +By this they are wed; ay, and perhaps have bedded. +Now follows whether, knowing she is poor, +He'll swear he lov'd her, as he swore before. + + [_Exit_ BUTLER. + + + + +ACT V. + + + _Enter_ ILFORD _with_ SCARBOROW'S SISTER. + +ILF. Ho, sirrah, who would have thought it? I perceive now a woman may +be a maid, be married, and lose her maidenhead, and all in half an hour. +And how dost like me now, wench? + +SIS. As doth befit your servant and your wife, +That owe you love and duty all my life. + +ILF. And there shall be no love lost, nor service neither; I'll do thee +service at board, and thou shalt do me service a-bed: now must I, as +young married men use to do, kiss my portion out of my young wife. Thou +art my sweet rogue, my lamb, my pigsny, my playfellow, my pretty-pretty +anything. Come, a buss, prythee, so 'tis my kind heart; and wots thou +what now? + +SIS. Not till you tell me, sir. + +ILF. I have got thee with child in my conscience, and, like a kind +husband, methinks I breed it for thee. For I am already sick at my +stomach, and long extremely. Now must thou be my helpful physician, and +provide for me. + +SIS. Even to my blood, +What's mine is yours, to gain your peace or good. + +ILF. What a kind soul is this! Could a man have found a greater content +in a wife, if he should have sought through the world for her? Prythee, +heart, as I said, I long, and in good troth I do, and methinks thy first +child will be born without a nose, if I lose my longing: 'tis but for a +trifle too; yet methinks it will do me no good, unless thou effect it +for me. I could take thy keys myself, go into thy closet, and read over +the deeds and evidences of thy land, and in reading over them, rejoice I +had such blessed fortune to have so fair a wife with so much endowment, +and then open thy chests, and survey thy plate, jewels, treasure; but a +pox on't, all will do me no good, unless thou effect it for me. + +SIS. Sir, I will show you all the wealth I have +Of coin, of jewels, and possessions. + +ILF. Good gentle heart, I'll give thee another buss for that: for that, +give thee a new gown to-morrow morning by this hand; do thou but dream +what stuff and what fashion thou wilt have it on to-night. + +SIS. The land I can endow you with's my Love: +The riches I possess for you is Love, +A treasure greater than is land or gold, +It cannot be forfeit, and it shall ne'er be sold. + +ILF. Love, I know that; and I'll answer thee love for love in abundance: +but come, prythee, come, let's see these deeds and evidences--this +money, plate, and jewels. Wilt have thy child born without a nose? if +thou be'st so careless, spare not: why, my little frappet, you, I heard +thy uncles talk of thy riches, that thou hadst hundreds a year, several +lordships, manors, houses, thousands of pounds in your great chest; +jewels, plate, and rings in your little box. + +SIS. And for that riches you did marry me? + +ILF. Troth, I did, as nowadays bachelors do: swear I lov'd thee, but +indeed married thee for thy wealth. + +SIS. Sir, I beseech you say not your oaths were such, +So like false coin being put unto the touch; +Who bear a flourish in the outward show +Of a true stamp, but truly[416] are not so. +You swore me love, I gave the like to you: +Then as a ship, being wedded to the sea, +Does either sail or sink, even so must I, +You being the haven, to which my hopes must fly. + +ILF. True, chuck, I am thy haven, and harbour too, +And like a ship I took thee, who brings home treasure +As thou to me the merchant-venturer. + +SIS. What riches I am ballast with are yours. + +ILF. That's kindly said now. + +SIS. If but with sand, as I am but with earth, +Being your right, of right you must receive me: +I have no other lading but my love, +Which in abundance I will render you. +If other freight you do expect my store, +I'll pay you tears: my riches are no more. + +ILF. How's this? how's this? I hope you do but jest. + +SIS. I am sister to decayed Scarborow. + +ILF. Ha! + +SIS. Whose substance your enticements did consume. + +ILF. Worse than an ague. + +SIS. Which as you did believe, so they supposed. +'Twas fitter for yourself than for another +To keep the sister, had undone the brother. + +ILF. I am gulled, by this hand. An old coneycatcher, and beguiled! where +the pox now are my two coaches, choice of houses, several suits, a +plague on them, and I know not what! Do you hear, puppet, do you think +you shall not be damned for this, to cosen a gentleman of his hopes, and +compel yourself into matrimony with a man, whether he will or no with +you? I have made a fair match, i'faith: will any man buy my commodity +out of my hand? As God save me, he shall have her for half the money she +cost me. + + _Enter_ WENTLOE _and_ BARTLEY. + +WEN. O, have we met you, sir? + +BAR. What, turned micher, steal a wife, and not make your old friends +acquainted with it? + +ILF. A pox on her, I would you had her! + +WEN. Well, God give you joy! we can hear of your good fortune, now 'tis +done, though we could not be acquainted with it aforehand. + +BAR. As that you have two thousand pounds a year. + +WEN. Two or three manor-houses. + +BAR. A wife, fair, rich, and virtuous. + +ILF. Pretty, i'faith, very pretty. + +WEN. Store of gold. + +BAR. Plate in abundance. + +ILF. Better, better, better. + +WEN. And so many oxen, that their horns are able to store all the +cuckolds in your country. + +ILF. Do not make me mad, good gentlemen, do not make me mad: I could be +made a cuckold with more patience, than endure this. + +WEN. Foh! we shall have you turn proud now, grow respectless of your +ancient acquaintance. Why, Butler told us of it, who was the maker of +the match for you. + +ILF. A pox of his furtherance! gentlemen, as you are Christians, vex me +no more. That I am married, I confess; a plague of the fates, that +wedding and hanging comes by destiny; but for the riches she has +brought, bear witness how I'll reward her. [_Kicks her_. + +SIS. Sir! + +ILF. Whore, ay, and jade. Witch! Ill-faced, stinking-breath, +crooked-nose, worse than the devil--and a plague on thee that ever +I saw thee! + +BAR. A comedy, a comedy! + +WEN. What's the meaning of all this? is this the masque after thy +marriage! + +ILF. O gentlemen, I am undone, I am undone, for I am married! I, +that could not abide a woman, but to make her a whore, hated all +she-creatures, fair and poor; swore I would never marry but to one +that was rich, and to be thus coney-catched! Who do you think this +is, gentlemen? + +WEN. Why, your wife; who should it be else? + +ILF. That's my misfortune; that marrying her in hope she was rich, +she proves to be the beggarly sister to the more beggarly Scarborow. + +BAR. How? + +WEN. Ha, ha, ha! + +ILF. Ay, you may laugh, but she shall cry as well as I for't. + +BAR. Nay, do not weep. + +WEN. He does but counterfeit now to delude us. He has all her portion +of land, coin, plate, jewels, and now dissembles thus, lest we should +borrow some money of him. + +ILF. And you be kind, gentlemen, lend me some; for, having paid the +priest, I have not so much left in the world as will hire me a horse to +carry me away from her. + +BAR. But art thou thus gulled, i'faith? + +ILF. Are you sure you have eyes in your head? + +WEN. Why, then, [it is] by her brother's setting on, in my conscience; +who knowing thee now to have somewhat to take to by the death of thy +father, and that he hath spent her portion and his own possessions, +hath laid this plot for thee to marry her, and so he to be rid of her +himself. + +ILF. Nay, that's without question; but I'll be revenged of 'em both. +For you, minx:--nay, 'sfoot, give 'em me, or I'll kick else. + +SIS. Good, sweet. + +ILF. Sweet with a pox! you stink in my nose, give me your jewels: nay, +bracelets too. + +SIS. O me most miserable! + +ILF. Out of my sight, ay, and out of my doors: for now what's within +this house is mine; and for your brother, +He made this match in hope to do you good, +And I wear this, the[417] which shall draw his blood. + +WEN. A brave resolution. + +BAR. In which we'll second thee. + [_Exit with_ WENTLOE. + +ILF. Away, whore! out of my doors, whore! + [_Exit_. + +SIS. O grief, that poverty should have that power to tear +Men from themselves, though they wed, bed, and swear. + + _Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW _with_ BUTLER. + +THOM. How now, sister? + +SIS. Undone, undone! + +BUT. Why, mistress, how is't? how is't? + +SIS. My husband has forsook me. + +BUT. O perjury! + +SIS. Has ta'en my jewels and my bracelets from me. + +THOM. Vengeance, I played the thief for the money that bought 'em. + +SIS. Left me distressed, and thrust me forth o' doors. + +THOM. Damnation on him! I will hear no more. +But for his wrong revenge me on my brother, +Degenerate, and was the curse of all, +He spent our portion, and I'll see his fall. + +JOHN. O, but, brother-- + +THOM. Persuade me not. +All hopes are shipwreck'd, misery comes on, +The comfort we did look from him is frustrate, +All means, all maintenance, but grief is gone; +And all shall end by his destruction. [_Exit_. + +JOHN. I'll follow, and prevent what in this heat may happen: +His want makes sharp his sword; too great's the ill, +If that one brother should another kill. [_Exit_. + +BUT. And what will you do, mistress? + +SIS. I'll sit me down, sigh loud instead of words, +And wound myself with grief as they with swords. +And for the sustenance that I should eat, +I'll feed on grief, 'tis woe's best-relish'd meat. + +BUT. Good heart, I pity you, +You shall not be so cruel to yourself, +I have the poor serving-man's allowance: +Twelve pence a day, to buy me sustenance; +One meal a day I'll eat, the t'other fast, +To give your wants relief. And, mistress, +Be this some comfort to your miseries, +I'll have thin cheeks, ere you shall have wet eyes. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +SCAR. What is a prodigal? Faith, like a brush, +That wears himself to furbish[418] others' clothes, +And, having worn his heart even to the stump, +He's thrown away like a deformed lump. +O, such am I: I have spent all the wealth +My ancestors did purchase, made others brave +In shape and riches, and myself a knave. +For though my wealth rais'd some to paint their door, +'Tis shut against me saying I am but poor: +Nay, even the greatest arm, whose hand hath grac'd +My presence to the eye of majesty, shrinks back, +His fingers clutch, and like to lead, +They are heavy to raise up my state, being dead. +By which I find spendthrifts (and such am I) +Like strumpets flourish, but are foul within, +And they (like snakes) know when to cast their skin. + + _Enter_ THOMAS SCARBOROW. + +THOM. Turn, draw, and die; I come to kill thee. + +SCAR. What's he that speaks like sickness? O, is't you? +Sleep still, you cannot move me: fare you well. + +THOM. Think not my fury slakes so, or my blood +Can cool itself to temper by refusal: +Turn, or thou diest. + +SCAR. Away. + +THOM. I do not wish to kill thee like a slave, +That taps men in their cups, and broach[es] their hearts, +Ere with a warning-piece they have wak'd their ears; +I would not like to powder shoot thee down +To a flat grave, ere thou hast thought to frown: +I am no coward, but in manly terms +And fairest oppositions vow to kill thee. + +SCAR. From whence proceeds this heat? + +THOM. From sparkles bred +By thee, that like a villain-- + +SCAR. Ha! + +THOM. I'll hollow it +In thine ears, till thy soul quake to hear it, +That like a villain hast undone thy brothers. + +SCAR. Would thou wert not so near me! yet, farewell. + +THOM. By Nature and her laws make[419] us akin-- +As near as are these hands, or sin to sin-- +Draw and defend thyself, or I'll forget +Thou art a man. + +SCAR. Would thou wert not my brother! + +THOM. I disclaim thee[420]. + +SCAR. Are we not offspring of one parent, wretch? + +THOM. I do forget it; pardon me the dead, +I should deny the pains you bid for me. +My blood grows hot for vengeance, thou hast spent +My life's revenues, that our parents purchas'd. + +SCAR. O, do not rack me with remembrance on't. + +THOM. Thou hast made my life a beggar in this world, +And I will make thee bankrupt of thy breath: +Thou hast been so bad, the best that I can give[421]. +Thou art a devil: not with men to live. + +SCAR. Then take a devil's payment + + _Here they make a pass one upon another, when at Scarborow's + back come in_ ILFORD, WENTLOE, _and_ BARTLEY. + +ILF. He's here; draw, gentlemen. + +WEN., BART. Die, Scarborow. + +SCAR. Girt round with death! + +THOM. How, set upon by three! 'Sfoot, fear not, brother; you cowards, +three to one! slaves, worse than fencers that wear long weapons. You +shall be fought withal, you shall be fought withal. + + [_Here the brothers join, drive the rest out, and return_. + +SCAR. Brother, I thank you, for you now have been +A patron of my life. Forget the sin, +I pray you, which my loose and wasteful hours +Hath made against your fortunes; I repent 'em, +And wish I could new-joint and strength your hopes, +Though with indifferent ruin of mine own. +I have a many sins, the thought of which +Like finest[422] needles prick me to the soul, +But find your wrongs to have the sharpest point. +If penitence your losses might repair, +You should be rich in wealth, and I in care. + +THOM. I do believe you, sir: but I must tell you, +Evils the which are 'gainst another done, +Repentance makes no satisfaction +To him that feels the smart. Our father, sir, +Left in your trust my portion: you have spent it, +And suffered me (whilst you in riot's house-- +A drunken tavern--spill'd my maintenance, +Perhaps upon the ground with o'erflown cups;) +Like birds in hardest winter half-starv'd, to fly +And pick up any food, lest I should die. + +SCAR. I pr'ythee, let us be at peace together. + +THOM. At peace for what? For spending my inheritance? +By yonder sun that every soul has life by, +As sure as thou hast life, I'll fight with thee. + +SCAR. I'll not be mov'd unto't. + +THOM. I'll kill thee then, wert thou now clasp'd +Within thy mother, wife, or children's arms. + +SCAR. Would'st, homicide? art so degenerate? +Then let my blood grow hot. + +THOM. For it shall cool. + +SCAR. To kill rather than be kill'd is manhood's rule. + + _Enter_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +JOHN. Stay, let not your wraths meet. + +THOM. Heart! what mak'st thou here? + +JOHN. Say, who are you, or you? are you not one, +That scarce can make a fit distinction +Betwixt each other? Are you not brothers? + +THOM. I renounce him. + +SCAR. Shalt not need. + +THOM. Give way. + +SCAR. Have at thee! + +JOHN. Who stirs? which of you both hath strength within his arm +To wound his own breast? who's so desperate +To damn himself by killing of himself? +Are you not both one flesh? + +THOM. Heart! give me way. + +SCAR. Be not a bar betwixt us, or by my sword +I'll[423] mete thy grave out. + +JOHN. O, do: for God's sake, do; +'Tis happy death, if I may die, and you +Not murder one another. O, do but hearken: +When do the sun and moon, born in one frame, +Contend, but they breed earthquakes in men's hearts? +When any star prodigiously appears, +Tells it not fall of kings or fatal years? +And then, if brothers fight, what may men think? +Sin grows so high, 'tis time the world should sink. + +SCAR. My heart grows cool again; I wish it not. + +THOM. Stop not my fury, or by my life I swear. +I will reveal the robbery we have done, +And take revenge on thee, +That hinders me to take revenge on him. + +JOHN. I yield to that; but ne'er consent to this, +I shall then die, as mine own sin affords, +Fall by the law, not by my brothers' swords. + +THOM. Then, by that light that guides me here, I vow, +I'll straight to Sir John Harcop, and make known +We were the two that robb'd him. + +JOHN. Prythee, do. + +THOM. Sin has his shame, and thou shalt have thy due. + [_Exit_. + +JOHN. Thus have I shown the nature of a brother, +Though you have proved unnatural to me. +He's gone in heat to publish out the theft, +Which want and your unkindness forc'd us to: +If now I die, that death and public shame +Is a corsive to your soul, blot to your name. + [_Exit_. + +SCAR. O, 'tis too true, there's not a thought I think, +But must partake thy grief, and drink +A relish of thy sorrow and misfortune. +With weight of others' tears I am o'erborne, +That scarce am Atlas to hold up mine own, +And all too good for me. A happy creature +In my cradle, and I have made myself +The common curse of mankind by my life; +Undone my brothers, made them thieves for bread, +And begot pretty children to live beggars. +O conscience, how thou art stung to think upon't! +My brothers unto shame must yield their blood: +My babes at others' stirrups beg their food, +Or else turn thieves too, and be chok'd for it, +Die a dog's death, be perch'd upon a tree; +Hang'd betwixt heaven and earth, as fit for neither. +The curse of heaven that's due to reprobates +Descends upon my brothers and my children, +And I am parent to it--ay, I am parent to it. + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +BUT. Where are you, sir? + +SCAR. Why star'st thou, what's thy haste? + +BUT. Here's fellows swarm like flies to speak with you. + +SCAR. What are they? + +BUT. Snakes, I think, sir; for they come with stings in their mouths, +and their tongues are turn'd to teeth too: they claw villainously, they +have ate up your honest name and honourable reputation by railing +against you: and now they come to devour your possessions. + +SCAR. In plainer evargy,[424] what are they? speak. + +BUT. Mantichoras,[425] monstrous beasts, enemies to mankind, that have +double rows of teeth in their mouths. They are usurers, they come +yawning for money, and the sheriff with them is come to serve an extent +upon your land, and then seize on your body by force of execution: they +have begirt the house round. + +SCAR. So that the roof our ancestors did build +For their sons' comfort, and their wives for charity, +I dare not to look out at. + +BUT. Besides, sir, here's your poor children-- + +SCAR. Poor children they are indeed. + +BUT. Come with fire and water, tears in their eyes and burning grief in +their hearts, and desire to speak with you. + +SCAR. Heap sorrow upon sorrow! tell me, are +My brothers gone to execution +For what I did? for every heinous sin +Sits on his soul, by whom it did begin. +And so did theirs by me. Tell me withal, +My children carry moisture in their eyes, +Whose speaking drops say, father, thus must we +Ask our relief, or die with infamy, +For you have made us beggars. Yet when thy tale has kill'd me, +To give my passage comfort from this stage, +Say all was done by enforc'd marriage: +My grave will then be welcome. + +BUT. What shall we do, sir? + +SCAR. Do as the devil does, hate (panther-like) mankind![426] +And yet I lie; for devils sinners love, +When men hate men, though good like some above. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW'S _wife_ KATHERINE, _with two Children_. + +BUT. Your wife's come in, sir. + +SCAR. Thou li'st, I have not a wife. None can be call'd +True man and wife, but those whom heaven install'd, +Say-- + +KATH. O my dear husband! + +SCAR. You are very welcome. Peace: we'll have compliment. +Who are you, gentlewoman? + +KATH. Sir, your distressed wife, and these your children, + +SCAR. Mine! Where, how, begot? +Prove me by certain instance that's divine, +That I should call them lawful, or thee mine. + +KATH. Were we not married, sir? + +SCAR. No; though we heard the words of ceremony, +But had hands knit, as felons that wear fetters +Forc'd upon them. For tell me, woman, +Did e'er my love with sighs entreat thee mine? +Did ever I in willing conference +Speak words, made half with tears, that I did love thee? +Or was I ever but glad to see thee, as all lovers are? +No, no, thou know'st I was not. + +KATH. O me! + +BUT. The more's the pity. + +SCAR. But when I came to church, I did there stand, +As water, whose forc'd breach[427] had drown'd my land. +Are you my wife, or these my children? +Why, 'tis impossible; for like the skies +Without the sun's light, so look all your eyes; +Dark, cloudy, thick, and full of heaviness; +Within my country there was hope to see +Me and my issue to be like our fathers, +Upholders of our country all our life, +Which should have been if I had wed a wife: +Where now, +As dropping leaves in autumn you look all, +And I, that should uphold you, like to fall. + +KATH. 'Twas nor shall be my fault, heaven bear me witness. + +SCAR. Thou liest, strumpet, thou liest! + +BUT. O sir! + +SCAR. Peace, saucy Jack! strumpet, I say thou liest, +For wife of mine thou art not, and these thy bastards +Whom I begot of thee with this unrest, +That bastards born are born not to be blest. + +KATH. On me pour all your wrath, but not on them. + +SCAR. On thee and them, for 'tis the end of lust +To scourge itself, heaven lingering to be just: +Harlot! + +KATH. Husband! + +SCAR. Bastards! + +CHIL. Father! + +BUT. What heart not pities this? + +SCAR. Even in your cradle, you were accurs'd of heaven, +Thou an adultress in my married arms. +And they that made the match, bawds to thy lust: +Ay, now you hang the head; shouldst have done so before, +Then these had not been bastards, thou a whore. + +BUT. I can brook't no longer: sir, you do not well in this. + +SCAR. Ha, slave! + +BUT. 'Tis not the aim of gentry to bring forth +Such harsh unrelish'd fruit unto their wines[428], +And to their pretty--pretty children by my troth. + +SCAR. How, rascal! + +BUT. Sir, I must tell you, your progenitors, +Two of the which these years were servant to, +Had not such mists before their understanding, +Thus to behave themselves. + +SCAR. And you'll control me, sir! + +BUT. Ay, I will. + +SCAR. You rogue! + +BUT. Ay, 'tis I will tell 'tis ungently done +Thus to defame your wife, abuse your children: +Wrong them, you wrong yourself; are they not yours? + +SCAR. Pretty--pretty impudence, in faith. + +BUT. Her whom you are bound to love, to rail against! +Those whom you are bound to keep, to spurn like dogs! +And you were not my master, I would tell you-- + +SCAR. What, slave? [_Draws_. + +BUT. Put up your bird-spit, tut, I fear it not; +In doing deeds so base, so vile as these, +'Tis but a kna, kna, kna-- + +SCAR. Rogue! + +BUT. Tut, howsoever, 'tis a dishonest part, +And in defence of these I throw off duty. + +KATH. Good butler. + +BUT. Peace, honest mistress, I will say you are wrong'd, +Prove it upon him, even in his blood, his bones, +His guts, his maw, his throat, his entrails. + +SCAR. You runagate of threescore! + +BUT. 'Tis better than a knave of three-and-twenty. + +SCAR. Patience be my buckler! +As not to file[429] my hands in villain's blood; +You knave, slave, trencher-groom! +Who is your master? + +BUT. You, if you were a master. + +SCAR. Off with your coat then, get you forth a-doors. + +BUT. My coat, sir? + +SCAR. Ay, your coat, slave. + +BUT. 'Sfoot, when you ha't, 'tis but a threadbare coat, +And there 'tis for you: know that I scorn +To wear his livery is so worthy born, +And live[s] so base a life; old as I am, +I'll rather be a beggar than your man, +And there's your service for you. [_Exit_. + +SCAR. Away, out of my door: away! +So, now your champion's gone, minx, thou hadst better +Have gone quick unto thy grave-- + +KATH. O me! that am no cause of it. + +SCAR. Than have suborn'd that slave to lift his hand against me. + +KATH. O me! what shall become of me? + +SCAR. I'll teach you tricks for this: have you a companion? + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +BUT. My heart not suffers me to leave my honest mistress and her pretty +children. + +SCAR. I'll mark thee for a strumpet, and thy bastards-- + +BUT. What will you do to them, sir? + +SCAR. The devil in thy shape come back again? + +BUT. No, but an honest servant, sir, will take this coat, +And wear it with this sword to safeguard these, +And pity them, and I am woe for you[430], too; +But will not suffer +The husband, viper-like, to prey on them +That love him and have cherish'd him, as these +And they have you. + +SCAR. Slave! + +BUT. I will outhumour you, [I will] +Fight with you and lose my life, ere[431] these +Shall taste your wrong, whom you are bound to love. + +SCAR. Out of my doors, slave! + +BUT. I will not, but will stay and wear this coat, +And do you service whether you will or no. +I'll wear this sword, too, and be champion +To fight for her, in spite of any man. + +SCAR. You shall: you shall be my master, sir. + +BUT. No, I desire it not, +I'll pay you duty, even upon my knee, +But lose my life, ere these oppress'd I'll see. + +SCAR. Yes, goodman slave, you shall be master, +Lie with my wife, and get more bastards; do, do, do. + +KATH. O me! + +SCAR. Turns the world upside down, +That men o'erbear their masters? it does, it does. +For even as Judas sold his master Christ, +Men buy and sell their wives at highest price, +What will you give me? what will you give me? +What will you give me? [_Exit_. + +BUT. O mistress, my soul weeps, though mine eyes be dry, +To see his fall and your adversity; +Some means I have left, which I'll relieve you with. +Into your chamber, and if comfort be akin +To such great grief, comfort your children. + +KATH. I thank thee, butler; heaven, when he please, +Send death unto the troubled--a blest ease. + + [_Exit with children_. + +BUT. In troth I know not, if it be good or ill, +That with this endless toil I labour thus: +'Tis but the old time's ancient conscience +That would do no man hurt, that makes me do't: +If it be sin, that I do pity these, +If it be sin, I have relieved his brothers, +Have played the thief with them to get their food, +And made a luckless marriage for his sister, +Intended for her good, heaven pardon me. +But if so, I am sure they are great sinners, +That made this match, and were unhappy[432] men; +For they caus'd all, and may heaven pardon them. + + _Enter_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW. + +SIR WIL. Who's within here? + +BUT. Sir William, kindly welcome. + +SIR WIL. Where is my kinsman Scarborow? + +BUT. Sooth, he's within, sir, but not very well. + +SIR WIL. His sickness? + +BUT. The hell of sickness; troubled in his mind. + +SIR WIL. I guess the cause of it, +But cannot now intend to visit him. +Great business for my sovereign hastes me hence; +Only this letter from his lord and guardian to him, +Whose inside, I do guess, tends to his good; +At my return I'll see him: so farewell. [_Exit_. + +BUT. _Whose inside, I do guess, turns to his good_. +He shall not see it now, then; for men's minds, +Perplex'd like his, are like land-troubling-winds, +Who have no gracious temper. + + _Enter_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +JOHN. O butler! + +BUT. What's the fright now? + +JOHN. Help, straight, or on the tree of shame +We both shall perish for the robbery. + +BUT. What, is't reveal'd, man? + +JOHN. Not yet, good butler: only my brother Thomas, +In spleen to me that would not suffer him +To kill our elder brother had undone us, +Is riding now to Sir John Harcop straight, +To disclose it. + +BUT. Heart! who would rob with sucklings? +Where did you leave him? + +JOHN. Now taking horse to ride to Yorkshire. + +BUT. I'll stay his journey, lest I meet a hanging. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +SCAR. I'll parley with the devil: ay, I will, +He gives his counsel freely, and the cause +He for his clients pleads goes always with them: +He in my cause shall deal then; and I'll ask him +Whether a cormorant may have stuff'd chests, +And see his brother starve? why, he'll say, ay[433], +The less they give, the more I gain thereby; + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +Their souls, their souls, their souls. +How now, master? nay, you are my master; +Is my wife's sheets warm? does she kiss well? + +BUT. Good sir. + +SCAR. Foh! make't not strange, for in these days, +There's many men lie in their masters' sheets, +And so may you in mine, and yet--your business, sir? + +BUT. There's one in civil habit, sir, would speak with you. + +SCAR. In civil habit? + +BUT. He is of seemly rank, sir, and calls himself +By the name of Doctor Baxter of Oxford. + +SCAR. That man undid me; he did blossoms blow, +Whose fruit proved poison, though 'twas good in show: +With him I'll parley, and disrobe my thoughts +Of this wild frenzy that becomes me not. +A table, candles, stools, and all things fit, +I know he comes to chide me, and I'll hear him: +With our sad conference we will call up tears, +Teach doctors rules, instruct succeeding years: +Usher him in: +Heaven spare a drop from thence, where's bounteous throng: +Give patience to my soul, inflame my tongue. + + _Enter_ DOCTOR. + +DOC. Good Master Scarborow. + +SCAR. You are most kindly welcome, sooth, ye are. + +DOC. I have important business to deliver you. + +SCAR. And I have leisure to attend your hearing. + +DOC. Sir, you know I married you. + +SCAR. I know you did, sir. + +DOC. At which you promis'd both to God and men, +Your life unto your spouse should be like snow, +That falls to comfort, not to overthrow: +And love unto your issue should be like +The dew of heaven, that hurts not, though it strike: +When heaven and men did witness and record +'Twas an eternal oath, no idle word: +Heaven, being pleased therewith, bless'd you with children, +And at heaven's blessings all good men rejoice. +So that God's chair and footstool, heaven and earth, +Made offering at your nuptials as a knot +To mind you of your vow; O, break it not. + +SCAR. 'Tis very true[434]. + +DOC. Now, sir, from this your oath and band[435], +Faith's pledge and seal of conscience you have run, +Broken all contracts, and the forfeiture +Justice hath now in suit against your soul: +Angels are made the jurors, who are witnesses +Unto the oath you took, and God himself, +Maker of marriage, he that seal'd the deed, +As a firm lease unto you during life, +Sits now as judge of your transgression: +The world informs against you with this voice: +If such sins reign, what mortals can rejoice? + +SCAR. What then ensues to me? + +DOC. A heavy doom, whose execution's +Now serv'd upon your conscience, that ever +You shall feel plagues, whom time shall not dissever; +As in a map your eyes see all your life, +Bad words, worse deeds, false oaths, and all the injuries, +You have done unto your soul: then comes your wife, +Full of woe's drops, and yet as full of pity, +Who though she speaks not, yet her eyes are swords[436], +That cut your heart-strings: and then your children-- + +SCAR. O, O, O! + +DOC. Who, what they cannot say, talk in their looks; +You have made us up, but as misfortune's books, +Whom other men may read in, when presently, +Task'd by yourself, you are not, like a thief, +Astonied, being accus'd, but scorch'd with grief. + +SCAR. I, I, I. + +DOC. Here stand your wife's tears. + +SCAR. Where? + +DOC. And you fry for them: here lie your children's wants. + +SCAR. Here? + +DOC. For which you pine, in conscience burn, +And wish you had been better, or ne'er born. + +SCAR. Does all this happen to a wretch like me? + +DOC. Both this and worse; your soul eternally +Shall live in torment, though the body die. + +SCAR. I shall have need of drink then: Butler! + +DOC. Nay, all your sins are on your children laid, +For the offences that the father made. + +SCAR. Are they, sir? + +DOC. Be sure they are. + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +SCAR. Butler! + +BUT. Sir. + +SCAR. Go fetch my wife and children hither. + +BUT. I will, sir. + +SCAR. I'll read a lecture[437] to the doctor too, +He's a divine? ay, he's a divine. [_Aside_.] + +BUT. I see his mind is troubled, and have made bold with duty to read a +letter tending to his good; have made his brothers friends: both which +I will conceal till better temper. He sends me for his wife and children; +shall I fetch them? [_Aside_. + +SCAR. He's a divine, and this divine did marry me: +That's good, that's good. [_Aside_. + +DOC. Master Scarborow. + +SCAR. I'll be with you straight, sir. + +BUT. I will obey him, +If anything doth happen that is ill, +Heaven bear me record, 'tis 'gainst my will. [_Exit_. + +SCAR. And this divine did marry me, +Whose tongue should be the key to open truth, +As God's ambassador. Deliver, deliver, deliver. [_Aside_. + +DOC. Master Scarborow. + +SCAR. I'll be with you straight, sir: +Salvation to afflicted consciences, +And not give torment to contented minds, +Who should be lamps to comfort out our way, +And not like firedrakes[438] to lead men astray, +Ay, I'll be with you straight, sir. + + _Enter_ BUTLER, [_with Wife and Children_]. + +BUT. Here's your wife and children, sir. + +SCAR. Give way, then, +I have my lesson perfect; leave us here. + +BUT. Yes, I will go, but I will be so near, +To hinder the mishap, the which I fear. + [_Exit_ BUTLER. + +SCAR. Now, sir, you know this gentlewoman? + +DOC. Kind Mistress Scarborow. + +SCAR. Nay, pray you keep your seat, for you shall hear +The same affliction you have taught me fear, +Due to yourself. + +DOC. To me, sir? + +SCAR. To you, sir. +You match'd me to this gentlewoman? + +DOC. I know I did, sir. + +SCAR. And you will say she is my wife then. + +DOC. I have reason, sir, because I married you. + +SCAR. O, that such tongues should have the time to lie, +Who teach men how to live, and how to die; +Did not you know my soul had given my faith, +In contract to another? and yet you +Would join this loom unto unlawful twists. + +DOC. Sir? + +SCAR. But, sir, +You that can see a mote within my eye, +And with a cassock blind your own defects, +I'll teach you this: 'tis better to do ill, +That's never known to us, than of self-will. +Stand these[439], all these, in thy seducing eye, +As scorning life, make them be glad to die. + +DOC. Master Scarborow-- + +SCAR. Here will I write that they, which marry wives, +Unlawful live with strumpets all their lives. +Here will I seal the children that are born, +From wombs unconsecrate, even when their soul +Has her infusion, it registers they are foul, +And shrinks to dwell with them, and in my close +I'll show the world, that such abortive men +Knit hands without free tongues, look red like them +Stand you and you to acts most tragical: +Heaven has dry eyes, when sin makes sinners fall. + +DOC. Help, Master Scarborow. + +CHIL. Father. + +KATH. Husband. + +SCAR. These for thy act should die, she for my Clare, +Whose wounds stare thus upon me for revenge. +These to be rid from misery, this from sin, +And thou thyself shalt have a push amongst them, +That made heaven's word a pack-horse to thy tongue, +Quot'st Scripture to make evil shine like good! +And as I send you thus with worms to dwell, +Angels applaud it as a deed done well. + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +DOC. Stay him, stay him. + +BUT. What will you do, sir? + +SCAR. Make fat worms of stinking carcases. +What hast thou to do with it? + + _Enter_ ILFORD _and his Wife, the two Brothers, + and_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW. + +BUT. Look, who are here, sir? + +SCAR. Injurious villain! that prevent'st me still. + +BUT. They are your brothers and alliance, sir. + +SCAR. They are like full ordnance then who, once discharg'd, +Afar off give a warning to my soul, +That I have done them wrong. + +SIR WIL. Kinsman. + +BRO. AND SIS. Brother. + +KATH. Husband. + +CHIL. Father. + +SCAR. Hark, how their words like bullets shoot me thorough, +And tell me I have undone them: this side might say, +We are in want, and you are the cause of it; +This points at me, y'are shame unto your house: +This tongue says nothing, but her looks do tell +She's married, but as those that live in hell: +Whereby all eyes are but misfortune's pipe, +Fill'd full of woe by me: this feels the stripe. + +BUT. Yet look, sir, +Here's your brothers hand in hand, whom I have knit so. + +SIS. And look, sir, here's my husband's hand in mine, +And I rejoice in him, and he in me. + +SIR WIL. I say, cos, what is pass'd is the way to bliss, +For they know best to mend, that know amiss. + +KATH. We kneel: forget, and say if you but love us, +You gave us grief for future happiness. + +SCAR. What's all this to my conscience? + +BUT. Ease, promise of succeeding joy to you; +Read but this letter. + +SIR WIL. Which tells you that your lord and guardian's dead. + +BUT. Which tells you that he knew he did you wrong, +Was griev'd for't, and for satisfaction +Hath given you double of the wealth you had. + +BRO. Increas'd our portions. + +WIFE. Given me a dowry too. + +BUT. And that he knew, +Your sin was his, the punishment his due. + +SCAR. All this is here: +Is heaven so gracious to sinners then? + +BUT. Heaven is, and has his gracious eyes, +To give men life, not life-entrapping spies. + +SCAR. Your hand--yours--yours--to my soul: to you a kiss; +In troth I am sorry I have stray'd amiss; +To whom shall I be thankful? all silent? +None speak? whist! why then to God, +That gives men comfort as he gives his rod; +Your portions I'll see paid, and I will love you, +You three I'll live withal, my soul shall love you! +You are an honest servant, sooth you are; +To whom? I, these, and all must pay amends; +But you I will admonish in cool terms, +Let not promotion's hope be as a string, +To tie your tongue, or let it loose to sting. + +DOC. From hence it shall not, sir. + +SCAR. Then husbands thus shall nourish with their wives. + [_Kiss_. + +ILF. As thou and I will, wench. + +SCAR. Brothers in brotherly love thus link together + [_Embrace_. +Children and servants pay their duty thus. + [_Bow and kneel_. +And are all pleas'd? + +ALL. We are. + +SCAR. Then, if all these be so, +I am new-wed, so ends all marriage woe; +And, in your eyes so lovingly being wed, +We hope your hands will bring us to our bed. + + +FINIS. + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + + +[1] Baldwin's "Old English Drama," 2 vols. 12mo. + +[2] From the similarity of the names, it seems the author originally +intended to make Young Lusam the son of Old Lusam and brother of +Mistress Arthur, but afterwards changed his intention: in page 13 the +latter calls him a stranger to her, although he is the intimate friend +of her husband. + +[3] [Old copy, _walk_.] + +[4] Busk-point, the lace with its tag which secured the end of the busk, +a piece of wood or whalebone worn by women in front of the stays to keep +them straight. + +[5] [Old copies, _Study_.] + +[6] [Old copy, _watch_.] + +[7] [Old copies, _dream_.] + +[8] [All Fuller's speeches must be supposed to be _Asides_.] + +[9] [Old copies give this line to Fuller.] + +[10] Old copies, _she_. + +[11] Old copies, _bene_; but the schoolmaster is made to blunder, so +that _bene_ may, after all, be what the author wrote. + +[12] The rod, made of a willow-wand. + +[13] Old copy, _how_. + +[14] [Old copies, _laid_.] + +[15] [A quotation.] + +[16] _Christ-cross_, the alphabet. + +[17] [The sense appears to be, for this not being perfect poison, as his +(the pedant's) meaning is to poison himself, some covetous slave will +sell him real poison.] + +[18] [Old copies, _seem'd_.] + +[19] [Old copies, _First_.] + +[20] [Massinger, in his "City Madam," 1658, uses this word in the sense +of _above the law_. Perhaps Young Arthur may intend to distinguish +between a civil and religious contract.] + +[21] [See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 90.] + +[22] [i.e., The _hoar_-frost.] + +[23] [Old copy, _flies upon_.] + +[24] [This line has been seriously corrupted, and it might be impossible +to restore the true reading. The old copies have: _Ask, he knew me, a +means_, &c.] + +[25] [Having, however, been written and acted some years before it was +printed in 1606.] + +[26] _Sloughing hotcockles_ is a sport still retained among children. +The diversion is of long standing, having been in use with the ancients. +See Pollux, lib. ix. In the copy it is spelt _slauging_. + +[27] Old copy, _which_. + +[28] [So in Wybarne's "New Age of Old Names," 1609, p. 12: "But stay, my +friend: Let it be first manifest that my Father left Land, and then we +will rather agree at home, then suffer the Butler's Boxe to winne all." +The phrase occurs again in "Ram Alley," 1611.] + +[29] [So the old copy, and rightly. Forne is a contracted form of +_beforne_, a good old English word. Hawkins printed _fore_.] + +[30] Query, if this be not a fling at Shakespeare? See "Cymbeline." +--_Hawkins_. [Scarcely, for there are two sons recovered in that play, +and the incident of finding a long-lost child is not an uncommon one +in the drama. We have a daughter thus found in Pericles.--_Ebsworth_.] + +[31] [Some of the old copies read _make_.] + +[32] Old copy, _furens_. + +[33] Old copy, _lanching_. + +[34] [Old copies, _is_.] + +[35] [It is probably well known that on the early stage vinegar was used +where there was a necessity for representing bloodshed. Compare the +passage in Preston's "Cambyses," iv. 217.] + +[36] Old copy, _utensilies_. + +[37] Old copy, _sly_. + +[38] Old copy, _soure_. + +[39] [Old copy, _clear the vsuall_, &c.] + +[40] "Belvidere; or, The Garden of the Muses," 8vo, 1600, in which are +quoted sentences out of Spenser, Constable, and the rest, digested under +a commonplace. [Another edition in 1610. It is a book of no value or +interest.] + +[41] [Left blank in the old copy. The ostensible editor of "Belvidere" +was John Bodenham, but he is evidently not the person referred to here.] + +[42] [Alluding to the device on the title of the volume.] + +[43] [Two of the old copies read _swifter_.] + +[44] [Some copies read _S.D_.] + +[45] As the works of some of the poets here cited are become obscure, it +may not be unacceptable to the reader to see a few specimens of their +several abilities. Constable was esteemed the first sonneteer of his +time, and the following sonnet, prefixed to King James I.'s "Poetical +Exercises" was the most admired-- + + TO THE KING OF SCOTLAND. + + "When others hooded with blind love do fly + Low on the ground with buzzard Cupid's wings, + A heavenly love from love of love thee brings, + And makes thy Muse to mount above the sky: + Young Muses be not wont to fly so high, + Age school'd by time such sober ditties sings, + But thy love flies from love of youthful things, + And so the wings of time doth overfly. + Thus thou disdain'st all worldly wings as slow, + Because thy Muse with angels' wings doth leave + Time's wings behind, and Cupid's wings below; + But take thou heed, lest Fame's wings thee deceive, + With all thy speed from fame thou canst not flee,-- + But more thou flees, the more it follows thee." + +[46] Lodge was a physician as well as a poet; he was the author of two +plays, and eminent, in his day, for writing elegant odes, pastoral +songs, sonnets, and madrigals. His "Euphues' Golden Legacy" was printed +4to, 1590, from which some suppose Shakespeare took his "As You Like +It." Description of spring by Lodge-- + + "The earth late choak'd with showers, + Is now array'd in green, + Her bosom springs with flowers, + The air dissolves her teen; + The woods are deck'd with leaves, + And trees are clothed gay, + And Flora, crown'd with sheaves, + With oaken boughs doth play; + The birds upon the trees + Do sing with pleasant voices, + And chant, in their degrees, + Their loves and lucky choices." + +[47] Watson was contemporary with, and imitator of, Sir Philip Sydney, +with Daniel, Lodge, Constable, and others, in the pastoral strain of +sonnets, &c. Watson thus describes a beautiful woman-- + + "Her yellow locks exceed the beaten gold, + Her sparkling eyes in heav'n a place deserve. + Her forehead high and fair, of comely mould; + Her words are music all, of silver sound. + Her wit so sharp, as like can scarce be found: + Each eyebrow hangs, like Iris in the skies, + Her eagle's nose is straight, of stately frame, + On either cheek a rose and lily lies, + Her breath is sweet perfume or holy flame; + Her lips more red than any coral stone, + Her neck more white than aged swans that moan: + Her breast transparent is, like crystal rock, + Her fingers long, fit for Apollo's lute, + Her slipper such, as Momus dare not mock; + Her virtues are so great as make me mute: + What other parts she hath I need not say, + Whose face alone is cause of my decay." + +[48] [This passage is a rather important piece of evidence in favour of +the identity of the poet with the physician.] + +[49] [Sir] John Davis [author of "Nosce Teipsum," &c.] + +[50] Old copy, _sooping_. + +[51] Lock and Hudson were the Bavius and Maevius of that time. The +latter gives us this description of fear-- + + "Fear lendeth wings to aged folk to fly, + And made them mount to places that were high; + Fear made the woful child to wail and weep, + For want of speed on foot and hands to creep." + +[Hudson, however, enjoyed some repute in his time, and is known as the +translator from Du Bartas of the "History of Judith," 8vo, 1584. Lock +published in 1597 a volume containing an English version of +"Ecclesiastes" and a series of sonnets.] + +[52] John Marston, a bold and nervous writer in Elizabeth's reign: the +work here censured was, no doubt, his "Scourge of Villanie, 3 Books of +Satyrs," 1598. + +[53] Marlowe's character is well marked in these lines: he was an +excellent poet, but of abandoned morals, and of the most impious +principles; a complete libertine and an avowed atheist. He lost his life +in a riotous fray; for, detecting his servant with his mistress, he +rushed into the room with a dagger in order to stab him, but the man +warded off the blow by seizing Marlowe's wrist, and turned the dagger +into his own head: he languished some time of the wound he received, and +then died, [in] the year 1593.--_A. Wood_. + +[54] [Omitted in some copies.] + +[55] [Omitted in some copies.] + +[56] Churchyard wrote Jane Shore's Elegy in "Mirror for Magistrates," +4to, [1574. It is reprinted, with additions, in his "Challenge," 1593.] + +[57] Isaac Walton, in his "Life of Hooker," calls Nash a man of a sharp +wit, and the master of a scoffing, satirical, merry pen. His satirical +vein was chiefly exerted in prose; and he is said to have more +effectually discouraged and nonplussed Penry, the most notorious +anti-prelate, Richard Harvey the astrologer, and their adherents, than +all serious writers who attacked them. That he was no mean poet will +appear from the following description of a beautiful woman-- + + "Stars fall to fetch fresh light from her rich eyes, + Her bright brow drives the sun to clouds beneath, + Her hairs' reflex with red streaks paint the skies, + Sweet morn and evening dew falls from her breath." + +[58] Ital. _stocco_, or long rapier. + +[59] A tusk. + +[60] [Some copies read _turne_.] + +[61] [John Danter, the printer. Nash, it will be remembered, was called +by Harvey _Danter's man_, because some of his books came from that +press. See the next scene.] + +[62] [A few corrections have been ventured upon in the French and Latin +scraps, as the speaker does not appear to have been intended to blunder.] + +[63] [Old copies, _procures_.] + +[64] [Old copies, _thanked_.] + +[65] [Old copies, _Fly--revengings_.] + +[66] [Old copy, _gale_.] + +[67] [Old copy, _gracis_.] + +[68] [Old copy, _filthy_.] + +[69] [Old copies, _seat_.] + +[70] [In the old copy the dialogue is as usual given so as to make utter +nonsense, which was apparently not intended.] + +[71] [Furor Poeticus apostrophises Apollo, the Muses, &c., who are not +present.] + +[72] [Old copy, _Den_.] + +[73] [Alluding to the blindness of puppies.] + +[74] [Man.] + +[75] [Old copy, _skibbered_.] + +[76] [i.e., my very mate.] + +[77] [In old copy this line is given to Phantasma.] + +[78] [i.e., _face_. Old copy, _race_.] + +[79] [Rent or distracted. A play is intended on the double meaning of +the word.] + +[80] [So in the old copy, being an abbreviation, _rhythmi causâ_, of +Philomusus.] + +[81] [Old copy, _Mossy_; but in the margin is printed _Most like_, as if +it was an afterthought, and the correction had been stamped in.] + +[82] [Old copy, _playing_.] + +[83] _No_ omitted. + +[84] [This is the old mythological tradition inverted.] + +[85] The bishop's examining chaplain, so called from apposer. In a will +of James I.'s reign, the curate of a parish is to appose the children of +a charity-school. The term _poser_ is still retained in the schools at +[St Paul's,] Winchester and Eton. Two Fellows are annually deputed by +the Society of New College in Oxford and King's College in Cambridge to +appose or try the abilities of the boys who are to be sped to the +fellowships that shall become vacant in the ensuing year. + +[86] [The old copy gives this to the next act and scene; but Amoretto +seems to offer the remark in immediate allusion to what has just passed. +After all, the alteration is not very vital, as, although a new act and +scene are marked, Academico and Amoretto probably remain on the stage.] + +[87] Good. + +[88] [Old copy, _caches_. A _rache_ is a dog that hunts by scent wild +beasts, birds, and even fishes; the female is called a _brache_.] + +[89] [See Halliwell's "Dictionary," i. 115.] + +[90] [He refers to Amoretto himself.] + +[91] [Halliwell, in his "Dictionary," _v. rheum (s.)_, defines it to +mean _spleen, caprice_. He does not cite it as a verb. I suppose the +sense here to be _ruminating_.] + +[92] Old copy, _ravished_. + +[93] [A play on _personage_ and _parsonage_, which were formerly +interchangeable terms, as both had originally one signification.] + +[94] [Queen Elizabeth was born September 7, 1533; not her birthday, +therefore, but her accession (17th November 1558), at the death of her +sister Mary, is referred to by Immerito and Sir Raderic. Elizabeth died +March 24, 1602-3. Inasmuch as there is this special reference in "The +Return from Parnassus" to the Queen's day, and not to King James's day, +we have a certain evidence that the play was written by or before the +end of 1602-3. See also what may be drawn from the reference to the +siege of Ostend, 1601-4, at the close of act iii. sc. 3 _post_ +--additional evidence for 1602.--_Ebsworth_.] + +[95] [Old copy, _I tooke of_, which seems nonsense.] + +[96] [So old copy. Hawkins altered the word unnecessarily to +_thatched_.] + +[97] [Bespeaketh. Old copies, _rellish_.] + +[98] Old copy, _bites a lip_. + +[99] [So in old copy, but should we not read _London?--Ebsworth_.] + +[100] [There are three references to Ostend in this play. The town bore +a siege from 1601 to 1604, when it surrendered by capitulation. The +besieged lost 50,000 men, and the Spaniards still more. The expression, +"He is as glad as if he had taken Ostend," surely proves that this play +was written after the beginning of 1601 and the commencement of the +siege. It does not prove it to have been written after 1604, but, I +think, strongly indicates the contrary.--_Ebsworth_. Is it not possible +that the passage was introduced into the play when printed, and was not +in the original MS.?] + +[101] [So the old copies. Hawkins altered it to _delicacies_.] + +[102] [Poor must be pronounced as a dissyllable.] + +[103] [From _marry_ to _terms_ is omitted in one of the Oxford copies +and in Dr Ingleby's.] + +[104] [Old copy, _puppet_.] + +[105] [One of the copies at Oxford, and Dr Ingleby's, read _nimphs_. Two +others misprint _mips_.] + +[106] [Old copy, _wail_.] + +[107] Old copy, _and_. + +[108] [Both the Oxford copies read _teate_.] + +[109] [Both the Oxford copies have _beare_.] + +[110] [Some of the copies, _break_.] + +[111] To _moot_ is to plead a mock cause; to state a point of law by way +of exercise, a common practice in the inns of court. + +[112] Old copy, _facility_. + +[113] [Old copy, _high_.] + +[114] [A slight departure from Ovid.] + +[115] To _come off_ is equivalent to the modern expression to _come +down_, to pay sauce, to pay dearly, &c. In this sense Shakespeare uses +the phrase in "Merry Wives of Windsor," act iv. sc. 6. The host says, +"They [the Germans] shall have my horses, but I'll make them pay, I'll +sauce them. They have had my house a week at command; I have turned away +my other guests. They must come off; I'll sauce them." An eminent critic +says to _come off_ is to go scot-free; and this not suiting the context, +he bids us read, they must _compt off_, i.e., clear their reckoning. + +[116] Old copy, _Craboun_. + +[117] [Talons.] + +[118] _Gramercy_: great thanks, _grand merci_; or I thank ye, _Je vous +remercie_. In this sense it is constantly used by our first writers. A +very great critic pronounces it an obsolete expression of surprise, +contracted from _grant me mercy_; and cites a passage in "Titus +Andronicus" to illustrate his sense of it; but, it is presumed, that +passage, when properly pointed, confirms the original acceptation-- + + CHIRON. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius, + He hath some message to deliver us. + + AARON. Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather. + + BOY. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, + I greet your honours from Andronicus-- + And pray the Roman gods confound you both. [_Aside_. + + DEMETRIUS. _Gramercy_, lovely Lucius; what's the news? + + BOY. That you are both decipher'd (that's the news) + For villains mark'd with rape. [_Aside_] May it please you, + My grandsire, well advis'd, hath sent by me + The goodliest weapon of his armoury, + To gratify your honourable youth, + The hope of Rome: for so he bid me say; + And so I do, and with his gifts present + Your lordships, that whenever you have need, + You may be armed and appointed well. + And so I leave you both--like bloody villains. [_Aside_. + +--Hanmer's 2d edit., act iv. sc. 2. [The text is the same in Dyce's 2d +edit., vi. 326-7.] + +[119] "Poetaster," act v. sc. 3. [Gifford's edit. ii. 524-5, and the +note.] + +[120] [So in the old copy Kemp is made, perhaps intentionally, to call +Studioso. See also _infrá_, p. 198.] + +[121] [See Kemp's "Nine Daies Wonder," edit. Dyce, ix.] + +[122] _Sellenger's round_, corrupted from St Leger, a favourite dance +with the common people. + +[123] Old copy reads-- + + "As you part in _kne_ + + KEMP. You are at Cambridge still with _sice kne_," &c. + +The genuine reading, it is presumed, is restored to the text-- + + "As your part in _cue_. + + KEMP. You are at Cambridge still with _size cue_," &c. + +A pun upon the word _cue_, which is a hint to the actor to proceed in +his part, and has the same sound with the letter _q_, the mark of a +farthing in college buttery-books. To _size_ means to _battle_, or to be +charged in the college accounts for provisions. [A _q_ is so called +because it is the initial letter of _quadrans_, the fourth part of a +penny.] + +[124] This seems to be quoted from the first imperfect edition of "The +Spanish Tragedy;" in the later (corrected) impression it runs thus-- + + "What outcries pluck me from my naked bed, + And chill," &c. + +--[v. 54.] + +[125] [Old copy points this sentence falsely, and repeats _thing_.] + +[126] Old copy, _woe_. + +[127] [Old copy, _birds_. Perhaps, however, the poet may have meant +_swans_.] + +[128] Old copy, _sooping_. + +[129] [I think this is much more likely to be an allusion to +Shakespeare, than the passage in the prologue to which Hawkins +refers.--_Ebsworth_.] + +[130] [Old copy, _some_.] + +[131] [There were several Greek _literati_ of this name. Amoretto's +page, personating his master, is so nicknamed by the other, who +personates Sir Raderic--unless the passage is corrupt.] + +[132] [Old copy, _Irenias_.] + +[133] [Old copy, _Nor_.] + +[134] [Old copy, _we have_.] + +[135] [Old copy, _run_. Mr Ebsworth's correction.] + +[136] Old copy, _cluttish_. + +[137] Old copy, _trus_. + +[138] One of the old copies reads _repay'st_. + +[139] Old copy, _seeling_. + +[140] This play is not divided into acts. + +[141] [Cadiz.] + +[142] [Shear-penny.] + +[143] [Extortion.] + +[144] [Old copies, _waves_.] + +[145] [Old copy, _fates to friend_.] + +[146] [Old copy, _springold_.] + +[147] [Old copy, as before, _springold_.] + +[148] [Old copy, _doff off_.] + +[149] [Old copy, _wat'ry_.] + +[150] [Resound.] + +[151] Edit. 1606 has: _Mi Fortunate, ter fortunate Venus_. The 4to of +1623 reads: _Mi Fortunatus, Fortunate Venter_. + +[152] [Intend.] + +[153] She means to say eloquence, and so it stands in the edition of +1623. + +[154] [Robin Goodfellow.] + +[155] [See p. 286.] + +[156] [This must allude to some real circumstance and person.] + +[157] [Attend.] + +[158] [Bergen-op-Zoom.] + +[159] [Old copy, _our_.] + +[160] [Lap, long. See Nares, edit. 1859, _v. Lave-eared_.] + +[161] [Old copy, _seas_.] + +[162] [Orcus.] + +[163] [Worried.] + +[164] [An answer to a summons or writ. Old copy, _retourner_.] + +[165] [This most rare edition was very kindly lent to me by the Rev. +J.W. Ebsworth, Moldash Vicarage, near Ashford.] + +[166] [Cromwell did not die till September 3, 1658, a sufficient reason +for the absence of the allusion which Reed thought singular.] + +[167] [i.e., The human body and mind. _Microcosmus_ had been used by +Davies of Hereford in the same sense in the title of a tract printed in +1603, as it was afterwards by Heylin in his "Microcosmus," 1621, and by +Earle in his "Microcosmography," 1628.] + +[168] _Skene_ or _skane: gladius, Ensis brevior.--Skinner_. Dekker's +"Belman's Night Walk," sig. F 2: "The bloody Tragedies of all these are +onely acted by the women, who, carrying long knives or _skeanes_ under +their mantles, doe thus play their parts." Again in Warner's "Albion's +England," 1602, p. 129-- + + "And Ganimaedes we are," quoth one, "and thou a prophet trew: + And hidden _skeines_ from underneath their forged garments drew, + Wherewith the tyrant and his bawds with safe escape they slew." + +--See the notes of Mr Steevens and Mr Nichols on "Romeo and Juliet," act +ii. sc. 4. + +[169] The edition of 1657 reads, _red buskins drawn with white ribband. +--Collier_. + +[170] Musical terms. See notes on "Midsummer's Night's Dream," vol. iii. +p. 63, and "King Richard III." vol. vii. p. 6, edit. 1778.--_Steevens_. + +[171] A metaphor drawn from music, more particularly that kind of +composition called a _Ground_, with its _Divisions_. Instead of +_relish_, I would propose to read _flourish_.--_S.P_. + +[172] Mr Steevens supposes this to be a musical term. See note on +"Richard II." act ii. sc. 1-- + + "The setting sun and music at the close." + +[173] Fr. for whistlings.--_Steevens_. + +[174] i.e., Petitionary.--_Steevens_. + +[175] [Altered by Mr Collier to _girls_; but _gulls_ is the reading of +1607.] + +[176] _Like an ordinary page, gloves, hamper_--so the first edition; but +as the two last words seem only the prompter's memoranda, they are +omitted. They are also found in the last edition.--_Collier_. + +[177] Ready. + +[178] Graceful. See Mr Malone's note on "Coriolanus," act ii. sc. 1. + +[179] [Edits., _blasting_.] I would propose to read the _blushing +childhood_, alluding to the ruddiness of Aurora, the _rosy morn_, as in +act iii. sc. 6-- + + "Light, the fair grandchild to the glorious sun, + Opening the casements of the _rosy morn_," &c. + +--_S. Pegge_. + +[180] So in "Hamlet," act i. sc. 1-- + + "But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, + _Walks_ o'er the dew of _yon high eastern hill_." + +[181] A _fool's bauble_, in its _literal_ meaning, is the carved +truncheon which the licensed fools or jesters anciently carried in their +hands. See notes on "All's Well that Ends Well," act iv. sc. 5. +--_Steevens_. + +[182] Winstanley has asserted that Oliver Cromwell performed the part of +Tactus at Cambridge: and some who have written the life of that great +man have fixed upon this speech as what first gave him ideas of +sovereignty. The notion is too vague to be depended upon, and too +ridiculous either to establish or refute. It may, however, not be +unnecessary to mention that Cromwell was born in 1599, and the first +edition of this play [was printed in 1607, and the play itself written +much earlier]. If, therefore, the Protector ever did represent this +character, it is more probable to have been at Huntingdon School. + +[183] [Old copies, _scarve_, and so the edit. of 1780. Mr Collier +substituted _change_ as the reading of the old copies, which it is not. +See Mr Brae's paper read before the Royal Society of Literature, Jan. +1871, 8vo edit. 1873, p. 23, et seq.] + +[184] Edits., _deeds_. Pegge thought that by _deeds_ was intended Tactus +himself; but it is hard to say how this could be made out, as Tactus +cannot be translated _deeds_, though Auditus might be rendered by +metonymy _ears_. + +[185] [Edit., _fear'd_.] + +[186] In Surphlet's "Discourses on the Diseases of Melancholy," 4to, +1599, p. 102, the case alluded to is set down: "There was also of late a +great lord, _which thought himselfe to be a glasse_, and had not his +imagination troubled, otherwise then in this onely thing, for he could +speake mervailouslie well of any other thing: he used commonly to sit, +and tooke great delight that his friends should come and see him, but so +as that he would desire them, that they would not come neere unto him." + +[187] Hitherto misprinted _conclaves_.--_Collier_. [First 4to, +correctly, _concaves_.] + +[188] See Surphlet, p. 102. + +[189] [An allusion to the myth of the werewolf.] + +[190] [This proverb is cited by Heywood. See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, +p. 392.] + +[191] [All the editions except 1657, _bidden_, and all have _arms_ for +_harms_.] + +[192] Presently, forthwith. + +[193] [Edits., _wax_.] + +[194] Some of the old copies [including that of 1607] read-- + + "Here lies the sense that _lying_ gull'd them all." + +--_Collier_. + +[195] Auditus is here called _Ears_, as Tactus is before called +_Deed_.--_Pegge_. [But see note at p. 349.] + +[196] Circles. So in Milton-- + + "Throws his steep flight in many an airy wheel." + +--_Steevens_. + +[197] [It is _Mendacio_ who speaks.] + +[198] Old copies, _Egyptian knights_. Dr Pegge's correction. + +[199] [Edits., _I_.] + +[200] [Edits., _safe_.] + +[201] A pun; for he means _Male aeger_.--_Pegge_. + +[202] The [first edit.] gives the passage thus: _brandish no swords but +sweards of bacon_, which is intended for a pun, and though bad enough, +need not be lost.--_Collier_. + +[203] _Glaves_ are swords, and sometimes partisans.--_Steevens_. + +[204] Lat. for phalanxes.--_Steevens_. + +[205] [Edits., _dept_.] + +[206] Mars. + +[207] See Note 2 to the "First Part of Jeronimo," [v. 349]. + +[208] [Edits., _kist_. The word _hist_ may be supposed to represent the +whistling sound produced by a sword passing rapidly through the air.] + +[209] i.e., Exceeds bounds or belief. See a note on "The Merry Wives +of Windsor," act iv. sc. 2.--_Steevens_. + +[210] "_Graecia mendax_ + Audet in historia."--_Steevens_. + +[211] [His "History," which is divided into nine books, under the names +of the nine Muses.] + +[212] i.e., Whispered him. See note to "The Spanish Tragedy," [vi. 10.] + +[213] [Peter Martyr's "Decades."] + +[214] A luncheon before dinner. The farmers in Essex still use the +word.--_Steevens_. + +So in the "Woman-hater," by Beaumont and Fletcher, act i. sc. 3, Count +Valore, describing Lazarillo, says-- + + "He is none of these + Same Ordinary Eaters, that'll devour + Three breakfasts, as many dinners, and without any + Prejudice to their _Beavers_, drinkings, suppers; + But he hath a more courtly kind of hunger. + And doth hunt more after novelty than plenty." + +Baret, in his "Alvearic," 1580, explains _a boever_, a drinking betweene +dinner and supper; and _a boïer_, meate eaten after noone, a collation, +a noone meale. + +[215] See Note 19 to "The Ordinary." + +[216] [In 1576 Ulpian Fulwell published "The First Part of the Eighth +Liberal Science, Entituled Ars Adulandi."] + +[217] This word, which occurs in Ben Jonson and some other writers, +seems to have the same meaning as our _numps_. I am ignorant of its +etymology.--_Steevens_. [Compare Nares, 1859, in _v_.] + +[218] i.e., Other requisites towards the fitting out of a character. +See a note on "Love's Labour Lost," vol. ii. p. 385, edit. 1778. +--_Steevens_. + +[219] A busk-point was, I believe, the lace of a lady's stays. Minsheu +explains a _buske_ to be a part of dress "made of wood or whalebone, a +plated or quilted thing to keepe the body straight." The word, I am +informed, is still in common use, particularly in the country among the +farmers' daughters and servants, for a piece of wood to preserve the +stays from being bent. _Points_ or laces were worn by both sexes, and +are frequently mentioned in our ancient dramatic writers. + +[220] [Edits., _hu, hu_.] + +[221] [i.e., Our modern _pet_, darling, a term of endearment.] Dr +Johnson says that it is a word of endearment from _petit_, little. See +notes on "The Taming of the Shrew," act i. sc. 1. + +Again, in "The City Madam," by Massinger, act ii. sc. 2-- + + "You are _pretty peats_, and your great portions + Add much unto your handsomeness." + +[222] Shirley, in his "Sisters," ridicules these hyperbolical +compliments in a similar but a better strain-- + + "Were it not fine + If you should see your mistress without hair, + Drest only with those glittering beams you talk of? + Two suns instead of eyes, and they not melt + The forehead made of snow! No cheeks, but two + Roses inoculated on a lily, + Between a pendant alabaster nose: + Her lips cut out of coral, and no teeth + But strings of pearl: her tongue a nightingale's! + Would not this strange chimera fright yourself?" + +--_Collier_. + +[223] [i.e., Doff it in salutation.] + +[224] Alluding to the office of sheriff. + +[225] "_Cassock_," says Mr Steevens, "signifies a horseman's loose coat, +and is used in that sense by the writers of the age of Shakespeare. It +likewise appears to have been part of the dress of rusticks." See note +to "All's Well that Ends Well," act iv. sc. 3. + +[226] "A _gimmal_ or _gimbal ring_, Fr. _gemeau_, utr. a Lat. Gemellus, +q.d. Annulus Gemellus, quoniam, sc. duobus aut pluribus orbibus +constat."--_Skinner_. + +_Gimmal rings_ are often mentioned in ancient writers. + +[227] "Quis nescit primam esse Historiae legem, ne quid falsi dicere +audeat; deinde, ne quid veri non audeat."--Cicero "De Orat." lib. ii. 15. + +[228] This was called "The Clouds," in which piece Socrates was +represented hanging up in a basket in the air, uttering numberless +chimerical absurdities, and blaspheming, as it was then reputed, the +gods of his country. At the performance of this piece Socrates was +present himself; and "notwithstanding," says his biographer, "the gross +abuse that was offered to his character, he did not show the least signs +of resentment or anger; nay, such was the unparalleled good nature of +this godlike man, that some strangers there, being desirous to see the +original of this scenic picture, he rose up in the middle of the +performance, stood all the rest of the time, and showed himself to the +people; by which well-placed confidence in his own merit and innocence, +reminding them of those virtues and wisdom so opposite to the sophist in +the play, his pretended likeness, he detected the false circumstances, +which were obtruded into his character, and obviated the malicious +designs of the poet who, having brought his play a second time upon the +stage, met with the contempt he justly merited for such a composition." +--Cooper's "Life of Socrates," p. 55. + +[229] [Old copies, _page's tongue_; but Mendacio, Lingua's page, is +intended. Perhaps we should read _Tongueship's page_.] + +[230] [This is marked in the editions as the opening of a new scene, but +wrongly, as it should seem, as the same persons remain on the stage, and +the conversation is a sequel to what has gone before.] + +[231] These were the names of several species of hawks. See an account +of them in the "Treatises on Falconry," particularly those of Turbervile +and Latham. + +[232] i.e., Hedgehogs. See a note on Shakespeare's "Tempest," i. 28, +edit. 1778.--_Steevens_. + +Again, in Erasmus's "Praise of Folie," 1549, sig. Q 2: "That the soule +of Duns woulde a litle leve Sorbone College, and enter into my breast, +be he never so thornie, and fuller of pricles than is any _urcheon_." + +[233] Perhaps, instead of _the masks are made so strong_, we ought to +read, _the mesh is made so strong_. It clearly means the _mesh of the +net_, from what is said afterwards.--_Collier_. [But _mask_, in +Halliwell's "Dictionary," is said to be used for _mesh_. What is +intended above is not a _net_, but a network ladder.] + +[234] [_Hazard_, the plot of a tennis-court.--Halliwell's "Dictionary."] + +[235] This is one of the many phrases in these volumes which, being not +understood, was altered without any authority from the ancient copies. +The former editions read _odd mouthing_; the text, however, is right; +for old, as Mr Steevens observes, was formerly a common augmentative in +colloquial language, and as such is often used by Shakespeare and +others. See notes on the "Second Part of Henry IV." act ii. sc. 4, and +"The Taming of the Shrew," act iii. sc. 2. + +Again, in Tarlton's "Newes out of Purgatory," 1630, p. 34: "On Sunday at +Masse there was _old ringing of bells_, and old and yong came to church +to see the new roode." + +[236] A sneer at the Utopian Treatises on Government.--_Steevens_. + +[237] The latest of the old copies, [and the first edition, have] _wine_ +instead of _swine_, which is clearly a misprint, as the _hogs_ of +Olfactus are subsequently again mentioned.--_Collier_. + +[238] [Old copies, _he_.] + +[239] [A flogging.] + +[240] [i.e., A blockhead, a fool.--_Steevens_.] + +[241] _Nor I out of Memory's mouth_ is the correct reading, although the +pronoun has been always omitted. Anamnestes is comparing his situation +with that of Mendacio.--_Collier_. + +[242] [See "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," ii. 296.] + +[243] [Another name of Jupiter.] + +[244] [Edits., _belly_.] + +[245] Chess. + +[246] A favourite game formerly, and apparently one of the oldest in +use. The manner in which it was played will appear from the following +epigram of Sir John Harington, the translator of Ariosto-- + + _The Story of Marcus's Life at Primero_. + + "Fond Marcus ever at _Primero_ playes, + Long winter nights, and as long summer dayes: + And I heard once to idle talke attending + The story of his times and coins mis-spending + At first, he thought himselfe halfe way to heaven, + If in his hand he had but got a sev'n. + His father's death set him so high on flote, + All rests went up upon a sev'n and coate. + But while he drawes from these grey coats and gownes, + The gamesters from his purse drew all his crownes. + And he ne'er ceast to venter all in prime, + Till of his age, quite was consum'd the prime. + Then he more warily his rest regards, + And sets with certainties upon the cards, + On sixe and thirtie, or on sev'n and nine, + If any set his rest, and saith, and mine: + But seed with this, he either gaines or saves, + For either Faustus prime is with three knaves, + Or Marcus never can encounter right, + Yet drew two Ases, and for further spight + Had colour for it with a hopeful draught + But not encountred, it avail'd him naught. + Well, sith encountring, he so faire doth misse, + He sets not, till he nine and fortie is. + And thinking now his rest would sure be doubled, + He lost it by the hand, with which sore troubled, + He joynes now all his stocke unto his stake, + That of his fortune he full proofe may make. + At last both eldest hand and five and fifty, + He thinketh now or never (thrive unthrifty.) + Now for the greatest rest he hath the push: + But Crassus stopt a club, and so was flush: + And thus what with the stop, and with the packe, + Poore Marcus and his rest goes still to wracke. + Now must he seek new spoile to rest his rest, + For here his seeds turne weeds, his rest, unrest. + His land, his plate he pawnes, he sels his leases, + To patch, to borrow, and shift he never ceases. + Till at the last two catch-poles him encounter, + And by arrest, they beare him to the Counter. + Now Marcus may set up all rests securely: + For now he's sure to be encountred surely." + +Minsheu thus explains _Primero_:--"_Primero and Primavista_, two games +at cards. Primum et primum visum, that is, first and first seene, +because he that can show such an order of cards first, winnes the game." +[See Dyce's "Shakespeare Glossary," in _v_.] + +[247] See Note 30 to "The Dumb Knight." + +[248] [See "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," ii. 318-19.] So in +Dekker's "Belman's Nights-walke," it is alluded to:--"The set at _Maw_ +being plaid out." + +Henslowe in his Diary mentions a play under the title of "The Maw," +which probably had reference to the game at cards so called. It was +acted on the 14th December 1594. He also names a play entitled "The +Macke," under date of Feb. 21, 1594-5; but it is doubtful if they were +not the same.--_Collier_. + +[249] In the old editions this is given as a part of what is said by +Anamnestes.--_Collier_. + +[250] [See Dyce's "Middleton," iii. 106. _There's no ho_, there are no +bounds or restraints with them.--_Reed_. They are not to be restrained +by a call or ho. The expression is common.--_Dyce_.] + +[251] Rather Ptolemy.--_Pegge_. + +[252] _Latten_, as explained by Dr Johnson, is "Brass; a mixture of +Copper and Caliminaris stone." Mr Theobald, from Monsieur Dacier, says, +"C'est une espece de cuivre de montagne, comme son nom mesme le +temoigne; c'est ce que nous appellons au jourd'huy du _leton_. It is a +sort of mountain copper, as its very name imports, and which we at this +time of day call _latten_." See Mr Theobald's note on "The Merry Wives +of Windsor," act i. sc. 1. + +Among the Harleian MSS. is a tract, No. 6395, entitled "Merry Passages +and Jeasts," written in the seventeenth century, [printed by Thoms in +"Anecdotes and Traditions," 1839,] in which is the following story of +Shakespeare, which seems entitled to as much credit as any of the +anecdotes which now pass current about him: "Shake-speare was god-father +to one of Ben Jonson's children, and after the christning, being in a +deepe study, Jonson came to cheere him up, and ask't him why he was so +melancholy? No, faith, Ben (sayes he) not I, but I have been considering +a great while, what should be the fittest gift for me to bestow upon my +god-child, and I have resolv'd at last; I pr'y thee what, says he? I +faith, Ben, Ile e'en give him a douzen good _Lattin_ spoones, and thou +shall translate them." + +[253] _Deft_ is handy, dexterous. So in "Macbeth," act iv. sc. 1-- + + "Thyself and office _deftly_ show." + +See note on "Macbeth," edit. 1778.--_Steevens_. + +[254] [Concert.] + +[255] [Summoners, officers of the old ecclesiastical court.] + +[256] [Ignorant of arts.] + +[257] A _jangler_, says Baret, is "a jangling fellowe, a babbling +attornie. _Rabula, ae_, mas. gen. [Greek: Dikologos]_ Vn pledoieur +criard, une plaidereau_." + +[258] This speech is in six-line stanzas, and _beforn_ should rhyme to +_morn_, as it does in the old copies, which were here abandoned. +--_Collier_. + +[259] i.e., "Going. _Gate_, in the Northern Dialect, signifies a way; +so that _agate_ is at or upon the way."--Hay's "Collection of Local +Words," p. 13, edit. 1740. + +[260] Here again, as in the passage at p. 354, we have _arms_ for +_harms_. In the old copies this speech of the Herald is printed as +prose.--_Collier_. + +[261] A monster feigned to have the head of a lion, the belly of a goat, +and the tail of a dragon. + +[262] "If at any time in Rolls and Alphabets of Arms you meet with this +term, you must not apprehend it to be that fowl which in barbarous +Latine they call _Bernicla_, and more properly (from the Greek) +_Chenalopex_--a creature well known in Scotland, yet rarely used in +arms; but an instrument used by farriers to curb and command an unruly +horse, and termed Pastomides."--Gibbons's "Introductio ad Latinam +Blasoniam," 1682, p. 1. + +[The allusion here is to the barnacle of popular folk-lore and +superstition, which, from a shell-fish, was transformed into a +goose.--See "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," iii. 309.] + +[263] [A reference to the belief in prodigies reported from Africa. +"Africa semper aliquid oportet novi."--S. Gosson's "School of Abuse," +1579. See also Rich's "My Ladies Looking-glass," 1616, sig. B 3.] + +[264] [Edits. give this speech to the Herald.] + +[265] [The head.] + +[266] A celebrated puppet-show often mentioned by writers of the times +by the name of the Motion of Nineveh. See Ben Jonson's "Bartholomew +Fair," act v. sc. 1; "Wit at Several Weapons," act i.; "Every Woman in +her Humour," 1609, sig. H, and "The Cutter of Coleman Street," act v. +sc. 9. + +[267] So in "Twelfth Night," act i. sc. 1. + + "That strain again; it had a dying _fall_."--_Steevens_. + +[268] [Edits., _bitter_.] + +[269] [See Dyce's "Beaumont and Fletcher," ii. 225, note.] Theobald +observes in his edition of "Beaumont and Fletcher," that this ballad is +mentioned again in "The Knight of the Burning Pestle," and likewise in a +comedy by John Tatham, 1660, called "The Rump, or Mirrour of the Times," +wherein a Frenchman is introduced at the bonfires made for the burning +of the Rump, and catching hold of Priscilla, will oblige her to dance, +and orders the music to play _Fortune my foe_. Again, in "Tom Essence," +1677, p. 37. + +[270] A dance. Sir John Davies, in his poem called "Orchestra," 1596, +stanza 70, thus describes it-- + + "Yet is there one, the most delightfull kind, + A loftie jumping, or a leaping round, + Where arme and arme two dauncers are entwind, + And whirle themselues with strict embracements bound, + And still their feet an _anapest_ do sound: + An _anapest_ is all their musicks song, + Whose first two feet are short, and third is long." + + 71. + + "As the victorious twinnes of Laeda and Ioue, + That taught the Spartans dauncing on the sands, + Of swift Eurotas, daunce in heauen aboue, + Knit and vnited with eternall hands, + Among the starres their double image stands, + Where both are carried with an equall pace, + Together iumping in their turning race." + +[271] "Or, as it is oftener called, _passa mezzo_, from _passer_ to walk, +and _mezzo_ the middle or half; a slow dance, little differing from the +action of walking. As a Galliard consists of five paces or bars in the +first strain, and is therefore called a Cinque pace; the _passa mezzo_, +which is a diminutive of the Galliard, is just half that number, and +from that peculiarity takes its name."--Sir John Hawkins's "History of +Music," iv. 386. [Compare Dyce's second edition of Shakespeare, iii. +412.] + +[272] i.e., St Leger's round. "Sellinger's round was an old country +dance, and was not quite out of knowledge in the last century. Morley +mentions it in his Introduction, p. 118, and Taylor the Water Poet, in +his tract, entitled, 'The World runs on Wheels;' and it is printed in a +'Collection of Country Dances,' published by John Playford in +1679."--Sir John Hawkins's "History of Music," iii. 288, where the notes +are engraved. + +[273] See Plinii "Nat. Hist.," lib. v. c. 9. + +[274] The author certainly in writing this beautiful passage had Spenser +("Faerie Queene," b. ii. c. 12) in his mind. + + "The joyous birds shrouded in cheerful shade," &c. + +--_Collier_. + +[275] Alluding to the fish called the _Sole_, and the musical note +_Sol_.--_Pegge_. + +[276] See note [235]. + +[277] Mixed metal, from the French word _mesler_, to mingle, mix. + +[278] [Lightning-bolt.] + +[279] [Camphored.] + +[280] Plin. "Nat. Hist." lib. xxxvi. c. 16. "Sideritin ob hoc alio +nomine appellant quidam Heracleon: Magnes appellatus est ab inventore +(ut auctor est Nicander) in Ida repertus."--_Pegge_. + +[281] So in "The Merchant of Venice," act i. sc. 1-- + + "With mirth and _laughter_ let old _wrinkles_ come." + +See also the notes of Bishop Warburton and Dr Farmer on "Love's Labour's +Lost," act v. sc. 4.--_Steevens_. + +[282] This quotation from Plautus, and that which follows from Terence, +were assigned by Mr Reed to Communis Sensus, when, in fact, they belong +to Comedus. The initials _Com_. in the old copies led to the +error.--_Collier_. + +[283] The first lines of the prologue to Plautus's "Menechmi." + +[284] See Terence's "Eunuch," act i. sc. 1. + +[285] At the universities, where degrees are conferred. + +[286] i.e., A porch which has as many spiral windings in it as the +shell of the _periwinkle_, or sea-snail.--_Steevens_. + +[287] i.e., Bottles to cast or scatter liquid odours.--_Steevens_. + +[288] The custom of censing or dispersing fragrant scents seems formerly +to have been not uncommon. See Ben Jonson's "Every Man out of his +Humour," act ii. sc. 4. + +[289] _Pomanders_ were balls of perfume formerly worn by the higher +ranks of people. Dr Gray, in his "Notes on Shakespeare," vol. i. p. 269, +says "that a _pomander_ was a little ball made of perfumes, and worn in +the pocket, or about the neck, to prevent infection in times of plague." +From the above receipt, it appears they were moulded in different +shapes, and not wholly confined to that of balls; and the like direction +is given in another receipt for making _pomanders_ printed in Markham's +"English Housewife," p. 151, edit. 1631. + +[290] _Non bene olet, qui semper bene olet_. + +[291] Probably some character notorious in the University of Cambridge +at the time when this play was written or represented.--_Steevens_. + +[292] Turquois. + +[293] [Sharpen.] + +[294] [Edits., _musing_.] + +[295] [Primary.] + +[296] [The wine so called.] + +[297] Finer, more gaudily dressed. So in "Wily Beguiled"-- + + "Come, nurse, gather: + A crown of roses shall adorn my head, + I'll _prank_ myself with flowers of the prime; + And thus I'll spend away my primrose time." + +And in Middleton's "Chast Mayd in Cheapside," 1630 [Dyces "Middleton," +iv. 59]-- + + "I hope to see thee, wench, within these few yeeres + Circled with children, _pranking_ up a girl, + And putting jewels in their little eares, + Fine sport, i'faith." + +[298] i.e., Whisper, or become silent. As in Nash's "Pierce Penilesse, +his Supplication to the Divell," 1592, p. 15: "But _whist_, these are +the workes of darknesse, and may not be talkt of in the daytime." [The +word is perfectly common.] + +[299] While he is speaking, Crapula, from the effects of over-eating, +is continually coughing, which is expressed in the old copies by the +words _tiff toff, tiff toff_, within brackets. Though it might not +be necessary to insert them, their omission ought to be mentioned. +--_Collier_. + +[300] i.e., Glutton; one whose paunch is distended by food. See a note +on "King Henry IV., Part I," v. 304, edit. 1778.--_Steevens_. + +[301] i.e., Whisper. + +[302] [Visus fancies himself Polyphemus searching for Outis--i.e., +Ulysses, who had blinded him.] + +[303] [Edits., _Both_.] + +[304] [Row.] + +[305] [Nearest.] + +[306] [Edits., _ambrosian_.] + +[307 [Fiddle.] + +[308] A voiding knife was a long one used by our indelicate ancestors to +sweep bones, &c., from the table into the _voider_ or basket, in which +broken meat was carried from the table.--_Steevens_. + +[309] Reward. + +[310] [Edits., _him_.] + +[311] [Edits., _sprites_.] + +[312] The edition of 1657 reads-- + + "A greater soldier than the god of _Mars_." + +--_Collier_. [The edition of 1607 also has _Mars_.] + +[313] i.e., Hamstring him.--_Steevens_. + +[314] "_Gulchin, q.d_. a _Gulckin_, i.e., parvus Gulo; _kin_ enim +minuit. Alludit It. _Guccio_, Stultus, hoc autem procul dubio a Teut. +_Geck_, Stultus, ortum ducit."--_Skinner_. Florio explains _Guccio_, a +gull, a sot, a ninnie, a meacock. Ben Jonson uses the word in "The +Poetaster," act iii. sc. 4: "Come, we must have you turn fiddler again, +slave; get a base violin at your back, and march in a tawny coat, with +one sleeve, to Goose-fair; then you'll know us, you'll see us then, you +will _gulch_, you will." + +[315] _Bawsin_, in some counties, signifies a _badger_. I think I have +heard the vulgar Irish use it to express bulkiness. Mr Chatterton, in +the "Poems of the Pseudo-Rowley," has it more than once in this sense. +As, _bawsyn olyphantes_, i.e., bulky elephants.--_Steevens_. + +[316] [Edits., _weary_. I wish that I could be more confident that +_weird_ is the true word. _Weary_ appears to be wrong, at any rate.] + +[317] [Edits., _bedewy_.] + +[318] [This and Chanter are the names of dogs. Auditus fancies himself +a huntsman.] + +[319] _Counter_ is a term belonging to the chase. [Gascoigne,] in his +"Book of Hunting," 1575, p. 243, says, "When a hounde hunteth backwardes +the same way that the chase is come, then we say he hunteth _counter_. +And if he hunt any other chase than that which he first undertooke, we +say he hunteth _change_." So in "Hamlet," act iv. sc. 5-- + + "How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! + O, this is _counter_, you false Danish dogs." + +See Dr Johnson's note on this passage. + +[320] [The author may have had in his mind an anecdote related of Queen +Elizabeth and Sir Edward Dyer. See the "New London Jest Book," p. 346.] + +[321] [Flatulent.] + +[322] [_Rett_ and _Cater_ appear to be the names of dogs. Edits. print +_ware wing cater_.] + +[323] [See note at p. 367.] + +[324] Idle, lazy, slothful. Minsheu derives it from the French _lasche_, +desidiosus. + +[325] [See a review of, and extracts from, this very curious play in +Fry's "Bibliographical Memoranda," 1816, pp. 345-50.] + +[326] Catalogue of the library of John Hutton. Sold at Essex House, +1764, p. 121. The whole title of the tract, which Mr Reed does not +appear to have seen, as he quotes it only from a sale catalogue, is as +follows:--"Three Miseries of Barbary: Plague, Famine, Ciuill warre. With +a relation of the death of Mahamet the late Emperour: and a briefe +report of the now present Wars betweene the three Brothers. Printed by +W.I. for Henry Gosson, and are to be sold in Pater noster rowe, at the +signe of the Sunne." It is without date, and the name of the author, +George Wilkins, is subscribed to a dedication, "To the right worshipfull +the whole Company of Barbary Merchants." The tract is written in an +ambitious style, and the descriptions are often striking; but there is +nothing but the similarity of name to connect it with "The Miseries of +Enforced Marriage."--_Collier_. + +[327] [Hazlitt's "Handbook," 1867, p. 656.] + +[328] [Not in the old copies.] + +[329] "This comedy (as Langbaine improperly calls it) has been a great +part of it revived by Mrs Behn, under the title of 'The Town Fop, or Sir +Timothy Tawdry.'" + +[330] These were among the articles of extravagance in which the youth +of the times used to indulge themselves. They are mentioned by Fennor, +in "The Compters Commonwealth," 1617, p. 32: "Thinkes himselfe much +graced (as to be much beholding to them) as to be entertained among +gallants, that were wrapt up in sattin suites, cloakes lined with +velvet, that scorned to weare any other then beaver hats and gold bands, +rich swords and scarfes, silke stockings and gold fringed garters, or +russett bootes and _gilt spurres_; and so compleate cape ape, that he +almost dares take his corporal oath the worst of them is worth (at +least) a thousand a yeare, when heaven knows the best of them all for a +month, nay, sometimes a yeare together, have their pockets worse +furnished then Chandelors boxes, that have nothing but twopences, pence, +halfe pence, and leaden tokens in them." + +[331] The following quotation from the "Perfuming of Tobacco, and the +great abuse committed in it," 1611, shows, in opposition to Mr +Gilchrist's conjecture, that _drinking_ tobacco did not mean extracting +the juice by chewing it, but refers to drawing and drinking the smoke of +it. "The smoke of tobacco (the which Dodoneus called rightly Henbane of +Peru) _drunke_ and _drawen_, by a pipe, filleth the membranes +(_meninges_) of the braine, and astonisheth and filleth many persons +with such joy and pleasure, and sweet losse of senses, that they can by +no means be without it." In fact, to _drink_ tobacco was only another +term for smoking it.--_Collier_. + +[332] Alluding to the colour of the habits of servants. + +[333] i.e., Owns. See note to "Cornelia" [v. 232]. + +[334] The omission of this stage direction, which is found in the old +copies, rendered what follows it unintelligible. Perhaps _Who list to +have a lubberly load_ is a line in some old ballad.--_Collier_. + +[335] [Anthony Munday.] + +[336] A custom still observed at weddings. + +[337] _Himself_, omitted by Mr Reed, and restored now from the old copy +of 1611.--_Collier_. + +[338] [Edits., _pugges_.] + +[339] [Edits, read-- + + "They are _sovereigns_, cordials that preserve our lives." + +[340] See Mr Steevens's note on "Othello," act ii. sc. 1. [But compare +Middleton's "Blurt, Master Constable," 1602 ("Works," by Dyce, i. 280).] + +[341] [Edits., _his_. Even the passage is now obscure and +unsatisfactory.] + +[342] [Separate.] This is obviously quoted from the marriage ceremony: +as Mr Todd has shown, the Dissenters in 1661 did not understand _depart_ +in the sense of _separate_, which led to the alteration of the Liturgy, +"till death us _do part_." In the "Salisbury Manual" of 1555 it stands +thus: "I, N, take thee, M, to my wedded wyf, to have and to holde fro +this day forwarde, for better for wors, for richer for poorer, in +sicknesse and in hele, tyl deth us _departe_."--_Collier_. + +So in "Every Woman in her Humour," 1609: "And the little God of love, he +shall be her captain: sheele sewe under him _'till death us depart_, and +thereto I plight thee my troth." And Heywood, in his "Wise Woman of +Hogsdon," iii., makes Chastley also quote from the marriage ceremony: +"If every new moone a man might have a new wife, that's every year a +dozen; but this _'till death us depart_ is tedious." + +[343] [Edits., _two sentinels_.] + +[344] Edits., _them one_. + +[345] [Edits., _lives_.] + +[346] [Remind.] + +[347] [Edits., _know him great_, which could only be made sense by +supposing it to mean, _knowing him rich_, and not a person to be +offended. Scarborow afterwards repudiates the idea of being +_ungrateful_.] + +[348] By a misprint the three following lines have been till now given +to Harcop.--_Collier_. + +[349] [Edits., _your presence_.] + +[350] First edit., _even_. + +[351] [Edits., _is_.] + +[352] [Edits., _what_.] + +[353] That is, acquainted, or informed him. So in "Every Man in his +Humour," act i. sc. 5, Bobadil says, "_Possess_ no gentleman of our +acquaintance with notice of my lodging." And again, in Beaumont and +Fletcher's "Honest Man's Fortune," act ii. sc. 1-- + + "Sir, I am very well _possess'd_ of it." + +[354] Edits. 1629 [and 1637], _honoured_. + +[355] First edit., _how_. + +[356] [Edits., _they_.] + +[357] The word _sir_ was inserted here as if only to spoil the measure. +--_Collier_. + +[358] i.e., Amerce.--_Steevens_. + +[359] [i.e., the bond.] + +[360] [Edits., _pergest_, which Steevens in a note explained _goeth on_, +from Lat. _pergo_; and Nares cites the present passage for the word. I +do not believe that it was ever employed in English, though Shakespeare +uses the original Latin once. _Purgest_ is surely preferable, since +Ilford has been just giving a list of those he has undone.] + +[361] [Apparently a play on the double meaning of _talent_ is intended.] + +[362] [Bonds.] + +[363] In a similar vein of humour, but much more exquisite, Addison, +speaking of Sir Roger de Coverley, says, "He told me some time since +that, upon his courting the perverse widow, he had disposed of an +hundred acres in a diamond ring, which he would have presented her with, +had she thought fit to accept it; and that upon her wedding-day she +should have carried on her head fifty of the tallest oaks upon his +estate. He further informed me that he would have given her a coalpit to +keep her in clean linen; that he would have allowed her the profits of a +windmill for her fans, and have presented her once in three years with +the shearing of his sheep for her under-petticoats."--_Spectator_, No. +295. + +In Wilson's "Discourse uppon Usurye," 1572, the subsequent passage +occurs:--"Thus master merchant, when he hath robbed the poore gentleman +and furnisht him in this manner to get a little apparel upon his back, +girdeth him with this pompe in the tail: Lo, sayethe hee, yonder goeth a +very strong stowt gentleman, for _he cariethe upon his backe a faire +manour, land and all_, and may therefore well be standard-bearer to any +prince Christian or heathen." + +[364] [Chicken.] + +[365] The place most commonly used for exposing the heads of traitors. + +[366] [Edits.-- + + "O! but what shall I write? + Mine own excuse." + +[367] [Edits., _large, full_.] + +[368] [Edits., _appearance, and so as they are, I hope we shall be, more +indeer'd, intirely, better, and more feelingly acquainted_.] + +[369] [Either whets their appetite, or prostrates them. The speaker +alludes probably to the early forenoon meal then in vogue.] + +[370] The line was formerly mispointed, and misprinted thus-- + + "Then live a strumpet. Better be unborn." + +Clare means, that it were better never to have been born than to live a +strumpet.--_Collier_. + +[371] Edit. 1611, _would_; and in the next line, _did_. + +[372] [Edits., _That_.] + +[373] [Edits., _writes_.] + +[374] Pitiless, without pity. + +[375] [Edits., _her_.] + +[376] [This line is assuredly corrupt, but the true reading is a matter +of question.] + +[377] [Edits., _and_.] + +[378] Their exit is not marked, but as their re-entrance is noticed +afterwards, it is to be presumed that they followed, the old man out. + +[379] Perhaps misprinted for _haven_.--_Collier_. + +[380] _Example by, &c_.--second and third edits. + +[381] [Edits.], _stare_-wearer, which means no doubt _stair_-wearer, or +wearer of the stairs by going up and down them so frequently at call. +--_Collier_. + +[382] [Edit. 1607, _ha't for you_.] + +[383] "_Red lattice_ at the doors and windows were formerly the external +denotements of an alehouse; hence the present _chequers_." Mr Steevens +observes (note to "Merry Wives of Windsor," act ii. sc. 2) that "perhaps +the reader will express some surprise when he is told that shops with +the sign of the _chequers_, were common among the Romans. See a view of +the left-hand street of Pompeii (No. 9) presented by Sir William +Hamilton (together with several others equally curious) to the Antiquary +Society." [Compare "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," ii. 277-8.] +Marston, in the "First Part of Antonio and Mellida," act v., makes +Balurdo say: "No, I am not Sir Jeffrey Balurdo: I am not as well known +by my wit as an _alehouse_ by a _red lattice_." + +[384] i.e., Defiles. See note on "Macbeth," edit. 1778, iv. 524. +--_Steevens_. + +[385] [See note at p. 470.] + +[386] The first edit, reads, _and any man else and he_. + +[387] Three different departments of a prison, in which debtors were +confined according to their ability or incapacity to pay for their +accommodations: all three are pretty accurately described by Fennor in +"The Compter's Commonwealth," 1617. + +[388] [Edits., _importance_.] + +[389] _Sack_ with _sugar_ was formerly a favourite liquor. Although it +is mentioned very often in contemporary writers, it is difficult to +collect from any circumstances what the kind of wine then called _sack_ +was understood to be. In the Second Part of "Henry IV.," act iv. sc. 3, +Falstaff speaks of _sherris sack_; and Dr Johnson supposes the fat +knight's admired potation was what we now call _sherry_, which he says +is drunk with sugar. This last assertion is contradicted by Mr Steevens, +who with more truth asserts that _sherry_ is at this time never drunk +with _sugar_, whereas _Rhenish_ frequently is. Dr Warburton seems to be +of opinion that the sweet wine still denominated _sack_ was that so +often mentioned by Falstaff, and the great fondness of the English +nation for _sugar_ rather countenances that idea. Hentzner, p. 88, edit. +1757, speaking of the manners of the English, says, _In potu copiosae +immittunt saccarum_--they put a great deal of sugar in their drink; and +Moryson, in his "Itinerary," 1617, p. 155, mentioning the Scots, +observes, "They drinke pure wines, not with _sugar, as the English_;" +again, p. 152, "But gentlemen garrawse onely in wine, with which many +mixe _sugar_, which I never observed in any other place or kingdome to +be used for that purpose: and because the taste of the English is thus +delighted with sweetnesse, the wines in tavernes (for I speak not of +merchants or gentlemen's cellars) are commonly mixed at the filling +thereof, to make them pleasant." _Sack and sugar_ are mentioned in "Jack +Drum's Entertainment," sig. G 3; "The Shoemaker's Holiday," sig. E; +"Everie Woman in Her Humour," sig. D 4; and "The Wonderful Yeare," 1603. +It appears, however, from the following passage in "The English +Housewife," by Gervase Markham, 1631, p. 162, that there were various +species of _sack_: "Your best _sacke_ are of Seres in Spaine, your +smaller of Galicia and Portugall: your strong _sackes_ are of the +islands of the Canaries and of Malligo, and your Muscadine and Malmseys +are of many parts of Italy, Greece, and some speciall islands." [But see +an elaborate note on sack (vin sec) in Dyce's "Shakespeare Glossary," +in _v_.] + +[390] [Edit., _courses_.] + +[391] [A room in the inn so called.] + +[392] The second edition has it, _my master hopes to ride a cockhorse by +him before he leaves him_.--_Collier_. + +[393] _Such is Master Scarborow; such are his company_--edit. 1611. +--_Collier_. + +[394] [A room so called.] + +[395] [Old copies, _time_.] + +[396] See note to "The City Nightcap," act iii. + +[397] Move, or stir. _Bouger_, Fr. + +[398] I believe an _Epythite_ signifies a beggar--[Greek: epithetaes].-- +_Steevens_. + +[399] [Alluding to a tapestry representing the story of Susanna.] + +[400] [Edits., _father's old man_.] + +[401] [Edits., _to_.] + +[402] [Booty, earnings.] + +[403] This is a corruption of the Italian _corragio_! courage! a +hortatory exclamation. So, in the Epilogue to "Albumazer," 1615-- + + Two hundred crowns? and twenty pound a year + For three good lives? _cargo_! hai, Trincalo!" + +--_Steevens_. + +[404] A Fr. G. _Cigue_, utr. a Lat. Cucuta.--_Skinner_. + +_Cigue_ f. Hemlocke, Homlocke, hearbe Bennet, Kex.--_Cotgrave_. + +[405] _Dry-meat_ is inserted from the copy of 1611.--_Collier_. + +[406] _Heir_ and _heiress_ were formerly confounded in the same way as +_prince_ was applied to both male and female. So in Cyril Tourneur's +"Atheist's Tragedy," 1612, we have-- + + This Castabella is a wealthy _heire_." + +--_Collier_. + +[407] We must here suppose that butler whispers to Ilford the place +where the lady _lies_ or _lodges_.--_Collier_. + +[408] The following extracts from Stubbes's "Anatomie of Abuses," 4to, +1595, p. 57, will show the manners of the English in some particulars +which are alluded to in the course of these volumes: "Other some +(i.e., of the women of England) spend the greatest part of the day _in +sitting at the dore_, to show their braveries, and to make knowne their +beauties, to beholde the passengers by, to view the coast, to see +fashions, and to acquaint themselves with the bravest fellows; for if +not for these causes, I see no other causes why they _should sit at +their dores_, from morning till noon (as many do), from noon to night, +thus vainly spending their golden dayes in filthy idleness and sin. +Againe, other some being weary of that exercise, take occasion (about +urgent affaires you must suppose) to walke into the towne, and least +anything might be gathered, but that they goe about serious matters +indeed, they take their baskets in their hands, or under their arms, +under which pretence pretie conceits are practized, and yet may no man +say black is their eye. + +"In the field's and suburbes of the cities they have gardens either +paled or walled round about very high, with their harbers and bowers fit +for the purpose. And least they might be espied in these open places, +they have their banquetting-houses with galleries, turrets, and what +not, therein sumptuously erected: wherein they may (and doubtless do) +many of them play the filthy persons. And for that their gardens are +locked, some of them have three or four keys a piece, whereof one they +keep for themselves, the other their paramours have to goe in before +them, least happily they might be perceived, for then were all the sport +dasht. Then to these gardens they repair, when they list, with a basket +and a boy, where they meeting their sweet harts, receive their wished +desires." + +[409] See note to "The Parson's Wedding," iii. 3. + +[410] [A woman of loose character. Such was its ordinary acceptation, +yet not its invariable one. See Lovelace's Poems, by Hazlitt, 1864, pp. +xl., xli., and 133, notes.] See note to "King Henry IV., Part II.," +edit. 1778, v. 522.--_Steevens_. + +[411] [Edits., _throw_.] + +[412] "Towards the rear of the stage there appears to have been a +balcony or upper stage, the platform of which was probably eight or nine +feet from the ground. I suppose it to have been supported by pillars. +From hence, in many of our old plays, part of the dialogue was spoken; +and in front of it curtains likewise were hung, so as occasionally to +conceal the persons in it from the view of the audience."--Malone's +"History of the Stage." See his edition of "Shakespeare" by Boswell, +iii. 79. + +[413] [The two brothers, disguised for the purpose, pretend to be their +sister's uncles, and engage in a conversation about her marriage, +intended to be overheard by Ilford and the others below.] + +[414] [Edits., _beyond discourse, she's a paragon for a prince, than a +fit implement for a gentleman; beyond my element_.] + +[415] [Edit. 1607] says, _Exit Ilford with his Sister_, but this is +obviously an error: it means with Scarborow's sister.--_Collier_. + +[416] _Indeed_, second and third editions. + +[417] [Edits., _for_.] + +[418] [Edits., _flourish_.] + +[419] [i.e., _Which make_.] + +[420] _Them_ is the reading of the quarto, 1611, and perhaps Thomas +refers to "nature and her laws," mentioned not very intelligibly, in his +preceding speech.--_Collier_. [The first edit. of 1607 reads rightly +_thee_.] + +[421] The grammar and language of this line are alike obscure and +incorrect; but the sense is tolerably clear--"Thou hast been so bad, the +best thing I can say is, &c." + +[422] [Edits., _finisht_.] + +[423] i.e. Measure it out. Hesperiam metire jacens.--_Virgil_. +--_Steevens_. + +[424] i.e., Facility; [Greek: euergos], facilis.--_Steevens_. + +[425] "Apud eosdem nasci Ctesias scribit, quam mantichoram appellat, +triplici dentium ordine pectinatim coeuntium, facie et auriculis +hominis, oculis glaucis, colore sanguineo, corpore leonis, cauda +scorpionis modo spicula infigentem: vocis ut si misceatur fistulae et +tubae concentus: velocitatis magnae, humani corporis vel praecipue +appetentem."--C. Plinii "Nat. Hist." lib. viii. c. 21. + +[426] The edit. 1611, reads-- + + "Do as the devil does, hate panther-mankind."--_Collier_. + +[427] _All--breath_, edits. 1611 and 1629. + +[428] The old copy of 1611 reads, _unto their wives_, and it has been +supposed a misprint for _wines_; but this seems doubtful taking the +whole passage together, and the subsequent reference to the _children. +--Collier_. + +[429] i.e., To defile. So in Churchyard's "Challenge," 1593, p. 251-- + + "Away foule workes, that _fil'd_ my face with blurs!" + +Again, "Macbeth," act iii. sc. 1-- + + "If it be so, + For Banquo's issue have I _fil'd_ my mind." + +See also Mr Steevens's note on the last passage. + +[430] Sorry for you. + +[431] [Edits., _or_, which is merely the old form of _ere_.] + +[432] Mischievous, unlucky. So in "All's Well that Ends Well," act i. +sc. 5-- + + "A shrewd knave and an _unhappy_." + +See also Mr Steevens's note on "Henry VIII.," act i. sc. 4. + +[433] _I_ formerly was the mode of writing, as well as pronouncing, this +word. + +[434] ["The fine effect which is produced through the foregoing scenes +by the idea of the 'Enforced Marriage' hanging on them like the German +notion of Fate, is destroyed by this happy ending."--_MS. note in one of +the former edits_.] + +[435] [Bond.] + +[436] [So in the ballad of "Auld Robin Gray"-- + + "My mother did na speak, + But she look'd me in the face," &c. + +--_MS. note in one of the former edits_.] + +[437] '51 edit. 1607, _letter_. + +[438] _Ignes fatui_, Wills o' th' Wisp. See Mr Steevens's Note on "King +Henry VIII.," act v. sc. 3. + +[439] [Edits., _And these_. The emendation is conjectured.] + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Select Collection of Old English +Plays, Vol. IX, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD ENGLISH PLAYS *** + +***** This file should be named 10550-8.txt or 10550-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/5/5/10550/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Tapio Riikonen and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/old/10550-8.zip b/old/10550-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1170f5b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10550-8.zip diff --git a/old/10550.txt b/old/10550.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..03dbb25 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10550.txt @@ -0,0 +1,21732 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Select Collection of Old English Plays, +Vol. IX, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. IX + +Author: Various + +Release Date: December 31, 2003 [EBook #10550] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD ENGLISH PLAYS *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Tapio Riikonen and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +A SELECT COLLECTION OF OLD ENGLISH PLAYS, VOL. IX + +Originally published by Robert Dodsley in the Year 1744. + + +Fourth Edition, + +Now first chronologically arranged, revised and enlarged with the Notes +of all the Commentators, and new Notes + +By + +W. CAREW HAZLITT. + +1874-76. + + + +CONTENTS: + +How a Man May Choose a Good Wife from a Bad +The Return from Parnassus +Wily Beguiled +Lingua +The Miseries of Enforced Marriage + + + + + + +HOW A MAN MAY CHOOSE A GOOD WIFE FROM A BAD. + + + + +_EDITION + + +A Pleasant conceited Comedie, Wherein is shewed how a man may chuse a +good Wife from a bad. As it hath bene sundry times Acted by the Earle of +Worcesters Seruants. London Printed for Mathew Lawe, and are to be solde +at his shop in Paules Church-yard, neare unto S. Augustines gate, at the +signe of the Foxe_. 1602. 4to. + +[There were editions in 1605, 1608, 1614, 1621, 1630, 1634, all in 4to. + +It is not improbable that the author was Joshua Cooke, to whom, in an +old hand on the title of edit. 1602 in the Museum, it is attributed.] + + + + +[PREFACE TO THE FORMER EDITION.[1]] + + +This play agrees perfectly with the description given of it in the +title; it is certainly a most pleasant conceited comedy, rich in humour, +and written altogether in a right merry vein. The humour is broad and +strongly marked, and at the same time of the most diverting kind; the +characters are excellent, and admirably discriminated; the comic parts +of the play are written with most exquisite drollery, and the serious +with great truth and feeling. Of the present piece there were seven +editions, within a short period, with all of which the present reprint +has been carefully collated, and is now, for the first time, divided +into acts and scenes. + + + +PERSONS REPRESENTED. + +OLD MASTER ARTHUR. +OLD MASTER LUSAM. +YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. +YOUNG MASTER LUSAM.[2] +MASTER ANSELM. +MASTER FULLER. +SIR AMINADAB, _a Schoolmaster_. +JUSTICE REASON. +BRABO. +HUGH, _Justice Reason's Servant_. +PIPKIN, _Master Arthur's Servant_. +_Boys, Officers, &c_. +MISTRESS ARTHUR. +MISTRESS MARY. +MISTRESS SPLAY. +MAID. + +_Scene, London_. + + + + +A PLEASANT CONCEITED COMEDY; WHEREIN IS SHOWED + +HOW A MAN MAY CHOOSE A GOOD WIFE FROM A BAD. + + + +ACT I., SCENE I. + + + _The Exchange_. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR _and_ YOUNG MASTER LUSAM. + +Y. ART. I tell you true, sir; but to every man +I would not be so lavish of my speech: +Only to you, my dear and private friend, +Although my wife in every eye be held +Of beauty and of grace sufficient, +Of honest birth and good behaviour, +Able to win the strongest thoughts to her, +Yet, in my mind, I hold her the most hated +And loathed object, that the world can yield. + +Y. LUS. O Master Arthur, bear a better thought +Of your chaste wife, whose modesty hath won +The good opinion and report of all: +By heaven! you wrong her beauty; she is fair. + +Y. ART. Not in mine eye. + +Y. LUS. O, you are cloy'd with dainties, Master Arthur, +And too much sweetness glutted hath your taste, +And makes you loathe them: at the first +You did admire her beauty, prais'd her face, +Were proud to have her follow at your heels +Through the broad streets, when all censuring tongues +Found themselves busied, as she pass'd along, +T'extol her in the hearing of you both. +Tell me, I pray you, and dissemble not, +Have you not, in the time of your first-love, +Hugg'd such new popular and vulgar talk, +And gloried still to see her bravely deck'd? +But now a kind of loathing hath quite chang'd +Your shape of love into a form of hate; +But on what reason ground you this hate? + +Y. ART. My reason is my mind, my ground my will; +I will not love her: if you ask me why, +I cannot love her. Let that answer you. + +Y. LUS. Be judge, all eyes, her face deserves it not; +Then on what root grows this high branch of hate? +Is she not loyal, constant, loving, chaste: +Obedient, apt to please, loath to displease: +Careful to live, chary of her good name, +And jealous of your reputation? +Is she not virtuous, wise, religious? +How should you wrong her to deny all this? +Good Master Arthur, let me argue with you. + + [_They walk aside_. + + _Enter_ MASTER ANSELM _and_ MASTER FULLER. + +FUL. O Master Anselm! grown a lover, fie! +What might she be, on whom your hopes rely? + +ANS. What fools they are that seem most wise in love, +How wise they are that are but fools in love! +Before I was a lover, I had reason +To judge of matters, censure of all sorts, +Nay, I had wit to call a lover fool, +And look into his folly with bright eyes. +But now intruding love dwells in my brain, +And franticly hath shoulder'd reason thence: +I am not old, and yet, alas! I doat; +I have not lost my sight, and yet am blind; +No bondman, yet have lost my liberty; +No natural fool, and yet I want my wit. +What am I, then? let me define myself: +A dotard young, a blind man that can see, +A witty fool, a bondman that is free. + +FUL. Good aged youth, blind seer, and wise fool, +Loose your free bonds, and set your thoughts to school. + + _Enter_ OLD MASTER ARTHUR _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM. + +O. ART. 'Tis told me, Master Lusam, that my son +And your chaste daughter, whom we match'd together, +Wrangle and fall at odds, and brawl and chide. + +O. LUS. Nay, I think so, I never look'd for better: +This 'tis to marry children when they're young. +I said as much at first, that such young brats +Would 'gree together e'en like dogs and cats. + +O. ART. Nay, pray you, Master Lusam, say not so; +There was great hope, though they were match'd but young, +Their virtues would have made them sympathise, +And live together like two quiet saints. + +O. LUS. You say true, there was great hope, indeed, +They would have liv'd like saints; but where's the fault? + +O. ART. If fame be true, the most fault's in my son. + +O. LUS. You say true, Master Arthur, 'tis so indeed. + +O. ART. Nay, sir, I do not altogether excuse +Your daughter; many lay the blame on her. + +O. LUS. Ah! say you so? by the mass, 'tis like enough, +For from her childhood she hath been a shrew. + +O. ART. A shrew? you wrong her; all the town admires her +For mildness, chasteness, and humility. + +O. LUS. 'Fore God, you say well, she is so indeed; +The city doth admire her for these virtues. + +O. ART. O, sir, you praise your child too palpably; +She's mild and chaste, but not admir'd so much. + +O. LUS. Ay, so I say--I did not mean admir'd. + +O. ART. Yes, if a man do well consider her, +Your daughter is the wonder of her sex. + +O. LUS. Are you advis'd of that? I cannot tell, +What 'tis you call the wonder of her sex, +But she is--is she?--ay, indeed, she is. + +O. ART. What is she? + +O. LUS. Even what you will--you know best what she is. + +ANS. Yon is her husband: let us leave this talk:[3] +How full are bad thoughts of suspicion; +I love, but loathe myself for loving so, +Yet cannot change my disposition. + +FUL. _Medice, cura teipsum_. + +ANS. _Hei mihi! quod nullis amor est medicabilis herbis_. + + [_Exeunt_ ANSELM and FULLER. + +Y. ART. All your persuasions are to no effect, +Never allege her virtues nor her beauty, +My settled unkindness hath begot +A resolution to be unkind still, +My ranging pleasures love variety. + +Y. LUS. O, too unkind unto so kind a wife, +Too virtueless to one so virtuous, +And too unchaste unto so chaste a matron. + +Y. ART. But soft, sir, see where my two fathers are +Busily talking; let us shrink aside, +For if they see me, they are bent to chide. + + [_Exeunt_ Y. ARTHUR _and_ Y. LUSAM. + +O. ART. I think 'tis best to go straight to the house, +And make them friends again; what think ye, sir? + +O. LUS. I think so too. + +O. ART. Now I remember, too, that's not so good: +For divers reasons, I think best stay here, +And leave them to their wrangling--what think you? + +O. LUS. I think so too. + +O. ART. Nay, we will go, that's certain. + +O. LUS. Ay, 'tis best, 'tis best-- +In sooth, there's no way but to go. + +O. ART. Yet if our going should breed more unrest, +More discord, more dissension, more debate, +More wrangling where there is enough already? +'Twere better stay than go. + +O. LUS. 'Fore God, 'tis true; +Our going may, perhaps, breed more debate, +And then we may too late wish we had stay'd; +And therefore, if you will be rul'd by me, +We will not go, that's flat: nay, if we love +Our credits or our quiets, let's not go. + +O. ART. But if we love +Their credits or their quiets, we must go, +And reconcile them to their former love; +Where there is strife betwixt a man and wife 'tis hell, +And mutual love may be compared to heaven, +For then their souls and spirits are at peace. +Come, Master Lusam, now 'tis dinner-time; +When we have dined, the first work we will make, +Is to decide their jars for pity's sake. + +O. LUS. Well fare a good heart! yet are you advis'd? +Go, said you, Master Arthur? I will run +To end these broils, that discord hath begun. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE II. + + + _Young Arthur's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR _and_ PIPKIN. + +MRS ART. Come hither, Pipkin. +How chance you tread so softly? + +PIP. For fear of breaking, mistress. + +MRS ART. Art thou afraid of breaking, how so? + +PIP. Can you blame me, mistress? I am crack'd already. + +MRS ART. Crack'd, Pipkin, how? hath any crack'd your crown? + +PIP. No, mistress; I thank God, +My crown is current, but-- + +MRS ART. But what? + +PIP. The maid gave me not my supper yesternight, so that indeed my belly +wambled, and standing near the great sea-coal fire in the hall, and not +being full, on the sudden I crack'd, and you know, mistress, a pipkin is +soon broken. + +MRS ART. Sirrah, run to the Exchange, and if you there +Can find my husband, pray him to come home; +Tell him I will not eat a bit of bread +Until I see him; prythee, Pipkin, run. + +PIP. By'r Lady, mistress, if I should tell him so, it may be he would +not come, were it for no other cause but to save charges; I'll rather +tell him, if he come not quickly, you will eat up all the meat in the +house, and then, if he be of my stomach, he will run every foot, and +make the more haste to dinner. + +MRS ART. Ay, thou may'st jest; my heart is not so light +It can digest the least conceit of joy: +Entreat him fairly, though I think he loves +All places worse that he beholds me in. +Wilt thou begone? + +PIP. Whither, mistress? to the 'Change? + +MRS ART. Ay, to the 'Change. + +PIP. I will, mistress: hoping my master will go so oft to the 'Change, +that at length he will change his mind, and use you more kindly. O, it +were brave if my master could meet with a merchant of ill-ventures, to +bargain with him for all his bad conditions, and he sell them outright! +you should have a quieter heart, and we all a quieter house. But hoping, +mistress, you will pass over all these jars and squabbles in good health, +as my master was at the making thereof, I commit you. + +MRS ART. Make haste again, I prythee. [_Exit_ PIPKIN.] Till I see him, +My heart will never be at rest within me: +My husband hath of late so much estrang'd +His words, his deeds, his heart from me, +That I can seldom have his company; +And even that seldom with such discontent, +Such frowns, such chidings, such impatience, +That did not truth and virtue arm my thoughts, +They would confound me with despair and hate, +And make me run into extremities. +Had I deserv'd the least bad look from him, +I should account myself too bad to live, +But honouring him in love and chastity, +All judgments censure freely of my wrongs. + [_Exit_. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, YOUNG MASTER LUSAM, _and_ PIPKIN. + +Y. ART. Pipkin, what said she when she sent for me? + +PIP. 'Faith, master, she said little, but she thought +[The] more, for she was very melancholy. + +Y. ART. Did I not tell you she was melancholy, +For nothing else but that she sent for me, +And fearing I would come to dine with her. + +Y. LUS. O, you mistake her; even, upon my soul, +I durst affirm you wrong her chastity. +See where she doth attend your coming home. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR. + +MRS ART. Come, Master Arthur, shall we in to dinner? +Sirrah, begone, and see it served in. + +Y. LUS. Will you not speak unto her? + +Y. ART. No, not I; will you go in, sir. + +MRS ART. Not speak to me! nor once look towards me! +It is my duty to begin, I know, +And I will break this ice of courtesy. +You are welcome home, sir. + +Y. ART. Hark, Master Lusam, if she mock me not! +_You are welcome home, sir_. Am I welcome home? +Good faith, I care not if I be or no. + +Y. LUS. Thus you misconstrue all things, Master Arthur. +Look, if her true love melt not into tears. + +Y. ART. She weeps, but why? that I am come so soon, +To hinder her of some appointed guests, +That in my absence revel in my house: +She weeps to see me in her company, +And, were I absent, she would laugh with joy. +She weeps to make me weary of the house, +Knowing my heart cannot away with grief. + +MRS ART. Knew I that mirth would make you love my bed, +I would enforce my heart to be more merry. + +Y. ART. Do you not hear? she would enforce her heart! +All mirth is forc'd, that she can make with me. + +Y. LUS. O misconceit, how bitter is thy taste! +Sweet Master Arthur, Mistress Arthur too, +Let me entreat you reconcile these jars, +Odious to heaven, and most abhorr'd of men. + +MRS ART. You are a stranger, sir; but by your words +You do appear an honest gentleman. +If you profess to be my husband's friend, +Persist in these persuasions, and be judge +With all indifference in these discontents. +Sweet husband, if I be not fair enough +To please your eye, range where you list abroad, +Only, at coming home, speak me but fair: +If you delight to change, change when you please, +So that you will not change your love to me. +If you delight to see me drudge and toil, +I'll be your drudge, because 'tis your delight. +Or if you think me unworthy of the name +Of your chaste wife, I will become your maid, +Your slave, your servant--anything you will, +If for that name of servant and of slave +You will but smile upon me now and then. +Or if, as I well think, you cannot love me, +Love where you list, only but say you love me: +I'll feed on shadows, let the substance go. +Will you deny me such a small request? +What, will you neither love nor flatter me? +O, then I see your hate here doth but wound me, +And with that hate it is your frowns confound me. + +Y. LUS. Wonder of women! why, hark you, Master Arthur! +What is your wife, a woman or a saint? +A wife or some bright angel come from heav'n? +Are you not mov'd at this strange spectacle? +This day I have beheld a miracle. +When I attempt this sacred nuptial life, +I beg of heaven to find me such a wife. + +Y. ART. Ha, ha! a miracle, a prodigy! +To see a woman weep is as much pity +As to see foxes digg'd out of their holes. +If thou wilt pleasure me, let me see thee less; +Grieve much; they say grief often shortens life: +Come not too near me, till I call thee, wife; +And that will be but seldom. I will tell thee, +How thou shalt win my heart--die suddenly, +And I'll become a lusty widower: +The longer thy life lasts, the more my hate +And loathing still increaseth towards thee. +When I come home and find thee cold as earth, +Then will I love thee: thus thou know'st my mind. +Come, Master Lusam, let us in to dine. + +Y. LUS. O, sir, you too much affect this evil; +Poor saint! why wert thou yok'd thus with a devil? [_Aside_. + + [_Exeunt_ Y. ART. _and_ Y. LUS. + +MRS ART. If thou wilt win my heart, die suddenly! +But that my soul was bought at such a rate, +At such a high price as my Saviour's blood, +I would not stick to lose it with a stab; +But, virtue, banish all such fantasies. +He is my husband, and I love him well; +Next to my own soul's health I tender him, +And would give all the pleasures of the world +To buy his love, if I might purchase it. +I'll follow him, and like a servant wait, +And strive by all means to prevent his hate. + [_Exit_. + + + _Enter_ OLD MASTER ARTHUR _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM. + +O. ART. This is my son's house; were it best go in? +How say you, Master Lusam? + +O. LUS. How? Go in? How say you, sir? + +O. ART. I say 'tis best. + +O. LUS. Ay, sir, say you so? so say I too. + +O. ART. Nay, nay, it is not best; I'll tell you why. +Haply the fire of hate is quite extinct +From the dead embers; now to rake them up, +Should the least spark of discontent appear, +To make the flame of hatred burn afresh, +The heat of this dissension might scorch us; +Which, in his own cold ashes smother'd up, +May die in silence, and revive no more: +And therefore tell me, is it best or no? + +O. LUS. How say you, sir? + +O. ART. I say it is not best. + +O. LUS. Mass, you say well, sir, and so say I too. + +O. ART. But shall we lose our labour to come hither, +And, without sight of our two children, +Go back again? nay, we will in, that's sure. + +O. LUS. In, quotha! do you make a doubt of that; +Shall we come thus far, and in such post-haste, +And have our children here, and both within, +And not behold them e'er our back-return? +It were unfriendly and unfatherly. +Come, Master Arthur, pray you follow me. + +O. ART. Nay, but hark you, sir, will you not knock? + +O. LUS. Is't best to knock? + +O. ART. Ay, knock in any case. + +O. LUS. 'Twas well you put it in my mind to knock, +I had forgotten it else, I promise you. + +O. ART. Tush, is't not my son's and your daughter's door, +And shall we two stand knocking? Lead the way. + +O. LUS. Knock at our children's doors! that were a jest. +Are we such fools to make ourselves so strange, +Where we should still be boldest? In, for shame! +We will not stand upon such ceremonies. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE III. + + + _The Street_. + + _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +FUL. Speak: in what cue, sir, do you find your heart, +Now thou hast slept a little on thy love? + +ANS. Like one that strives to shun a little plash +Of shallow water, and (avoiding it) +Plunges into a river past his depth: +Like one that from a small spark steps aside, +And falls in headlong to a greater flame. + +FUL. But in such fires scorch not thyself, for shame! +If she be fire, thou art so far from burning, +That thou hast scarce yet warm'd thee at her face; +But list to me, I'll turn thy heart from love, +And make thee loathe all of the feminine sex. +They that have known me, knew me once of name +To be a perfect wencher: I have tried +All sorts, all sects, all states, and find them still +Inconstant, fickle, always variable. +Attend me, man! I will prescribe a method, +How thou shalt win her without all peradventure. + +ANS. That would I gladly hear. + +FUL. I was once like thee, +A sigher, melancholy humorist, +Crosser of arms, a goer without garters, +A hatband-hater, and a busk-point[4] wearer, +One that did use much bracelets made of hair, +Rings on my fingers, jewels in mine ears, +And now and then a wench's carcanet, +Scarfs, garters, bands, wrought waistcoats, gold-stitch'd caps, +A thousand of those female fooleries; but when +I look'd into the glass of reason, straight +I began to loathe that female bravery, +And henceforth studied[5] to cry +_Peccavi_ to the world. + +ANS. I pray you, to your former argument: +Prescribe a means to win my best-belov'd. + +FUL. First, be not bashful, bar all blushing tricks: +Be not too apish-female; do not come +With foolish sonnets to present her with, +With legs, with curtsies, congees, and such like: +Nor with penn'd speeches, or too far-fetch'd sighs: +I hate such antique, quaint formality. + +ANS. O, but I cannot snatch[6] occasion: +She dashes every proffer with a frown. + +FUL. A frown, a fool! art thou afraid of frowns? +He that will leave occasion for a frown, +Were I his judge (all you his case bemoan), +His doom should be ever to lie alone. + +ANS. I cannot choose but, when a wench says nay, +To take her at her word, and leave my suit. + +FUL. Continue that opinion, and be sure +To die a virgin chaste, a maiden pure. +It was my chance once, in my wanton days, +To court a wench; hark, and I'll tell thee how: +I came unto my love, and she look'd coy, +I spake unto my love, she turn'd aside, +I touch'd my love, and 'gan with her to toy, +But she sat mute, for anger or for pride; +I striv'd and kiss'd my love, she cry'd _Away_! +Thou wouldst have left her thus--I made her stay. +I catch'd my love, and wrung her by the hand: +I took my love, and set her on my knee, +And pull'd her to me; O, you spoil my band, +You hurt me, sir; pray, let me go, quoth she. +I'm glad, quoth I, that you have found your tongue, +And still my love I by the finger wrung. +I ask'd her if she lov'd me; she said, No. +I bad her swear; she straight calls for a book; +Nay then, thought I, 'tis time to let her go, +I eas'd my knee, and from her cast a look. +She leaves me wond'ring at these strange affairs, +And like the wind she trips me up the stairs. +I left the room below, and up I went, +Finding her thrown upon her wanton bed: +I ask'd the cause of her sad discontent; +Further she lies, and, making room, she said, +Now, sweeting, kiss me, having time and place; +So clings me to her with a sweet embrace. + +ANS. Is't possible? I had not thought till now, +That women could dissemble. Master Fuller, +Here dwells the sacred mistress of my heart; +Before her door I'll frame a friv'lous walk, +And, spying her, with her devise some talk. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, MISTRESS ARTHUR, OLD MASTER ARTHUR, + OLD MASTER LUSAM, YOUNG MASTER LUSAM, _and_ PIPKIN. + +FUL. What stir is this? let's step but out the way, +And hear the utmost what these people say. + +O. ART. Thou art a knave, although thou be my son. +Have I with care and trouble brought thee up, +To be a staff and comfort to my age, +A pillar to support me, and a crutch +To lean on in my second infancy, +And dost thou use me thus? Thou art a knave. + +O. LUS. A knave, ay, marry, and an arrant knave; +And, sirrah, by old Master Arthur's leave, +Though I be weak and old, I'll prove thee one. + +Y. ART. Sir, though it be my father's pleasure thus +To wrong me with the scorned name of knave, +I will not have you so familiar, +Nor so presume upon my patience. + +O LUS. Speak, Master Arthur, is he not a knave? + +O. ART. I say he is a knave. + +O. LUS. Then so say I. + +Y. ART. My father may command my patience; +But you, sir, that are but my father-in-law, +Shall not so mock my reputation. +Sir, you shall find I am an honest man. + +O. LUS. An honest man! + +Y. ART. Ay, sir, so I say. + +O. LUS. Nay, if you say so, I'll not be against it: +But, sir, you might have us'd my daughter better, +Than to have beat her, spurn'd her, rail'd at her +Before our faces. + +O. ART. Ay, therein, son Arthur, +Thou show'dst thyself no better than a knave. + +O. LUS. Ay, marry, did he, I will stand to it: +To use my honest daughter in such sort, +He show'd himself no better than a knave. + +Y. ART. I say, again, I am an honest man; +He wrongs me that shall say the contrary. + +O. LUS. I grant, sir, that you are an honest man, +Nor will I say unto the contrary: +But wherefore do you use my daughter thus? +Can you accuse her of unchastity, of loose +Demeanour, disobedience, or disloyalty? +Speak, what canst thou object against my daughter? + +O. ART. Accuse her! here she stands; spit in her face, +If she be guilty in the least of these. + +MRS ART. O father, be more patient; if you wrong +My honest husband, all the blame be mine, +Because you do it only for my sake. +I am his handmaid; since it is his pleasure +To use me thus, I am content therewith, +And bear his checks and crosses patiently. + +Y. ART. If in mine own house I can have no peace, +I'll seek it elsewhere, and frequent it less. +Father, I'm now past one and twenty years; +I'm past my father's pamp'ring, I suck not, +Nor am I dandled on my mother's knee: +Then, if you were my father twenty times, +You shall not choose, but let me be myself. +Do I come home so seldom, and that seldom +Am I thus baited? Wife, remember this! +Father, farewell! and, father-in-law, adieu! +Your son had rather fast than feast with you. + [_Exit_. + +O. ART. Well, go to, wild-oats! spendthrift! prodigal! +I'll cross thy name quite from my reck'ning book: +For these accounts, faith, it shall scathe thee somewhat, +I will not say what somewhat it shall be. + +O. LUS. And it shall scathe him somewhat of my purse: +And, daughter, I will take thee home again, +Since thus he hates thy fellowship; +Be such an eyesore to his sight no more: +I tell thee, thou no more shalt trouble him. + +MRS ART. Will you divorce whom God hath tied together? +Or break that knot the sacred hand of heaven +Made fast betwixt us? Have you never read, +What a great curse was laid upon his head +That breaks the holy band of marriage, +Divorcing husbands from their chosen wives? +Father, I will not leave my Arthur so; +Not all my friends can make me prove his foe. + +O. ART. I could say somewhat in my son's reproof. + +O. LUS. Faith, so could I. + +O. ART. But, till I meet him, I will let it pass. + +O. LUS. Faith, so will I. + +O. ART. Daughter, farewell! with weeping eyes I part; +Witness these tears, thy grief sits near my heart. + +O. LUS. Weeps Master Arthur? nay, then, let me cry; +His cheeks shall not be wet, and mine be dry. + +MRS ART. Fathers, farewell! spend not a tear for me, +But, for my husband's sake, let these woes be. +For when I weep, 'tis not for my own care, +But fear, lest folly bring him to despair. + + [_Exeunt_ O. ART. _and_ O. LUS. + +Y. LUS. Sweet saint! continue still this patience, +For time will bring him to true penitence. +Mirror of virtue! thanks for my good cheer-- +A thousand thanks. + +MRS ART. It is so much too dear; +But you are welcome for my husband's sake; +His guests shall have best welcome I can make. + +Y. LUS. Than marriage nothing in the world more common; +Nothing more rare than such a virtuous woman. + [_Exit_. + +MRS ART. My husband in this humour, well I know, +Plays but the unthrift; therefore it behoves me +To be the better housewife here at home; +To save and get, whilst he doth laugh and spend: +Though for himself he riots it at large, +My needle shall defray my household's charge. + [_She sits down to work in front of the house_. + +FUL. Now, Master Anselm, to her, step not back; +Bustle yourself, see where she sits at work; +Be not afraid, man; she's but a woman, +And women the most cowards seldom fear: +Think but upon my former principles, +And twenty pound to a drachm,[7] you speed. + +ANS. Ay, say you so? + +FUL. Beware of blushing, sirrah, +Of fear and too much eloquence! +Rail on her husband, his misusing her, +And make that serve thee as an argument, +That she may sooner yield to do him wrong. +Were it my case, my love and I to plead, +I have't at fingers' ends: who could miss the clout, +Having so fair a white, such steady aim. +This is the upshot: now bid for the game. + + [ANSELM _advances_. + +ANS. Fair mistress, God save you! + +FUL. What a circumstance +Doth he begin with; what an ass is he, +To tell her at the first that she is fair; +The only means to make her to be coy! +He should have rather told her she was foul, +And brought her out of love quite with herself; +And, being so, she would the less have car'd, +Upon whose secrets she had laid her love. +He hath almost marr'd all with that word fair. [_Aside_.[8]] + +ANS. Mistress, God save you! + +FUL. What a block is that, +To say, God save you! is the fellow mad? +Once to name God in his ungodly suit. + +MRS ART. You are welcome, sir. Come you to speak with me +Or with my husband? pray you, what's your will? + +FUL. She answers to the purpose; what's your will? +O zounds, that I were there to answer her. + +ANS. Mistress, my will is not so soon express'd +Without your special favour, and the promise +Of love and pardon, if I speak amiss. + +FUL. O ass! O dunce! O blockhead! that hath left +The plain broad highway and the readiest path, +To travel round about by circumstance: +He might have told his meaning in a word, +And now hath lost his opportunity. +Never was such a truant in love's school; +I am asham'd that e'er I was his tutor. + +MRS ART. Sir, you may freely speak, whate'er it be, +So that your speech suiteth with modesty. + +FUL. To this now could I answer passing well. + +ANS. Mistress, I, pitying that so fair a creature-- + +FUL. Still fair, and yet I warn'd the contrary. + +ANS. Should by a villain be so foully us'd, +As you have been-- + +FUL. _As you have been_--ay, that was well put in! + +ANS. If time and place were both convenient[9]-- +Have made this bold intrusion, to present +My love and service to your sacred self. + +FUL. Indifferent, that was not much amiss. + +MRS ART. Sir, what you mean by service and by love, +I will not know; but what you mean by villain, +I fain would know. + +ANS. That villain is your husband, +Whose wrongs towards you are bruited through the land. +O, can you suffer at a peasant's hands, +Unworthy once to touch this silken skin, +To be so rudely beat and buffeted? +Can you endure from such infectious breath, +Able to blast your beauty, to have names +Of such impoison'd hate flung in your face? + +FUL. O, that was good, nothing was good but that; +That was the lesson that I taught him last. + +ANS. O, can you hear your never-tainted fame +Wounded with words of shame and infamy? +O, can you see your pleasures dealt away, +And you to be debarr'd all part of them, +And bury it in deep oblivion? +Shall your true right be still contributed +'Mongst hungry bawds, insatiate courtesans? +And can you love that villain, by whose deed +Your soul doth sigh, and your distress'd heart bleed? + +FUL. All this as well as I could wish myself. + +MRS ART. Sir, I have heard thus long with patience; +If it be me you term a villain's wife, +In sooth you have mistook me all this while, +And neither know my husband nor myself; +Or else you know not man and wife is one. +If he be call'd a villain, what is she, +Whose heart and love, and soul, is one with him? +'Tis pity that so fair a gentleman +Should fall into such villains' company. +O, sir, take heed, if you regard your life, +Meddle not with a villain or his wife. [_Exit_. + +FUL. O, that same word villain hath marr'd all. + +ANS. Now where is your instruction? where's the wench? +Where are my hopes? where your directions? + +FUL. Why, man, in that word villain you marr'd all. +To come unto an honest wife, and call +Her husband villain! were he[10] ne'er so bad, +Thou might'st well think she would not brook that name +For her own credit, though no love to him. +But leave not thus, but try some other mean; +Let not one way thy hopes make frustrate clean. + +ANS. I must persist my love against my will; +He that knows all things, knows I prove this will. + + _Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT II., SCENE I. + + + _A School_. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB, _with a rod in his hand, and_ + BOYS _with their books_. + +AMIN. Come, boys, come, boys, rehearse your parts, +And then, _ad prandium; jam, jam, incipe_! + +1ST BOY. Forsooth, my lesson's torn out of my book. + +AMIN. _Quae caceris chartis deseruisse decet_. +Torn from your book! I'll tear it from your breech. +How say you, Mistress Virga, will you suffer +_Hic puer bonae[11] indolis_ to tear +His lessons, leaves, and lectures from his book? + +1ST BOY. Truly, forsooth, I laid it in my seat, +While Robin Glade and I went into _campis_; +And when I came again, my book was torn. + +AMIN. _O mus_, a mouse; was ever heard the like? + +1ST BOY. _O domus_, a house; master, I could not mend it. + +2D BOY. _O pediculus_, a louse; I knew not how it came. + +AMIN. All toward boys, good scholars of their times; +The least of these is past his accidence, +Some at _qui mihi_; here's not a boy +But he can construe all the grammar rules. +_Sed ubi sunt sodales_? not yet come? +Those _tarde venientes_ shall be whipp'd. +_Ubi est_ Pipkin? where's that lazy knave? +He plays the truant every Saturday; +But Mistress Virga, Lady Willow-by,[12] +Shall teach him that _diluculo surgere +Est saluberrimum_: here comes the knave. + + _Enter_ PIPKIN. + +1ST BOY. _Tarde, tarde, tarde_. + +2D. BOY. _Tarde, tarde, tarde_. + +AMIN. _Huc ades_, Pipkin--reach a better rod-- +_Cur tam tarde venis_? speak, where have you been? +Is this a time of day to come to school? +_Ubi fuisti_? speak, where hast thou been? + +PIP. _Magister, quomodo vales_? + +AMIN. Is that _responsio_ fitting my demand? + +PIP. _Etiam certe_, you ask me where I have been, and I say _quomodo +vales_, as much as to say, come out of the alehouse. + +AMIN. Untruss, untruss! nay, help him, help him! + +PIP. _Quaeso, preceptor, quaeso_, for God's sake do not whip me: +_Quid est grammatica_? + +AMIN. Not whip you, _quid est grammatica_, what's that? + +PIP. _Grammatica est_, that, if I untruss'd, you must needs whip me +upon them, _quid est grammatica_. + +AMIN. Why, then, _dic mihi_, speak, where hast thou been? + +PIP. Forsooth, my mistress sent me of an errand to fetch my master from +the Exchange; we had strangers at home at dinner, and, but for them, I +had not come _tarde; quaeso, preceptor_! + +AMIN. Construe your lesson, parse it, _ad unguem +et condemnato_ to, I'll pardon thee. + +PIP. That I will, master, an' if you'll give me leave. + +AMIN. _Propria quae maribus tribuuntur mascula, dicas; expone, expone_. + +PIP. Construe it, master, I will; _dicas_, they say--_propria_, the +proper man--_quae maribus_, that loves marrow-bones--_mascula_, +miscalled me. + +AMIN. A pretty, quaint, and new construction. + +PIP. I warrant you, master, if there be marrow-bones in my lesson, +I am an old dog at them. How construe you this, master, _rostra +disertus amat_? + +AMIN. _Disertus_, a desert--_amat_, doth love--_rostra_, roast-meat. + +PIP. A good construction on an empty stomach. Master, now I have +construed my lesson, my mistress would pray you to let me come home +to go of an errand. + +AMIN. Your _tres sequuntur_, and away. + +PIP. _Canis_ a hog, _rana_ a dog, _porcus_ a frog, +_Abeundum est mihi_. [_Exit_. + +AMIN. Yours, sirrah, too, and then _ad prandium_. + +1ST BOY. _Apis_ a bed, _genu_ a knee, _Vulcanus_, Doctor Dee: +_Viginti minus usus est mihi_. + +AMIN. By _Juno's_ lip and _Saturn's_ thumb +It was _bonus, bona, bonum_. + +2D BOY. _Vitrum_ glass, _spica_ grass, _tu es asinus_, you are an ass. +_Precor tibi felicem noctem_. + +AMIN. _Claudite jam libros, pueri: sat, prata, bibistis_, +Look, when you come again, you tell me _ubi fuistis_. +He that minds trish-trash, and will not have care of his _rodix_. +Him I will be-lish-lash, and have a fling at his _podix_. + + [_Exeunt_ BOYS. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. + +Y. ART. A pretty wench, a passing pretty wench. +A sweeter duck all London cannot yield; +She cast a glance on me as I pass'd by, +Not Helen had so ravishing an eye. +Here is the pedant Sir Aminadab; +I will inquire of him if he can tell +By any circumstance, whose wife she is: +Such fellows commonly have intercourse +Without suspicion, where we are debarr'd. +God save you, gentle Sir Aminadab! + +AMIN. _Salve tu quoque_! would you speak with me? +You are, I take it, and let me not lie, +For, as you know, _mentiri non est meum_, +Young Master Arthur; _quid vis_--what will you? + +Y. ART. You are a man I much rely upon; +There is a pretty wench dwells in this street +That keeps no shop, nor is not public known: +At the two posts, next turning of the lane, +I saw her from a window looking out; +O, could you tell me how to come acquainted +With that sweet lass, you should command me, sir, +Even to the utmost of my life and power. + +AMIN. _Dii boni, boni_! 'tis my love he means; +But I will keep it from this gentleman, +And so, I hope, make trial of my love. [_Aside_.] + +Y. ART. If I obtain her, thou shalt win thereby +More than at this time I will promise thee. + +AMIN. _Quando venis aput_, I shall have two horns on my _caput_. + [_Aside_.] + +Y. ART. What, if her husband come and find one there? + +AMIN. _Nuncquam time_, never fear, +She is unmarried, I swear. +But, if I help you to the deed, +_Tu vis narrare_ how you speed. + +Y. ART. Tell how I speed? ay, sir, I will to you: +Then presently about it. Many thanks +For this great kindness, Sir Aminadab. [_Exit_. + +AMIN. If my _puella_ prove a drab, +I'll be reveng'd on both: _ambo_ shall die; +Shall die! by what? for _ego_ I +Have never handled, I thank God, +Other weapon than a rod; +I dare not fight for all my speeches. +_Sed cave_, if I take him thus, +_Ego sum expers_ at untruss. + + [_Exit_. + + + +SCENE II. + + + _A Room in Justice Reason's House_. + + _Enter_ JUSTICE REASON, OLD MASTER ARTHUR, OLD MASTER LUSAM, + MISTRESS ARTHUR, YOUNG MASTER LUSAM, _and_ HUGH. + +O. ART. We, Master Justice Reason, come about +A serious matter that concerns us near. + +O. LUS. Ay, marry, doth it, sir, concern us near; +Would God, sir, you would take some order for it. + +O. ART. Why, look ye, Master Lusam, you are such another, +You will be talking what concerns us near, +And know not why we come to Master Justice. + +O. LUS. How? know not I? + +O. ART. No, sir, not you. + +O. LUS. Well, I know somewhat, though I know not that; +Then on, I pray you. + +JUS. Forward, I pray, [and] yet the case is plain. + +O. ART. Why, sir, as yet you do not know the case. + +O. LUS. Well, he knows somewhat; forward, Master Arthur. + +O. ART. And, as I told you, my unruly son, +Once having bid his wife home to my house, +There took occasion to be much aggriev'd +About some household matters of his own, +And, in plain terms, they fell in controversy. + +O. LUS. 'Tis true, sir, I was there the selfsame time, +And I remember many of the words. + +O. ART. Lord, what a man are you! you were not there +That time; as I remember, you were rid +Down to the North, to see some friends of yours. + +O. LUS. Well, I was somewhere; forward, Master Arthur. + +JUS. All this is well; no fault is to be found +In either of the parties; pray, say on. + +O. ART. Why, sir, I have not nam'd the parties yet, +Nor touch'd the fault that is complain'd upon. + +O. LUS. Well, you touch'd somewhat; forward, Master Arthur. + +O. ART. And, as I said, they fell in controversy: +My son, not like a husband, gave her words +Of great reproof, despite, and contumely, +Which she, poor soul, digested patiently; +This was the first time of their falling out. +As I remember, at the selfsame time +One Thomas, the Earl of Surrey's gentleman, +Din'd at my table. + +O. LUS. I knew him well. + +O. ART. You are the strangest man; this gentleman, +That I speak of, I am sure you never saw; +He came but lately from beyond the sea. + +O. LUS. I am sure I know one Thomas;--forward, sir. + +JUS. And is this all? Make me a _mittimus_, +And send the offender straightways to the jail. + +O. ART. First know the offender--now[13] began the strife +Betwixt this gentlewoman and my son-- +Since when, sir, he hath us'd her not like one +That should partake his bed, but like a slave. +My coming was that you, being in office +And in authority, should call before you +My unthrift son, to give him some advice, +Which he will take better from you than me, +That am his father. Here's the gentlewoman, +Wife to my son, and daughter to this man, +Whom I perforce compell'd to live with us. + +JUS. All this is well; here is your son, you say, +But she that is his wife you cannot find. + +Y. LUS. You do mistake, sir, here's the gentlewoman; +It is her husband that will not be found. + +JUS. Well, all is one, for man and wife are one; +But is this all? + +Y. LUS. Ay, all that you can say, +And much more than you can well put off. + +JUS. Nay, if the case appear thus evident, +Give me a cup of wine. What! man and wife +To disagree! I prythee, fill my cup; +I could say somewhat: tut, tut, by this wine, +I promise you 'tis good canary sack. + +MRS ART. Fathers, you do me open violence, +To bring my name in question, and produce +This gentleman and others here to witness +My husband's shame in open audience. +What may my husband think, when he shall know +I went unto the Justice to complain? +But Master Justice here, more wise than you, +Says little to the matter, knowing well +His office is no whit concern'd herein; +Therefore with favour I will take my leave. + +JUS. The woman saith but reason, Master Arthur, +And therefore give her licence to depart. + +O. LUS. Here is dry justice, not to bid us drink! +Hark thee, my friend, I prythee lend thy cup; +Now, Master Justice, hear me but one word; +You think this woman hath had little wrong, +But, by this wine which I intend to drink-- + +JUS. Nay, save your oath, I pray you do not swear; +Or if you swear, take not too deep an oath. + +O. LUS. Content you, I may take a lawful oath +Before a Justice; therefore, by this wine-- + +Y. LUS. A profound oath, well-sworn, and deeply took; +'Tis better thus than swearing on a book. + +O. LUS. My daughter hath been wronged exceedingly. + +JUS. O, sir, I would have credited these words +Without this oath: but bring your daughter hither, +That I may give her counsel, ere you go. + +O. LUS. Marry, God's blessing on your heart for that! +Daughter, give ear to Justice Reason's words. + +JUS. Good woman, or good wife, or mistress, if you have done amiss, it +should seem you have done a fault; and making a fault, there's no +question but you have done amiss: but if you walk uprightly, and +neither lead to the right hand nor the left, no question but you have +neither led to the right hand nor the left; but, as a man should say, +walked uprightly; but it should appear by these plaintiffs that you +have had some wrong: if you love your spouse entirely, it should seem +you affect him fervently; and if he hate you monstrously, it should +seem he loathes you most exceedingly, and there's the point at which I +will leave, for the time passes away: therefore, to conclude, this is +my best counsel: look that thy husband so fall in, that hereafter you +never fall out. + +O. LUS. Good counsel, passing good instruction; +Follow it, daughter. Now, I promise you, +I have not heard such an oration +This many a day. What remains to do? + +Y. LUS. Sir, I was call'd as witness to this matter, +I may be gone for aught that I can see. + +JUS. Nay, stay, my friend, we must examine you. +What can you say concerning this debate +Betwixt young Master Arthur and his wife? + +Y. LUS. Faith, just as much, I think, as you can say, +And that's just nothing. + +JUS. How, nothing? Come, depose him; take his oath; +Swear him, I say; take his confession. + +O. ART. What can you say, sir, in this doubtful case? + +Y. LUS. Why, nothing, sir. + +JUS. We cannot take him in contrary tales, +For he says nothing still, and that same nothing +Is that which we have stood on all this while; +He hath confess'd even all, for all is nothing. +This is your witness, he hath witness'd nothing +Since nothing, then, so plainly is confess'd, +And we by cunning answers and by wit +Have wrought him to confess nothing to us, +Write his confession. + +O. ART. Why, what should we write? + +JUS. Why, nothing: heard you not as well as I +What he confess'd? I say, write nothing down. +Mistress, we have dismissed you; love your husband, +Which, whilst you do, you shall not hate your husband. +Bring him before me; I will urge him with +This gentleman's express confession +Against you; send him to me; I'll not fail +To keep just nothing in my memory. +And, sir, now that we have examin'd you, +We likewise here discharge you with good leave. +Now, Master Arthur and Master Lusam too, +Come in with me; unless the man were here, +Whom most especially the cause concerns, +We cannot end this quarrel: but come near, +And we will taste a glass of our March beer. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE III. + + + _A Room in Mistress Mary's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS MARY, MISTRESS SPLAY, _and_ BRABO. + +MRS MA. I prythee, tell me, Brabo, what planet, think'st thou, governed +at my conception, that I live thus openly to the world? + +BRA. Two planets reign'd at once; Venus, that's you, +And Mars, that's I, were in conjunction. + +MRS SPLAY. Prythee, prythee, in faith, that conjunction copulative is +that part of speech that I live by. + +BRA. Ha, ha! to see the world! we swaggerers, +That live by oaths and big-mouth'd menaces, +Are now reputed for the tallest men: +He that hath now a black moustachio, +Reaching from ear to ear, or turning up, +_Puncto reverso_, bristling towards the eye; +He that can hang two handsome tools at his side, +Go in disguis'd attire, wear iron enough, +Is held a tall man and a soldier. +He that with greatest grace can swear Gog's-zounds, +Or in a tavern make a drunken fray, +Can cheat at dice, swagger in bawdy-houses, +Wear velvet on his face, and with a grace +Can face it out with,--As I am a soldier! +He that can clap his sword upon the board, +He's a brave man--and such a man am I. + +MRS MA. She that with kisses can both kill and cure, +That lives by love, that swears by nothing else +But by a kiss, which is no common oath; +That lives by lying, and yet oft tells truth; +That takes most pleasure when she takes most pains; +She's a good wench, my boy, and so am I. + +MRS SPLAY. She that is past it, and prays for them that may-- + +BRA. Is an old bawd, as you are, Mistress Splay. + +MRS SPLAY. O, do not name that name; do you not know, +That I could ne'er endure to hear that name? +But, if your man would leave us, I would read +The lesson that last night I promis'd you. + +MRS MA. I prythee, leave us, we would be alone. + +BRA. And will, and must: if you bid me begone, +I will withdraw, and draw on any he, +That in the world's wide round dare cope with me. +Mistress, farewell! to none I never speak +So kind a word. My salutations are, +Farewell, and be hang'd! or, in the devil's name! +What they have been, my many frays can tell; +You cannot fight; therefore to you, farewell! + [Exit. + +MRS MA. O, this same swaggerer is +The bulwark of my reputation; but, +Mistress Splay, now to your lecture that you promised me. + +MRS SPLAY. Daughter, attend, for I will tell thee now +What, in my young days, I myself have tried; +Be rul'd by me, and I will make thee rich. +You, God be prais'd, are fair, and, as they say, +Full of good parts; you have been often tried +To be a woman of good carriage, +Which, in my mind, is very commendable. + +MRS MA. It is indeed; forward, good Mother Splay. + +MRS SPLAY. And, as I told you, being fair, I wish, +Sweet daughter, you were as fortunate. +When any suitor comes to ask thy love, +Look not into his words, but into his sleeve; +If thou canst learn what language his purse speaks, +Be ruled by that; that's golden eloquence. +Money can make a slavering tongue speak plain. +If he that loves thee be deform'd and rich, +Accept his love: gold hides deformity. +Gold can make limping Vulcan walk upright; +Make squint eyes straight, a crabbed face look smooth, +Gilds copper noses, makes them look like gold; +Fills age's wrinkles up, and makes a face, +As old as Nestor's, look as young as Cupid's. +If thou wilt arm thyself against all shifts, +Regard all men according to their gifts. +This if thou practise, thou, when I am dead. +Wilt say: Old Mother Splay, soft lie[14] thy head. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. + +MRS MA. Soft, who comes here? begone, good Mistress Splay; +Of thy rule's practice this is my first day. + +MRS SPLAY. God, for thy passion, what a beast am I +To scare the bird, that to the net would fly! + [_Exit_. + +Y. ART. By your leave, mistress. + +MRS MA. What to do, master? + +Y. ART. To give me leave to love you. + +MRS MA. I had rather afford you some love to leave me. + +Y. ART. I would you would as soon love me, as I could leave you. + +MRS MA. I pray you, what are you, sir? + +Y. ART. A man, I'll assure you. + +MRS MA. How should I know that? + +Y. ART. Try me, by my word, for I say I am a man; +Or by my deed I'll prove myself a man. + +MRS MA. Are you not Master Arthur? + +Y. ART. Not Master Arthur, but Arthur, and your servant, +sweet Mistress Mary. + +MRS MA. Not Mistress Mary, but Mary, and your handmaid, +sweet Master Arthur. + +Y. ART. That I love you, let my face tell you; that I love you more +than ordinarily, let this kiss testify; and that I love you fervently +and entirely, ask this gift, and see what it will answer you, myself, +my purse, and all, being wholly at your service. + +MRS MA. That I take your love in good part, my thanks shall speak for +me; that I am pleased with your kiss, this interest of another shall +certify you; and that I accept your gift, my prostrate service and +myself shall witness with me. My love, my lips, and sweet self, are at +your service: wilt please you to come near, sir? + +Y. ART. O, that my wife were dead! here would I make +My second choice: would she were buried! +From out her grave this marrigold should grow, +Which, in my nuptials, I would wear with pride. +Die shall she, I have doom'd her destiny. [_Aside_.] + +MRS MA. 'Tis news, Master Arthur, to see you in such a place: +How doth your wife? + +Y. ART. Faith, Mistress Mary, at the point of death, +And long she cannot live; she shall not live +To trouble me in this my second choice. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB _with a bill and headpiece_. + +MRS MA. I pray forbear, sir, for here comes my love: +Good sir, for this time leave me; by this kiss +You cannot ask the question at my hands +I will deny you: pray you, get you gone. + +Y. ART. Farewell, sweet Mistress Mary! [_Exit_. + +MRS MA. Sweet, adieu! + +AMIN. Stand to me, bill! and, headpiece, sit thou close! +I hear my love, my wench, my duck, my dear, +Is sought by many suitors; but with this +I'll keep the door, and enter he that dare! +Virga, be gone, thy twigs I'll turn to steel; +These fingers, that were expert in the jerk; +Instead of lashing of the trembling _podex_, +Must learn pash and knock, and beat and mall, +Cleave pates and _caputs_; he that enters here, +Comes on to his death! _mors mortis_ he shall taste. + [_He hides himself_. + +MRS MA. Alas! poor fool, the pedant's mad for love! +Thinks me more mad that I would marry him. +He's come to watch me with a rusty bill, +To keep my friends away by force of arms: +I will not see him, but stand still aside, +And here observe him what he means to do. [_Retires_. + +AMIN. _O utinam_, that he that loves her best, +Durst offer but to touch her in this place! +_Per Jovem et Junonem! hoc_ +Shall pash his coxcomb such a knock, +As that his soul his course shall take +To Limbo and Avernus' lake. +In vain I watch in this dark hole; +Would any living durst my manhood try, +And offer to come up the stairs this way! + +MRS MA. O, We should see you make a goodly fray. [_Aside_.] + +AMIN. The wench I here watch with my bill, +_Amo, amas, amavi_ still. +_Qui audet_--let him come that dare! +Death, hell, and limbo be his share! + + _Enter_ BRABO _with his sword in his hand_. + +BRA. Where's Mistress Mary? never a post here, +A bar of iron, 'gainst which to try my sword? +Now, by my beard, a dainty piece of steel. + +AMIN. O Jove, what a qualm is this I feel! + +BRA. Come hither, Mall, is none here but we two? +When didst thou see the starveling schoolmaster? +That rat, that shrimp, that spindle-shank, +That wren, that sheep-biter, that lean chitty-face, +That famine, that lean envy, that all-bones, +That bare anatomy, that Jack-a-Lent, +That ghost, that shadow, that moon in the wane? + +AMIN. I wail in woe, I plunge in pain.[15] [_Aside_.] + +BRA. When next I find him here, I'll hang him up, +Like a dried sausage, in the chimney's top: +That stock-fish, that poor John, that gut of men! + +AMIN. O, that I were at home again! [_Aside_.] + +BRA. When he comes next, turn him into the streets. +Now, come, let's dance the shaking of the sheets. + + [_Exeunt_ MISTRESS MARY _and_ BRABO. + +AMIN. _Qui, quae, quod_! +Hence, boist'rous bill! come, gentle rod! +Had not grimalkin stamp'd and star'd, +Aminadab had little car'd; +Or if, instead of this brown bill, +I had kept my Mistress Virga still, +And he upon another's back, +His points untruss'd, his breeches slack; +My countenance he should not dash, +For I am expert in the lash. +But my sweet lass my love doth fly, +Which shall make me by poison die. +_Per fidem_, I will rid my life +Either by poison, sword, or knife. + + [_Exit_. + + + + +ACT III., SCENE I. + + + _A Room in Young Arthur's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR _and_ PIPKIN. + +MRS ART. Sirrah! when saw you your master? + +PIP. Faith, mistress, when I last look'd upon him. + +MRS ART. And when was that? + +PIP. When I beheld him. + +MRS ART. And when was that? + +PIP. Marry, when he was in my sight, and that was yesterday; since when +I saw not my master, nor looked on my master, nor beheld my master, nor +had any sight of my master. + +MRS ART. Was he not at my father-in-law's? + +PIP. Yes, marry, was he. + +MRS ART. Didst thou not entreat him to come home? + +PIP. How should I, mistress? he came not there to-day. + +MRS ART. Didst thou not say he was there? + +PIP. True, mistress, he was there? but I did not tell ye when; he hath +been there divers times, but not of late. + +MRS ART. About your business! here I'll sit and wait +His coming home, though it be ne'er so late. +Now once again go look him at the 'Change, +Or at the church with Sir Aminadab. +'Tis told me they use often conference; +When that is done, get you to school again. + +PIP. I had rather play the truant at home, than go seek my master at +school: let me see, what age am I? some four and twenty, and how have +I profited? I was five years learning to crish cross[16] from great A, +and five years longer coming to F; there I stuck some three years, +before I could come to Q; and so, in process of time, I came to e per +se e, and com per se, and tittle; then I got to a, e, i, o, u; after, +to Our Father; and, in the sixteenth year of my age, and the fifteenth +of my going to school, +I am in good time gotten to a noun, +By the same token there my hose went down; +Then I got to a verb, +There I began first to have a beard; +Then I came to _iste, ista, istud_, +There my master whipped me till he fetched the blood, +And so forth: so that now I am become the greatest scholar in the +school, for I am bigger than two or three of them. But I am gone; +farewell, mistress! + + [_Exit_. + + + +SCENE II. + + + _The Street_. + + _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +FUL. Love none at all! They will forswear themselves, +And when you urge them with it, their replies +Are, that Jove laughs at lovers' perjuries. + +ANS. You told me of a jest concerning that; +I prythee, let me hear it. + +FUL. That thou shalt. +My mistress in a humour had protested, +That above all the world she lov'd me best; +Saying with suitors she was oft molested, +And she had lodg'd her heart within my breast; +And sware (but me), both by her mask and fan, +She never would so much as name a man. +Not name a man? quoth I; yet be advis'd; +Not love a man but me! let it be so. +You shall not think, quoth she, my thought's disguis'd +In flattering language or dissembling show; +I say again, and I know what I do, +I will not name a man alive but you. +Into her house I came at unaware, +Her back was to me, and I was not seen; +I stole behind her, till I had her fair, +Then with my hands I closed both her een; +She, blinded thus, beginneth to bethink her +Which of her loves it was that did hoodwink her. +First she begins to guess and name a man, +That I well knew, but she had known far better; +The next I never did suspect till then: +Still of my name I could not hear a letter; +Then mad, she did name Robin, and then James, +Till she had reckon'd up some twenty names; +At length, when she had counted up a score, +As one among the rest, she hit on me; +I ask'd her if she could not reckon more, +And pluck'd away my hands to let her see; +But, when she look'd back, and saw me behind her, +She blush'd, and ask'd if it were I did blind her? +And since I sware, both by her mask and fan, +To trust no she-tongue, that can name a man. + +ANS. Your great oath hath some exceptions: +But to our former purpose; yon is Mistress Arthur; +We will attempt another kind of wooing, +And make her hate her husband, if we can. + +FUL. But not a word of passion or of love; +Have at her now to try her patience. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR. + +God save you, mistress! + +MRS ART. You are welcome, sir. + +FUL. I pray you, where's your husband? + +MRS ART. Not within. + +ANS. Who, Master Arthur? him I saw even now +At Mistress Mary's, the brave courtesan's. + +MRS ART. Wrong not my husband's reputation so; +I neither can nor will believe you, sir. + +FUL. Poor gentlewoman! how much I pity you; +Your husband is become her only guest: +He lodges there, and daily diets there, +He riots, revels, and doth all things; +Nay, he is held the Master of Misrule +'Mongst a most loathed and abhorred crew: +And can you, being a woman, suffer this? + +MRS ART. Sir, sir! I understand you well enough: +Admit, my husband doth frequent that house +Of such dishonest usage; I suppose +He doth it but in zeal to bring them home +By his good counsel from that course of sin; +And, like a Christian, seeing them astray +In the broad path that to damnation leads, +He useth thither to direct their feet +Into the narrow way that guides to heaven. + +ANS. Was ever woman gull'd so palpably! [_Aside_.] +But, Mistress Arthur, think you as you say? + +MRS ART. Sir, what I think, I think, and what I say, +I would I could enjoin you to believe. + +ANS. Faith, Mistress Arthur, I am sorry for you: +And, in good sooth, I wish it lay in me +To remedy the least part of these wrongs +Your unkind husband daily proffers you. + +MRS ART. You are deceived, he is not unkind: +Although he bear an outward face of hate, +His heart and soul are both assured mine. + +ANS. Fie, Mistress Arthur! take a better spirit; +Be not so timorous to rehearse your wrongs: +I say, your husband haunts bad company, +Swaggerers, cheaters, wanton courtesans; +There he defiles his body, stains his soul, +Consumes his wealth, undoes himself and you +In danger of diseases, whose vile names +Are not for any honest mouths to speak, +Nor any chaste ears to receive and hear. +O, he will bring that face, admir'd for beauty, +To be more loathed than a lep'rous skin! +Divorce yourself, now whilst the clouds grow black; +Prepare yourself a shelter for the storm; +Abandon his most loathed fellowship: +You are young, mistress; will you lose your youth? + +MRS ART. Tempt no more, devil! thy deformity +Hath chang'd itself into an angel's shape, +But yet I know thee by thy course of speech: +Thou gett'st an apple to betray poor Eve, +Whose outside bears a show of pleasant fruit; +But the vile branch, on which this apple grew, +Was that which drew poor Eve from paradise. +Thy Syren's song could make me drown myself, +But I am tied unto the mast of truth. +Admit, my husband be inclin'd to vice, +My virtues may in time recall him home; +But, if we both should desp'rate run to sin, +We should abide certain destruction. +But he's like one, that over a sweet face +Puts a deformed vizard; for his soul +Is free from any such intents of ill: +Only to try my patience he puts on +An ugly shape of black intemperance; +Therefore, this blot of shame which he now wears, +I with my prayers will purge, wash with my tears. + [_Exit_. + +ANS. Fuller! + +FUL. Anselm! + +ANS. How lik'st thou this? + +FUL. As school-boys jerks, apes whips, as lions cocks, +As Furies do fasting-days, and devils crosses, +As maids to have their marriage-days put off; +I like it as the thing I most do loathe. +What wilt thou do? for shame, persist no more +In this extremity of frivolous love. +I see, my doctrine moves no precise ears, +But such as are profess'd inamoratos. + +ANS. O, I shall die! + +FUL. Tush! live to laugh a little: +Here's the best subject that thy love affords; +Listen awhile and hear this: ho, boy! speak. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB. + +AMIN. _As in presenti_, thou loath'st the gift I sent thee; +_Nolo plus_ tarry, but die for the beauteous Mary; +Fain would I die by a sword, but what sword shall I die by? +Or by a stone, what stone? _nullus lapis jacet ibi_. +Knive I have none to sheathe in my breast, or empty my full veins: +Here's no wall or post which I can soil with my bruis'd brains; +First will I therefore say two or three creeds and Ave Marys, +And after go buy a poison at the apothecary's. + +FUL. I pry thee, Anselm, but observe this fellow; +Doest not hear him? he would die for love; +That misshap'd love thou wouldst condemn in him, +I see in thee: I prythee, note him well. + +ANS. Were I assur'd that I were such a lover +I should be with myself quite out of love: +I prythee, let's persuade him still to live. + +FUL. That were a dangerous case, perhaps the fellow +In desperation would, to soothe us up, +Promise repentant recantation, +And after fall into that desperate course, +Both which I will prevent with policy. + +AMIN. O death! come with thy dart! come, death, when I bid thee! +_Mors, veni: veni, mors_! and from this misery rid me; +She whom I lov'd--whom I lov'd, even she--my sweet pretty Mary, +Doth but flout and mock, and jest and dissimulary. + +FUL. I'll fit him finely; in this paper is +The juice of mandrake, by a doctor made +To cast a man, whose leg should be cut off, +Into a deep, a cold, and senseless sleep; +Of such approved operation +That whoso takes it, is for twice twelve hours +Breathless, and to all men's judgments past all sense; +This will I give the pedant but in sport; +For when 'tis known to take effect in him, +The world will but esteem it as a jest; +Besides, it may be a means to save his life, +For being [not] perfect poison, as it seems +His meaning is, some covetous slave for coin +Will sell it him,[17] though it be held by law +To be no better than flat felony. + +ANS. Uphold the jest--but he hath spied us; peace! + +AMIN. Gentles, God save you! +Here is a man I have noted oft, most learn'd in physic, +One man he help'd of the cough, another he heal'd of the pthisic, +And I will board him thus, _salve, O salve, magister_! + +FUL. _Gratus mihi advenis! quid mecum vis_? + +AMIN. _Optatus venis; paucis te volo_. + +FUL. _Si quid industria nostra tibi faciet, dic, quaeso_. + +AMIN. Attend me, sir;--I have a simple house, +But, as the learned Diogenes saith +In his epistle to Tertullian, +It is extremely troubled with great rats; +I have no _mus_ puss, nor grey-ey'd cat, +To hunt them out. O, could your learned art +Show me a means how I might poison them, +_Tuus dum suus_, Sir Aminadab. + +FUL. With all my heart; I am no rat-catcher; +But if you need a poison, here is that +Will pepper both your dogs, and rats, and cats: +Nay, spare your purse: I give this in good will; +And, as it proves, I pray you send to me, +And let me know. Would you aught else with me? + +AMIN. _Minime quidem_; here's that you say will take them? +A thousand thanks, sweet sir; I say to you, +As Tully in his Aesop's Fables said +_Ago tibi gratias_; so farewell, _vale_! + [_Exit_. + +FUL. Adieu! Come, let us go; I long to see, +What the event of this new jest will be. + + _Enter_ YOUNG ARTHUR. + +Y. ART. Good morrow, gentleman; saw you not this way, +As you were walking, Sir Aminadab? + +ANS. Master Arthur, as I take it? + +Y. ART. Sir, the same. + +ANS. Sir, I desire your more familiar love: +Would I could bid myself unto your house, +For I have wish'd for your acquaintance long. + +Y. ART. Sweet Master Anselm, I desire yours too; +Will you come dine with me at home to-morrow? +You shall be welcome, I assure you, sir. + +ANS. I fear, sir, I shall prove too bold a guest. + +Y. ART. You shall be welcome, if you bring your friend. + +FUL. O Lord, sir, we shall be too troublesome. + +Y. ART. Nay, now I will enforce a promise from you: +Shall I expect you? + +FUL. Yes, with all my heart. + +ANS. A thousand thanks. Yonder's the schoolmaster. +So, till to-morrow, twenty times farewell. + +Y. ART. I double all your farewells twenty-fold. + +ANS. O, this acquaintance was well scrap'd of me; +By this my love to-morrow I shall see. + + [_Exeunt_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB. + +AMIN. This poison shall by force expel +_Amorem_, love, _infernum_, hell. +_Per hoc venenum, ego_, I +For my sweet lovely lass will die. + +Y. ART. What do I hear of poison; which sweet means +Must make me a brave frolic widower? +It seems the doting fool, being forlorn, +Hath got some compound mixture in despair, +To end his desperate fortunes and his life; +I'll get it from him, and with this make way +To my wife's night and to my love's fair day. + +AMIN. _In nomine domini_, friends, farewell! +I know death comes, here's such a smell! +_Pater et mater_, father and mother, +_Frater et soror_, sister and brother, +And my sweet Mary, not these drugs +Do send me to the infernal bugs, +But thy unkindness; so, adieu! +Hob-goblins, now I come to you. + +Y. ART. Hold, man, I say! what will the madman do? + [_Takes away the supposed poison_. +Ay, have I got thee? thou shalt go with me. [_Aside_. +No more of that; fie, Sir Minadab! +Destroy yourself! If I but hear hereafter +You practise such revenge upon yourself, +All your friends shall know that for a wench-- +A paltry wench--you would have kill'd yourself. + +AMIN. _O tace, quaeso_; do not name +This frantic deed of mine for shame. +My sweet _magister_, not a word; +I'll neither drown me in a ford, +Nor give my neck such a scope, +T'embrace it with a hempen rope; +I'll die no way, till nature will me, +And death come with his dart, and kill me, +If what is pass'd you will conceal, +And nothing to the world reveal; +Nay, as Quintillian said of yore, +I'll strive to kill myself no more. + +Y. ART. On that condition I'll conceal this deed: +To-morrow, pray, come and dine with me; +For I have many strangers; 'mongst the rest, +Some are desirous of your company. +You will not fail me? + +AMIN. No, in sooth; +I'll try the sharpness of my tooth; +Instead of poison, I will eat +Rabbits, capons, and such meat; +And so, as Pythagoras says, +With wholesome fare prolong my days. +But, sir, will Mistress Mall be there? + +Y. ART. She shall, she shall; man, never fear. + +AMIN. Then my spirit becomes stronger, +And I will live and stretch longer; +For Ovid said, and did not lie, +That poison'd men do often die: +But poison henceforth I'll not eat, +Whilst I can other victuals get. +To-morrow, if you make a feast, +Be sure, sir, I will be your guest. +But keep my counsel, _vale tu_! +And, till to-morrow, sir, adieu! +At your table I will prove, +If I can eat away my love. [_Exit_. + +Y. ART. O, I am glad I have thee; now devise +A way how to bestow it cunningly; +It shall be thus: to-morrow I'll pretend +A reconcilement 'twixt my wife and me, +And to that end I will invite thus many-- +First Justice Reason, as the chief man there; +My father Arthur, old Lusam, young Lusam. +Master Fuller and Master Anselm I have bid already; +Then will I have my lovely Mary too, +Be it but to spite my wife, before she die; +For die she shall before to-morrow night. +The operation of this poison is +Not suddenly to kill; they that take it +Fall in a sleep, and then 'tis past recure, +And this will I put in her cup to-morrow. + + _Enter_ PIPKIN, _running_. + +PIP. This 'tis to have such a master! I have sought him at the 'Change, +at the school, at every place, but I cannot find him nowhere. + [_Sees_ M. ART.] +O, cry mercy! my mistress would entreat you to come home. + +Y. ART. I cannot come to-night; some urgent business +Will all this night employ me otherwise. + +PIP. I believe my mistress would con you as much thank to do that +business at home as abroad. + +Y. ART. Here, take my purse, and bid my wife provide +Good cheer against to-morrow; there will be +Two or three strangers of my late acquaintance. +Sirrah, go you to Justice Reason's house; +Invite him first with all solemnity; +Go to my father's and my father-in-law's; +Here, take this note-- +The rest that come I will invite myself: +About it with what quick despatch thou can'st. + +PIP. I warrant you, master, I'll despatch this business with more +honesty than you'll despatch yours. But, master, will the gentlewoman +be there? + +Y. ART. What gentlewoman? + +PIP. The gentlewoman of the old house, that is as well known by the +colour she lays on her cheeks, as an alehouse by the painting is laid +on his lattice; she that is, like _homo_, common to all men; she that +is beholden to no trade, but lives of herself. + +Y. ART. Sirrah, begone, or I will send you hence. + +PIP. I'll go [_aside_]; but, by this hand, I'll tell my mistress as +soon as I come home that mistress light-heels comes to dinner +to-morrow. [_Exit_. + +Y. ART. Sweet Mistress Mary, I'll invite myself: +And there I'll frolic, sup, and spend the night. +My plot is current; here 'tis in my hand +Will make me happy in my second choice: +And I may freely challenge as mine own, +What I am now enforc'd to seek by stealth. +Love is not much unlike ambition; +For in them both all lets must be remov'd +'Twixt every crown and him that would aspire; +And he that will attempt to win the same +Must plunge up to the depth o'er head and ears, +And hazard drowning in that purple sea: +So he that loves must needs through blood and fire, +And do all things to compass his desire. + + [_Exit_. + + + +SCENE III. + + + _A Room in Young Arthur's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR _and her_ MAID. + +MRS ART. Come, spread the table; is the hall well rubb'd? +The cushions in the windows neatly laid? +The cupboard of plate set out? the casements stuck +With rosemary and flowers? the carpets brush'd? + +MAID. Ay, forsooth, mistress. + +MRS ART. Look to the kitchen-maid, and bid the cook take down the +oven-stone, [lest] the pies be burned: here, take my keys, and give +him out more spice. + +MAID. Yes, forsooth, mistress. + +MRS ART. Where's that knave Pipkin? bid him spread the cloth, +Fetch the clean diaper napkins from my chest, +Set out the gilded salt, and bid the fellow +Make himself handsome, get him a clean band. + +MAID. Indeed, forsooth, mistress, he is such a sloven, +That nothing will sit handsome about him; +He had a pound of soap to scour his face, +And yet his brow looks like the chimney-stock. + +MRS ART. He'll be a sloven still; maid, take this apron, +And bring me one of linen: quickly, maid. + +MAID. I go, forsooth. + +MRS ART. There was a curtsy! let me see't again; +Ay, that was well.--[_Exit_ MAID.] I fear my guests will come +Ere we be ready. What a spite is this. + +_Within_. Mistress! + +MRS ART. What's the matter? + +_Within_. Mistress, I pray, take Pipkin from the fire; +We cannot keep his fingers from the roast. + +MRS ART. Bid him come hither; what a knave is that! +Fie, fie, never out of the kitchen! +Still broiling by the fire! + + _Enter_ PIPKIN. + +PIP. I hope you will not take Pipkin from the fire, +Till the broth be enough. + + _Enter_ MAID, _with an apron_. + +MRS ART. Well, sirrah, get a napkin and a trencher, +And wait to-day. So, let me see: my apron. [_Puts it on_.] + +PIP. Mistress, I can tell ye one thing, my master's wench +Will come home to-day to dinner. + + _Enter_ JUSTICE REASON, _and his man_ HUGH. + +MRS ART. She shall be welcome, if she be his guest. +But here's some of our guests are come already: +A chair for Justice Reason, sirrah! + +JUS. Good morrow, Mistress Arthur! you are like a good housewife: +At your request I am come home. What, a chair! +Thus age seeks ease. Where is your husband, mistress? +What, a cushion, too! + +PIP. I pray you, ease your tail, sir. + +JUS. Marry, and will, good fellow; twenty thanks. + + [HUGH _and_ PIPKIN _converse apart_.] + +PIP. Master Hugh, as welcome as heart can tell, or tongue can think. + +HUGH. I thank you, Master Pipkin; I have got many a good dish of broth +by your means. + +PIP. According to the ancient courtesy, you are welcome; according to +the time and place, you are heartily welcome: when they are busied at +the board, we will find ourselves busied in the buttery; and so, sweet +Hugh, according to our scholars' phrase, _gratulor adventum tuum_. + +HUGH. I will answer you with the like, sweet Pipkin, _gratias_. + +PIP. As much grace as you will, but as little of it as you can, +good Hugh. But here comes more guests. + + _Enter_ OLD MASTER ARTHUR _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM. + +MRS ART. More stools and cushions for these gentlemen. + +O. ART. What, Master Justice Reason, are you here? +Who would have thought to have met you in this place? + +O. LUS. What say mine eyes, is Justice Reason here? +Mountains may meet, and so, I see, may we. + +JUS. Well, when men meet, they meet, +And when they part, they oft leave one another's company; +So we, being met, are met. + +O. LUS. Truly, you say true; +And Master Justice Reason speaks but reason: +To hear how wisely men of law will speak! + + _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +ANS. Good morrow, gentlemen! + +MRS ART. What? are you there? + +ANS. Good morrow, mistress, and good morrow, all! + +JUS. If I may be so bold in a strange place, +I say, good morrow, and as much to you. +I pray, gentlemen, will you sit down? +We have been young, like you; and, if you live +Unto our age, you will be old like us. + +FUL. Be rul'd by reason; but who's here? + + _Enter_ AMINADAB. + +AMIN. _Salvete, omnes_! and good day +To all at once, as I may say; +First, Master Justice; next, Old Arthur, +That gives me pension by the quarter; +To my good mistress and the rest, +That are the founders of this feast; +In brief, I speak to _omnes_, all, +That to their meat intend to fall. + +JUS. Welcome, Sir Aminadab; O, my son +Hath profited exceeding well with you: +Sit down, sit down, by Mistress Arthur's leave. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, YOUNG MASTER + LUSAM, _and_ MISTRESS MARY. + +Y. ART. Gentlemen, welcome all; whilst I deliver +Their private welcomes, wife, be it your charge +To give this gentlewoman entertainment. + +MRS ART. Husband, I will. O, this is she usurps +The precious interest of my husband's love; +Though, as I am a woman, I could well +Thrust such a lewd companion out of doors; +Yet, as I am a true, obedient, wife, +I'd kiss her feet to do my husband's will. [_Aside_. +You are entirely welcome, gentlewoman; +Indeed you are; pray, do not doubt of it. + +MRS MA. I thank you, Mistress Arthur; now, by my little honesty, +It much repents me to wrong so chaste a woman. [_Aside_. + +Y. ART. Gentles, put o'er your legs; first, Master Justice, +Here you shall sit. + +JUS. And here shall Mistress Mary sit by me. + +Y. ART. Pardon me, sir, she shall have my wife's place. + +MRS ART. Indeed, you shall, for he will have it so. + +MRS MA. If you will needs; but I shall do you wrong +To take your place. + +O. LUS. Ay, by my faith, you should. + +MRS ART. That is no wrong, which we impute no wrong! +I pray you, sit. + +Y. ART. Gentlemen all, I pray you, seat yourselves: +What, Sir Aminadab, I know where your heart is. + [_Aside_. +AMIN. Mum, not a word, _pax vobis_, peace: +Come, gentles, I'll be of this mess. + +Y. ART. So, who gives thanks? + +AMIN. Sir, that will I. + +Y. ART. I pray you to it by and by. +Where's Pipkin? +Wait at the board; let Master Season's man +Be had into the buttery; but first give him +A napkin and a trencher. Well-said. Hugh, +Wait at your master's elbow: now say grace. + +AMIN. _Gloria Deo_, sirs, proface; +Attend me now, whilst I say grace. +For bread and salt, for grapes and malt, +For flesh and fish, and every dish; +Mutton and beef, of all meats chief; +For cow-heels, chitterlings, tripes and souse, +And other meat that's in the house; +For racks, for breasts, for legs, for loins, +For pies with raisins and with proins, +For fritters, pancakes, and for fries, +For ven'son pasties and minc'd pies; +Sheeps'-head and garlic, brawn and mustard, +Wafers, spic'd cakes, tart, and custard; +For capons, rabbits, pigs, and geese, +For apples, caraways, and cheese; +For all these and many mo: +_Benedicamus Domino_! + +ALL. Amen. + +JUS. I con you thanks; but, Sir Aminadab, +Is that your scholar! now, I promise you, +He is a toward stripling of his age. + +PIP. Who? I, forsooth? yes, indeed, forsooth, I am his scholar. I would +you should well think I have profited under him too; you shall hear, if +he will pose me. + +O. ART. I pray you, let's hear him. + +AMIN. _Huc ades_, Pipkin. + +PIP. _Adsum_. + +AMIN. _Quot casus sunt_? how many cases are there? + +PIP. Marry, a great many. + +AMIN. Well-answer'd, a great many: there are six, +Six, a great many; 'tis well-answer'd; +And which be they? + +PIP. A bow-case, a cap-case, a comb-case, a lute-case, a fiddle-case, +and a candle-case. + +JUS. I know them all; again, well-answer'd: +Pray God, my youngest son profit no worse. + +AMIN. How many parsons are there? + +PIP. I'll tell you as many as I know, if you'll give me leave to reckon +them. + +ANS. I prythee, do. + +PIP. The parson of Fenchurch, the parson of Pancras, and the parson +of------ + +Y. ART. Well, sir, about your business:--now will I +Temper the cup my loathed wife shall drink + [_Aside, and exit_. + +O. ART. Daughter, methinks you are exceeding sad. + +O. LUS. Faith, daughter, so thou art exceeding sad. + +MRS ART. 'Tis but my countenance, for my heart is merry: +Mistress, were you as merry as you are welcome, +You should not sit so sadly as you do. + +MRS MA. 'Tis but because I am seated in your place, +Which is frequented seldom with true mirth. + +MRS ART. The fault is neither in the place nor me. + +AMIN. How say you, lady? +To him you last did lie by! +All this is no more, _praebibo tibi_. + +MRS MA. I thank you, sir. Mistress, this draught shall be +To him that loves both you and me! + +MRS ART. I know your meaning. + +ANS. Now to me, +If she have either love or charity. + +MRS ART. Here, Master Justice, this to your grave years, +A mournful draught, God wot: half-wine, half-tears. [_Aside_. + +JUS. Let come, my wench; here, youngsters, to you all! +You are silent: here's that will make you talk. +Wenches, methink you sit like puritans: +Never a jest abroad to make them laugh? + +FUL. Sir, since you move speech of a puritan, +If you will give me audience, I will tell ye +As good a jest as ever you did hear. + +O. ART. A jest? that's excellent! + +JUS. Beforehand, let's prepare ourselves to laugh; +A jest is nothing, if it be not grac'd. +Now, now, I pray you, when begins this jest? + +FUL. I came unto a puritan, to woo her, +And roughly did salute her with a kiss: +Away! quoth she, and rudely push'd me from her; +Brother, by yea and nay, I like not this: +And still with amorous talk she was saluted, +My artless speech with Scripture was confuted. + +O. LUS. Good, good, indeed; the best that e'er I heard. + +O. ART. I promise you, it was exceeding good. + +FUL. Oft I frequented her abode by night, +And courted her, and spake her wond'rous fair; +But ever somewhat did offend her sight, +Either my double ruff or my long hair; +My scarf was vain, my garments hung too low, +My Spanish shoe was cut too broad at toe. + +ALL. Ha, ha! the best that ever I heard! + +FUL. I parted for that time, and came again, +Seeming to be conform'd in look and speech; +My shoes were sharp-toed, and my band was plain, +Close to my thigh my metamorphos'd breech; +My cloak was narrow-cap'd, my hair cut shorter; +Off went my scarf, thus march'd I to the porter. + +ALL. Ha, ha! was ever heard the like? + +FUL. The porter, spying me, did lead me in, +Where his fair mistress sat reading of a chapter; +Peace to this house, quoth I, and those within, +Which holy speech with admiration wrapp'd her; +And ever as I spake, and came her nigh, +Seeming divine, turn'd up the white of eye. + +JUS. So, so, what then? + +O. LUS. Forward, I pray, forward, sir. + +FUL. I spake divinely, and I call'd her sister, +And by this means we were acquainted well: +By yea and nay, I will, quoth I, and kiss'd her. +She blush'd, and said, that long-tongu'd men would tell; +I swore[18] to be as secret as the night, +And said, on sooth, I would put out the light. + +O. ART. In sooth he would! a passing-passing jest. + +FUL. O, do not swear, quoth she, yet put it out, +Because I would not have you break your oath. +I felt a bed there, as I grop'd about; +In troth, quoth I, here will we rest us both. +Swear you, in troth, quoth she? had you not sworn, +I had not done't, but took it in full scorn: +Then you will come, quoth I? though I be loth, +I'll come, quoth she, be't but to keep your oath. + +JUS. 'Tis very pretty; but now, when's the jest? + +O. ART. O, forward, to the jest in any case. + +O. LUS. I would not, for an angel, lose the jest. + +FUL. Here's right the dunghill cock that finds a pearl. +To talk of wit to these, is as a man +Should cast out jewels to a herd of swine--[_aside_.] +Why, in the last words did consist the jest. + +O. LUS. Ay, in the last words? ha, ha, ha! +It was an excellent admired jest-- +To them that understood it. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, _with two cups of wine_. + +JUS. It was, indeed; I must, for fashion's sake, +Say as they say; but otherwise, O, God! [_Aside_. +Good Master Arthur, thanks for our good cheer. + +Y. ART. Gentlemen, welcome all; now hear me speak-- +One special cause that mov'd me lead you hither, +Is for an ancient grudge that hath long since +Continued 'twixt my modest wife and me: +The wrongs that I have done her I recant. +In either hand I hold a sev'ral cup, +This in the right hand, wife, I drink to thee, +This in the left hand, pledge me in this draught, +Burying all former hatred; so, have to thee. [_He drinks_. + +MRS ART. The welcom'st pledge that yet I ever took: +Were this wine poison, or did taste like gall, +The honey-sweet condition of your draught +Would make it drink like nectar: I will pledge you, +Were it the last that I should ever drink. + +Y. ART. Make that account: thus, gentlemen, you see +Our late discord brought to a unity. + +AMIN. _Ecce, quam bonum et quam jucundum +Est habitare fratres in unum_. + +O. ART. My heart doth taste the sweetness of your pledge, +And I am glad to see this sweet accord. + +O. LUS. Glad, quotha? there's not one among'st us, +But may be exceeding glad. + +JUS. I am, ay, marry, am I, that I am. + +Y. LUS. The best accord that could betide their loves. + +ANS. The worst accord that could betide my love. + + [_All about to rise_. + +AMIN: What, rising, gentles? keep your place, +I will close up your stomachs with a grace; +_O Domine et care Pater_, +That giv'st us wine instead of water; +And from the pond and river clear +Mak'st nappy ale and good March beer; +That send'st us sundry sorts of meat, +And everything we drink or eat; +To maids, to wives, to boys, to men, +_Laus Deo Sancto_, Amen. + +Y. ART. So, much good do ye all, and, gentlemen, +Accept your welcomes better than your cheer. + +O. LUS. Nay, so we do, I'll give you thanks for all. +Come, Master Justice, you do walk our way, +And Master Arthur, and old Hugh your man; +We'll be the first [that] will strain courtesy. + +JUS. God be with you all! + + [_Exeunt_ O. ART., O. LUS., _and_ JUS. REASON. + +AMIN. _Proximus ego sum_, I'll be the next, +And man you home; how say you, lady? + +Y. ART. I pray you do, good Sir Aminadab. + +MRS MA. Sir, if it be not too much trouble to you, +Let me entreat that kindness at your hands. + +AMIN. Entreat! fie! no, sweet lass, command; +_Sic_, so, _nunc_, now, take the upper hand. + + [_Exit_ MRS MARY _escorted by_ AMINADAB. + +Y. ART. Come, wife, this meeting was all for our sakes: +I long to see the force my poison takes. [_Aside_. + +MRS ART. My dear-dear husband, in exchange of hate, +My love and heart shall on your service wait. + + [_Exeunt_ Y. ART., MRS ART., _and_ PIPKIN. + +ANS. So doth my love on thee; but long no more; +To her rich love thy service is too poor. + +FUL. For shame, no more! you had best expostulate +Your love with every stranger; leave these sighs, +And change them to familiar conference. + +Y. LUS. Trust me, the virtues of young Arthur's wife, +Her constancy, modest humility, +Her patience, and admired temperance, +Have made me love all womankind the better. + + _Re-enter_ PIPKIN. + +PIP. O, my mistress! my mistress! she's dead! +She's gone! she's dead! she's gone! + +ANS. What's that he says? + +PIP. Out of my way! stand back, I say! +All joy from earth has fled! +She is this day as cold as clay; +My mistress she is dead! +O Lord, my mistress! my mistress! [_Exit_. + +ANS. What, Mistress Arthur dead? my soul is vanish'd, +And the world's wonder from the world quite banish'd. +O, I am sick, my pain grows worse and worse; +I am quite struck through with this late discourse. + +FUL. What! faint'st thou, man? I'll lead thee hence; for shame! +Swoon at the tidings of a woman's death! +Intolerable, and beyond all thought! +Come, my love's fool, give me thy hand to lead; +This day one body and two hearts are dead. + + [_Exeunt_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +Y. LUS. But now she was as well as well might be, +And on the sudden dead; joy in excess +Hath overrun her poor disturbed soul. +I'll after, and see how Master Arthur takes it; +His former hate far more suspicious makes it. + [_Exit_. + + _Enter_ HUGH, _and after him_, PIPKIN. + +HUGH. My master hath left his gloves behind where he sat in his chair, +and hath sent me to fetch them; it is such an old snudge, he'll not +lose the droppings of his nose. + +PIP. O mistress! O Hugh! O Hugh! O mistress! +Hugh, I must needs beat thee; I am mad! +I am lunatic! I must fall upon thee: my mistress is dead! + [_Beats_ HUGH. + +HUGH. O Master Pipkin, what do you mean? what do you mean, +Master Pipkin? + +PIP. O Hugh! O mistress! O mistress! O Hugh! + +HUGH. O Pipkin! O God! O God! O Pipkin! + +Pip. O Hugh, I am mad! bear with me, I cannot choose: O death! +O mistress! O mistress! O death! [_Exit_. + +HUGH. Death, quotha? he hath almost made me dead with beating. + + _Re-enter_ JUSTICE REASON, OLD MASTER ARTHUR, + _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM. + +JUS. I wonder why the knave, my man, stays thus, +And comes not back: see where the villain loiters. + + _Re-enter_ PIPKIN. + +PIP. O Master Justice! Master Arthur! Master Lusam! wonder not why I +thus blow and bluster; my mistress is dead! dead is my mistress! and +therefore hang yourselves. O, my mistress, my mistress! + [_Exit_. + +O. ART. My son's wife dead! + +O. LUS. My daughter! + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, _mourning_. + +JUS. Mistress Arthur! Here comes her husband. + +Y. ART. O, here the woful'st husband comes alive, +No husband now; the wight, that did uphold +That name of husband, is now quite o'erthrown, +And I am left a hapless widower. + +O. ART. Fain would I speak, if grief would suffer me. + +O. LUS. As Master Arthur says, so say I; +If grief would let me, I would weeping die. +To be thus hapless in my aged years! +O, I would speak; but my words melt to tears. + +Y. ART. Go in, go in, and view the sweetest corpse +That e'er was laid upon a mournful room; +You cannot speak for weeping sorrow's doom: +Bad news are rife, good tidings seldom come. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT IV., SCENE I. + + + _A Street_. + + _Enter_ ANSELM. + +ANS. What frantic humour doth thus haunt my sense, +Striving to breed destruction in my spirit? +When I would sleep, the ghost of my sweet love +Appears unto me in an angel's shape: +When I'm awake, my fantasy presents, +As in a glass, the shadow of my love: +When I would speak, her name intrudes itself +Into the perfect echoes of my speech: +And though my thought beget some other word, +Yet will my tongue speak nothing but her name. +If I do meditate, it is on her; +If dream of her, or if discourse of her, +I think her ghost doth haunt me, as in times +Of former darkness old wives' tales report. + + _Enter_ FULLER. + +Here comes my better genius, whose advice +Directs me still in all my actions. +How now, from whence come you? + +FUL. Faith, from the street, in which, as I pass'd by, +I met the modest Mistress Arthur's corpse, +And after her as mourners, first her husband, +Next Justice Reason, then old Master Arthur, +Old Master Lusam, and young Lusam too, +With many other kinsfolks, neighbours, friends, +And others, that lament her funeral: +Her body is by this laid in the vault. + +ANS. And in that vault my body I will lay! +I prythee, leave me: thither is my way. + +FUL. I am sure you jest, you mean not as you say. + +ANS. No, no, I'll but go to the church, and pray. + +FUL. Nay, then we shall be troubled with your humour. + +ANS. As ever thou didst love me, or as ever +Thou didst delight in my society, +By all the rights of friendship and of love, +Let me entreat thy absence but one hour, +And at the hour's end I will come to thee. + +FUL. Nay, if you will be foolish, and past reason, +I'll wash my hands, like Pilate, from thy folly, +And suffer thee in these extremities. [_Exit_. + +ANS. Now it is night, and the bright lamps of heaven +Are half-burn'd out: now bright Adelbora +Welcomes the cheerful day-star to the east, +And harmless stillness hath possess'd the world: +This is the church,--this hollow is the vault, +Where the dead body of my saint remains, +And this the coffin that enshrines her body, +For her bright soul is now in paradise. +My coming is with no intent of sin, +Or to defile the body of the dead; +But rather take my last farewell of her, +Or languishing and dying by her side, +My airy soul post after hers to heaven. + [_Comes to_ MRS ARTHUR'S _tomb_. +First, with this latest kiss I seal my love: +Her lips are warm, and I am much deceiv'd, +If that she stir not. O, this Golgotha, +This place of dead men's bones is terrible, +Presenting fearful apparitions! +It is some spirit that in the coffin lies, +And makes my hair start up on end with fear! +Come to thyself, faint heart--she sits upright! +O, I would hide me, but I know not where. +Tush, if it be a spirit, 'tis a good spirit; +For with her body living ill she knew not; +And with her body dead ill cannot meddle. + +MRS ART. Who am I? Or where am I? + +ANS. O, she speaks, +And by her language now I know she lives. + +MRS ART. O, who can tell me where I am become? +For in this darkness I have lost myself; +I am not dead, for I have sense and life: +How come I then in this coffin buried? + +ANS. Anselm, be bold; she lives, and destiny +Hath train'd thee hither to redeem her life. + +MRS ART. Lives any 'mongst these dead? none but myself? + +ANS. O yes, a man, whose heart till now was dead, +Lives and survives at your return to life: +Nay, start not; I am Anselm, one who long +Hath doted on your fair perfection, +And, loving you more than became me well, +Was hither sent by some strange providence, +To bring you from these hollow vaults below, +To be a liver in the world again. + +MRS ART. I understand you, and I thank the heavens, +That sent you to revive me from this fear, +And I embrace my safety with good-will. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB _with two or three_ BOYS. + +AMIN. _Mane citus lectum fuge, mollem discute somnum, +Templa petas supplex, et venerate deum_. +Shake off thy sleep, get up betimes, +Go to the church and pray, +And, never fear, God will thee hear, +And keep thee all the day. +Good counsel, boys; observe it, mark it well; +This early rising, this _diluculo_ +Is good both for your bodies and your minds: +'Tis not yet day; give me my tinder-box; +Meantime, unloose your satchels and your books: +Draw, draw, and take you to your lessons, boys. + +1ST BOY. O Lord, master, what's that in the white sheet? + +AMIN. In the white sheet, my boy? _Dic ubi_, where? + +1ST BOY. _Vide_, master, _vide illic_, there. + +AMIN. O, _Domine, Domine_, keep us from evil, +A charm from flesh, the world, and the devil! + + [_Exeunt_. + +MRS ART. O, tell me not my husband was ingrate, +Or that he did attempt to poison me, +Or that he laid me here, and I was dead; +These are no means at all to win my love. + +ANS. Sweet mistress, he bequeath'd you to the earth; +You promis'd him to be his wife till death, +And you have kept your promise: but now, since +The world, your husband, and your friends suppose +That you are dead, grant me but one request, +And I will swear never to solicit more +Your sacred thoughts to my dishonest love. + +MRS ART. So your demand may be no prejudice +To my chaste name, no wrong unto my husband, +No suit that may concern my wedlock's breach, +I yield unto it; but +To pass the bounds of modesty and chastity, +Sooner[19] will I bequeath myself again +Unto this grave, and never part from hence, +Than taint my soul with black impurity. + +ANS. Take here my hand and faithful heart to gage. +That I will never tempt you more to sin: +This my request is--since your husband dotes +Upon a lewd, lascivious courtesan-- +Since he hath broke the bonds of your chaste bed, +And, like a murd'rer, sent you to your grave, +Do but go with me to my mother's house; +There shall you live in secret for a space, +Only to see the end of such lewd lust, +And know the difference of a chaste wife's bed, +And one whose life is in all looseness led. + +MRS ART. Your mother is a virtuous matron held: +Her counsel, conference, and company +May much avail me; there a space I'll stay, +Upon condition, as you said before, +You never will move your unchaste suit more. + +ANS. My faith is pawn'd. O, never had chaste wife +A husband of so lewd and unchaste life! + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE II. + + + _A Room in Mistress Mary's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS MARY, MISTRESS SPLAY, _and_ BRABO. + +BRA. Mistress, I long have serv'd you, even since +These bristled hairs upon my grave-like chin +Were all unborn; when I first came to you, +These infant feathers of these ravens' wings +Were not once begun. + +MRS SPLAY. No, indeed, they were not. + +BRA. Now in my two moustachios for a need, +(Wanting a rope) I well could hang myself; +I prythee, mistress, for all my long service, +For all the love that I have borne thee long, +Do me this favour now, to marry me. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. + +MRS MA. Marry, come up, you blockhead! you great ass! +What! wouldst thou have me marry with a devil! +But peace, no more; here comes the silly fool, +That we so long have set our lime-twigs for; +Begone, and leave me to entangle him. + + [_Exeunt_ MISTRESS SPLAY _and_ BRABO. + +Y. ART. What, Mistress Mary? + +MRS MA. O good Master Arthur, +Where have you been this week, this month, this year? +This year, said I? where have you been this age? +Unto a lover ev'ry minute seems +Time out of mind: +How should I think you love me, +That can endure to stay so long from me? + +Y. ART. I' faith, sweetheart, I saw thee yesternight. + +MRS MA. Ay, true, you did, but since you saw me not; +At twelve o'clock you parted from my house, +And now 'tis morning, and new-strucken seven; +Seven hours thou stay'd'st from me; why didst thou so? +They are my seven years' 'prenticeship of woe. + +Y. ART. I prythee, be patient; I had some occasion +That did enforce me from thee yesternight. + +MRS MA. Ay, you are soon enforc'd; fool that I am, +To dote on one that nought respecteth me! +'Tis but my fortune, I am born to bear it, +And ev'ry one shall have their destiny. + +Y. ART. Nay, weep not, wench; thou wound'st me with thy tears. + +MRS MA. I am a fool, and so you make me too; +These tears were better kept than spent in waste +On one that neither tenders them nor me. +What remedy? but if I chance to die, +Or to miscarry with that I go withal, +I'll take my death that thou art cause thereof; +You told me that, when your wife was dead, +You would forsake all others, and take me. + +Y. ART. I told thee so, and I will keep my word, +And for that end I came thus early to thee; +I have procur'd a licence, and this night +We will be married in a lawless[20] church. + +MRS. MA. These news revive me, and do somewhat ease +The thought that was new-gotten to my heart. +But shall it be to-night? + +Y. ART. Ay, wench, to-night. +A se'nnight and odd days, since my wife died, +Is past already, and her timeless death +Is but a nine-days' talk; come, go with me, +And it shall be despatched presently. + +MRS. MA. Nay, then, I see thou lov'st me; and I find +By this last motion thou art grown more kind. + +Y. ART. My love and kindness, like my age, shall grow, +And with the time increase; and thou shalt see +The older I grow, the kinder I will be. + +MRS. MA, Ay, so I hope it will; but, as for mine, +That with my age shall day by day decline. [_Aside_. +Come, shall we go? + +Y. ART. With thee to the world's end, +Whose beauty most admire, and all commend. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE III. + + + _The Street near the House of Anselm's Mother_. + + _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +ANS. 'Tis true, as I relate the circumstance, +And she is with my mother safe at home; +But yet, for all the hate I can allege +Against her husband, nor for all the love +That on my own part I can urge her to, +Will she be won to gratify my love. + +FUL. All things are full of ambiguity, +And I admire this wond'rous accident. +But, Anselm, Arthur's about a new wife, _a bona roba_; +How will she take it when she hears this news? + +ANS. I think, even as a virtuous maiden should; +It may be that report may, from thy mouth, +Beget some pity from her flinty heart, +And I will urge her with it presently. + +FUL. Unless report be false, they are link'd already; +They are fast as words can tie them: I will tell thee +How I, by chance, did meet him the last night:-- +One said to me this Arthur did intend +To have a wife, and presently to marry. +Amidst the street, I met him as my friend, +And to his love a present he did carry; +It was some ring, some stomacher, or toy; +I spake to him, and bad God give him joy. +God give me joy, quoth he; of what, I pray? +Marry, quoth I, your wedding that is toward. +'Tis false, quoth he, and would have gone his way. +Come, come, quoth I, so near it and so froward: +I urg'd him hard by our familiar loves, +Pray'd him withal not to forget my gloves. +Then he began:--Your kindness hath been great, +Your courtesy great, and your love not common; +Yet so much favour pray let me entreat, +To be excus'd from marrying any woman. +I knew the wench that is become his bride, +And smil'd to think how deeply he had lied; +For first he swore he did not court a maid; +A wife he could not, she was elsewhere tied; +And as for such as widows were, he said, +And deeply swore none such should be his bride: +Widow, nor wife, nor maid--I ask'd no more, +Knowing he was betroth'd unto a whore. + +ANS. Is it not Mistress Mary that you mean? +She that did dine with us at Arthur's house? + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR. + +FUL. The same, the same:--here comes the gentlewoman; +O Mistress Arthur, I am of your counsel: +Welcome from death to life! + +ANS. Mistress, this gentleman hath news to tell ye, +And as you like of it, so think of me. + +FUL. Your husband hath already got a wife; +A huffing wench, i' faith, whose ruffling silks +Make with their motion music unto love, +And you are quite forgotten. + +ANS. I have sworn +To move this my unchaste demand no more. [_Aside_.] + +FUL. When doth your colour change? When do your eyes +Sparkle with fire to revenge these wrongs? +When doth your tongue break into rage and wrath, +Against that scum of manhood, your vile husband?' +He first misus'd you. + +ANS. And yet can you love him? + +FUL. He left your chaste bed, to defile the bed +Of sacred marriage with a courtesan. + +ANS. Yet can you love him? + +FUL. And, not content with this, +Abus'd your honest name with sland'rous words, +And fill'd your hush'd house with unquietness. + +ANS. And can you love him yet? + +FUL. Nay, did he not +With his rude fingers dash you on the face, +And double-dye your coral lips with blood? +Hath he not torn those gold wires from your head, +Wherewith Apollo would have strung his harp, +And kept them to play music to the gods? +Hath he not beat you, and with his rude fists +Upon that crimson temperature of your cheeks +Laid a lead colour with his boist'rous blows? + +ANS. And can you love him yet? + +FUL. Then did he not, +Either by poison or some other plot, +Send you to death where, by his providence, +God hath preserved you by that wond'rous miracle? +Nay, after death, hath he not scandalis'd +Your place with an immodest courtesan? + +ANS. And can you love him yet? + +MRS ART. And yet, and yet, +And still, and ever whilst I breathe this air: +Nay, after death, my unsubstantial soul, +Like a good angel, shall attend on him, +And keep him from all harm. +But is he married? much good do his heart! +Pray God, she may content him better far +Than I have done; long may they live in peace, +Till I disturb their solace; but because +I fear some mischief doth hang o'er his head, +I'll weep my eyes dry with my present care, +And for their healths make hoarse my tongue with prayer. + [_Exit_. + +FUL. Art sure she is a woman? if she be, +She is create of nature's purity. + +ANS. O yes, I too well know she is a woman; +Henceforth my virtue shall my love withstand, +And of my striving thoughts get th'upper hand. + +FUL. Then, thus resolv'd, I straight will drink to thee +A health thus deep, to drown thy melancholy. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT V., SCENE I. + + + _A Room in Mistress Mary's House_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS MARY, YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, + BRABO, _and_ MISTRESS SPLAY. + +MRS MA. Not have my will! yes, I will have my will; +Shall I not go abroad but when you please? +Can I not now and then meet with my friends, +But, at my coming home, you will control me? +Marry, come up! + +Y. ART. Where art thou, patience? +Nay, rather, where's become my former spleen? +I had a wife would not have us'd me so. + +MRS MA. Why, you Jacksauce! you cuckold! you what-not! +What, am I not of age sufficient +To go and come still, when my pleasure serves, +But must I have you, sir, to question me? +Not have my will! yes, I will have my will. + +Y. ART. I had a wife would not have us'd me so; +But she is dead. + +BRA. Not have her will, sir! she shall have her will: +She says she will, and, sir, I say she shall. +Not have her will! that were a jest indeed; +Who says she shall not? if I be dispos'd +To man her forth, who shall find fault with it? +What's he that dare say black's her eye?[21] +Though you be married, sir, yet you must know, +That she was ever born to have her will. + +MRS SPLAY. Not have her will! God's passion! I say still, +A woman's nobody that wants her will. + +Y. ART. Where is my spirit? what, shall I maintain +A strumpet with a Brabo and her bawd, +To beard me out of my authority? +What, am I from a master made a slave? + +MRS MA. A slave? nay, worse; dost thou maintain my man, +And this my maid? 'tis I maintain them both. +I am thy wife; I will not be dress'd so, +While thy gold lasts; but then most willingly +I will bequeath thee to flat beggary. +I do already hate thee; do thy worst; + [_He threatens her_. +Nay, touch me, if thou dar'st; what, shall he beat me? + +BRA. I'll make him seek his fingers 'mongst the dogs, +That dares to touch my mistress; never fear, +My sword shall smoothe the wrinkles of his brows, +That bends a frown upon my mistress. + +Y. ART. I had a wife would not have us'd me so: +But God is just. + +MRS MA. Now, Arthur, if I knew +What in this world would most torment thy soul, +That I would do; would all my evil usage +Could make thee straight despair and hang thyself! +Now, I remember:--where is Arthur's man, +Pipkin? that slave! go, turn him out of doors; +None that loves Arthur shall have house-room here. + + _Enter_ PIPKIN. + +Yonder he comes; Brabo, discard the fellow. + +Y. ART. Shall I be over-master'd in my own? +Be thyself, Arthur:--strumpet! he shall stay. + +MRS MA. What! shall he, Brabo? shall he, Mistress Splay? + +BRA. Shall he? he shall not: breathes there any living +Dares say he shall, when Brabo says he shall not? + +Y. ART. Is there no law for this? she is my wife; +Should I complain, I should be rather mock'd. +I am content; keep by thee whom thou list. +Discharge whom thou think'st good; do what thou wilt, +Rise, go to bed, stay at home, or go abroad +At thy good pleasure, keep all companies; +So that, for all this, I may have but peace. +Be unto me as I was to my wife; +Only give me, what I denied her then, +A little love, and some small quietness-- +If he displease thee, turn him out of doors. + +PIP. Who, me? Turn me out of doors? Is this all the wages I shall have +at the year's end, to be turned out of doors? You, mistress! you are a-- + +MRS SPLAY. A what? speak, a what? touch her and touch me, taint her and +taint me; speak, speak, a what? + +PIP. Marry, a woman that is kin to the frost.[22] + +MRS SPLAY. How do you mean that? + +PIP. And you are akin to the Latin word, to understand. + +MRS SPLAY. And what's that? + +PIP. _Subaudi, subaudi_? and, sir, do you not use to pink doublets? + +MRS SPLAY. And why? + +PIP. I took you for a cutter, you are of a great kindred; you are a +common cozener, everybody calls you cousin; besides, they say you are +a very good warrener, you have been an old coneycatcher: but, if I be +turned a-begging, as I know not what I am born to, and that you ever +come to the said trade, as nothing is unpossible, I'll set all the +commonwealth of beggars on your back, and all the congregation of vermin +shall be put to your keeping; and then if you be not more bitten than +all the company of beggars besides, I'll not have my will: zounds! +turned out of doors! I'll go and set up my trade; a dish to drink in, +that I have within; a wallet, that I'll make of an old shirt; then my +speech, For the Lord's sake, I beseech your worship; then I must have +a lame leg; I'll go to football and break my shins--and I am provided +for that. + +BRA. What! stands the villain prating? hence, you slave! + + [_Exit_ PIPKIN. + +Y. ART. Art thou yet pleas'd? + +MRS MA. When I have had my humour. + +Y. ART. Good friends, for manners' sake awhile withdraw. + +BRA. It is our pleasure, sir, to stand aside. + + [MISTRESS SPLAY _and_ BRABO _stand aside_. + +Y. ART. Mary, what cause hast thou to use me thus? +From nothing I have rais'd thee to much wealth; +'Twas more than I did owe thee: many a pound, +Nay, many a hundred pound, I spent on thee +In my wife's time; and once, but by my means, +Thou hadst been in much danger: but in all things +My purse and credit ever bare thee out. +I did not owe thee this. I had a wife, +That would have laid herself beneath my feet +To do me service; her I set at nought +For the entire affection I bare thee. +To show that I have lov'd thee, have I not, +Above all women, made chief choice of thee? +An argument sufficient of my love! +What reason then hast thou to wrong me thus? + +MRS MA. It is my humour. + +Y. ART. O, but such humours honest wives should purge: +I'll show thee a far greater instance yet +Of the true love that I have borne to thee. +Thou knew'st my wife: was she not fair? + +MRS MA. So, so. + +Y. ART. But more than fair: was she not virtuous? +Endued with the beauty of the mind? + +MRS MA. Faith, so they said. + +Y. ART. Hark, in thine ear: I'll trust thee with my life, +Than which what greater instance of my love: +Thou knew'st full well how suddenly she died? +T'enjoy thy love, even then I poison'd her! + +MRS MA. How! poison'd her? accursed murderer! +I'll ring this fatal 'larum in all ears, +Than which what greater instance of my hate? + +Y. ART. Wilt thou not keep my counsel? + +MRS MA. Villain, no! +Thou'lt poison me, as thou hast poison'd her. + +Y. ART. Dost thou reward me thus for all my love? +Then, Arthur, fly, and seek to save thy life! +O, difference 'twixt a chaste and unchaste wife! + [_Exit_. + +MRS MA. Pursue the murd'rer, apprehend him straight. + +BRA. Why, what's the matter, mistress? + +MRS MA. This villain Arthur poison'd his first wife, +Which he in secret hath confess'd to me; +Go and fetch warrants from the justices +T'attach the murd'rer; he once hang'd and dead, +His wealth is mine: pursue the slave that's fled. + +BRA. Mistress, I will; he shall not pass this land, +But I will bring him bound with this strong hand. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE II. + + + _The Street before the House of Anselm's Mother_. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR, _poorly_. + +MRS ART. O, what are the vain pleasures of the world, +That in their actions we affect them so? +Had I been born a servant, my low life +Had steady stood from all these miseries. +The waving reeds stand free from every gust, +When the tall oaks are rent up by the roots. +What is vain beauty but an idle breath? +Why are we proud of that which so soon changes? +But rather wish the beauty of the mind, +Which neither time can alter, sickness change, +Violence deface, nor the black hand of envy +Smudge and disgrace, or spoil, or make deform'd. +O, had my riotous husband borne this mind, +He had been happy, I had been more blest, +And peace had brought our quiet souls to rest. + + _Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR. + +Y. ART. O, whither shall I fly to save my life +When murder and despair dogs at my heels? +O misery! thou never found'st a friend; +All friends forsake men in adversity: +My brother hath denied to succour me, +Upbraiding me with name of murderer; +My uncles double-bar their doors against me; +My father hath denied to shelter me, +And curs'd me worse than Adam did vile Eve. +I that, within these two days, had more friends +Than I could number with arithmetic, +Have now no more than one poor cypher is, +And that poor cypher I supply myself: +All that I durst commit my fortunes to, +I have tried, and find none to relieve my wants. +My sudden flight and fear of future shame +Left me unfurnish'd of all necessaries, +And these three days I have not tasted food. + +MRS ART. It is my husband; O, how just is heaven! +Poorly disguis'd, and almost hunger-starv'd! +How comes this change? + +Y. ART. Doth no man follow me? +O, how suspicious guilty murder is! +I starve for hunger, and I die for thirst. +Had I a kingdom, I would sell my crown +For a small bit of bread: I shame to beg, +And yet, perforce, I must or beg or starve. +This house, belike, 'longs to some gentlewoman, +And here's a woman: I will beg of her. +Good mistress, look upon a poor man's wants. +Whom do I see? tush! Arthur, she is dead. +But that I saw her dead and buried, +I would have sworn it had been Arthur's wife; +But I will leave her; shame forbids me beg +Of one so much resembles her. + +MRS ART. Come hither, fellow! wherefore dost thou turn +Thy guilty looks and blushing face aside? +It seems thou hast not been brought up to this. + +Y. ART. You say true, mistress; then for charity, +And for her sake whom you resemble most. +Pity my present want and misery. + +MRS ART. It seems thou hast been in some better plight; +Sit down, I prythee: men, though they be poor, +Should not be scorn'd; to ease thy hunger, first +Eat these conserves; and now, I prythee, tell me +What thou hast been--thy fortunes, thy estate, +And what she was that I resemble most? + +Y. ART. First, look that no man see or overhear us: +I think that shape was born to do me good. [_Aside_.] + +MRS ART. Hast thou known one that did resemble me? + +Y. ART. Ay, mistress; I cannot choose but weep +To call to mind the fortunes of her youth. + +MRS ART. Tell me, of what estate or birth was she? + +Y. ART, Born of good parents, and as well brought up; +Most fair, but not so fair as virtuous; +Happy in all things but her marriage; +Her riotous husband, which I weep to think, +By his lewd life, made them both miscarry. + +MRS ART. Why dost thou grieve at their adversities? + +Y. ART. O, blame me not; that man my kinsman was, +Nearer to me a kinsman could not be; +As near allied was that chaste woman too, +Nearer was never husband to his wife; +He whom I term my friend, no friend of mine, +Proving both mine and his own enemy, +Poison'd his wife--O, the time he did so! +Joyed at her death, inhuman slave to do so! +Exchang'd her love for a base strumpet's lust; +Foul wretch! accursed villain! to exchange so. + +MRS ART. You are wise and blest, and happy to repent so: +But what became of him and his new wife? + +Y. ART. O, hear the justice of the highest heaven: +This strumpet, in reward of all his love, +Pursues him for the death of his first wife; +And now the woful husband languisheth, +And flies abroad,[23] pursu'd by her fierce hate; +And now too late he doth repent his sin, +Ready to perish in his own despair, +Having no means but death to rid his care. + +MRS ART. I can endure no more, but I must weep; +My blabbing tears cannot my counsel keep. [_Aside_. + +Y. ART. Why weep you, mistress? if you had the heart +Of her whom you resemble in your face-- +But she is dead, and for her death +The sponge of either eye +Shall weep red tears, till every vein is dry. + +MRS ART. Why weep you, friend? your rainy drops pray keep; +Repentance wipes away the drops of sin. +Yet tell me, friend--he did exceeding ill, +A wife that lov'd and honour'd him to kill. +Yet say one like her, far more chaste than fair, +Bids him be of good comfort, not despair. +Her soul's appeased with his repentant tears, +Wishing he may survive her many years. +Fain would I give him money to supply +His present wants, but fearing he should fly, +And getting over to some foreign shore, +These rainy eyes should never see him more. +My heart is full, I can no longer stay, +But what I am, my love must needs bewray. [_Aside_. +Farewell, good fellow, and take this to spend; +Say, one like her commends her to your friend. [_Exit_. + +Y. ART. No friend of mine. I was my own soul's foe, +To murther my chaste wife, that lov'd me so! +In life she lov'd me dearer than her life: +What husband here but would wish such a wife? +I hear the officers with hue and cry; +She saved my life but now, and now I die. +And welcome, death! I will not stir from hence; +Death I deserv'd, I'll die for this offence. + + _Enter_ BRABO, _with_ OFFICERS, MISTRESS SPLAY, _and_ HUGH. + +BRA. Here is the murderer; and, Reason's man, +You have the warrant: sirs, lay hands on him; +Attach the slave, and lead him bound to death. + +HUGH. No, by my faith, Master Brabo, you have the better heart, at +least you should have; I am sure you have more iron and steel than I +have; do you lay hands on him; I promise you I dare not. + +BRA. Constables, forward; forward, officers; +I will not thrust my finger in the fire. +Lay hands on him, I say: why step you back? +I mean to be the hindmost, lest that any +Should run away, and leave the rest in peril. +Stand forward: are you not asham'd to fear? + +Y. ART. Nay, never strive; behold, I yield myself. +I must commend your resolution +That, being so many and so weapon'd, +Dare not adventure on a man unarm'd. +Now, lead me to what prison you think best. +Yet use me well; I am a gentleman. + +HUGH. Truly, Master Arthur, we will use you as well as heart can think; +the justices sit to-day, and my master is chief: you shall command me. + +BRA. What! hath he yielded? if he had withstood us, +This curtle-axe of mine had cleft his head; +Resist he durst not, when he once spied me. +Come, lead him hence: how lik'st thou this, sweet witch? +This fellow's death will make our mistress rich. + +MRS SPLAY. I say, I care not who's dead or alive, +So by their lives or deaths we two may thrive. + +HUGH. Come, bear him away. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +SCENE III. + + + _A Room, in Justice Season's House_. + + _Enter_ JUSTICE REASON, OLD MASTER ARTHUR, + _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM. + +JUS. Old Master Arthur and Master Lusam, so +It is that I have heard both your complaints, +But understood neither, for, you know, +_Legere et non intelligere negligere est_. + +O. ART. I come for favour, as a father should, +Pitying the fall and ruin of his son. + +O. LUS. I come for justice, as a father should, +That hath by violent murder lost his daughter. + +JUS. You come for favour, and you come for justice: +Justice with favour is not partial, +And, using that, I hope to please you both. + +O. ART. Good Master Justice, think upon my son. + +O. LUS. Good Master Justice, think upon my daughter. + +JUS. Why, so I do; I think upon them both; +But can do neither of you good; +For he that lives must die, and she that's dead +Cannot be revived. + +O. ART. Lusam, thou seek'st to rob me of my son, +My only son. + +O. LUS. He robb'd me of my daughter, my only daughter. + +JUS. And robbers are flat felons by the law. + +O. ART. Lusam, I say thou art a blood-sucker, +A tyrant, a remorseless cannibal: +Old as I am, I'll prove it on thy bones. + +O. LUS. Am I a blood-sucker or cannibal? +Am I a tyrant that do thirst for blood? + +O. ART. Ay, if thou seek'st the ruin of my son, +Thou art a tyrant and a blood-sucker. + +O. LUS. Ay, if I seek the ruin of thy son, +I am indeed. + +O. ART. Nay, more, thou art a dotard; +And, in the right of my accused son, +I challenge thee the field. Meet me, I say, +To-morrow morning beside Islington, +And bring thy sword and buckler, if thou dar'st. + +O. LUS. Meet thee with my sword and buckler? +There's my glove. +I'll meet thee, to revenge my daughter's death. +Call'st thou me dotard? Though these threescore years +I never handled weapon but a knife, +To cut my meat, yet will I meet thee there. +God's precious! call me dotard? + +O. ART. I have cause, +Just cause, to call thee dotard, have I not? + +O. LUS. Nay, that's another matter; have you cause? +Then God forbid that I should take exceptions +To be call'd dotard of one that hath cause. + +JUS. My masters, you must leave this quarrelling, for quarrellers are +never at peace; and men of peace, while they are at quiet, are never +quarrelling: so you, whilst you fall into brawls, you cannot choose but +jar. Here comes your son accused, and his wife the accuser; stand forth +both. Hugh, be ready with your pen and ink to take their examinations +and confessions. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS MARY, BRABO, YOUNG MASTER + ARTHUR, MISTRESS SPLAY, HUGH, _and_ OFFICERS. + +Y. ART. It shall not need; I do confess the deed, +Of which this woman here accuseth me; +I poison'd my first wife, and for that deed +I yield me to the mercy of the law. + +O. LUS. Villain! thou mean'st my only daughter, +And in her death depriv'dst me of all joys. + +Y. ART. I mean her. I do confess the deed; +And though my body taste the force of law, +Like an offender, on my knee I beg +Your angry soul will pardon me her death. + +O. LUS. Nay, if he kneeling do confess the deed, +No reason but I should forgive her death. + +JUS. But so the law must not be satisfied; +Blood must have blood, and men must have death; +I think that cannot be dispens'd withal. + +MRS MA. If all the world else would forgive the deed, +Yet would I earnestly pursue the law. + +Y. ART. I had a wife would not have us'd me so; +The wealth of Europe could not hire her tongue +To be offensive to my patient ears; +But, in exchanging her, I did prefer +A devil before a saint, night before day, +Hell before heaven, and dross before tried gold; +Never was bargain with such damage sold. + +BRA. If you want witness to confirm the deed, +I heard him speak it; and that to his face, +Before this presence, I will justify; +I will not part hence, till I see him swing. + +MRS SPLAY. I heard him too: pity but he should die, +And like a murderer be sent to hell. +To poison her, and make her belly swell! + +MRS MA. Why stay you, then? give judgment on the slave, +Whose shameless life deserves a shameful grave. + +Y. ART. Death's bitter pangs are not so full of grief +As this unkindness: every word thou speak'st +Is a sharp dagger thrust quite through my heart. +As little I deserve this at thy hands, +As my kind patient wife deserv'd of me: +I was her torment, God hath made thee mine; +Then wherefore at just plagues should I repine? + +JUS. Where did'st thou buy this poison? for such drugs +Are felony for any man to sell. + +Y. ART. I had the poison of Aminadab: +But, innocent man, he was not accessory +To my wife's death; I clear him of the deed. + +JUS. No matter; fetch him, fetch him, bring him +To answer to this matter at the bar. +Hugh, take these officers and apprehend him. + +BRA. I'll aid him too; the schoolmaster, I see, +Perhaps may hang with him for company. + + _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. + +ANS. This is the day of Arthur's examination +And trial for the murder of his wife; +Let's hear how Justice Reason will proceed, +In censuring of his strict punishment. + +FUL. Anselm, content; let's thrust in 'mong the throng. + + _Enter_ AMINADAB, _brought in with_ OFFICERS. + +AMIN. _O Domine_! what mean these knaves, +To lead me thus with bills and glaves? +O, what example would it be +To all my pupils for to see, +To tread their steps all after me, +If for some fault I hanged be; +Somewhat surely I shall mar, +If you bring me to the bar. +But peace; betake thee to thy wits, +For yonder Justice Reason sits. + +JUS. Sir Dab, Sir Dab, here's one accuseth you, +To give him poison, being ill-employ'd: +Speak, how in this case you can clear yourself. + +AMIN. _Hei mihi_! what should I say? the poison given I deny; +He took it perforce from my hands, and, _Domine_, why not? +I got it of a gentleman; he most freely gave it, +As he knew me; my meaning was only to have it.[24] + +Y. ART. 'Tis true, I took it from this man perforce, +And snatch'd it from his hand by rude constraint, +Which proves him in this act not culpable. + +JUS. Ay, but who sold the poison unto him? +That must be likewise known; speak, schoolmaster. + +AMIN. A man _verbosus_, that was a fine _generosus_; +He was a great guller, his name I take to be Fuller; +See where he stands, that unto my hands convey'd a powder; +And, like a knave, sent her to her grave, obscurely to shroud her. + +JUS. Lay hands on him; are you a poison-seller? +Bring him before us: sirrah, what say you? +Sold you a poison to this honest man? + +FUL. I sold no poison, but I gave him one +To kill his rats? + +JUS. Ha, ha! I smell a rat. +You sold him poison then to kill his rats? +The word to kill argues a murd'rous mind; +And you are brought in compass of the murder +So set him by, we will not hear him speak: +That Arthur, Fuller, and the schoolmaster, +Shall by the judges be examined. + +ANS. Sir, if my friend may not speak for himself, +Yet let me his proceedings justify. + +JUS. What's he that will a murther justify? +Lay hands on him, lay hands on him, I say; +For justifiers are all accessories, +And accessories have deserved to die. +Away with him! we will not hear him speak; +They all shall to the High Commissioners. + + _Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR. + +MRS ART. Nay, stay them, stay them yet a little while! +I bring a warrant to the contrary; +And I will please all parties presently. + +Y. ART. I think my wife's ghost haunts me to my death; +Wretch that I was, to shorten her life's breath! + +O. ART. Whom do I see, my son's wife? + +O. LUS. What, my daughter? + +JUS. Is it not Mistress Arthur that we see, +That long since buried we suppos'd to be? + +MRS ART. This man's condemn'd for pois'ning of his wife; +His poison'd wife yet lives, and I am she; +And therefore justly I release his bands: +This man, for suff'ring him these drugs to take, +Is likewise bound, release him for my sake: +This gentleman that first the poison gave, +And this his friend, to be releas'd I crave: +Murther there cannot be where none is kill'd; +Her blood is sav'd, whom you suppos'd was spill'd. +Father-in-law, I give you here your son, +The act's to do which you suppos'd was done. +And, father, now joy in your daughter's life, +Whom heaven hath still kept to be Arthur's wife. + +O. ART. O, welcome, welcome, daughter! now I see +God by his power hath preserved thee. + +O. LUS. And 'tis my wench, whom I suppos'd was dead; +My joy revives, and my sad woe is fled. + +Y. ART. I know not what I am, nor where I am; +My soul's transported to an ecstasy, +For hope and joy confound my memory. + +MRS MA. What do I see? lives Arthur's wife again? +Nay then I labour for his death in vain. [_Aside_. + +BRA. What secret force did in her nature lurk, +That in her soul the poison would not work? [_Aside_. + +MRS SPLAY. How can it be the poison took no force? +She lives with that which would have kill'd a horse! [_Aside_. + +MRS ART. Nay, shun me not; be not asham'd at all; +To heaven, not me, for grace and pardon fall. +Look on me, Arthur; blush not at my wrongs. + +Y. ART. Still fear and hope my grief and woe prolongs. +But tell me, by what power thou didst survive? +With my own hands I temper'd that vile draught, +That sent thee breathless to thy grandsire's grave, +If that were poison I receiv'd of him. + +AMIN. That _ego nescio_, but this dram +Receiv'd I of this gentleman; +The colour was to kill my rats, +But 'twas my own life to despatch. + +FUL. Is it even so? then this ambiguous doubt +No man can better than myself decide; +That compound powder was of poppy made and mandrakes, +Of purpose to cast one into a sleep, +To ease the deadly pain of him whose leg +Should be saw'd off; +That powder gave I to the schoolmaster. + +AMIN. And that same powder, even that _idem_, +You took from me, the same, _per fidem_! + +Y. ART. And that same powder I commix'd with wine, +Our godly knot of wedlock to untwine. + +O. ART. But, daughter, who did take thee from thy grave? + +O. LUS. Discourse it, daughter. + +ANS. Nay, that labour save; +Pardon me, Master Arthur, I will now +Confess the former frailty of my love. +Your modest wife with words I tempted oft; +But neither ill I could report of you, +Nor any good I could forge for myself, +Would win her to attend to my request; +Nay, after death I lov'd her, insomuch +That to the vault where she was buried +My constant love did lead me through the dark, +There ready to have ta'en my last farewell. +The parting kiss I gave her I felt warm; +Briefly, I bare her to my mother's house, +Where she hath since liv'd the most chaste and true, +That since the world's creation eye did view. + +Y. ART. My first wife, stand you here: my second, there, +And in the midst, myself; he that will choose +A good wife from a bad, come learn of me, +That have tried both, in wealth and misery. +A good wife will be careful of her fame, +Her husband's credit, and her own good name; +And such art thou. A bad wife will respect +Her pride, her lust, and her good name neglect; +And such art thou. A good wife will be still +Industrious, apt to do her husband's will; +But a bad wife, cross, spiteful and madding, +Never keep home, but always be a-gadding; +And such art thou. A good wife will conceal +Her husband's dangers, and nothing reveal +That may procure him harm; and such art thou. +But a bad wife corrupts chaste wedlock's vow. +On this hand virtue, and on this hand sin; +This who would strive to lose, or this to win? +Here lives perpetual joy, here burning woe; +Now, husbands, choose on which hand you will go. +Seek virtuous wives, all husbands will be blest; +Fair wives are good, but virtuous wives are best. +They that my fortunes will peruse, shall find +No beauty's like the beauty of the mind. + + [_Exeunt_. + + +THE END. + + + + + + +THE RETURN FROM PARNASSUS. + + + + +_EDITION. + + +The Retvrne from Pernassvs: Or, The Scourge of Simony. Publiquely acted +by the Students in Saint Iohns Colledge in Cambridge. At London Printed +by G. Eld, for Iohn Wright, and are to bee sold at his shop at +Christchurch Gate_. 1606. 4to. + +[See Hazlitt's "Handbook," p. 470. Almost all the extant copies of this +drama--and no fewer than ten have been examined--appear to vary in +certain literal particulars. Of two copies in the Malone collection, one +presents additions which might bespeak it a later impression than the +other; and yet, on the other hand, has errors (some of a serious kind) +peculiar to itself. The text has now been considerably improved by the +collection of the quartos at Oxford. + +It was the intention of my kind acquaintance, the Rev. J.W. Ebsworth, +Vicar of Moldash, by Ashford, Kent, to have reprinted the "Return from +Parnassus" separately; but on learning that I intended to include it in +my series, Mr Ebsworth not only gave way, but obligingly placed the +annotated copy which he had prepared, at my free disposal. + +I have also to thank Dr Ingleby, of Valentines, near Ilford, Essex, for +lending me a copy of the play corresponding with one of those in the +Bodleian, as regards its occasionally various readings. + +A long account, and very favourable estimate, of this drama will be +found in Hazlitt's "Dramatic Literature of the Age of Elizabeth," 1820.] + + + + +[HAWKINS'S PREFACE.] + + +We can learn no more of the history of this play than what the +title-page gives us, viz., that it was "publickly acted by the students +in Saint John's College, Cambridge."[25] The merits and characters of +our old poets and actors are censured by the author with great freedom; +and the shameful prostitution of Church preferment, by the selling of +livings to the ignorant and unworthy, laid the foundation of Dr Wild's +"Benefice, a Comedy," 4to, 1689. + +[Hawkins himself elsewhere (in his "General Introduction") remarks:--] + +As the piece which follows, called "The Return from Parnassus," is, +perhaps, the most singular composition in our language, it may be proper +to give a succinct analysis of it. This satirical drama seems to have +been composed by the wits and scholars of Cambridge, where it was acted +at the opening of the last century. The design of it was to expose the +vices and follies of the rich in those days, and to show that little +attention was paid by that class of men to the learned and ingenious. +Several students of various capacities and dispositions leave the +university in hopes of advancing their fortunes in the metropolis. One +of them attempts to recommend himself by his publications; another, to +procure a benefice by paying his court to a young spark named Amoretto, +with whom he had been intimate at college; two others endeavour to gain +a subsistence by successively appearing as physicians, actors, and +musicians: but the Man of Genius is disregarded, and at last prosecuted +for his productions; the benefice is sold to an illiterate clown; and in +the end three of the scholars are compelled to submit to a voluntary +exile; another returns to Cambridge as poor as when he left it; and the +other two, finding that neither their medicines nor their music would +support them, resolve to turn shepherds, and to spend the rest of their +days on the Kentish downs. There is a great variety of characters in +this play, which are excellently distinguished and supported; and some +of the scenes have as much wit as can be desired in a perfect comedy. +The simplicity of its plan must naturally bring to our mind the old +species of comedy described by Horace, in which, before it was +restrained by a public edict, living characters were exposed by name +upon the stage, and the audience made merry at their expense without any +intricacy of plot or diversity of action: thus in the piece before us +Burbage and Kempe, two famous actors, appear in their proper persons; +and a number of acute observations are made on the poets of that age, of +whom the editor has given an account in the notes, and has added some +chosen specimens of their poetry. + +[The late Mr Bolton Corney thought that this play was from the pen of +John Day. We learn from the Prologue that a drama, of which nothing is +now known, preceded it, under the title of "The Pilgrimage to +Parnassus." The loss is perhaps to be regretted.] + + + + +THE PROLOGUE. + + + BOY, STAGEKEEPER, MOMUS, DEFENSOR. + +BOY. +Spectators, we will act a comedy: _non plus_. + +STAGEKEEPER. +A pox on't, this book hath it not in it: you would be whipped, thou +rascal; thou must be sitting up all night at cards, when thou should be +conning thy part. + +BOY. +It's all along on you; I could not get my part a night or two before, +that I might sleep on it. + + [STAGEKEEPER _carrieth the_ BOY _away under his arm_. + +MOMUS. +It's even well done; here is such a stir about a scurvy English show! + +DEFENSOR. +Scurvy in thy face, thou scurvy Jack: if this company were not,--you +paltry critic gentleman, you that know what it is to play at primero or +passage--you that have been student at post and pair, saint and loadam +--you that have spent all your quarter's revenues in riding post one +night in Christmas, bear with the weak memory of a gamester. + +MOMUS. +Gentlemen, you that can play at noddy, or rather play upon noddies--you +that can set up a jest at primero instead of a rest, laugh at the +prologue, that was taken away in a voider. + +DEFENSOR. +What we present, I must needs confess, is but slubber'd invention: if +your wisdom obscure the circumstance, your kindness will pardon the +substance. + +MOMUS. +What is presented here is an old musty show, that hath lain this +twelvemonth in the bottom of a coal-house amongst brooms and old shoes; +an invention that we are ashamed of, and therefore we have promised the +copies to the chandler to wrap his candles in. + +DEFENSOR. +It's but a Christmas toy; and may it please your courtesies to let it pass. + +MOMUS. +It's a Christmas toy, indeed! as good a conceit as sloughing[26] +hotcockles or blindman-buff. + +DEFENSOR. +Some humours you shall see aimed at, if not well-resembled. + +MOMUS. +Humours, indeed! Is it not a pretty humour to stand hammering upon two +_individuum vagum_, two scholars, some whole year? These same Philomusus +and Studioso have been followed with a whip and a verse, like a couple +of vagabonds, through England and Italy. The Pilgrimage to Parnassus and +the Return from Parnassus have stood the honest stagekeepers in many a +crown's expense for links and vizards; purchased a sophister a knock +with[27] a club; hindered the butler's box,[28] and emptied the college +barrels: and now, unless you know the subject well, you may return home +as wise as you came, for this last is the least part of the return from +Parnassus: that is both the first and last time that the author's wit +will turn upon the toe in this vein, and at this time the scene is not +at Parnassus, that is, looks not good invention in the face. + +DEFENSOR. +If the catastrophe please you not, impute it to the unpleasing fortunes +of discontented scholars. + +MOMUS. +For catastrophe, there's never a tale in Sir John Mandeville or Bevis +of Southampton, but hath a better turning. + +STAGEKEEPER. +What, you jeering ass! begone, with a pox! + +MOMUS. +You may do better to busy yourself in providing beer; for the show +will be pitiful dry, pitiful dry. [_Exit_. + +STAGEKEEPER. +No more of this: I heard the spectators ask for a blank verse. +What we show is but a Christmas jest; +Conceive of this, and guess of all the rest: +Full like a scholar's hapless fortune's penn'd, +Whose former griefs seldom have happy end. +Frame as well we might with easy strain, +With far more praise and with as little pain, +Stories of love, where forne[29] the wond'ring bench +The lisping gallant might enjoy his wench; +Or make some sire acknowledge his lost son: +Found, when the weary act is almost done.[30] +Nor unto this, nor unto that our scene is bent; +We only show a scholar's discontent. +In scholars' fortunes, twice forlorn and dead, +Twice hath our weary pen erst laboured; +Making them pilgrims in Parnassus' Hill, +Then penning their return with ruder quill. +Now we present unto each pitying eye +The scholars' progress in their misery: +Refined wits, your patience is our bliss; +Too weak our scene, too great your judgment is: +To you we seek to show a scholar's state, +His scorned fortunes, his unpity'd fate; +To you: for if you did not scholars bless, +Their case, poor case, were too-too pitiless. +You shade the muses under fostering, +And made[31] them leave to sigh, and learn to sing. + + + +THE NAMES OF THE ACTORS. + +INGENIOSO. +JUDICIO. +DANTER. +PHILOMUSUS. +STUDIOSO. +FUROR POETICUS. +PHANTASMA. +_Patient_. +RICARDETTO. +THEODORE, _a Physician_. +BURGESS, _a Patient_. +JAQUES, _a Studioso_. +ACADEMICO. +AMORETTO. +_Page_. +SIGNIOR IMMERITO. +STERCUTIO, _his Father_. +SIR RADERIC. +_Recorder_. +_Page_. +PRODIGO. +BURBAGE. +KEMP. +_Fiddlers_. +_Patient's man_. + + + + +THE RETURN FROM PARNASSUS. + + + +ACTUS I, SCAENA 1. + + + INGENIOSO, _with Juvenal in his hand_. + +INGENIOSO. +_Difficile est satyram non scribere. Nam quis iniquae +Tam patiens Urbis, tam ferreus,[32] ut teneat se_? +Ay, Juvenal, thy jerking hand is good, +Not gently laying on, but fetching blood; +So, surgeon-like, thou dost with cutting heal, +Where nought but lancing[33] can the wound avail: +O, suffer me, among so many men, +To tread aright the traces of thy pen, +And light my link at thy eternal flame, +Till with it I brand everlasting shame +On the world's forehead, and with thine own spirit +Pay home the world according to his merit. +Thy purer soul could not endure to see +Ev'n smallest spots of base impurity, +Nor could small faults escape thy cleaner hands. +Then foul-fac'd vice was in his swaddling-bands, +Now, like Anteus, grown a monster is, +A match for none but mighty Hercules: +Now can the world practise in plainer guise +Both sins of old and new-born villanies: +Stale sins are stole; now doth the world begin +To take sole pleasure in a witty sin: +Unpleasant as[34] the lawless sin has been, +At midnight rest, when darkness covers sin; +It's clownish, unbeseeming a young knight, +Unless it dare outface the glaring light: +Nor can it nought our gallant's praises reap, +Unless it be done in staring Cheap, +In a sin-guilty coach, not closely pent, +Jogging along the harder pavement. +Did not fear check my repining sprite, +Soon should my angry ghost a story write; +In which I would new-foster'd sins combine, +Not known erst by truth-telling Aretine. + + + +ACTUS I, SCAENA 2. + + + _Enter_ JUDICIO _and_ INGENIOSO. + +JUDICIO. +What, Ingenioso, carrying a vinegar bottle about thee, like a great +schoolboy giving the world a bloody nose?[35] + +INGENIOSO. +Faith, Judicio, if I carry the vinegar bottle, it's great reason I +should confer it upon the baldpated world: and again, if my kitchen +want the utensils[36] of viands, it's great reason other men should +have the sauce of vinegar; and for the bloody nose, Judicio, I may +chance, indeed, give the world a bloody nose, but it shall hardly give +me a crack'd crown, though it gives other poets French crowns. + +JUDICIO. +I would wish thee, Ingenioso, to sheathe thy pen, for thou canst not +be successful in the fray, considering thy enemies have the advantage +of the ground. + +INGENIOSO. +Or rather, Judicio, they have the grounds with advantage, and the +French crowns with a pox; and I would they had them with a plague too: +but hang them, swads, the basest corner in my thoughts is too gallant +a room to lodge them in. But say, Judicio, what news in your press? +did you keep any late corrections upon any tardy pamphlets? + +JUDICIO. +_Veterem jubes renovare dolorem_, Ingenioso: whate'er befalls thee, +keep thee from the trade of the corrector of the press. + +INGENIOSO. +Marry, so I will, I warrant thee; if poverty press not too much, I'll +correct no press but the press of the people. + +JUDICIO. +Would it not grieve any good spirits to sit a whole month knitting out +a lousy, beggarly pamphlet, and, like a needy physician, to stand whole +years tossing and tumbling the filth that falleth from so many draughty +inventions as daily swarm in our printing-house. + +INGENIOSO. +Come, I think we shall have you put finger in the eye, and cry, O +friends, no friends! Say, man, what new paper hobby-horses, what +rattle-babies, are come out in your late May morris-dance? + +JUDICIO. +Fly[37] my rhymes as thick as flies in the sun; I think there be never +an alehouse in England, not any so base a maypole on a country green, +but sets forth some poet's petronels or demi-lances to the paper wars +in Paul's Churchyard. + +INGENIOSO. +And well too may the issue of a strong hop learn to hop all over +England, when as better wits sit, like lame cobblers, in their studies. +Such barmy heads will always be working, when as sad vinegar wits sit +souring at the bottom of a barrel; plain meteors, bred of the +exhalation of tobacco and the vapours of a moist pot, that soar[38] up +into the open air, when as sounder wit keeps below. + +JUDICIO. +Considering the furies of the times, I could better endure to see those +young can-quaffing hucksters shoot off their pellets, so they would +keep them from these English _Flores poetarum_; but now the world is +come to that pass, that there starts up every day an old goose that +sits hatching up those eggs which have been filched from the nest of +crows and kestrels. Here is a book, Ingenioso; why, to condemn it to +clear [fire,][39] the usual Tyburn of all misliving papers, were too +fair a death for so foul an offender. + +INGENIOSO. +What's the name of it, I pray thee, Judicio? + +JUDICIO. +Look, it's here; "Belvidere."[40] + +INGENIOSO. +What, a bell-wether in Paul's Churchyard! so called because it keeps a +bleating, or because it hath the tinkling bell of so many poets about +the neck of it? What is the rest of the title? + +JUDICIO. "The Garden of the Muses." + +INGENIOSO. +What have we here, the poet garish, gaily bedecked, like fore-horses of +the parish? What follows? + +JUDICIO. +_Quem, referent musae, vivet, dum robora tellus, +Dum coelum stellas, dum vehit amnis aquas_. +Who blurs fair paper with foul bastard rhymes, +Shall live full many an age in latter times: +Who makes a ballad for an alehouse door, +Shall live in future times for evermore: +Then ( )[41] thy muse shall live so long, +As drafty ballads to thy praise are sung. +But what's his device? Parnassus with the sun and the laurel?[42] I +wonder this owl dares look on the sun; and I marvel this goose flies +not the laurel: his device might have been better, a fool going into +the market-place to be seen, with this motto: _Scribimus indocti_; or, +a poor beggar gleaning of ears in the end of harvest, with this word: +_Sua cuique gloria_. + +JUDICIO. +Turn over the leaf, Ingenioso, and thou shalt see the pains of this +worthy gentleman: _Sentences, gathered out of all kind of poets, +referred to certain methodical heads, profitable for the use of these +times, to rhyme upon any occasion at a little warning_. Read the names. + +INGENIOSO. +So I will, if thou wilt help me to censure them. + + Edmund Spenser. Thomas Watson. + Henry Constable. Michael Drayton. + Thomas Lodge. John Davis. + Samuel Daniel. John Marston. + Kit Marlowe. + +Good men and true; stand together; hear your censure. What's thy +judgment of Spenser? + +JUDICIO. +A sweeter[43] swan than ever sung in Po, +A shriller nightingale than ever bless'd +The prouder groves of self-admiring Rome. +Blithe was each valley, and each shepherd proud, +While he did chant his rural minstrelsy: +Attentive was full many a dainty ear, +Nay, hearers hung upon his melting tongue, +While sweetly of his Fairy Queen he sung; +While to the waters' fall he tun'd for fame, +And in each bark engrav'd Eliza's name: +And yet for all this unregarding soil +Unlac'd the line of his desired life, +Denying maintenance for his dear relief; +Careless care to prevent his exequy, +Scarce deigning to shut up his dying eye. + +INGENIOSO. +Pity it is that gentler wits should breed, +Where thickskin chuffs laugh at a scholar's need. +But softly may our honour's ashes rest, +That lie by merry Chaucer's noble chest. +But, I pray thee, proceed briefly in thy censure, that I may be proud +of myself; as in the first, so in the last, my censure may jump with +thine.--Henry Constable, Samuel Daniel,[44] Thomas Lodge, Thomas Watson. + +JUDICIO. +Sweet Constable[45] doth take the wond'ring ear, +And lays it up in willing prisonment: +Sweet honey-dropping Daniel doth wage +War with the proudest big Italian, +That melts his heart in sugar'd sonneting; +Only let him more sparingly make use +Of others' wit, and use his own the more, +That well may scorn base imitation. +For Lodge[46] and Watson,[47] men of some desert, +Yet subject to a critic's marginal; +Lodge for his oar in ev'ry paper boat, +He, that turns over Galen ev'ry day, +To sit and simper Euphues' Legacy.[48] + +INGENIOSO. +Michael Drayton? + +JUDICIO. +Drayton's sweet muse is like a sanguine dye, +Able to ravish the rash gazer's eye. + +INGENIOSO. +However, he wants one true note of a poet of our times, and that is +this: he cannot swagger it well in a tavern, nor domineer in a +hothouse. John Davis?[49] + +JUDICIO. +Acute John Davis, I affect thy rhymes, +That jerk in hidden charms these looser times; +Thy plainer verse, thy unaffected vein, +Is graced with a fair and sweeping[50] train. + +INGENIOSO. +Lock and Hudson?[51] + +JUDICIO. +Lock and Hudson, sleep, you quiet shavers, among the shavings of the +press, and let your books lie in some old nooks amongst old boots and +shoes; so you may avoid my censure. + +INGENIOSO. Why, then, clap a lock on their feet, and turn them to +commons. John Marston?[52] + +JUDICIO. +What, Monsieur Kinsayder, lifting up your leg, and pissing against the +world? put up, man, put up, for shame! +Methinks he is a ruffian in his style, +Withouten bands or garters' ornament: +He quaffs a cup of Frenchman's Helicon; +Then roister doister in his oily terms, +Cuts, thrusts, and foins, at whomsoever he meets, +And strews about Ram-Alley meditations. +Tut, what cares he for modest close-couch'd terms, +Cleanly to gird our looser libertines? +Give him plain naked words, stripp'd from their shirts, +That might beseem plain-dealing Aretine. +Ay, there is one, that backs a paper steed, +And manageth a penknife gallantly, +Strikes his poinardo at a button's breadth, +Brings the great battering-ram of terms to towns; +And, at first volley of his cannon-shot, +Batters the walls of the old fusty world. + +INGENIOSO. +Christopher Marlowe? + +JUDICIO. +Marlowe was happy in his buskin'd muse; +Alas! unhappy in his life and end: +Pity it is that wit so ill should dwell +Wit lent from heav'n, but vices sent from hell.[53] + +INGENIOSO. +Our theatre hath lost, Pluto hath got, +A tragic penman for a dreary plot. +Benjamin Jonson? + +JUDICIO. +The wittiest fellow of a bricklayer in England. + +INGENIOSO. +A mere empiric, one that gets what he hath by observation, and makes +only nature privy to what he indites; so slow an inventor, that he were +better betake himself to his old trade of bricklaying; a bold whoreson, +as confident now in making of[54] a book, as he was in times past in +laying of a brick. William Shakespeare? + +JUDICIO. +Who loves Adonis' love or Lucrece' rape, +His sweeter verse contains heart-robbing life, +Could but a graver subject him content, +Without love's foolish, lazy[55] languishment. + +INGENIOSO. +Churchyard?[56] +Hath not Shore's wife, although a light-skirts she, +Giv'n him a chaste, long-lasting memory? + +JUDICIO. +No; all light pamphlets once I finden shall, +A Churchyard and a grave to bury all! +Thomas Nash.[57] + +INGENIOSO. +Ay, here is a fellow, Judicio, that carried the deadly stock[58] in his +pen, whose muse was armed with a gag-tooth,[59] and his pen possessed +with Hercules' furies. + +JUDICIO. +Let all his faults sleep with his mournful chest, +And then for ever with his ashes rest: +His style was witty, though he had some gall, +Something he might have mended; so may all: +Yet this I say that, for a mother-wit, +Few men have ever seen the like of it. + + INGENIOSO _reads the rest of the names_. + +JUDICIO. +As for these, they have some of them been the old hedge-stakes of the +press; and some of them are, at this instant, the bots and glanders of +the printing-house: fellows that stand only upon terms to serve the +term,[60] with their blotted papers, write, as men go to stool, for +needs; and when they write, they write as a bear pisses, now and then +drop a pamphlet. + +INGENIOSO. +_Durum telum necessitas_. Good faith, they do, as I do--exchange words +for money. I have some traffic this day with Danter[61] about a little +book which I have made; the name of it is, A Catalogue of Cambridge +Cuckolds. But this Belvidere, this methodical ass, hath made me almost +forget my time; I'll now to Paul's Churchyard; meet me an hour hence at +the sign of the Pegasus in Cheapside, and I'll moist thy temples with a +cup of claret, as hard as the world goes. + + [_Exit_ JUDICIO. + + + +ACTUS I., SCAENA 3. + + + _Enter_ DANTER _the Printer_. + +INGENIOSO. +Danter, thou art deceived, wit is dearer than thou takest it to be: I +tell thee, this libel of Cambridge has much fat and pepper in the nose; +it will sell sheerly underhand, when all these books of exhortations and +catechisms lie moulding on thy shopboard. + +DANTER. +It's true: but, good faith, Master Ingenioso, I lost by your last book; +and, you know, there is many a one that pays me largely for the printing +of their inventions: but, for all this, you shall have forty shillings +and an odd bottle of wine. + +INGENIOSO. +Forty shillings! a fit reward for one of your rheumatic poets, that +beslavers all the paper he comes by, and furnishes all the chandlers +with waste-papers to wrap candles in; but as for me, I'll be paid dear +even for the dregs of my wit: little knows the world what belongs to the +keeping of a good wit in waters, diets, drinks, tobacco, &c. It is a +dainty and a costly creature; and therefore I must be paid sweetly. +Furnish me with money, that I may put myself in a new suit of clothes, +and I'll suit thy shop with a new suit of terms. It's the gallantest +child my invention was ever delivered of: the title is, A Chronicle of +Cambridge Cuckolds. Here a man may see what day of the month such a +man's commons were enclosed, and when thrown open; and when any entailed +some odd crowns upon the heirs of their bodies unlawfully begotten. +Speak quickly: else I am gone. + +DANTER. +O, this will sell gallantly; I'll have it, whatsoever it cost: will you +walk on, Master Ingenioso? We'll sit over a cup of wine, and agree on it. + +INGENIOSO. +A cup of wine is as good a constable as can be to take up the quarrel +betwixt us. + [_Exeunt_. + + + +ACTUS I., SCAENA 4. + + + PHILOMUSUS _in a physician's habit_: STUDIOSO, + _that is_, JAQUES _man, and_ PATIENT. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Tit, tit, tit, non point;[62] non debet fieri phlebotomia in coitu Lunae. +Here is a recipe. + +PATIENT. +A recipe? + +PHILOMUSUS. +Nos Gallia non curamus quantitatem syllabarum: let me hear how many +stools you do make. Adieu, monsieur: adieu, good monsieur.--What, +Jaques, il n'y a personne apres ici? + +STUDIOSO. +Non. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Then let us steal time for this borrowed shape, +Recounting our unequal haps of late: +Late did the ocean grasp us in his arms; +Late did we live within a stranger air, +Late did we see the cinders of great Rome: +We thought that English fugitives there ate +Gold for restorative, if gold were meat. +Yet now we find by bought experience +That, wheresoe'er we wander up and down +On the round shoulders of this massy world, +Or our ill-fortunes or the world's ill-eye +Forespeak our good, procure[63] our misery. + +STUDIOSO. +So oft the northern wind with frozen wings +Hath beat the flowers that in our garden grew, +Thrown down the stalks of our aspiring youth; +So oft hath winter nipp'd our trees' fair rind, +That now we seem nought but two bared boughs, +Scorn'd by the basest bird that chirps in grove. +Nor Rome, nor Rhemes, that wonted are to give +A cardinal cap to discontented clerks, +That have forsook the home-bred, thatched[64] roofs, +Yielded us any equal maintenance: +And it's as good to starve 'mongst English swine, +As in a foreign land to beg and pine. + +PHILOMUSUS. +I'll scorn the world, that scorneth me again. + +STUDIOSO. +I'll vex the world, that works me so much pain. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Thy[65] lame revenging power the world well weens. + +STUDIOSO. +Flies have their spleen, each silly ant his teens. + +PHILOMUSUS. +We have the words, they the possession have. + +STUDIOSO. +We all are equal in our latest grave. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Soon then, O, soon may we both graved be. + +STUDIOSO. +Who wishes death doth wrong wise destiny. + +PHILOMUSUS. +It's wrong to force life-loathing men to breathe. + +STUDIOSO. +It's sin 'fore doomed day to wish thy death. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Too late our souls flit to their resting-place. + +STUDIOSO. +Why, man's whole life is but a breathing space. + +PHILOMUSUS. +A painful minute seems a tedious year. + +STUDIOSO. +A constant mind eternal woes will bear. + +PHILOMUSUS. +When shall our souls their wearied lodge forego? + +STUDIOSO. +When we have tired misery and woe. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Soon may then fates this gaol[66]-deliver send us: Small woes vex long, +[but] great woes quickly end us. But let's leave this capping of rhymes, +Studioso, and follow our late device, that we may maintain our heads in +caps, our bellies in provender, and our backs in saddle and bridle. +Hitherto we have sought all the honest means we could to live, and now +let us dare _aliqua brevibus gyris[67] et carcere dignum_; let us run +through all the lewd forms of lime-twig, purloining villanies; let us +prove coneycatchers, bawds, or anything, so we may rub out. And first my +plot for playing the French doctor--that shall hold; our lodging stands +here fitly[68] in Shoe Lane: for, if our comings-in be not the better, +London may shortly throw an old shoe after us; and with those shreds of +French that we gathered up in our host's house in Paris, we'll gull the +world, that hath in estimation foreign physicians: and if any of the +hidebound brethren of Cambridge and Oxford, or any of those stigmatic +masters of art that abused us in times pass'd, leave their own +physicians, and become our patients, we'll alter quite the style of +them; for they shall never hereafter write, Your lordship's most +bounden, but, Your lordship's most laxative. + +STUDIOSO. +It shall be so: see what a little vermin poverty altereth a whole milky +disposition. + +PHILOMUSUS. +So then myself straight with revenge I'll sate.[69] + +STUDIOSO. +Provoked patience grows intemperate. + + + + +ACTUS I, SCAENA 5. + + + _Enter_ RICHARDETTO, JAQUES, _Scholar learning French_. + +JAQUES. +How now, my little knave? Quelle nouvelle, monsieur? + +RICHARDETTO. +There's a fellow with a nightcap on his head, an urinal in his hand, +would fain speak with Master Theodore. + +JAQUES. +Parle Francois, mon petit garcon. + +RICHARDETTO.[70] +Ici un homme, avec le bonnet de nuit sur la tete, et un urinal en la +main, que veut parler avec Maistre Theodore. + +JAQUES. +Fort bien. + +THEODORE. +Jaques, a bonne heure. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +ACTUS I., SCAENA 6. + + + FUROR POETICUS; _and presently after enters_ PHANTASMA. + +FUROR POETICUS, _rapt with contemplation_. +Why, how now, pedant Phoebus?[71] are you smouching Thaly on her tender +lips? There, hoi! peasant, avaunt! Come, pretty short-nosed nymph. O +sweet Thalia, I do kiss thy foot. What, Clio? O sweet Clio! Nay, +prythee, do not weep, Melpomene. What, Urania, Polyhymnia, and Calliope! +let me do reverence to your deities. + [PHANTASMA _pulls him by the sleeve_. +I am your holy swain that, night and day, +Sit for your sakes, rubbing my wrinkled brow, +Studying a month for a epithet. +Nay, silver Cynthia, do not trouble me; +Straight will I thy Endymion's story write, +To which thou hastest me on day and night. +You light-skirt stars, this is your wonted guise, +By gloomy light perk out your doubtful heads; +But when Dan[72] Phoebus shows his flashing snout, +You are sky-puppies;[73] straight your light is out. + +PHANTASMA. +So ho, Furor! +Nay, prythee, good Furor, in sober sadness-- + +FUROR. +Odi profanum vulgus, et arceo. + +PHANTASMA. +Nay, sweet Furor,--ipsae te, Tityre, pinus-- + +FUROR. +Ipsi te fontes, ipsa haec arbusta vocarunt. +Who's that runs headlong on my quill's sharp point, +That, wearied of his life and baser breath, +Offers himself to an Iambic verse? + +PHANTASMA. +Si, quoties peccant homines, sua fulmina mittat +Jupiter, exiguo tempore inermis erit. + +FUROR. +What slimy, bold, presumptuous groom[74] is he, +Dares with his rude, audacious, hardy chat +Thus sever me from sky-bred[75] contemplation? + +PHANTASMA. +_Carmina vel coelo possunt deducere lunam_. + +FUROR. +O Phantasma! what, my individual[76] mate? + +PHANTASMA. +_O, mihi post nullos, Furor, memorande sodales_! + +FUROR. +Say, whence comest thou? sent from what deity? +From great Apollo or sly Mercury? + +PHANTASMA. +I come from the little Mercury Ingenioso: for, +_Ingenio pollet, cui vim natura negavit_. + +FUROR. +Ingenioso? +He is a pretty inventor of slight prose; +But there's no spirit in his grov'lling speech. +Hang him, whose verse cannot outbelch the wind, +That cannot beard and brave Dan Aeolus; +That, when the cloud of his invention breaks, +Cannot outcrack the scarecrow thunderbolt. +Hang him, I say![77] + +PHANTASMA. +_Pendo, pependi; tendo, tetendi; pedo, pepedi_. Will it please you, +Master Furor, to walk with me? I promise to bring you to a drinking-inn +in Cheapside, at the sign of the Nag's Head; for + + _Tempore lenta pati fraena docentur equi_. + +FUROR. +Pass thee before, I'll come incontinent. + +PHANTASMA. +Nay, faith, Master Furor, let's go together, _quoniam convenimus ambo_. + +FUROR. +Let us march on unto the house of fame; +There, quaffing bowls of Bacchus' blood full nimbly, +Indite a-tiptoe strutting poesy. + [_They offer the way one to the other_. + +PHANTASMA. +_Quo me, Bacche, rapis tui plenum? +Tu major: tibi me est aequum parere, Menalca_. + + + +ACTUS II., SCAENA 1. + + + _Enter_ PHILOMUSUS, THEODORE, _his patient, the_ + BURGESS, _and his man with his staff_. + +THEODORE. +[_Puts on his spectacles_.] Monsieur, here are _atomi natantes_, which +do make show your worship to be as lecherous as a bull. + +BURGESS. +Truly, Master Doctor, we are all men. + +THEODORE. +This vater is intention of heat: are you not perturbed with an ache in +your vace[78] or in your occipit? I mean your headpiece. Let me feel +the pulse of your little finger. + +BURGESS. +I'll assure you, Master Theodore, the pulse of my head beats +exceedingly; and I think I have disturbed myself by studying the penal +statutes. + +THEODORE. +Tit, tit, your worship takes care of your speeches. +_O, Curae leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent_: it is an aphorism in Galen. + +BURGESS. +And what is the exposition of that? + +THEODORE. +That your worship must take a gland, _ut emittatur sanguis_: the sign +is _fort_ excellent, _fort_ excellent. + +BURGESS. +Good Master Doctor, use me gently; for, mark you, sir, there is a double +consideration to be had of me: first, as I am a public magistrate; +secondly, as I am a private butcher; and but for the worshipful credit +of the place and office wherein I now stand and live, I would not hazard +my worshipful apparel with a suppository or a glister: but for the +countenancing of the place, I must go oftener to stool; for, as a great +gentleman told me, of good experience, that it was the chief note of a +magistrate not to go to the stool without a physician. + +THEODORE. +Ah, vous etes un gentilhomme, vraiment.--What, ho, Jaques! Jaques, +donnez-vous un fort gentil purgation for Monsieur Burgess. + +JAQUES. +Votre tres-humble serviteur, a votre commandment. + +THEODORE. +Donnez-vous un gentil purge a Monsieur Burgess.--I have considered of +the crasis and syntoma of your disease, and here is un fort gentil +purgation per evacuationem excrementorum, as we physicians use to +parley. + +BURGESS. +I hope, Master Doctor, you have a care of the country's officer. I tell +you, I durst not have trusted myself with every physician; and yet I am +not afraid for myself, but I would not deprive the town of so careful a +magistrate. + +THEODORE. +O Monsieur, I have a singular care of your _valetudo_. It is requisite +that the French physicians be learned and careful; your English +velvet-cap is malignant and envious. + +BURGESS. +Here is, Master Doctor, fourpence--your due, and eightpence--my bounty. +You shall hear from me, good Master Doctor; farewell, farewell, good +Master Doctor. + +THEODORE. +Adieu, good Monsieur; adieu, good sir Monsieur. _Exit_ BURGESS. +Then burst with tears, unhappy graduate; +Thy fortunes still wayward and backward been; +Nor canst thou thrive by virtue nor by sin. + +STUDIOSO. +O, how it grieves my vexed soul to see +Each painted ass in chair of dignity! +And yet we grovel on the ground alone, +Running through every trade, yet thrive by none: +More we must act in this life's tragedy. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Sad is the plot, sad the catastrophe. + +STUDIOSO. +Sighs are the chorus in our tragedy. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And rented thoughts continual actors be.[79] + +STUDIOSO. +Woe is the subject, Phil.;[80] earth the loath'd stage +Whereon we act this feigned personage; +Most like[81] barbarians the spectators be, +That sit and laugh at our calamity. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Bann'd be those hours when, 'mongst the learned throng, +By Granta's muddy bank we whilome sung! + +STUDIOSO. +Bann'd be that hill, which learned wits adore, +Where erst we spent our stock and little store! + +PHILOMUSUS. +Bann'd be those musty mews, where we have spent +Our youthful days in paled languishment! + +STUDIOSO. +Bann'd be those cos'ning arts that wrought our woe, +Making us wand'ring pilgrims to and fro. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And pilgrims must we be without relief; +And wheresoe'er we run, there meets us grief. + +STUDIOSO. +Where'er we toss upon this crabbed stage, +Griefs our companion; patience be our page. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Ah, but this patience is a page of ruth, +A tired lackey to our wand'ring youth! + + + +ACTUS II., SCAENA 2. + + +ACADEMICO, _solus_. +Fain would I have a living, if I could tell how +to come by it. _Echo_. Buy it. +Buy it, fond Echo? why, thou dost greatly +mistake it. _Echo_. Stake it. +Stake it? what should I stake at this game of +simony? _Echo_. Money. +What, is the world a game? are livings gotten +by paying?[82] _Echo_. Paying. +Paying? But say, what's the nearest way to +come by a living? _Echo_. Giving. +Must his worship's fists be needs then oiled with +angels? _Echo_. Angels. +Ought his gouty fists then first with gold to be +greased? _Echo_. Eased. +And is it then such an ease for his ass's back to +carry money? _Echo_. Ay. +Will, then, this golden ass bestow a vicarage +gilded? _Echo_. Gelded. +What shall I say to good Sir Raderic, that have +no[83] gold here? _Echo_. Cold cheer. +I'll make it my lone request, that he would be +good to a scholar. _Echo_. Choler. +Yea, will he be choleric to hear of an art or a +science? _Echo_. Hence. +Hence with liberal arts? What, then, will he +do with his chancel? _Echo_. Sell. +Sell it? and must a simple clerk be fain to compound +then? _Echo_. Pounds then. +What, if I have no pounds? must then my suit +be prorogued? _Echo_. Rogued. +Yea? given to a rogue? Shall an ass this +vicarage compass? _Echo_. Ass. +What is the reason that I should not be as fortunate +as he? _Echo_. Ass he. +Yet, for all this, with a penniless purse will I +trudge to his worship. _Echo_. Words cheap. +Well, if he give me good words, it's more than I +have from an Echo. _Echo_. Go. + + [_Exit_. + + + +ACTUS II, SCAENA 3. + + + AMORETTO _with an Ovid in his hand_, IMMERITO. + +AMORETTO. +Take it on the word of a gentleman, thou cannot have it a penny under; +think on it, think on it, while I meditate on my fair mistress-- +_Nunc sequor imperium, magne Cupido, tuum_. +Whate'er become of this dull, threadbare clerk, +I must be costly in my mistress' eye: +Ladies regard not ragged company. +I will with the revenues of my chaffer'd church +First buy an ambling hobby for my fair, +Whose measur'd pace may teach the world to dance, +Proud of his burden, when he 'gins to prance. +Then must I buy a jewel for her ear, +A kirtle of some hundred crowns or more. +With these fair gifts when I accompani'd go, +She'll give Jove's breakfast; Sidney terms it so. +I am her needle, she is my adamant, +She is my fair rose, I her unworthy prick. + +ACADEMICO. +Is there nobody here will take the pains to geld his mouth? [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +She's Cleopatra, I Mark Antony. + +ACADEMICO. +No, thou art a mere mark for good wits to shoot at: and in that suit +thou wilt make a fine man to dash poor crows out of countenance. + [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +She is my Moon, I her Endymion. + +ACADEMICO. +No, she is thy shoulder of mutton, thou her onion: or she may be thy +Luna, and thou her lunatic. [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +I her Aeneas, she my Dido is. + +ACADEMICO. +She is thy Io, thou her brazen ass, +Or she Dame Phantasy, and thou her gull; +She thy Pasiphae, and thou her loving bull.[84] + [_Aside_. + + + +ACTUS II, SCAENA 4. + + + _Enter_ IMMERITO _and_ STERCUTIO, _his father_. + +STERCUTIO. +Son, is this the gentleman that sells us the living? + +IMMERITO. +Fie, father! thou must not call it selling: thou must say, Is this the +gentleman that must have the _gratuito_? + +ACADEMICO. +What have we here? old truepenny come to town, to fetch away the living +in his old greasy slops? Then, I'll none: the time hath been when such a +fellow meddled with nothing but his ploughshare, his spade, and his +hobnails; and so to a piece of bread and cheese, and went his way. But +now these fellows are grown the only factors for preferment. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +O, is this the grating gentleman? And how many pounds must I pay? + +IMMERITO. +O, thou must not call them pounds, but thanks. And, hark thou, father; +thou must tell of nothing that is done, for I must seem to come clear +to it. + +ACADEMICO. +Not pounds, but thanks? See, whether this simple fellow that hath +nothing of a scholar, but that the draper hath blacked him over, hath +not gotten the style of the time. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +By my faith, son, look for no more portion. + +IMMERITO. +Well, father, I will not--upon this condition, that when thou have +gotten me the _gratuito_ of the living, thou wilt likewise disburse a +little money to the bishop's poser;[85] for there are certain questions +I make scruple to be posed in. + +ACADEMICO. +He means any question in Latin, which he counts a scruple. O. this +honest man could never abide this popish tongue of Latin. O, he is as +true an Englishman as lives. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +I'll take the gentleman, now he is in a good vein, for he smiles. + +AMORETTO. +Sweet Ovid, I do honour every page. + +ACADEMICO. +Good Ovid, that in his lifetime lived with the Getes; and now, after his +death, converseth with a barbarian. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +God be at your work, sir. My son told me you were the grating gentleman; +I am Stercutio his father, sir, simple as I stand here. + +AMORETTO. +Fellow, I had rather given thee an hundred pounds than thou shouldst +have put me out of my excellent meditation: by the faith of a gentleman, +I was wrapp'd in contemplation. + +IMMERITO. +Sir, you must pardon my father: he wants bringing up. + +ACADEMICO. +Marry, it seems he hath good bringing up, when he brings up so much +money. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +Indeed, sir, you must pardon me; I did not know you were a gentleman of +the Temple before. + +AMORETTO. +Well, I am content in a generous disposition to bear with country +education: but, fellow, what's thy name? + +STERCUTIO. +My name, sir? Stercutio, sir. + +AMORETTO. +Why then, Stercutio, I would be very willing to be the instrument to my +father, that this living might be conferred upon your son: marry, I +would have you know that I have been importuned by two or three several +lords, my kind cousins, in the behalf of some Cambridge man, and have +almost engaged my word. Marry, if I shall see your disposition to be +more thankful than other men, I shall be very ready to respect +kind-natured men; for, as the Italian proverb speaketh well, _chi ha, +havra_. + +ACADEMICO. +Why, here is a gallant young drover of livings. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +I beseech you, sir, speak English; for that is natural to me and to my +son, and all our kindred, to understand but one language. + +AMORETTO. +Why thus, in plain English, I must be respected with thanks. + +ACADEMICO. +This is a subtle tractive, when thanks may be felt and seen. [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +And I pray you, sir, what is the lowest thanks that you will take? + +ACADEMICO. +The very same method that he useth at the buying of an ox. [_Aside_.] + +AMORETTO. +I must have some odd sprinkling of an hundred pounds; if so, so--I shall +think you thankful, and commend your son as a man of good gifts to my +father. + +ACADEMICO. +A sweet world! give an hundred pounds; and this is but counted +thankfulness! [_Aside_.] + +STERCUTIO. +Hark thou, sir; you shall have eighty thanks. + +AMORETTO. +I tell thee, fellow, I never opened my mouth in this kind so cheap +before in my life: I tell thee, few young gentlemen are found that would +deal so kindly with thee as I do. + +STERCUTIO. +Well, sir, because I know my son to be a toward thing, and one that has +taken all his learning on his own head, without sending to the +university, I am content to give you as many thanks as you ask, so you +will promise me to bring it to pass. + +AMORETTO. +I warrant you for that, if I say it once. Repair you to the place, and +stay there. For my father, he is walked abroad to take the benefit of +the air: I'll meet him, as he returns, and make way for your suit. +Gallant, i'faith.[86] + + [_Exeunt_ STERCUTIO _and_ IMMERITO. + + + +ACTUS II., SCAENA 5. + + + ACADEMICO, AMORETTO. + +ACADEMICO. +I see, we scholars fish for a living in these shallow fords without a +silver hook. Why, would it not gall a man to see a spruce gartered youth +of our college, a while ago, be a broker for a living and an old bawd +for a benefice? This sweet sir preferred me much kindness when he was of +our college, and now I'll try what wind remains in his bladder. God save +you, sir. + +AMORETTO. +By the mass, I fear me, I saw this _genus_ and _species_ in Cambridge +before now: I'll take no notice of him now. [_Aside_.] By the faith of a +gentleman, this is pretty elegy. Of what age is the day, fellow? Sirrah +boy, hath the groom saddled my hunting hobby? Can Robin hunter tell +where a hare sits? [_Soliloquising_. + +ACADEMICO. +See a poor Old friend of yours of S---- College in Cambridge. + +AMORETTO. +Good faith, sir, you must pardon me: I have forgotten you. + +ACADEMICO. +My name is Academico, sir; one that made an oration for you once on the +Queen's day, and a show that you got some credit by. + +AMORETTO. +It may be so, it may be so; but I have forgotten it. Marry, yet I +remember that there was such a fellow that I was beneficial unto in my +time. But, howsoever, sir, I have the courtesy of the town for you. +I am sorry you did not take me at my father's house; but now I am in +exceeding great haste, for I have vowed the death of a hare that we +found this morning musing on her meaze. + +ACADEMICO. +Sir, I am emboldened by that great acquaintance that heretofore I had +with you, as likewise it hath pleased you heretofore-- + +AMORETTO. +Look, sirrah, if you see my hobby come hitherward as yet. + +ACADEMICO. +--to make me some promises, I am to request your good mediation to the +worshipful your father in my behalf: and I will dedicate to yourself, +in the way of thanks, those days I have to live. + +AMORETTO. +O good sir, if I had known your mind before; for my father hath already +given the induction to a chaplain of his own--to a proper man--I know +not of what university he is. + +ACADEMICO. +Signior Immerito, they say, hath bidden fairest for it. + +AMORETTO. +I know not his name; but he is a grave, discreet man, I warrant him: +indeed, he wants utterance in some measure. + +ACADEMICO. +Nay, methinks he hath very good utterance for his gravity, for he came +hither very grave; but, I think, he will return light enough, when he +is rid of the heavy element he carries about him. [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +Faith, sir, you must pardon me: it is my ordinary custom to be too +studious; my mistress hath told me of it often, and I find it to hurt +my ordinary discourse: but say, sweet sir, do ye affect the most +gentlemanlike game of hunting? + +ACADEMICO. +How say you to the crafty gull? he would fain get me abroad to make +sport with me in their hunters' terms, which we scholars are not +acquainted with. [_Aside_.] Sir, I have loved this kind of sport; but +now I begin to hate it, for it hath been my luck always to beat the +bush, while another killed the hare. + +AMORETTO. +Hunters' luck, hunters' luck, sir; but there was a fault in your hounds, +that did spend well. + +ACADEMICO. +Sir, I have had worse luck always at hunting the fox. + +AMORETTO. +What, sir, do you mean at the unkennelling, untapezing, or earthing of +the fox? + +ACADEMICO. +I mean, earthing, if you term it so;--for I never found yellow earth +enough to cover the old fox your father. [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +Good faith, sir, there is an excellent skill in blowing for the terriers; +it is a word that we hunters use. When the fox is earthed, you must blow +one long, two short; the second wind, one long, two short. Now, sir, in +blowing, every long containeth seven quavers, one short containeth three +quavers. + +ACADEMICO. +Sir, might I find any favour in my suit, I would wind the horn, wherein +your boon[87] deserts should be sounded with so many minims, so many +quavers. + +AMORETTO. +Sweet sir, I would I could confer this or any kindness upon you:--I +wonder, the boy comes not away with my hobby. Now, sir, as I was +proceeding--when you blow the death of your fox in the field or covert, +then must you sound three notes with three winds, and recheat, mark you, +sir, upon the same with three winds. + +ACADEMICO. +I pray you, sir. + +AMORETTO. +Now, sir, when you come to your stately gate, as you sounded the recheat +before, so now you must sound the relief three times. + +ACADEMICO. +Relief, call you it? it were good, every patron would find the horn. + [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +O sir, but your relief is your sweetest note: that is, sir, when your +hounds hunt after a game unknown; and then you must sound one long and +six short; the second wind, two short and one long; the third wind, one +long and two short. + +ACADEMICO. +True, sir, it is a very good trade nowadays to be a villain; I am the +hound that hunts after a game unknown, and blows the villain. + [_Aside_.] + +AMORETTO. +Sir, I will bless your ears with a very pretty story: my father, out of +his own cost and charges, keeps an open table for all kind of dogs. + +ACADEMICO. +And he keeps one more by thee. [_Aside_.] + +AMORETTO. +He hath your greyhound, your mongrel, your mastiff, your levrier, your +spaniel, your kennets, terriers, butchers' dogs, bloodhounds, +dunghill-dogs, trundle-tails, prick-eared curs, small ladies' puppies, +raches,[88] and bastards. + +ACADEMICO. +What a bawdy knave hath he to his father, that keeps his Rachel, hath +his bastards, and lets his sons be plain ladies' puppies to bewray a +lady's chamber. [_Aside_.] + +AMORETTO. +It was my pleasure, two days ago, to take a gallant leash of greyhounds; +and into my father's park I went, accompanied with two or three noblemen +of my near acquaintance, desiring to show them some of the sport. I +caused the keeper to sever the rascal deer from the bucks of the first +head. Now, sir, a buck the first year is a fawn, the second year a +pricket, the third year a sorel, the fourth year a sore, the fifth a +buck of the first head, the sixth year a complete buck; as likewise your +hart is the first year a calf, the second year a brocket, the third year +a spade, the fourth year a stag, the fifth year a great stag, the sixth +year a hart; as likewise the roebuck is the first year a kid, the second +year a girl, the third year a hemuse: and these are your special beasts +for chase, or, as we huntsmen call it, for venery. + +ACADEMICO. +If chaste be taken for venery, thou art a more special beast than any in +thy father's forest. [_Aside_.] Sir, I am sorry I have been so +troublesome to you. + +AMORETTO. +I know this was the readiest way to chase away the scholar, by getting +him into a subject he cannot talk of for his life. [_Aside_.] Sir, I +will borrow so much time of you as to finish this my begun story. Now, +sir, after much travel we singled a buck; I rode that same time upon a +roan gelding, and stood to intercept from the thicket; the buck broke +gallantly; my great swift being disadvantaged in his slip was at the +first behind; marry, presently coted and outstripped them, when as the +hart presently descended to the river, and being in the water, proffered +and reproffered, and proffered again: and, at last, he upstarted at the +other side of the water, which we call soil of the hart, and there other +huntsmen met him with an adauntreley;[89] we followed in hard chase for +the space of eight hours; thrice our hounds were at default, and then we +cried _A slain_! straight, _So ho_; through good reclaiming my faulty +hounds found their game again, and so went through the wood with gallant +noise of music, resembling so many _viols de gambo_. At last the hart +laid him down, and the hounds seized upon him; he groaned, and wept, and +died. In good faith, it made me weep too, to think of Actaeon's fortune, +which my Ovid speaks of-- + [_He reads Ovid_. + + _Militat omnis amans, et habet sua castra Cupido_. + +ACADEMICO. +Sir, can you put me in any hope of obtaining my suit? + +AMORETTO. +In good faith, sir, if I did not love you as my soul, I would not make +you acquainted with the mysteries of my art. + +ACADEMICO. +Nay, I will not die of a discourse yet, if I can choose. + [_Exit unperceived_. + +AMORETTO. +So, sir, when we had rewarded our dogs with the small guts, and the +lights, and the blood, the huntsmen hallooed, _So ho! Venue_, a coupler; +and so coupled the dogs, and then returned homeward. Another company of +hounds, that lay at advantage, had their couples cast off, and we might +hear the huntsmen cry, _Horse, decouple, avant_; but straight we heard +him cry, _Le amond_, and by that I knew that they had the hare, and on +foot; and by and by I might see sore and resore, prick and reprick. +What, is he gone! ha, ha, ha, ha! these scholars are the simplest +creatures! + + + +ACTUS II., SCAENA 6. + + + _Enter Amoretto's_ PAGE. + +PAGE. +I wonder what is become of that Ovid _de arte amandi_.[90] My master, he +that for the practice of his discourse is wont to court his hobby abroad +and at home, in his chamber makes a set speech to his greyhound, +desiring that most fair and amiable dog to grace his company in a +stately galliard; and if the dog, seeing him practise his lusty points, +as his cross-point back-caper, chance to bewray the room, he presently +doft's his cap, most solemnly makes a low leg to his ladyship, taking it +for the greatest favour in the world that she would vouchsafe to leave +her civet-box or her sweet glove behind her. + + [_Enter_ AMORETTO, _reading Ovid_.] + +Not a word more. Sir, an't please you, your hobby will meet you at the +lane's end. + +AMORETTO. +What, Jack? i'faith, I cannot but vent unto thee a most witty jest of +mine. + +PAGE. +I hope my master will not break wind. [_Aside_.] Will't please you, sir, +to bless mine ears with the discourse of it? + +AMORETTO. +Good faith, the boy begins to have an elegant smack of my style. Why, +then, thus it was, Jack, a scurvy mere Cambridge scholar, I know not +how to define him-- + +PAGE. +Nay, master, let me define a mere scholar. I heard a courtier once +define a mere scholar to be _animal scabiosum_, that is, a living +creature that is troubled with the itch; or, a mere scholar is a +creature that can strike fire in the morning at his tinder-box, put on +a pair of lined slippers, sit rheuming[91] till dinner, and then go to +his meat when the bell rings: one that hath a peculiar gift in a cough, +and a licence to spit. Or, if you will have him defined by negatives, he +is one that cannot make a good leg; one that cannot eat a mess of broth +cleanly; one that cannot ride a horse without spur-galling; one that +cannot salute a woman, and look on her directly; one that cannot-- + +AMORETTO. +Enough, Jack; I can stay no longer; I am so great in childbirth with +this jest. Sirrah, this predicable, this saucy groom, because, when I +was in Cambridge, and lay in a trundlebed under my tutor, I was content, +in discreet humility, to give him some place at the table; and because I +invited the hungry slave sometimes to my chamber, to the canvassing of a +turkey-pie or a piece of venison which my lady grandmother sent me, he +thought himself therefore eternally possessed of my love, and came +hither to take acquaintance of me; and thought his old familiarity did +continue, and would bear him out in a matter of weight. I could not tell +how to rid myself better of the troublesome burr than by getting him +into the discourse of hunting; and then tormenting him a while with our +words of art, the poor scorpion became speechless, and suddenly +vanished![92] These clerks are simple fellows, simple fellows. + [_He reads Ovid_.] + +PAGE. +Simple, indeed, they are; for they want your courtly composition of a +fool and of a knave. [_Aside_.] Good faith, sir, a most absolute jest; +but, methinks, it might have been followed a little further. + +AMORETTO. +As how, my little knave? + +PAGE. +Why thus, sir; had you invited him to dinner at your table, and have put +the carving of a capon upon him, you should have seen him handle the +knife so foolishly, then run through a jury of faces, then wagging his +head and showing his teeth in familiarity, venture upon it with the same +method that he was wont to untruss an apple-pie, or tyrannise an egg and +butter: then would I have applied him all dinner-time with clean +trenchers, clean trenchers; and still when he had a good bit of meat, I +would have taken it from him by giving him a clean trencher, and so have +served him in kindness. + +AMORETTO. +Well said, subtle Jack; put me in mind, when I return again, that I may +make my lady mother laugh at the scholar. I'll to my game; for you, +Jack, I would have you employ your time, till my coming, in watching +what hour of the day my hawk mutes. [_Exit_. + +PAGE. +Is not this an excellent office, to be apothecary to his worship's hawk, +to sit scouting on the wall how the physic works? And is not my master +an absolute villain, that loves his hawk, his hobby, and his greyhound, +more than any mortal creature? Do but dispraise a feather of his hawk's +train, and he writhes his mouth, and swears (for he can do that only +with a good grace) that you are the most shallow-brained fellow that +lives. Do but say his horse stales with a good presence, and he's your +bondslave. When he returns, I'll tell twenty admirable lies of his hawk; +and then I shall be his little rogue and his white villain for a whole +week after. Well, let others complain; but I think there is no felicity +to the serving of a fool. + + + + +ACTUS III., SCAENA 1. + + + SIR RADERIC, RECORDER, PAGE, SIGNIOR IMMERITO. + +SIR RADERIC. +Signior Immerito, you remember my caution for the tithes, and my promise +for farming my tithes at such a rate? + +IMMERITO. +Ay, and please your worship, sir. + +SIR RADERIC. +You must put in security for the performance of it, in such sort as I +and Master Recorder shall like of. + +IMMERITO. +I will, an't please your worship. + +SIR RADERIC. +And because I will be sure that I have conferred this kindness upon a +sufficient man, I have desired Master Recorder to take examination of +you. + +PAGE. +My master, it seems, takes him for a thief; but he hath small reason for +it. As for learning, it's plain he never stole any; and for the living, +he knows himself how he comes by it; for let him but eat a mess of +furmenty this seven year, and yet he shall never be able to recover +himself. Alas, poor sheep, that hath fallen into the hands of such a +fox! [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +Good Master Recorder, take your place by me, and make trial of his +gifts: is the clerk there to record his examination? O, the page shall +serve the turn. + +PAGE. +Trial of his gifts! never had any gifts a better trial: why, Immerito's +gifts have appeared in as many colours as the rainbow; first, to Master +Amoretto, in colour of the satin suit he wears: to my lady, in the +similitude of a loose gown: to my master, in the likeness of a silver +basin and ewer: to us pages, in the semblance of new suits and points. +So Master Amoretto plays the gull in a piece of a parsonage; my master +adorns his cupboard with a piece of a parsonage; my mistress, upon good +days, puts on a piece of a parsonage; and we pages play at blowpoint for +a piece of a parsonage: I think here's trial enough for one man's gifts. + [_Aside_. + +RECORDER. +Forasmuch as nature hath done her part in making you a handsome likely +man-- + +PAGE. +He is a handsome young man indeed, and hath a proper gelded parsonage.[93] + [_Aside_. + +RECORDER. +In the next place, some art is requisite for the perfection of nature: +for the trial whereof, at the request of my worshipful friend, I will in +some sort propound questions fit to be resolved by one of your +profession. Say, what is a person that was never at the university? + +IMMERITO. +A person that was never in the university is a living creature that can +eat a tithe-pig. + +RECORDER. +Very well answered; but you should have added--and must be officious to +his patron. Write down that answer to show his learning in logic. + +SIR RADERIC. +Yea, boy, write that down. Very learnedly, in good faith. I pray now, +let me ask you one question that I remember: whether is the masculine +gender or the feminine more worthy? + +IMMERITO. +The feminine, sir. + +SIR RADERIC. +The right answer, the right answer. In good faith, I have been of that +mind always. Write, boy, that to show he is a grammarian. + +PAGE. +No marvel my master be against the grammar; for he hath always made +false Latin in the genders. [_Aside_. + +RECORDER. +What university are you of? + +IMMERITO. +Of none. + +SIR RADERIC. +He tells truth; to tell truth is an excellent virtue. Boy, make two +heads, one for his learning, another for his virtues; and refer this to +the head of his virtues, not of his learning. + +PAGE. +What, half a mess of good qualities referred to an ass' head? + [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +Now, Master Recorder, if it please you, I will examine him in an author +that will sound him to the depth--a book of astronomy, otherwise called +an almanac. + +RECORDER. +Very good, Sir Raderic; it were to be wished that there were no other +book of humanity, then there would not be such busy, state-frying +fellows as are nowadays. Proceed, good sir. + +SIR RADERIC. +What is the dominical letter? + +IMMERITO. +C, sir, and please your worship. + +SIR RADERIC. +A very good answer, a very good answer, the very answer of the book. +Write down that, and refer it to his skill in philosophy. + +PAGE. +C the dominical letter? It is true: Craft and Cunning do so domineer; +yet, rather C and D are dominical letters, that is, crafty duncery. + [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +How many days hath September? + +IMMERITO. +April, June, and November, February hath twenty-eight alone; and all +the rest hath thirty and one. + +SIR RADERIC. +Very learnedly, in good faith, he hath also a smack in poetry. Write +down that, boy, to show his learning in poetry. How many miles from +Waltham to London? + +IMMERITO. +Twelve, sir. + +SIR RADERIC, +How many from Newmarket to Grantham? + +IMMERITO. +Ten, sir. + +PAGE. +Without doubt, he hath been some carrier's horse. [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +How call you him that is cunning in 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and the cypher? + +IMMERITO. +A good arithmetician. + +SIR RADERIC. +Write down that answer of his, to show his learning in arithmetic. + +PAGE. +He must needs be a good arithmetician, that counted money so lately. + [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +When is the new moon? + +IMMERITO. +The last quarter the fifth day, at two of the clock and thirty-eight +minutes in the morning. + +SIR RADERIC. +Write that down. How call you him that is weatherwise? + +IMMERITO. +A good astronomer. + +SIR RADERIC. +Sirrah boy, write him down for a good astronomer. + +PAGE. +Ass colit ass-tra. [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +What day of the month lights the Queen's day on? + +IMMERITO. +The seventeenth of November.[94] + +SIR RADERIC. +Boy, refer this to his virtues, and write him down a good subject. + +PAGE. +Faith, he were an excellent subject for two or three good wits: he would +make a fine ass for an ape to ride upon. [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +And these shall suffice for the parts of his learning. Now it remains to +try whether you be a man of good utterance, that is, whether you can ask +for the strayed heifer with the white face, as also chide the boys in +the belfry, and bid the sexton whip out the dogs. Let me hear your +voice. + +IMMERITO. +If any man or woman-- + +SIR RADERIC. +That's too high. + +IMMERITO. +If any man or woman-- + +SIR RADERIC. +That's too low. + +IMMERITO. +If any man or woman can tell any tidings of a horse with four feet, two +ears, that did stray about the seventh hour, three minutes in the +forenoon the fifth day-- + +PAGE. +A book of[95] a horse, just as it were the eclipse of the moon. + [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +Boy, write him down for a good utterance. Master Recorder, I think he +hath been examined sufficiently. + +RECORDER. +Ay, Sir Raderic, 'tis so; we have tried him very throughly. + +PAGE. +Ay, we have taken an inventory of his good parts, and prized them +accordingly. + +SIR RADERIC. +Signior Immerito, forasmuch as we have made a double trial of thee--the +one of your learning, the other of your erudition--it is expedient also, +in the next place, to give you a few exhortations, considering the +greatest clerks are not the wisest men. This is therefore, first, to +exhort you to abstain from controversies; secondly, not to gird at men +of worship, such as myself, but to use yourself discreetly; thirdly, not +to speak when any man or woman coughs--do so, and in so doing, I will +persevere to be your worshipful friend and loving patron. + +IMMERITO. +I thank your worship, you have been the deficient cause of my preferment. + +SIR RADERIC. +Lead Immerito into my son, and let him despatch him; and remember--my +tithes to be reserved, paying twelvepence a year. I am going to +Moorfields to speak with an unthrift I should meet at the Middle-Temple +about a purchase; when you have done, follow us. + + [_Exeunt_ IMMERITO _and the_ PAGE. + + + +ACTUS III., SCAENA 2. + + + SIR RADERIC _and_ RECORDER. + +SIR RADERIC. +Hark you, Master Recorder: I have fleshed my prodigal boy notably, +notably, in letting him deal for this living; that hath done him much +good, much good, I assure you. + +RECORDER. +You do well, Sir Raderic, to bestow your living upon such an one as will +be content to share, and on Sunday to say nothing; whereas your proud +university princox thinks he is a man of such merit the world cannot +sufficiently endow him with preferment. An unthankful viper, an +unthankful viper, that will sting the man that revived him. +Why, is't not strange to see a ragged clerk +Some stamel weaver or some butcher's son, +That scrubb'd a-late within a sleeveless gown, +When the commencement, like a morris-dance, +Hath put a bell or two about his legs, +Created him a sweet clean gentleman; +How then he 'gins to follow fashions: +He, whose thin sire dwells in a smoky roof, +Must take tobacco, and must wear a lock; +His thirsty dad drinks in a wooden bowl, +But his sweet self is serv'd in silver plate. +His hungry sire will scrape you twenty legs +For one good Christmas meal on New-Year's day, +But his maw must be capon-cramm'd each day; +He must ere long be triple-beneficed, +Else with his tongue he'll thunderbolt the world, +And shake each peasant by his deaf man's ear. +But, had the world no wiser men than I, +We'd pen the prating parrots in a cage. +A chair, a candle, and a tinder-box, +A thacked[96] chamber and a ragged gown, +Should be their lands and whole possessions; +Knights, lords, and lawyers should be lodg'd and dwell +Within those over-stately heaps of stone, +Which doating sires in old age did erect. +Well, it were to be wished, that never a scholar in England might have +above forty pound a year. + +SIR RADERIC. +Faith, Master Recorder, if it went by wishing, there should never an one +of them all have above twenty a year--a good stipend, a good stipend, +Master Recorder. I in the meantime, howsoever I hate them all deadly, +yet I am fain to give them good words. O, they are pestilent fellows, +they speak nothing but bodkins, and piss vinegar. Well, do what I can +in outward kindness to them, yet they do nothing but bewray my house: +as there was one that made a couple of knavish verses on my country +chimney, now in the time of my sojourning here at London; and it was +thus-- +Sir Raderic keeps no chimney cavalier, +That takes tobacco above once a year. +And another made a couple of verses on my daughter, that learns to play +on the _viol-de-gambo_-- +Her _viol-de-gambo_ is her best content; +For 'twixt her legs she holds her instrument. +Very knavish, very knavish, if you look into it, Master Recorder. Nay, +they have played many a knavish trick beside with me. Well, 'tis a +shame, indeed, there should be any such privilege for proud beggars as +Cambridge and Oxford are. But let them go; and if ever they light in my +hands, if I do not plague them, let me never return home again to see +my wife's waiting-maid! + +RECORDER. +This scorn of knights is too egregious: +But how should these young colts prove amblers, +When the old, heavy, galled jades do trot? +There shall you see a puny boy start up, +And make a theme against common lawyers; +Then the old, unwieldy camels 'gin to dance, +This fiddling boy playing a fit of mirth; +The greybeards scrub, and laugh, and cry, _Good, good! +To them again, boy; scourge the barbarians_. +But we may give the losers leave to talk; +We have the coin, then tell them laugh for me. +Yet knights and lawyers hope to see the day, +When we may share here their possessions, +And make indentures of their chaffer'd skins, +Dice of their bones to throw in merriment. + +SIR RADERIC. +O, good faith, Master Recorder, if I could see that day once? + +RECORDER. +Well, remember another day what I say: scholars are pryed into of late, +and are found to be busy fellows, disturbers of the peace. I'll say no +more; guess at my meaning. I smell a rat. + +SIR RADERIC. +I hope at length England will be wise enough, I hope so, i'faith; then +an old knight may have his wench in a corner without any satires or +epigrams. But the day is far spent, Master Recorder; and I fear by this +time the unthrift is arrived at the place appointed in Moorfields. Let +us hasten to him. [_He looks on his watch_. + +RECORDER. +Indeed, this day's subject transported us too late: [but] I think we +shall not come much too late. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +ACTUS III., SCAENA 3. + + + _Enter_ AMORETTO, _and his Page_, IMMERITO _booted_. + +AMORETTO. +Master Immerito, deliver this letter to the poser in my father's name. +Marry, withal some sprinkling, some sprinkling; _verbum sapienti sat +est_. Farewell, Master Immerito. + +IMMERITO. +I thank your worship most heartily. + +PAGE. +Is it not a shame to see this old dunce learning his induction at these +years? But let him go, I lose nothing by him; for I'll be sworn, but for +the booty of selling the parsonage, I should have gone in mine old +clothes this Christmas. A dunce, I see, is a neighbour-like brute beast: +a man may live by him. [_Aside_. + + [_AMORETTO seems to make verse_. + +AMORETTO. +A pox on it, my muse is not so witty as she was wont to be: ---- _Her +nose is like_ ---- not yet; plague on these mathematics! they have +spoiled my brain in making a verse. + +PAGE. +Hang me, if he hath any more mathematics than will serve to count the +clock, or tell the meridian hour by rumbling of his paunch. + [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +_Her nose is like_ ---- + +PAGE. +A cobbler's shoeing-horn. + +AMORETTO. +_Her nose is like a beauteous maribone_. [_Aside_. + +PAGE. +Marry, a sweet snotty mistress! [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +Faith, I do not like it yet. Ass as I was, to read a piece of Aristotle +in Greek yesternight; it hath put me out of my English vein quite. + +PAGE. +O monstrous lie! let me be a point-trusser, while I live, if he +understands any tongue but English. [_Aside_. + +AMORETTO. +Sirrah boy, remember me when I come in Paul's Churchyard to buy a +Ronsard and [a] Dubartas in French, and Aretine in Italian; and our +hardest writers in Spanish; they will sharpen my wits gallantly. I do +relish these tongues in some sort. O, now I do remember, I hear a +report of a poet newly come out in Hebrew; it is a pretty harsh tongue, +and telleth[97] a gentleman traveller: but come, let's haste after my +father; the fields are fitter to heavenly meditations. + [_Exit_. + +PAGE. +My masters, I could wish your presence at an admirable jest: why +presently this great linguist my master will march through Paul's +Churchyard, come to a bookbinder's shop, and with a big Italian look and +a Spanish face ask for these books in Spanish and Italian; then, turning +(through his ignorance) the wrong end of the book upward, use action on +this unknown tongue after this sort: First, look on the title, and +wrinkle his brow; next make as though he read the first page, and bite +'s lip;[98] then with his nail score the margent, as though there were +some notable conceit; and, lastly, when he thinks he hath gulled the +standers-by sufficiently, throws the book away in a rage, swearing that +he could never find books of a true print since he was last in +Joadna;[99] inquire after the next mart, and so departs. And so must I; +for by this time his contemplation is arrived at his mistress's nose +end; he is as glad as if he had taken Ostend.[100] By this time he +begins to spit, and cry, Boy, carry my cloak: and now I go to attend on +his worship. + + [_Exit_. + + + +ACTUS III., SCAENA 4. + + + _Enter_ INGENIOSO, FUROR, PHANTASMA. + +INGENIOSO. +Come, lads; this wine whets your resolution in our design: it's a needy +world with subtle spirits; and there's a gentlemanlike kind of begging, +that may beseem poets in this age. + +FUROR. +Now by the wing of nimble Mercury, +By my Thalia's silver-sounding harp, +By that celestial fire within my brain, +That gives a living genius to my lines, +Howe'er my dulled intellectual +Capers less nimbly than it did afore; +Yet will I play a hunts-up to my muse, +And make her mount from out her sluggish nest. +As high as is the highest sphere in heaven. +Awake, you paltry trulls of Helicon, +Or, by this light, I'll swagger with you straight: +You grandsire Phoebus, with your lovely eye, +The firmament's eternal vagabond, +The heaven's promoter, that doth peep and pry +Into the acts of mortal tennis-balls, +Inspire me straight with some rare delicies,[101] +Or I'll dismount thee from thy radiant coach, +And make thee poor[102] Cutchy here on earth. + +PHANTASMA. +_Currus auriga paterni_. + +INGENIOSO. +Nay, prythee, good Furor, do not rove in rhymes before thy time; thou +hast a very terrible, roaring muse, nothing but squibs and fine jerks: +quiet thyself a while, and hear thy charge. + +PHANTASMA. +_Huc ades, haec animo concipe dicta tuo_. + +INGENIOSO. +Let us on to our device, our plot, our project. That old Sir Raderic, +that new printed compendium of all iniquity, that hath not aired his +country chimney once in three winters; he that loves to live in an old +corner here at London, and affect an old wench in a nook; one that loves +to live in a narrow room, that he may with more facility in the dark +light upon his wife's waiting-maid; one that loves alike a short sermon +and a long play; one that goes to a play, to a whore, to his bed, in +circle: good for nothing in the world but to sweat nightcaps and foul +fair lawn shirts, feed a few foggy servingmen, and prefer dunces to +livings--this old Sir Raderic, Furor, it shall be thy task to cudgel +with thy thick, thwart terms; marry, at the first, give him some +sugarcandy terms,[103] and then, if he will not untie purse-strings of +his liberality, sting him with terms laid in aquafortis and gunpowder. + +FUROR. +_In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas_. +The servile current of my sliding verse +Gentle shall run into his thick-skinn'd ears; +Where it shall dwell like a magnifico, +Command his slimy sprite to honour me +For my high, tiptoe, strutting poesy: +But if his stars hath favour'd him so ill, +As to debar him by his dunghill thoughts, +Justly to esteem my verses' lowting pitch, +If his earth-rooting snout shall 'gin to scorn +My verse that giveth immortality; +Then _Bella per Emathios_-- + +PHANTASMA. +_Furor arma ministrat_. + +FUROR. +I'll shake his heart upon my verses' point, +Rip out his guts with riving poniard, +Quarter his credit with a bloody quill. + +PHANTASMA. +_Calami, atramentum, charta, libelli, +Sunt semper studiis arma parata tuis_. + +INGENIOSO. +Enough, Furor, we know thou art a nimble swaggerer with a goose-quill. +Now for you, Phantasma: leave trussing your points, and listen. + +PHANTASMA. +_Omne tulit punctum_-- + +INGENIOSO. +Mark you, Amoretto, Sir Raderic's son, to him shall thy piping poetry +and sugar-ends of verses be directed: he is one that will draw out his +pocket-glass thrice in a walk; one that dreams in a night of nothing but +musk and civet, and talks of nothing all day long but his hawk, his +hound, and his mistress; one that more admires the good wrinkle of a +boot, the curious crinkling of a silk-stocking, than all the wit in the +world; one that loves no scholar but him whose tired ears can endure +half a day together his fly-blown sonnets of his mistress, and her +loving, pretty creatures, her monkey and her puppy.[104] It shall be thy +task, Phantasma, to cut this gull's throat with fair terms; and, if he +hold fast for all thy juggling rhetoric, fall at defiance with him and +the poking-stick he wears. + +PHANTASMA. +_Simul extulit ensem_. + +INGENIOSO. +Come, brave imps,[105] gather up your spirits, and let us march on, like +adventurous knights, and discharge a hundred poetical spirits upon them. + +PHANTASMA. +_Est deus in nobis: agitante calescimus illo_. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + +ACTUS III., SCAENA 5. + + + _Enter_ PHILOMUSUS, STUDIOSO. + +STUDIOSO. +Well, Philomusus, we never 'scaped so fair a scouring: why, yonder are +pursuivants out for the French doctor, and a lodging bespoken for him +and his man in Newgate. It was a terrible fear that made us cast our +hair. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And canst thou sport at our calamities, +And count'st us happy to 'scape prisonment? +Why, the wide world, that blesseth some with weal,[106] +Is to our chained thoughts a darksome jail. + +STUDIOSO. +Nay, prythee, friend, these wonted terms forego; +He doubles grief, that comments on a woe. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Why do fond men term it impiety +To send a wearisome, sad, grudging ghost +Unto his home, his long-long, lasting home? +Or let them make our life less grievous be, +Or suffer us to end our misery. + +STUDIOSO. +O no; the sentinel his watch must keep, +Until his lord do licence him to sleep. + +PHILOMUSUS. +It's time to sleep within our hollow graves, +And rest us in the darksome womb of earth: +Dead things are grav'd, our[107] bodies are no less +Pin'd and forlorn, like ghostly carcases. + +STUDIOSO. +Not long this tap of loathed life can run; +Soon cometh death, and then our woe is done: +Meantime, good Philomusus, be content; +Let's spend our days in hopeful merriment. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Curs'd be our thoughts, whene'er they dream of hope, +Bann'd be those haps, that henceforth flatter us, +When mischief dogs us still and still for ay, +From our first birth until our burying day: +In our first gamesome age, our doting sires +Carked and cared to have us lettered, +Sent us to Cambridge, where our oil is spent; +Us our kind college from the teat did tear,[108] +And forc'd us walk, before we weaned were. +From that time since wandered have we still +In the wide world, urg'd by our forced will, +Nor ever have we happy fortune tried; +Then why should hope with our rent state abide? +Nay, let us run unto the baseful cave, +Pight in the hollow ribs of craggy cliff, +Where dreary owls do shriek the live-long night, +Chasing away the birds of cheerful light; +Where yawning ghosts do howl in ghastly wise, +Where that dull, hollow-eyed, that staring sire, +Yclep'd Despair, hath his sad mansion: +Him let us find, and by his counsel we +Will end our too much irked misery. + +STUDIOSO. +To wail thy haps, argues a dastard mind. + +PHILOMUSUS. +To bear[109] too long, argues an ass's kind. + +STUDIOSO. +Long since the worst chance of the die was cast. + +PHILOMUSUS. +But why should that word _worst_ so long time last? + +STUDIOSO. +Why dost thou now these sleepy plaints commence? + +PHILOMUSUS. +Why should I e'er be dull'd with patience? + +STUDIOSO. +Wise folk do bear with, struggling cannot mend. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Good spirits must with thwarting fates contend. + +STUDIOSO. +Some hope is left our fortunes to redress. + +PHILOMUSUS. +No hope but this--e'er to be comfortless. + +STUDIOSO. +Our life's remainder gentler hearts may find. + +PHILOMUSUS. +The gentlest hearts to us will prove unkind. + + + + +ACTUS IV., SCAENA 1. + + + SIR RADERIC _and_ PRODIGO _at one corner of the stage_; RECORDER + _and_ AMORETTO _at the other: two_ PAGES _scouring of tobacco-pipes_. + +SIR RADERIC. +Master Prodigo, Master Recorder hath told you law--your land is +forfeited; and for me not to take the forfeiture were to break the +Queen's law. For mark you, it's law to take the forfeiture; therefore +not to take[110] it is to break the Queen's law; and to break the +Queen's law is not to be a good subject, and I mean to be a good +subject. Besides, I am a justice of the peace; and, being justice of the +peace, I must do justice--that is, law--that is, to take the forfeiture, +especially having taken notice of it. Marry, Master Prodigo, here are a +few shillings over and besides the bargain. + +PRODIGO. +Pox on your shillings! 'Sblood, a while ago, before he had me in the +lurch, who but my cousin Prodigo? You are welcome, my cousin Prodigo. +Take my cousin Prodigo's horse. A cup of wine for my cousin Prodigo. +Good faith, you shall sit here, good cousin Prodigo. A clean trencher +for my cousin Prodigo. Have a special care of my cousin Prodigo's +lodging. Now, Master Prodigo with a pox, and a few shillings for a +vantage. A plague on your shillings! Pox on your shillings! If it were +not for the sergeant, which dogs me at my heels, a plague on your +shillings! pox on your shillings! pox on yourself and your shillings! +pox on your worship! If I catch thee at Ostend--I dare not stay for the +sergeant. [_Exit_. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Good faith, Master Prodigo is an excellent fellow. He takes the Gulan +Ebullitio so excellently. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +He is a good liberal gentleman: he hath bestowed an ounce of tobacco +upon us; and, as long as it lasts, come cut and long tail, we'll spend +it as liberally for his sake. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Come, fill the pipe quickly, while my master is in his melancholy +humour; it's just the melancholy of a collier's horse. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +If you cough, Jack, after your tobacco, for a punishment you shall kiss +the pantofle. + +SIR RADERIC. +It's a foul oversight, that a man of worship cannot keep a wench in his +house, but there must be muttering and surmising. It was the wisest +saying that my father ever uttered, that a wife was the name of +necessity, not of pleasure; for what do men marry for, but to stock +their ground, and to have one to look to the linen, sit at the upper end +of the table, and carve up a capon; one that can wear a hood like a +hawk, and cover her foul face with a fan. But there's no pleasure +always to be tied to a piece of mutton; sometimes a mess of stewed broth +will do well, and an unlaced rabbit is best of all. Well, for mine own +part, I have no great cause to complain, for I am well-provided of three +bouncing wenches, that are mine own fee-simple; one of them I am +presently to visit, if I can rid myself cleanly of this company. Let me +see how the day goes [_he pulls his watch out_]. Precious coals! the +time is at hand; I must meditate on an excuse to be gone. + +RECORDER. +The which, I say, is grounded on the statute I spake of before, enacted +in the reign of Henry VI. + +AMORETTO. +It is a plain case, whereon I mooted[111] in our Temple, and that was +this: put case, there be three brethren, John a Nokes, John a Nash, and +John a Stile. John a Nokes the elder, John a Nash the younger, and John +a Stile the youngest of all. John a Nash the younger dieth without issue +of his body lawfully begotten. Whether shall his lands ascend to John a +Nokes the elder, or descend to John a Stile the youngest of all? The +answer is, the lands do collaterally descend, not ascend. + +RECORDER. +Very true; and for a proof hereof I will show you a place in Littleton +which is very pregnant in this point. + + + +ACTUS IV., SCAENA 2. + + + _Enter_ INGENIOSO, FUROR, PHANTASMA. + +INGENIOSO. +I'll pawn my wits, that is, my revenues, my land, my money, and +whatsoever I have, for I have nothing but my wit, that they are at hand. +Why, any sensible snout may wind Master Amoretto and his pomander, +Master Recorder and his two neat's feet that wear no socks, Sir Raderic +by his rammish complexion; _Olet Gorgonius hircum, sicut Lupus in +fabula_. Furor, fire the touch-box of your wit: Phantasma, let your +invention play tricks like an ape: begin thou, Furor, and open like a +flap-mouthed hound: follow thou, Phantasma, like a lady's puppy: and as +for me, let me alone; I'll come after, like a water-dog, that will shake +them off when I have no use of them. My masters, the watchword is given. +Furor, discharge. + +FUROR to SIR RADERIC. +The great projector of the thunderbolts, +He that is wont to piss whole clouds of rain +Into the earth, vast gaping urinal, +Which that one-ey'd subsizer of the sky, +Dan Phoebus, empties by calidity; +He and his townsmen planets brings to thee +Most fatty lumps of earth's fecundity.[112] + +SIR RADERIC. +Why, will this fellow's English break the Queen's peace? +I will not seem to regard him. + +PHANTASMA _to_ AMORETTO. +[_Reads from a Horace, addressing himself_.] +_Mecaenas, atavis edite regibus, +O, et praesidium et dulce decus meum, +Dii faciant votis vela secunda tuis_. + +INGENIOSO. +God save you, good Master Recorder, and good fortunes follow your +deserts. +I think I have cursed him sufficiently in few words. [_Aside_. + +SIR RADERIC. +What have we here? three begging soldiers? +Come you from Ostend or from Ireland? + +PAGE. +_Cujum pecus? an Melibaei?_ I have vented all the Latin one man had. + +PHANTASMA. +_Quid dicam amplius? domini similis os_. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +Let him [not] alone, I pray thee. To him again: tickle him there! + +PHANTASMA. +_Quam dispari domino dominaris?_ + +RECORDER. +Nay, that's plain in Littleton; for if that fee-simple and fee-tail be +put together, it is called hotch-potch. Now, this word hotch-potch in +English is a pudding; for in such a pudding is not commonly one thing +only, but one thing with another. + +AMORETTO. +I think I do remember this also at a mooting in our Temple. So then this +hotch-potch seems a term of similitude? + +FUROR to SIR RADERIC. +Great Capricornus, of thy head take keep: +Good Virgo, watch, while that thy worship sleep; +And when thy swelling vents amain, +Then Pisces be thy sporting chamberlain. + +SIR RADERIC. +I think the devil hath sent some of his family to torment me. + +AMORETTO. +There is tail-general and tail-special, and Littleton is very copious in +that theme; for tail-general is when lands are given to a man and his +heirs of his body begotten; tail-special is when lands are given to a +man and to his wife, and to the heirs of their two bodies lawfully +begotten; and that is called tail-special. + +SIR RADERIC. +Very well; and for his oath I will give a distinction. There is a +material oath and a formal oath; the formal oath may be broken, the +material may not be broken: for mark you, sir, the law is to take place +before the conscience, and therefore you may, using me your councillor, +cast him in the suit. There wants nothing to be full meaning of this +place. + +PHANTASMA. +_Nihil hic nisi carmina desunt_. + +INGENIOSO. +An excellent observation, in good faith. See how the old fox teacheth +the young cub to worry a sheep; or rather sits himself, like an old +goose, hatching the addle brain of Master Amoretto. There is no fool to +the satin fool, the velvet fool, the perfumed fool; and therefore the +witty tailors of this age put them under colour of kindness into a pair +of cloth bags, where a voider will not serve the turn. And there is no +knave to the barbarous knave, the moulting knave, the pleading +knave.--What, ho! Master Recorder? Master _Noverint universi per +presentes_,--not a word he, unless he feels it in his fist. + +PHANTASMA. +_Mitto tibi merulas, cancros imitare legendo_. + +SIR RADERIC _to_ FUROR. +Fellow, what art thou, that art so bold? + +FUROR. +I am the bastard of great Mercury, +Got on Thalia when she was asleep: +My gaudy grandsire, great Apollo hight,[113] +Born was, I hear, but that my luck was ill, +To all the land upon the forked hill. + +PHANTASMA. +_O crudelis Alexi, nil mea carmina curas? +Nil nostri miserere? mori me denique coges?_ + +SIR RADERIC _to_ PAGE. +If you use them thus, my master is a justice of peace, and will send +you all to the gallows. + +PHANTASMA. +_Hei mihi, quod domino non licet ire tuo?_[114] + +INGENIOSO. +Good Master Recorder, let me retain you this term--for my cause, good +Master Recorder. + +RECORDER. +I am retained already on the contrary part. I have taken my fee; +begone, begone. + +INGENIOSO. +It's his meaning I should come off.[115] Why, here is the true style of +a villain, the true faith of a lawyer; it is usual with them to be +bribed on the one side, and then to take a fee of the other; to plead +weakly, and to be bribed and rebribed on the one side, then to be fee'd +and refee'd of the other; till at length, _per varios casus_, by putting +the case so often, they make their clients so lank, that they may case +them up in a comb-case, and pack them home from the term, as though they +had travelled to London to sell their horse only; and, having lost their +fleeces, live afterward like poor shorn sheep. + +FUROR. +The gods above, that know great Furor's fame, +And do adore grand poet Furor's name, +Granted long since at heaven's high parliament, +That whoso Furor shall immortalise, +No yawning goblins shall frequent his grave; +Nor any bold, presumptuous cur shall dare +To lift his leg against his sacred dust. +Where'er I have my rhymes, thence vermin fly, +All, saving that foul-fac'd vermin poverty. +This sucks the eggs of my invention, +Evacuates my wit's full pigeon-house. +Now may it please thy generous dignity +To take this vermin napping, as he lies +In the true trap of liberality, +I'll cause the Pleiades to give thee thanks; +I'll write thy name within the sixteenth sphere: +I'll make th'Antarctic pole to kiss thy toe. +And Cynthia to do homage to thy tail. + +SIR RADERIC. +Precious coals! thou a man of worship and justice too? It's even so, +he is either a madman or a conjuror. It were well if his words were +examined, to see if they be the Queen's or no. + +PHANTASMA. +_Nunc si nos audis, tu qui es divinus Apollo, +Dic mihi, qui nummos non habet, unde petat?_ + +AMORETTO. +I am still haunted with these needy Latinist fellows.--The best counsel +I can give is, to be gone. + +PHANTASMA. +_Quod peto da, Caie; non peto consilium_. + +AMORETTO. +Fellow, look to your brains; you are mad, you are mad. + +PHANTASMA. +_Semel insanivimus omnes_. + +AMORETTO. +Master Recorder, is it not a shame that a gallant cannot walk the street +quietly for needy fellows, and that, after there is a statute come out +against begging? [_He strikes his breast_. + +PHANTASMA. +_Pectora percussit, pectus quoque robora fiunt_. + +RECORDER. +I warrant you, they are some needy graduates; the university breaks wind +twice a year, and let's fly such as these are. + +INGENIOSO. +So ho, Master Recorder. You that are one of the devil's fellow-commoners; +one that sizeth the devil's butteries, sins, and perjuries very lavishly; +one that are so dear to Lucifer, that he never puts you out of commons +for nonpayment; you that live, like a sumner, upon the sins of the +people; you whose vocation serves to enlarge the territories of hell +that, but for you, had been no bigger than a pair of stocks or a +pillory; you, that hate a scholar because he descries your ass's ears; +you that are a plague-stuffed cloak-bag of all iniquity, which the +grand serving-man of hell will one day truss up behind him, and carry +to his smoky wardrobe. + +RECORDER. +What frantic fellow art thou, that art possessed with the spirit of +malediction? + +FUROR. +Vile, muddy clod of base, unhallowed clay, +Thou slimy-sprighted, unkind Saracen, +When thou wert born, Dame Nature cast her calf; +For age and time hath made thee a great ox, +And now thy grinding jaws devour quite +The fodder due to us of heavenly spright. + +PHANTASMA. +_Nefasto te posuit die, +Quicunque primum, et sacrilega manu +Produxit arbos in nepotum +Perniciem obpropriumque pugi_. + +INGENIOSO. +I pray you, Monsieur Ploidon, of what university was the first lawyer +of? None, forsooth: for your law is ruled by reason, and not by art; +great reason, indeed, that a Polydenist should be mounted on a trapped +palfry with a round velvet dish on his head, to keep warm the broth of +his wit, and a long gown that makes him look like a _Cedant arma togae_, +whilst the poor Aristotelians walk in a short cloak and a close Venetian +hose, hard by the oyster-wife; and the silly poet goes muffled in his +cloak to escape the counter. And you, Master Amoretto, that art the +chief carpenter of sonnets, a privileged vicar for the lawless marriage +of ink and paper, you that are good for nothing but to commend in a set +speech, to colour the quantity of your mistress's stool, and swear it is +most sweet civet; it's fine, when that puppet-player Fortune must put +such a Birchen-Lane post in so good a suit, such an ass in so good +fortune! + +AMORETTO. +Father, shall I draw? + +SIR RADERIC. +No, son; keep thy peace, and hold the peace. + +INGENIOSO. +Nay, do not draw, lest you chance to bepiss your credit. + +FUROR. +_Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo_. +Fearful Megaera, with her snaky twine, +Was cursed dam unto thy damned self; +And Hircan tigers in the desert rocks +Did foster up thy loathed, hateful life; +Base Ignorance the wicked cradle rock'd, +Vile Barbarism was wont to dandle thee; +Some wicked hellhound tutored thy youth. +And all the grisly sprights of griping hell +With mumming look hath dogg'd thee since thy birth: +See how the spirits do hover o'er thy head, +As thick as gnats in summer eveningtide. +Baleful Alecto, prythee, stay awhile, +Till with my verses I have rack'd his soul; +And when thy soul departs, a cock may be +No blank at all in hell's great lottery-- +Shame sits and howls upon thy loathed grave, +And howling, vomits up in filthy guise +The hidden stories of thy villanies. + +SIR RADERIC. +The devil, my masters, the devil in the likeness of a poet! Away, +my masters, away! + +PHANTASMA. +_Arma, virumque cano. +Quem fugis, ah demens_? + +AMORETTO. +Base dog, it is not the custom in Italy to draw upon every idle cur that +barks; and, did it stand with my reputation--O, well, go to; thank my +father for your lives. + +INGENIOSO. +Fond gull, whom I would undertake to bastinado quickly, though there +were a musket planted in thy mouth, are not you the young drover of +livings Academico told me of, that haunts steeple fairs? Base worm, +must thou needs discharge thy carbine[116] to batter down the walls +of learning? + +AMORETTO. +I think I have committed some great sin against my mistress, that I am +thus tormented with notable villains, bold peasants. I scorn, I scorn +them! [_Exit_. + +FUROR _to_ RECORDER. +Nay, prythee, good sweet devil, do not thou part; +I like an honest devil, that will show +Himself in a true hellish, smoky hue: +How like thy snout is to great Lucifer's? +Such talents[117] had he, such a gleering eye, +And such a cunning sleight in villany. + +RECORDER. +O, the impudency of this age! And if I take you in my quarters-- + [_Exit_. + +FUROR. +Base slave, I'll hang thee on a crossed rhyme, +And quarter-- + +INGENIOSO. +He is gone; Furor, stay thy fury. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +I pray you, gentlemen, give three groats for a shilling. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +What will you give me for a good old suit of apparel? + +PHANTASMA. +_Habet et musca splenem, et formicae sua bilis inest_. + +INGENIOSO. +Gramercy,[118] good lads. This is our share in happiness, to torment +the happy. Let's walk along and laugh at the jest; it's no staying here +long, lest Sir Raderic's army of bailiffs and clowns be sent to +apprehend us. + +PHANTASMA. +_Procul hinc, procul ite, profani_. +I'll lash Apollo's self with jerking hand, +Unless he pawn his wit to buy me land. + + + +ACTUS IV., SCAENA 3. + + + BURBAGE, KEMP. + +BURBAGE. +Now, Will Kemp, if we can entertain these scholars at a low rate, it +will be well; they have oftentimes a good conceit in a part. + +KEMP. +It's true, indeed, honest Dick, but the slaves are somewhat proud; and +besides, it's a good sport in a part to see them never speak in their +walk, but at the end of the stage; just as though, in walking with a +fellow, we should never speak but at a stile, a gate, or a ditch, where +a man can go no further. I was once at a comedy in Cambridge, and there +I saw a parasite make faces and mouths of all sorts on this fashion. + +BURBAGE. +A little teaching will mend these faults; and it may be, besides, they +will be able to pen a part. + +KEMP. +Few of the university pen play well; they smell too much of that writer +Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis, and talk too much of Proserpina and +Jupiter. Why, here's our fellow Shakespeare puts them all down--ay, and +Ben Jonson too. O, that Ben Jonson is a pestilent fellow; he brought up +Horace, giving the poets a pill;[119] but our fellow Shakespeare hath +given him a purge that made him bewray his credit. + +BURBAGE. +It's a shrewd fellow, indeed. I wonder these scholars stay so long; they +appointed to be here presently, that we might try them. O, here they +come. + +STUDIOSO. +Take heart, these lets our clouded thoughts refine; +The sun shines brightest when it 'gins decline. + +BURBAGE. +Master Philomusus and Master Studioso, God save you. + +KEMP. +Master Philomusus and Master Otioso,[120] well-met. + +PHILOMUSUS. +The same to you, good Master Burbage. What, Master Kemp, how doth the +Emperor of Germany?[121] + +STUDIOSO. +God save you, Master Kemp; welcome, Master Kemp, from dancing the morris +over the Alps. + +KEMP. +Well, you merry knaves, you may come to the honour of it one day. Is it +not better to make a fool of the world as I have done, than to be fooled +of the world, as you scholars are? But be merry, my lads; you have +happened upon the most excellent vocation in the world for money. They +come north and south to bring it to our playhouse; and for honours, who +of more report than Dick Burbage and Will Kemp? He is not counted a +gentleman that knows not Dick Burbage and Will Kemp. There's not a +country wench that can dance Sellenger's round,[122] but can talk of +Dick Burbage and Will Kemp. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Indeed, Master Kemp, you are very famous; but that is as well for works +in print, as your part in cue.[123] + +KEMP. +You are at Cambridge still with size cue, and be lusty humorous poets. +You must untruss; I rode this my last circuit purposely, because I would +be judge of your actions. + +BURBAGE. +Master Studioso, I pray you, take some part in this book, and act it, +that I may see what will fit you best. I think your voice would serve +for Hieronimo; observe how I act it, and then imitate me. + [_He recites_. + +STUDIOSO. +Who call Hieronimo from his naked bed? +And_, &c.[124] + +BURBAGE. +You will do well--after a while. + +KEMP. + +Now for you. Methinks you should belong to my tuition; and your face, +methinks, would be good for a foolish mayor or a foolish justice of +peace. Mark me:-- + +Forasmuch as there be two states of a commonwealth, the one of peace, +the other of tranquillity; two states of war, the one of discord, the +other of dissension; two states of an incorporation, the one of the +aldermen, the other of the brethren; two states of magistrates, the one +of governing, the other of bearing rule. Now, as I said even now--for a +good thing[125] cannot be said too often. Virtue is the shoeing-horn of +justice; that is, virtue is the shoeing-horn of doing well; that is, +virtue is the shoeing-horn of doing justly; it behoveth me, and is my +part to commend this shoeing-horn unto you. I hope this word +shoeing-horn doth not offend any of you, my worshipful brethren; for +you, being the worshipful headsmen of the town, know well what the horn +meaneth. Now therefore I am determined not only to teach, but also to +instruct, not only the ignorant, but also the simple; not only what is +their duty towards their betters, but also what is their duty towards +their superiors. + +Come, let me see how you can do; sit down in the chair. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Forasmuch as there be, &c. + +KEMP. +Thou wilt do well in time, if thou wilt be ruled by thy betters, that +is, by myself, and such grave aldermen of the playhouse as I am. + +BURBAGE. +I like your face, and the proportion of your body for Richard the Third. +I pray, Master Philomusus, let me see you act a little of it. + +PHILOMUSUS. +_Now is the winter of our discontent +Made glorious summer by the sun of York_. + +BURBAGE. +Very well, I assure you. Well, Master Philomusus and Master Studioso, we +see what ability you are of; I pray, walk with us to our fellows, and +we'll agree presently. + +PHILOMUSUS. +We will follow you straight, Master Burbage. + +KEMP. +It's good manners to follow us, Master Philomusus and Master Otioso. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And must the basest trade yield us relief? +Must we be practis'd to those leaden spouts, +That nought down vent but what they do receive? +Some fatal fire hath scorch'd our fortune's wing, +And still we fall, as we do upward spring? +As we strive upward on the vaulted sky, +We fall, and feel our hateful destiny. + +STUDIOSO. +Wonder it is, sweet friend, thy pleading breath, +So like the sweet blast of the south-west wind, +Melts not those rocks of ice, those mounts of snow,[126] +Congeal'd in frozen hearts of men below. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Wonder, as well thou may'st, why 'mongst the waves-- +'Mongst the tempestuous waves on raging sea, +The wailing merchant can no pity crave. +What cares the wind and weather for their pains? +One strikes the sail, another turns the same; +He shakes the main, another takes the oar, +Another laboureth and taketh pain +To pump the sea into the sea again: +Still they take pains, still the loud winds do blow, +Till the ship's prouder mast be laid below. + +STUDIOSO. +Fond world, that ne'er think'st on that aged man-- +That Ariosto's old swift-paced man, +Whose name is Time, who never lins to run, +Loaden with bundles of decayed names, +The which in Lethe's lake he doth entomb, +Save only those which swan-like scholars take, +And do deliver from that greedy lake. +Inglorious may they live, inglorious die, +That suffer learning live in misery. + +PHILOMUSUS. +What caren they what fame their ashes have, +When once they're coop'd up in the silent grave? + +STUDIOSO. +If for fair fame they hope not when they die. +Yet let them fear grave's staining infamy. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Their spendthrift heirs will those firebrands quench, +Swaggering full moistly on a tavern's bench. + +STUDIOSO. +No shamed sire, for all his glosing heir, +Must long be talk'd of in the empty air. +Believe me, thou that art my second self, +My vexed soul is not disquieted, +For that I miss is gaudy-painted state, +Whereat my fortunes fairly aim'd of late: +For what am I, the mean'st of many mo, +That, earning profit, are repaid with woe. +But this it is that doth my soul torment: +To think so many activable wits, +That might contend with proudest bards[127] of Po, +Sit now immur'd within their private cells, +Drinking a long lank watching candle's smoke, +Spending the marrow of their flow'ring age +In fruitless poring on some worm-eat leaf: +When their deserts shall seem of due to claim +A cheerful crop of fruitful swelling sheaf; +Cockle their harvest is, and weeds their grain, +Contempt their portion, their possession, pain. +Scholars must frame to live at a low sail. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Ill-sailing, where there blows no happy gale! + +STUDIOSO. +Our ship is ruin'd, all her tackling rent. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And all her gaudy furniture is spent. + +STUDIOSO. +Tears be the waves whereon her ruins bide. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And sighs the winds that waste her broken side. + +STUDIOSO. +Mischief the pilot is the ship to steer. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And woe the passenger this ship doth bear. + +STUDIOSO. +Come, Philomusus, let us break this chat. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And break, my heart! O, would I could break that! + +STUDIOSO. +Let's learn to act that tragic part we have. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Would I were silent actor in my grave! + + + + +ACTUS V., SCAENA 1. + + + PHILOMUSUS _and_ STUDIOSO _become fiddlers: with their concert_. + +PHILOMUSUS. +And tune, fellow-fiddlers; Studioso and I are ready. + + [_They tune_. + +STUDIOSO, _going aside, sayeth_, +Fair fell good Orpheus, that would rather be +King of a molehill than a keisar's slave: +Better it is 'mongst fiddlers to be chief, +Than at [a] player's trencher beg relief. +But is't not strange, this mimic ape should prize +Unhappy scholars at a hireling rate? +Vile world, that lifts them up to high degree, +And treads us down in groveling misery. +England affords those glorious vagabonds, +That carried erst their fardles on their backs, +Coursers to ride on through the gazing streets, +Sweeping[128] it in their glaring satin suits, +And pages to attend their masterships: +With mouthing words that better wits have framed, +They purchase lands, and now esquires are made.[129] + +PHILOMUSUS. +Whate'er they seem, being ev'n at the best, +They are but sporting fortune's scornful jest. + +STUDIOSO. +So merry fortune's wont from rags to take +Some ragged groom, and him a[130] gallant make. + +PHILOMUSUS. +The world and fortune hath play'd on us too long. + +STUDIOSO. +Now to the world we fiddle must a song. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Our life is a plain-song with cunning penn'd, +Whose highest pitch in lowest base doth end. +But see, our fellows unto play are bent; +If not our minds, let's tune our instrument. + +STUDIOSO. +Let's in a private song our cunning try, +Before we sing to stranger company. + + [PHILOMUSUS _sings. They tune_. + +How can he sing, whose voice is hoarse with care? +How can he play, whose heart-strings broken are? +How can he keep his rest, that ne'er found rest? +How can he keep his time, whom time ne'er bless'd? +Only he can in sorrow bear a part +With untaught hand and with untuned heart. +Fond hearts, farewell, that swallow'd have my youth; +Adieu, vain muses, that have wrought my ruth; +Repent, fond sire, that train'dst thy hapless son +In learning's lore, since bounteous alms are done. +Cease, cease, harsh tongue: untuned music, rest; +Entomb thy sorrows in thy hollow breast. + +STUDIOSO. +Thanks, Philomusus, for thy pleasant song. +O, had this world a touch of juster grief, +Hard rocks would weep for want of our relief. + +PHILOMUSUS. +The cold of woe hath quite untun'd my voice, +And made it too-too hard for list'ning ear: +Time was, in time of my young fortune's spring, +I was a gamesome boy, and learn'd to sing-- +But say, fellow-musicians, you know best whither we go: at what door +must we imperiously beg? + +JACK FIDDLERS. +Here dwells Sir Raderic and his son. It may be now at this good time of +new year he will be liberal. Let us stand near, and draw. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Draw, callest thou it? Indeed, it is the most desperate kind of service +that ever I adventured on. + + + +ACTUS V., SCAENA 2. + + + _Enter the two_ PAGES. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +My master bids me tell you that he is but newly fallen asleep, and you, +base slaves, must come and disquiet them! What, never a basket of +capons? mass, and if he comes, he'll commit you all. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +Sirrah Jack, shall you and I play Sir Raderic and Amoretto, and reward +these fiddlers? I'll my Master Amoretto, and give them as much as he +useth. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +And I my old Master Sir Raderic. Fiddlers, play. I'll reward you; faith, +I will. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +Good faith, this pleaseth my sweet mistress admirably. Cannot you play +_Twitty, twatty, fool_? or, _To be at her, to be at her_? + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Have you never a song of Master Dowland's making? + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +Or, _Hos ego versiculos feci_, &c. A pox on it! my Master Amoretto +useth it very often: I have forgotten the verse. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Sir Theon,[131] here are a couple of fellows brought before me, and I +know not how to decide the cause: look in my Christmas-book, who brought +me a present. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +On New-Year's day, goodman Fool brought you a present; but goodman Clown +brought you none. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Then the right is on goodman Fool's side. + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +My mistress is so sweet, that all the physicians in the town cannot make +her stink; she never goes to the stool. O, she is a most sweet little +monkey. Please your worship, good father, yonder are some would speak +with you. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +What, have they brought me anything? If they have not, say I take +physic. [SIR RADERIC'S _voice within_.] Forasmuch, fiddlers, as I am of +the peace, I must needs love all weapons and instruments that are for +the peace, among which I account your fiddles, because they can neither +bite nor scratch. Marry, now, finding your fiddles to jar, and knowing +that jarring is a cause of breaking the peace, I am, by the virtue of +my office and place, to commit your quarrelling fiddles to close +prisonment in their cases. [_The fiddlers call within_.] Sha ho! +Richard! Jack! + +AMORETTO'S PAGE. +The fool within mars our play without. Fiddlers, set it on my head. I +use to size my music, or go on the score for it: I'll pay it at the +quarter's end. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +Farewell, good Pan! sweet Thamyras,[132] adieu! Dan Orpheus, a thousand +times farewell! + +JACK FIDDLERS. +You swore you would pay us for our music. + +SIR RADERIC'S PAGE. +For that I'll give Master Recorder's law, and that is this: there is a +double oath--a formal oath and a material oath; a material oath cannot +be broken, the formal oath may be broken. I swore formally. Farewell, +fiddlers. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Farewell, good wags, whose wits praiseworth I deem, +Though somewhat waggish; so we all have been. + +STUDIOSO. +Faith, fellow-fiddlers, here's no silver found in this place; no, not so +much as the usual Christmas entertainment of musicians, a black jack of +beer and a Christmas pie. + + [_They walk aside from their fellows_. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Where'er we in the wide world playing be, +Misfortune bears a part, and mars our melody; +Impossible to please with music's strain, +Our heart-strings broke are, ne'er to be tun'd again. + +STUDIOSO. +Then let us leave this baser fiddling trade; +For though our purse should mend, our credits fade. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Full glad am I to see thy mind's free course. +Declining from this trencher-waiting trade. +Well, may I now disclose in plainer guise +What erst I meant to work in secret wise; +My busy conscience check'd my guilty soul, +For seeking maintenance by base vassalage; +And then suggested to my searching thought +A shepherd's poor, secure, contented life, +On which since then I doated every hour, +And meant this same hour in [a] sadder plight, +To have stol'n from thee in secrecy of night. + +STUDIOSO. +Dear friend, thou seem'st to wrong my soul too much, +Thinking that Studioso would account +That fortune sour which thou accountest sweet; +Not[133] any life to me can sweeter be, +Than happy swains in plain of Arcady. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Why, then, let's both go spend our little store +In the provision of due furniture, +A shepherd's hook, a tar-box, and a scrip: +And haste unto those sheep-adorned hills, +Where if not bless our fortunes, we may bless our wills. + +STUDIOSO. +True mirth we may enjoy in thacked stall, +Nor hoping higher rise, nor fearing lower fall. + +PHILOMUSUS. +We'll therefore discharge these fiddlers. Fellow-musicians, we are sorry +that it hath been your ill-hap to have had us in your company, that are +nothing but screech-owls and night-ravens, able to mar the purest +melody: and, besides, our company is so ominous that, where we are, +thence liberality is packing. Our resolution is therefore to wish you +well, and to bid you farewell. Come, Studioso, let us haste away, +Returning ne'er to this accursed place. + + + +ACTUS V., SCAENA 3. + + + _Enter_ INGENIOSO, ACADEMICO. + +INGENIOSO. +Faith, Academico, it's the fear of that fellow--I mean, the sign of the +sergeant's head--that makes me to be so hasty to be gone. To be brief, +Academico, writs are out for me to apprehend me for my plays; and now I +am bound for the Isle of Dogs. Furor and Phantasma comes after, removing +the camp as fast they can. Farewell, _mea si quid vota valebunt_. + +ACADEMICO. +Faith, Ingenioso, I think the university is a melancholic life; for +there a good fellow cannot sit two hours in his chamber, but he shall be +troubled with the bill of a drawer or a vintner. But the point is, I +know not how to better myself, and so I am fain to take it. + + + +ACTUS V., SCAENA 4. + + + PHILOMUSUS, STUDIOSO, FUROR, PHANTASMA. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Who have we there? Ingenioso and Academico? + +STUDIOSO. +The very same; who are those? Furor and Phantasma? + + [FUROR _takes a louse off his sleeve_. + +FUROR. +And art thou there, six-footed Mercury? + + [PHANTASMA, _with his hand in his bosom_. + +Are rhymes become such creepers nowadays? +Presumptuous louse, that doth good manners lack, +Daring to creep upon poet Furor's back! + + _Multum refert quibuscum vixeris: + Non videmus manticae quod in tergo est_. + +PHILOMUSUS. +What, Furor and Phantasma too, our old college fellows? Let us encounter +them all. Ingenioso, Academico, Furor, Phantasma, God save you all. + +STUDIOSO. +What, Ingenioso, Academico, Furor, Phantasma, how do you, brave lads? + +INGENIOSO. +What, our dear friends Philomusus and Studioso? + +ACADEMICO. +What, our old friends Philomusus and Studioso? + +FUROR. +What, my supernatural friends? + +INGENIOSO. +What news with you in this quarter of the city? + +PHILOMUSUS. +We've run[134] through many trades, yet thrive by none, +Poor in content, and only rich in moan. +A shepherd's life, thou know'st I wont t'admire, +Turning a Cambridge apple by the fire: +To live in humble dale we now are bent, +Spending our days in fearless merriment. + +STUDIOSO. +We'll teach each tree, ev'n of the hardest kind, +To keep our woful name within their rind: +We'll watch our flock, and yet we'll sleep withal: +We'll tune our sorrows to the water's fall. +The woods and rocks with our shrill songs we'll bless; +Let them prove kind, since men prove pitiless. +But say, whither are you and your company jogging? it seems by your +apparel you are about to wander. + +INGENIOSO. +Faith we are fully bent to be lords of misrule in the world's wide +heath: our voyage is to the Isle of Dogs, there where the blatant beast +doth rule and reign, renting the credit of whom it please. +Where serpents' tongues the penmen are to write, +Where cats do wawl by day, dogs by night. +There shall engorged venom be my ink, +My pen a sharper quill of porcupine, +My stained paper this sin-loaden earth. +There will I write in lines shall never die, +Our seared lordings' crying villany. + +PHILOMUSUS. +A gentle wit thou hadst, nor is it blame +To turn so tart, for time hath wrong'd the same. + +STUDIOSO. +And well thou dost from this fond earth to flit, +Where most men's pens are hired parasites. + +ACADEMICO. +Go happily; I wish thee store of gall +Sharply to wound the guilty world withal. + +PHILOMUSUS. +But say, what shall become of Furor and Phantasma? + +INGENIOSO. +These my companions still with me must wend. + +ACADEMICO. +Fury and Fancy on good wits attend. + +FUROR. +When I arrive within the Isle of Dogs, +Dan Phoebus, I will make thee kiss the pump. +Thy one eye pries in every draper's stall, +Yet never thinks on poet Furor's need. +Furor is lousy, great Furor lousy is; +I'll make thee rue[135] this lousy case, i-wis. +And thou, my sluttish[136] laundress, Cynthia, +Ne'er think'st on Furor's linen, Furor's shirt. +Thou and thy squirting boy Endymion +Lies slav'ring still upon a lawless couch. +Furor will have thee carted through the dirt, +That mak'st great poet Furor want his shirt. + +INGENIOSO. +Is not here a trusty[137] dog, that dare bark so boldly at the moon? + +PHILOMUSUS. +Exclaiming want, and needy care and cark, +Would make the mildest sprite to bite and bark. + +PHANTASMA. +_Canes timidi vehementius latrant_. There are certain burrs in the Isle +of Dogs called, in our English tongue, men of worship; certain briars, +as the Indians call them; as we say, certain lawyers; certain great +lumps of earth, as the Arabians call them; certain grocers, as we term +them. _Quos ego--sed motos praestat componere fluctus_. + +INGENIOSO. +We three unto the snarling island haste, +And there our vexed breath in snarling waste. + +PHILOMUSUS. +We will be gone unto the downs of Kent, +Sure footing we shall find in humble dale; +Our fleecy flock we'll learn to watch and ward, +In July's heat, and cold of January. +We'll chant our woes upon an oaten reed, +Whiles bleating flock upon their supper feed. + +STUDIOSO. +So shall we shun the company of men, +That grows more hateful, as the world grows old. +We'll teach the murm'ring brooks in tears to flow, +And steepy rock to wail our passed woe. + +ACADEMICO. +Adieu, you gentle spirits, long adieu; +Your wits I love, and your ill-fortunes rue. +I'll haste me to my Cambridge cell again; +My fortunes cannot wax, but they may wain. + +INGENIOSO. +Adieu, good shepherds; happy may you live. +And if hereafter in some secret shade +You shall recount poor scholars' miseries, +Vouchsafe to mention with tear-swelling eyes +Ingenioso's thwarting destinies. +And thou, still happy Academico, +That still may'st rest upon the muses' bed, +Enjoying there a quiet slumbering, +When thou repair'st[138] unto thy Granta's stream, +Wonder at thine own bliss, pity our case, +That still doth tread ill-fortune's endless maze; +Wish them, that are preferment's almoners, +To cherish gentle wits in their green bud; +For had not Cambridge been to me unkind, +I had not turn'd to gall a milky mind. + +PHILOMUSUS. +I wish thee of good hap a plenteous store; +Thy wit deserves no less, my love can wish no more. +Farewell, farewell, good Academico; +Ne'er may'st thou taste of our fore-passed woe. +We wish thy fortunes may attain their due.-- +Furor and you, Phantasma, both adieu, + +ACADEMICO. +Farewell, farewell, farewell; O, long farewell! +The rest my tongue conceals, let sorrow tell. + +PHANTASMA. +_Et longum vale, inquit Iola_. + +FUROR. +Farewell, my masters; Furor's a masty dog, +Nor can with a smooth glosing farewell cog. +Nought can great Furor do but bark and howl, +And snarl, and grin, and carl, and touse the world, +Like a great swine, by his long, lean-ear'd lugs. +Farewell, musty, dusty, rusty, fusty London; +Thou art not worthy of great Furor's wit, +That cheatest virtue of her due desert, +And suffer'st great Apollo's son to want. + +INGENIOSO. +Nay, stay awhile, and help me to content +So many gentle wits' attention, +Who ken the laws of every comic stage, +And wonder that our scene ends discontent. +Ye airy wits subtle, +Since that few scholars' fortunes are content, +Wonder not if our scene ends discontent. +When that your fortunes reach their due content, +Then shall our scene end here in merriment. + +PHILOMUSUS. +Perhaps some happy wit with seely[139] hand +Hereafter may record the pastoral +Of the two scholars of Parnassus hill, +And then our scene may end, and have content. + +INGENIOSO. +Meantime, if there be any spiteful ghost, +That smiles to see poor scholars' miseries, +Cold is his charity, his wit too dull: +We scorn his censure, he's a jeering gull. +But whatsoe'er refined sprites there be, +That deeply groan at our calamity: +Whose breath is turn'd to sighs, whose eyes are wet, +To see bright arts bent to their latest set; +Whence never they again their heads shall rear, +To bless our art-disgracing hemisphere, +Let them. | + | +FUROR. | +Let them. | all give us a plaudite. + | +PHANTASMA. | +Let them. + +ACADEMICO. | +And none but them. | + | +PHILOMUSUS. | give us a plaudite. +And none but them. | + | +STUDIOSO. | +And none but them. | + + +FINIS. + + + + + + +WILY BEGUILED. + + + + +_EDITION. + + +A Pleasant Comedie, called Wily Begvilde. The Chiefe Actors be these: +A poore scholler, a rich Foole, and a Knaue at a shifte. At London, +Printed by H.L. for Clement Knight, and are to be solde at his Shop, +in Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the Holy Lambe_. 1606. 4to. + +[There were later editions in 1623, 1635, and 1638, all in 4to. That of +1606 is the most correct. + +Hawkins, who included this piece in his collection, observes: "_Wily +Beguiled_ is a regular and very pleasing Comedy; and if it were +judiciously adapted to the manners of the times, would make no +contemptible appearance on the modern stage."] + + + + +SPECTRUM, THE PROLOGUE. + +What, ho! where are these paltry players? still poring in their papers, +and never perfect? For shame, come forth; your audience stay so long, +their eyes wax dim with expectation. + + _Enter one of the_ PLAYERS. + +How now, my honest rogue? What play shall we have here to-night? + +PLAYER. +Sir, you may look upon the title. + +PROLOGUE. +What, _Spectrum_ once again? Why, noble Cerberus, nothing but patch-panel +stuff, old gallymawfries, and cotton-candle eloquence? Out, you bawling +bandog! fox-furred slave! you dried stock-fish, you, out of my sight! + + [_Exit the_ PLAYER. + +Well, 'tis no matter! I'll sit me down and see it; and, for fault of a +better, I'll supply the place of a scurvy prologue. + + Spectrum is a looking-glass, indeed, + Wherein a man a history may read + Of base conceits and damned roguery: + The very sink of hell-bred villany. + + _Enter a_ JUGGLER. + +JUGGLER. +Why, how now, humorous George? What, as melancholy as a mantle-tree? +Will you see any tricks of legerdemain, sleight of hand, cleanly +conveyance, or _deceptio visus_? What will you see, gentleman, to drive +you out of these dumps. + +PROLOGUE. +Out, you soused gurnet, you woolfist! Begone, I say, and bid the players +despatch, and come away quickly; and tell their fiery poet that, before +I have done with him I'll make him do penance upon a stage in a calf's +skin. + +JUGGLER. +O Lord, sir, ye are deceived in me, I am no tale-carrier; I am a +juggler. I have the superficial skill of all the seven liberal sciences +at my fingers' end. I'll show you a trick of the twelves, and turn him +over the thumbs with a trice; I'll make him fly swifter than meditation. +I'll show you as many toys as there be minutes in a month, and as many +tricks as there be motes in the sun. + +PROLOGUE. +Prythee, what tricks canst thou do? + +JUGGLER. +Marry, sir, I will show you a trick of cleanly conveyance--_Hei, fortuna +furim nunquam credo_--with a cast of clean conveyance. Come aloft, Jack, +for thy master's advantage. He's gone, I warrant ye. + + [SPECTRUM _is conveyed away, and_ WILY BEGUILED + _stands in the place of it_. + +PROLOGUE. + +Mass, and 'tis well done! Now I see thou canst do something. Hold thee; +there is twelvepence for thy labour. + +Go to that barm-froth poet, and to him say, +He quite hath lost the title of his play; +His calf-skin jests from hence are clean exil'd. +Thus once you see, that Wily is beguil'd. + + [_Exit the_ JUGGLER. + +Now, kind spectators, I dare boldly say, +You all are welcome to our author's play: +Be still awhile, and, ere we go, +We'll make your eyes with laughter flow. +Let Momus' mates judge how they list. +We fear not what they babble; +Nor any paltry poet's pen +Amongst that rascal rabble. +But time forbids me further speech, +My tongue must stop her race; +My time is come, I must be dumb, +And give the actors place. + + [_Exit_. + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + +GRIPE, _an Usurer_. +PLOD-ALL, _a Farmer_. +SOPHOS, _a Scholar_. +CHURMS, _a Lawyer_. +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +FORTUNATUS, _Gripe's son_. +LELIA, _Gripe's daughter_. +_Nurse_. +PETER PLOD-ALL, _Plod-all's son_. +PEG, _Nurse's daughter_. +WILL CRICKET. +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +_An Old Man_. +SYLVANUS. +_Clerk_. + + + +WILY BEGUILED.[140] + + + _Enter_ GRIPE, _solus_. + +A heavy purse makes a light heart. O, the consideration of this pouch, +this pouch! Why, he that has money has heart's ease, and the world in a +string. O, this rich chink and silver coin! it is the consolation of the +world. I can sit at home quietly in my chair, and send out my angels by +sea and by land, and bid--_Fly, villains, and fetch in ten in the +hundred_. Ay, and a better penny too. Let me see: I have but two +children in all the world to bestow my goods upon--Fortunatus, my son, +and Lelia, my daughter. For my son, he follows the wars, and that which +he gets with swaggering he spends in swaggering. But I'll curb him; his +allowance, whilst I live, shall be small, and so he shall be sure not to +spend much: and if I die, I will leave him a portion that, if he will be +a good husband, and follow his father's steps, shall maintain him like a +gentleman, and if he will not, let him follow his own humour till he be +weary of it, and so let him go. Now for my daughter, she is my only joy, +and the staff of my age; and I have bestowed good bringing-up upon her, +by'r Lady. Why, she is e'en modesty itself; it does me good to look on +her. Now, if I can hearken out some wealthy marriage for her, I have my +only desire. Mass, and well-remembered: here's my neighbour Plod-all +hard by has but one only son; and let me see--I take it, his lands are +better than five thousand pounds. Now, if I can make a match between his +son and my daughter, and so join his land and my money together--O, +'twill be a blessed union. Well, I'll in, and get a scrivener: I'll +write to him about it presently. But stay, here comes Master Churms the +lawyer; I'll desire him to do so much. + + _Enter_ CHURMS. + +CHURMS. +Good morrow, Master Gripe. + +GRIPE. +O, good morrow, Master Churms. What say my two debtors, that I lent two +hundred pound to? Will they not pay use and charges of suit? + +CHURMS. +Faith, sir, I doubt they are bankrouts: I would you had your principal. + +GRIPE. +Nay, I'll have all, or I'll imprison their bodies. But, Master Churms, +there is a matter I would fain have you do; but you must be very secret. + +CHURMS. +O sir, fear not that; I'll warrant you. + +GRIPE. +Why then, this it is: my neighbour Plod-all here by, you know, is a man +of very fair land, and he has but one son, upon whom he means to bestow +all that he has. Now I would make a match between my daughter Lelia and +him. What think you of it? + +CHURMS. +Marry, I think 'twould be a good match. But the young man has had very +simple bringing-up. + +GRIPE. +Tush! what care I for that? so he have lands and living enough, my +daughter has bringing up will serve them both. Now I would have you to +write me a letter to goodman Plod-all concerning this matter, and I'll +please you for your pains. + +CHURMS. +I'll warrant you, sir; I'll do it artificially. + +GRIPE. +Do, good Master Churms; but be very secret. I have some business this +morning, and therefore I'll leave you a while; and if you will come to +dinner to me anon, you shall be very heartily welcome. + +CHURMS. +Thanks, good sir; I'll trouble you. [_Exit_ GRIPE.] Now 'twere a good +jest, if I could cosen the old churl of his daughter, and get the wench +for myself. Zounds, I am as proper a man as Peter Plod-all: and though +his father be as good a man as mine, yet far-fetched and dear-bought is +good for ladies; and, I am sure, I have been as far as Cales[141] to +fetch that I have. I have been at Cambridge, a scholar; at Cales, a +soldier; and now in the country a lawyer; and the next degree shall be a +coneycatcher: for I'll go near to cosen old father share-penny[142] of +his daughter; I'll cast about, I'll warrant him: I'll go dine with him, +and write him his letter; and then I'll go seek out my kind companion +Robin Goodfellow: and, betwixt us, we'll make her yield to anything. +We'll ha' the common law o' the one hand, and the civil law o' the +other: we'll toss Lelia like a tennis-ball. [_Exit_. + + + _Enter old_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_ PETER, _an_ OLD MAN, + _Plod-all's tenant, and_ WILL CRICKET, _his son_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Ah, tenant, an ill-husband, by'r Lady: thrice at thy house, and never at +home? You know my mind: will you give ten shillings more rent? I must +discharge you else. + +OLD MAN. +Alas! landlord, will you undo me! I sit of a great rent already, and am +very poor. + +WILL CRICKET. +Very poor? you're a very ass. Lord, how my stomach wambles at the same +word _very poor_! Father, if you love your son William, never name that +same word, _very poor_; for, I'll stand to it, that it's petty larceny +to name _very poor_ to a man that's o' the top of his marriage. + +OLD MAN. +Why, son, art o' the top of thy marriage? To whom, I prythee? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, to pretty Peg, Mistress Lelia's nurse's daughter. O, 'tis the +dapp'rest wench that ever danced after a tabor and pipe-- + + For she will so heel it, + And toe it, and trip it;-- + O, her buttocks will quake like a custard. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Why, William, when were you with her? + +WILL CRICKET. +O Peter, does your mouth water at that? Truly, I was never with her; but +I know I shall speed: 'for t'other day she looked on me and laughed, and +that's a good sign, ye know. And therefore, old Silver-top, never talk +of charging or discharging: for I tell you, I am my father's heir; and +if you discharge me, I'll discharge my pestilence at you: for to let my +house before my lease be out, is cut-throatery; and to scrape for more +rent, is poll-dennery;[143] and so fare you well, good grandsire Usury. +Come, father, let's be gone. + + [_Exeunt_ WILL _and his father_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Well, I'll make the beggarly knaves to pack for this: I'll have it every +cross, income and rent too. + + _Enter_ CHURMS _with a letter_. + +But stay, here comes one. O, 'tis Master Churms: I hope he brings me +some good news. Master Churms, you're well-met; I am e'en almost starved +for money: you must take some damnable course with my tenants; they'll +not pay. + +CHURMS. +Faith, sir, they are grown to be captious knaves: but I'll move them +with a _habeas corpus_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Do, good Master Churms, or use any other villanous course shall please +you. But what news abroad? + +CHURMS. +Faith, little news; but here's a letter which Master Gripe desired me to +deliver you: and though it stand not with my reputation to be a carrier +of letters, yet, not knowing how much it might concern you, I thought it +better something to abase myself, than you should be anyways hindered. + +PLOD-ALL. +Thanks, good sir; and I'll in and read it. + + [_Exeunt_ PLOD-ALL _and his son. Manet_ CHURMS. + +CHURMS. +Thus men of reach must look to live: +I cry content, and murder where I kiss. +Gripe takes me for his faithful friend, +Imparts to me the secrets of his heart; +And Plod-all thinks I am as true a friend +To every enterprise he takes in hand, +As ever breath'd under the cope of heaven: +But damn me if they find it so. +All this makes for my [own] avail; +I'll ha' the wench myself, or else my wits shall fail. + + _Enter_ LELIA _and_ NURSE, _gathering of flowers_. + +LELIA. +See how the earth this fragrant spring is clad, +And mantled round in sweet nymph Flora's robes: +Here grows th'alluring rose, sweet marigolds +And the lovely hyacinth. Come, nurse, gather: +A crown of roses shall adorn my head, +I'll prank myself with flowers of the prime; +And thus I'll spend away my primrose-time. + +NURSE. +Rufty-tufty, are you so frolic? O, that you knew as much as I do; +'twould cool you. + +LELIA. +Why, what knowest thou, nurse I prythee, tell me. + +NURSE. +Heavy news, i' faith, mistress: you must be matched, and married to a +husband. Ha, ha, ha, ha! a husband, i' faith. + +LELIA. +A husband, nurse? why, that's good news, if he be a good one. + +NURSE. +A good one, quotha? ha, ha, ha, ha! why, woman, I heard your father say +that he would marry you to Peter Plod-all, that puck-fist, that +snudge-snout, that coal-carrierly clown. Lord! 'twould be as good as +meat and drink to me to see how the fool would woo you. + +LELIA. +No, no; my father did but jest: think'st thou, +That I can stoop so low to take a brown-bread crust, +And wed a clown, that's brought up at the cart? + +NURSE. +Cart, quotha? Ay, he'll cart you; for he cannot tell how to court you. + +LELIA. +Ah, nurse! sweet Sophos is the man, +Whose love is lock'd in Lelia's tender breast: +This heart hath vow'd, if heav'ns do not deny, +My love with his entomb'd in earth shall lie. + +NURSE. +Peace, mistress, stand aside; here comes somebody. + + _Enter_ SOPHOS. + +SOPHOS. +_Optatis non est spes ulla potiri_. +Yet, Phoebus, send down thy tralucent beams, +Behold the earth that mourns in sad attire; +The flowers at Sophos' presence 'gin to droop, +Whose trickling tears for Lelia's loss +Do turn the plains into a standing pool. +Sweet Cynthia, smile, cheer up the drooping flowers; +Let Sophos once more see a sunshine-day: +O, let the sacred centre of my heart-- +I mean fair Lelia, nature's fairest work-- +Be once again the object to mine eyes. +O, but I wish in vain, whilst her I wish to see: +Her father he obscures her from my sight, +He pleads my want of wealth, +And says it is a bar in Venus' court. +How hath fond fortune by her fatal doom +Predestin'd me to live in hapless hopes, +Still turning false her fickle, wavering wheel! +And love's fair goddess with her Circian cup +Enchanteth so fond Cupid's poison'd darts, +That love, the only loadstar of my life, +Doth draw my thoughts into a labyrinth. +But stay: +What do I see? what do mine eyes behold? +O happy sight! It is fair Lelia's face! +Hail, heav'n's bright nymph, the period of my grief, +Sole guidress of my thoughts, and author of my joy. + +LELIA. +Sweet Sophos, welcome to Lelia; +Fair Dido, Carthaginians' beauteous queen, +Not half so joyful was, when as the Trojan prince +Aeneas landed on the sandy shores +Of Carthage' confines, as thy Lelia is +To see her Sophos here arriv'd by chance. + +SOPHOS. +And bless'd be chance, that hath conducted me +Unto the place where I might see my dear, +As dear to me as is the dearest life. + +NURSE. +Sir, you may see that fortune is your friend. + +SOPHOS. +Yet fortune favours fools. + +NURSE. +By that conclusion you should not be wise. [_Aside_. + +LELIA. +Foul fortune sometimes smiles on virtue fair. + +SOPHOS. +'Tis then to show her mutability: +But since, amidst ten thousand frowning threats +Of fickle fortune's thrice-unconstant wheel, +She deigns to show one little pleasing smile, +Let's do our best false fortune to beguile, +And take advantage of her ever-changing moods. +See, see, how Tellus' spangled mantle smiles, +And birds do chant their rural sugar'd notes, +As ravish'd with our meeting's sweet delights: +Since then, there fits for love both time and place, +Let love and liking hand in hand embrace. + +NURSE. +Sir, the next way to win her love is to linger her leisure. I measure my +mistress by my lovely self: make a promise to a man, and keep it. I have +but one fault--I ne'er made promise in my life, but I stick to it tooth +and nail. I'll pay it home, i' faith. If I promise my love a kiss, I'll +give him two; marry, at first I will make nice, and cry _Fie, fie_; and +that will make him come again and again. I'll make him break his wind +with come-agains. + +SOPHOS. +But what says Lelia to her Sophos' love? + +LELIA. +Ah, Sophos, that fond blind boy, +That wrings these passions from my Sophos' heart, +Hath likewise wounded Lelia with his dart; +And force perforce, I yield the fortress up: +Here, Sophos, take thy Lelia's hand, +And with this hand receive a loyal heart. +High Jove, that ruleth heaven's bright canopy, +Grant to our love a wish'd felicity! + +SOPHOS. +As joys the weary pilgrim by the way, +When Phoebus wanes[144] unto the western deep, +To summon him to his desired rest; +Or as the poor distressed mariner, +Long toss'd by shipwreck on the foaming waves, +At length beholds the long-wish'd haven, +Although from far his heart doth dance for joy: +So love's consent at length my mind hath eas'd; +My troubled thoughts by sweet content are pleas'd. + +LELIA. +My father recks not virtue, +But vows to wed me to a man of wealth: +And swears his gold shall counterpoise his worth. +But Lelia scorns proud Mammon's golden mines, +And better likes of learning's sacred lore, +Than of fond fortune's glistering mockeries. +But, Sophos, try thy wits, and use thy utmost skill +To please my father, and compass his goodwill. + +SOPHOS. +To what fair Lelia wills doth Sophos yield content; +Yet that's the troublous gulf my silly ship must pass: +But, were that venture harder to atchieve +Than that of Jason for the golden fleece, +I would effect it for sweet Lelia's sake, +Or leave myself as witness of my thoughts. + +NURSE. +How say you by that, mistress? He'll do anything for your sake. + +LELIA. +Thanks, gentle love: +But, lest my father should suspect-- +Whose jealous head with more than Argus' eyes +Doth measure ev'ry gesture that I use-- +I'll in, and leave you here alone. +Adieu, sweet friend, until we meet again. +Come, nurse, follow me. + + [_Exeunt_ LELIA _and_ NURSE. + +SOPHOS. +Farewell, my love, fair fortune be thy guide! +Now, Sophos, now bethink thyself, how thou +May'st win her father's will to knit this happy knot. +Alas! thy state is poor, thy friends are few. +And fear forbids to tell my fate to friends:[145] +Well, I'll try my fortunes; +And find out some convenient time, +When as her father's leisure best shall serve +To confer with him about fair Lelia's love. + [_Exit_ SOPHOS. + + _Enter_ GRIPE, _old_ PLOD-ALL, CHURMS, _and_ WILL CRICKET. + +GRIPE. +Neighbour Plod-all and Master Churms, y'are welcome to my house. What +news in the country, neighbour? You are a good husband; you ha' done +sowing barley, I am sure? + +PLOD-ALL. +Yes, sir, an't please you, a fortnight since. + +GRIPE. +Master Churms, what say my debtors? can you get any money of them yet? + +CHURMS. +Not yet, sir; I doubt they are scarce able to pay. You must e'en forbear +them awhile; they'll exclaim on you else. + +GRIPE. +Let them exclaim, and hang, and starve, and beg. Let me ha' my money. + +PLOD-ALL. +Here's this good fellow too, Master Churms, I must e'en put him and his +father over into your hands; they'll pay me no rent. + +WILL CRICKET. +This good fellow, quotha? I scorn that base, broking, brabbling, +brawling, bastardly, bottle-nosed, beetle-browed, bean-bellied name. +Why, Robin Goodfellow is this same cogging, pettifogging, crackropes, +calf-skin companion. Put me and my father over to him? Old Silver-top, +and you had not put me before my father, I would ha'-- + +PLOD-ALL. +What wouldst ha' done? + +WILL CRICKET. +I would have had a snatch at you, that I would. + +CHURMS. +What, art a dog? + +WILL CRICKET. +No; if I had been a dog, I would ha' snapped off your nose ere this, and +so I should have cosened the devil of a maribone. + +GRIPE. +Come, come: let me end this controversy. Prythee, go thy ways in, and +bid the boy bring in a cup of sack here for my friends. + +WILL CRICKET. +Would you have a sack, sir? + +GRIPE. +Away, fool: a cup of sack to drink. + +WILL CRICKET. +O, I had thought you would have had a sack to have put this law-cracking +cogfoist in, instead of a pair of stocks. + +GRIPE. +Away, fool; get thee in, I say. + +WILL CRICKET. +Into the buttery, you mean? + +GRIPE. +I prythee, do. + +WILL CRICKET. +I'll make your hogshead of sack rue that word. [_Aside. Exit_.] + +GRIPE. +Neighbour Plod-all, I sent a letter to you by Master Churms; how like +you of the motion? + +PLOD-ALL. +Marry, I like well of the motion. My son, I tell you, is e'en all the +stay I have, and all my care is to have him take one that hath +something, for, as the world goes now, if they have nothing, they may +beg. But I doubt he's too simple for your daughter; for I have brought +him up hardly, with brown bread, fat bacon, puddings, and souse; and, +by'r Lady, we think it good fare too. + +GRIPE. +Tush, man! I care not for that. You ha' no more children; you'll make +him your heir, and give him your lands, will you not? + +PLOD-ALL. +Yes; he's e'en all I have; I have nobody else to bestow it upon. + +GRIPE. +You say well. + + _Enter_ WILL CRICKET _and a boy, with wine and a napkin_. + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, hear you; drink, afore you bargain. + +GRIPE. +Mass, and 'tis a good motion. Boy, fill some wine, [_He fills them wine, +and gives them the napkin_.] Here, neighbour and Master Churms, I drink +to you. + +BOTH. +We thank you, sir. + +WILL CRICKET. +Lawyer, wipe clean. Do you remember? + +CHURMS. +Remember? why? + +WILL CRICKET. +Why, since you know when. + +CHURMS. +Since when? + +WILL CRICKET. +Why, since you were bumbasted, that your lubberly legs would not carry +your lobcock body; when you made an infusion of your stinking excrements +in your stalking implements. O, you were plaguy frayed, and foully +rayed-- + +GRIPE. +Prythee, peace, Will! Neighbour Plod-all, what say you to this match? +shall it go forward? + +PLOD-ALL. +Sir, that must be as our children like. For my son, I think I can rule +him; marry, I doubt your daughter will hardly like of him; for, God wot, +he's very simple. + +GRIPE. +My daughter's mine to command; have I not brought her up to this? She +shall have him. I'll rule the roost for that. I'll give her pounds and +crowns, gold and silver. I'll weigh her down in pure angel gold. Say, +man, is't a match? + +PLOD-ALL. +Faith, I agree. + +CHURMS. +But, sir, if you give your daughter so large a dowry, you'll have some +part of his land conveyed to her by jointure? + +GRIPE. +Yes, marry, that I will, and we'll desire your help for conveyance. + +PLOD-ALL. +Ay, good Master Churms, and you shall be very well contented for your +pains. + +WILL CRICKET. +Ay, marry; that's it he looked for all this while. [_Aside_. + +CHURMS. +Sir, I will do the best I can. + +WILL CRICKET. +But, landlord, I can tell you news, i' faith. There is one Sophos, a +brave gentleman; he'll wipe your son Peter's nose of Mistress Lelia. I +can tell you, he loves her well. + +GRIPE. +Nay, I trow. + +WILL CRICKET. +Yes, I know, for I am sure I saw them close together at poop-noddy in +her closet. + +GRIPE. +But I am sure she loves him not. + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, I dare take it on my death she loves him, for he's a scholar, and +'ware scholars! they have tricks for love, i' faith; for with a little +logic and _Pitome colloquium_ they'll make a wench do anything. +Landlord, pray ye, be not angry with me for speaking my conscience. In +good faith, your son Peter's a very clown to him. Why, he's as fine a +man as a wench can see in a summer's day. + +GRIPE. +Well, that shall not serve his turn; I'll cross him, I warrant ye. I am +glad I know it. I have suspected it a great while. Sophos! Why, what's +Sophos? a base fellow. Indeed he has a good wit, and can speak well. +He's a scholar, forsooth--one that hath more wit than money--and I like +not that; he may beg, for all that. Scholars! why, what are scholars +without money? + +PLOD-ALL. +Faith, e'en like puddings without suet. + +GRIPE. +Come, neighbour, send your son to my house, for he shall be welcome to +me, and my daughter shall entertain him kindly. What? I can and will +rule Lelia. Come, let's in; I'll discharge Sophos from my house +presently. + + [_Exit_ GRIPE, PLOD-ALL, _and_ CHURMS. + +WILL CRICKET. + +A horn plague of this money, for it causeth many horns to bud; and for +money many men are horned; for when maids are forced to love where they +like not, it makes them lie where they should not. I'll be hanged, if +e'er Mistress Lelia will ha' Peter Plod-all; I swear by this button-cap +(do you mark?), and by the round, sound, and profound contents (do you +understand?) of this costly codpiece (being a good proper man, as you +see), that I could get her as soon as he myself. And if I had not a +month's mind in another place, I would have a fling at her, that's flat; +but I must set a good holiday-face on't, and go a wooing to pretty Peg: +well, I'll to her, i' faith, while 'tis in my mind. But stay; I'll see +how I can woo before I go: they say use makes perfectness. Look you now; +suppose this were Peg: now I set my cap o' the side on this fashion (do +ye see?); then say I, sweet honey, honey, sugar-candy Peg. + +Whose face more fair than Brock my father's cow; + + Whose eyes do shine, + Like bacon-rine; + Whose lips are blue, + Of azure hue; + +Whose crooked nose down to her chin doth bow. For, you know, I must +begin to commend her beauty, and then I will tell her plainly that I am +in love with her over my high shoes; and then I will tell her that I do +nothing of nights but sleep, and think on her, and specially of mornings: +and that does make my stomach so rise, that I'll be sworn I can turn me +three or four bowls of porridge over in a morning afore breakfast. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +How now, sirrah? what make you here, with all that timber in your neck? + +WILL CRICKET. +Timber? Zounds, I think he be a witch; how knew he this were timber? +Mass, I'll speak him fair, and get out on's company; for I am afraid on +him. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Speak, man; what, art afraid? what makest here? + +WILL CRICKET. +A poor fellow, sir: ha' been drinking two or three pots of ale at an +alehouse, and ha' lost my way, sir. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O! nay, then I see, thou art a good fellow: seest thou not Master +Churms the lawyer to-day? + +WILL CRICKET. +No, sir; would you speak with him? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Ay, marry, would I. + +WILL CRICKET. +If I see him, I'll tell him you would speak with him. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Nay, prithee, stay. Who wilt thou tell him would speak with him? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, you, sir. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +I? who am I? + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, sir, I know not. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +If thou seest him, tell him Robin Goodfellow would speak with him. + +WILL CRICKET. +O, I will sir. [Exit WILL CRICKET. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Mass, the fellow was afraid. I play the bugbear wheresoe'er I come, and +make them all afraid. But here comes Master Churms. + + _Enter_ CHURMS. + +CHURMS. +Fellow Robin, God save you: I have been seeking for you in every +alehouse in the town. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +What, Master Churms? What's the best news abroad? 'tis long since I +see you. + +CHURMS. +Faith, little news: but yet I am glad I have met with you. I have a +matter to impart to you wherein you may stand me in some stead, and make +a good benefit to yourself: if we can deal cunningly, 'twill be worth a +double fee to you, by the Lord. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +A double fee? speak, man; what is't? If it be to betray mine own father, +I'll do it for half a fee; and for cunning let me alone. + +CHURMS. +Why then, this it is: here is Master Gripe hard by, a client of mine, a +man of mighty wealth, who has but one daughter; her dowry is her weight +in gold. Now, sir, this old pennyfather would marry her to one Peter +Plod-all, rich Plod-all's son and heir; whom though his father means to +leave very rich, yet he's a very idiot and brownbread clown, and one I +know the wench does deadly hate: and though their friends have given +their full consent, and both agreed on this unequal match, yet I know +that Lelia will never marry him. But there's another rival in her +love--one Sophos; and he's a scholar, one whom I think fair Lelia dearly +loves, but her father hates him as he hates a toad; for he's in want, +and Gripe gapes after gold, and still relies upon the old-said saw, _Si +nihil attuleris_, &c. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +And wherein can I do you any good in this? + +CHURMS. +Marry, thus, sir: I am of late grown passing familiar with Master Gripe; +and for Plod-all, he takes me for his second self. Now, sir, I'll fit +myself to the old crummy churls' humours, and make them believe I'll +persuade Lelia to marry Peter Plod-all, and so get free access to the +wench at my pleasure. Now, o' the other side, I'll fall in with the +scholar, and him I'll handle cunningly too; I'll tell him that Lelia has +acquainted me with her love to him, and for +Because her father much suspects the same, +He mews her up as men do mew their hawks; +And so restrains her from her Sophos' sight. +I'll say, because she doth repose more trust +Of secrecy in me than in another man, +In courtesy she hath requested me +To do her kindest greetings to her love. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +An excellent device, i' faith! + +CHURMS. +Ay, sir, and by this means I'll make a very gull of my fine Diogenes: I +shall know his secrets even from the very bottom of his heart. Nay more, +sir; you shall see me deal so cunningly, that he shall make me an +instrument to compass his desire; when, God knows, I mean nothing less. +_Qui dissimulare nescit, nescit vivere_. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Why, this will be sport alone; but what would you have me do in this +action? + +CHURMS. +Marry, as I play with th'one hand, play you with t'other. Fall you +aboard with Peter Plod-all; make him believe you'll work miracles, and +that you have a powder will make Lelia love him. Nay, what will he not +believe, and take all that comes? you know my mind: and so we'll make a +gull of the one and a goose of the other. And if we can invent any +device to bring the scholar in disgrace with her, I do not doubt but +with your help to creep between the bark and the tree, and get Lelia +myself. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Tush! man. I have a device in my head already to do that. But they say +her brother Fortunatus loves him dearly. + +CHURMS. +Tut! he's out of the country; he follows the drum and the flag. He may +chance to be killed with a double cannon before he come home again. But +what's your device? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Marry, I'll do this: I'll frame an indictment against Sophos in manner +and form of a rape, and the next law-day you shall prefer it, that so +Lelia may loath him, her father still deadly hate him, and the young +gallant her brother utterly forsake him. + +CHURMS. +But how shall we prove it? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Zounds, we'll hire some strumpet or other to be sworn against him. + +CHURMS. +Now, by the substance of my soul, 'tis an excellent device. Well, let's +in. I'll first try my cunning otherwise, and if all fail, we'll try this +conclusion. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT, NURSE, _and_ PEG. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Y'faith, Marget, you must e'en take your daughter Peg home again, for +she'll not be ruled by me. + +NURSE. +Why, mother, what will she not do? + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Faith, she neither did, nor does, nor will do anything. Send her to the +market with eggs, she'll sell them, and spend the money. Send her to +make a pudding, she'll put in no suet. She'll run out o' nights +a-dancing, and come no more home till day-peep. Bid her come to bed, +she'll come when she list. Ah, 'tis a nasty shame to see her +bringing-up. + +NURSE. +Out, you rogue! you arrant, &c. What, knowest not thy granam? + +PEG. +I know her to be a testy old fool; She's never well, but grunting in a +corner. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Nay, she'll camp, I warrant ye. O, she has a tongue! But, Marget, e'en +take her home to your mistress, and there keep her, for I'll keep her no +longer. + +NURSE. +Mother, pray ye, take ye some pains with her, and keep her awhile +longer, and if she do not mend, I'll beat her black and blue. I' faith, +I'll not fail you, minion. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Faith, at thy request, I'll take her home, and try her a week longer. + +NURSE. +Come on, huswife; please your granam, and be a good wench, and you shall +ha' my blessing. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Come, follow us, good wench. + + [_Exeunt_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT _and_ NURSE. _Manet_ PEG. + +PEG. +Ay, farewell; fair weather after you. Your blessing, quotha? I'll not +give a single halfpenny for't. Who would live under a mother's nose and +a granam's tongue? A maid cannot love, or catch a lip-clip or a +lap-clap, but here's such tittle-tattle, and _Do not so_, and _Be not so +light_, and _Be not so fond_, and _Do not kiss_, and _Do not love_, and +I cannot tell what; and I must love, an I hang for't. + + [_She sings_. + + _A sweet thing is love, + That rules both heart and mind: + There is no comfort in the world + To women that are kind_. + +Well. I'll not stay with her; stay, quotha? To be yawled and jawled at, +and tumbled and thumbled, and tossed and turned, as I am by an old hag, +I will not: no, I will not, i' faith. + + + _Enter_ WILL CRICKET. + +But stay, I must put on my smirking looks and smiling countenance, for +here comes one makes 'bomination suit to be my sprused husband. + +WILL CRICKET. +Lord, that my heart would serve me to speak to her, now she talks of her +sprused husband! Well, I'll set a good face on't. Now I'll clap me as +close to her as Jone's buttocks of a close-stool, and come over her with +my rolling, rattling, rumbling eloquence. Sweet Peg, honey Peg, fine +Peg, dainty Peg, brave Peg, kind Peg, comely Peg; my nutting, my +sweeting, my love, my dove, my honey, my bunny, my duck, my dear, and my +darling: + + Grace me with thy pleasant eyes, + And love without delay; + And cast not with thy crabbed looks + A proper man away. + +PEG. +Why, William, what's the matter? + +WILL CRICKET. +What's the matter, quotha? Faith, I ha' been in a fair taking for you, a +bots on you! for t'other day, after I had seen you, presently my belly +began to rumble. What's the matter, thought I. With that I bethought +myself, and the sweet comportance of that same sweet round face of thine +came into my mind. Out went I, and, I'll be sworn, I was so near taken, +that I was fain to cut all my points. And dost hear, Peg? if thou dost +not grant me thy goodwill in the way of marriage, first and foremost +I'll run out of my clothes, and then out of my wits for thee. + +PEG. +Nay, William, I would be loth you should do so for me. + +WILL CRICKET. +Will you look merrily on me, and love me then? + +PEG. +Faith, I care not greatly if I do. + +WILL CRICKET. +Care not greatly if I do? What an answer's that? If thou wilt say, I, +Peg, take thee, William, to my spruse husband-- + +PEG. +Why, so I will. But we must have more company for witnesses first. + + [_Enter Dancers and Piper_.] + +WILL CRICKET. +That needs not. Here's good store of young men and maids here. + +PEG. +Why, then, here's my hand. + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, that's honestly spoken. Say after me: I, Peg Pudding, promise +thee, William Cricket, that I'll hold thee for my own sweet lily, while +I have a head in mine eye and a face on my nose, a mouth in my tongue +and all that a woman should have from the crown of my foot to the sole +of my head. I'll clasp thee and clip thee, coll thee and kiss thee, +till I be better than nought and worse than nothing. When thou art ready +to sleep, I'll be ready to snort; when thou art in health, I'll be in +gladness; when thou art sick, I'll be ready to die; when thou art mad, +I'll run out of my wits, and thereupon I strike thee good luck. Well +said, i' faith. O, I could find in my hose to pocket thee in my heart! +Come, my heart of gold, let's have a dance at the making up of this +match. Strike up, Tom Piper. [_They dance_. +Come, Peg, I'll take the pains to bring thee homeward; and at twilight +look for me again. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW _and_ PETER PLOD-ALL. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Come hither, my honest friend. Master Churms told me you had a suit to +me; what's the matter? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Pray ye, sir, is your name Robin Goodfellow? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +My name is Robin Goodfellow. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Marry, sir, I hear you're a very cunning man, sir, and sir reverence of +your worship, sir, I am going a-wooing to one Mistress Lelia, a +gentlewoman here hard by. Pray ye, sir, tell me how I should behave +myself, to get her to my wife, for, sir, there is a scholar about her; +now, if you can tell me how I should wipe his nose of her, I would +bestow a fee of you. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Let me see't, and thou shalt see what I'll say to thee. [_He gives him +money_.] Well, follow my counsel, and, I'll warrant thee, I'll give thee +a love-powder for thy wench, and a kind of _nux vomica_ in a potion +shall make her come off, i' faith. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Shall I trouble you so far as to take some pains with me? I am loth to +have the dodge. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Tush! fear not the dodge. I'll rather put on my flashing red nose and my +flaming face, and come wrapped in a calf's skin, and cry _Bo bo_. I'll +fray the scholar, I warrant thee. But first go to her, try what thou +canst do; perhaps she'll love thee without any further ado. But thou +must tell her thou hast a good stock, some hundred or two a year, and +that will set her hard, I warrant thee; for, by the mass, I was once in +good comfort to have cosened a wench, and wott'st thou what I told her? +I told her I had a hundred pound land a year in a place, where I have +not the breadth of my little finger. I promised her to enfeoff her in +forty pounds a year of it, and I think of my conscience, if I had had +but as good a face as thine, I should have made her have cursed the time +that ever she see it. And thus thou must do: crack and lie, and face, +and thou shalt triumph mightily. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +I need not do so, for I may say, and say true, I have lands and living +enough for a country fellow. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +By'r Lady, so had not I. I was fain to overreach, as many times I do; +but now experience hath taught me so much craft that I excel in cunning. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Well, sir, then I'll be bold to trust to your cunning, and so I'll bid +you farewell, and go forward. I'll to her, that's flat. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Do so, and let me hear how you speed. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +That I will, sir. [_Exit_ PETER. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Well, a good beginning makes a good end. Here's ten groats for doing +nothing. I con Master Churms thanks for this, for this was his device; +and therefore I'll go seek him out, and give him a quart of wine, and +know of him how he deals with the scholar. [_Exit_. + + _Enter_ CHURMS _and_ SOPHOS. + +CHURMS. +Why, look ye, sir; by the Lord, I can but wonder at her father; he knows +you to be a gentleman of good bringing up, and though your wealth be +not answerable to his, yet, by heavens, I think you are worthy to do far +better than Lelia--yet I know she loves you dearly. + +SOPHOS. +The great Tartarian emperor, Tamar Cham, +Joy'd not so much in his imperial crown, +As Sophos joys in Lelia's hoped-for love, +Whose looks would pierce an adamantine heart, +And makes the proud beholders stand at gaze, +To draw love's picture from her glancing eye. + +CHURMS. +And I will stretch my wits unto the highest strain, +To further Sophos in his wish'd desires. + +SOPHOS. +Thanks, gentle sir. +But truce awhile; here comes her father. + + _Enter_ GRIPE. + +I must speak a word or two with him. + +CHURMS. +Ay, he'll give you your answer, I warrant ye. [_Aside_. + +SOPHOS. +God save you, sir. + +GRIPE. +O Master Sophos, I have longed to speak with you a great while. I hear +you seek my daughter Lelia's love. I hope you will not seek to dishonest +me, nor disgrace my daughter. + +SOPHOS. +No, sir; a man may ask a yea; a woman may say nay. She is in choice to +take her choice, yet I must confess I love Lelia. + +GRIPE. +Sir, I must be plain with you. I like not of your love. Lelia's mine. +I'll choose for Lelia, and therefore I would wish you not to frequent my +house any more. It's better for you to ply your book, and seek for some +preferment that way, than to seek for a wife before you know how to +maintain her. + +SOPHOS. +I am not rich, I am not very poor; +I neither want, nor ever shall exceed: +The mean is my content; I live 'twixt two extremes. + +GRIPE. +Well, well; I tell ye I like not you should come to my house, and +presume so proudly to match your poor pedigree with my daughter Lelia, +and therefore I charge you to get off my ground, come no more at my +house. I like not this learning without living, I. + +SOPHOS. +He needs must go that the devil drives: +_Sic virtus sine censu languet_. [_Exit_ SOPHOS. + +GRIPE. +O Master Churms, cry you mercy, sir; I saw not you. I think I have sent +the scholar away with a flea in his ear. I trow, he'll come no more at +my house. + +CHURMS. +No; for if he do, you may indict him for coming of your ground. + +GRIPE. +Well, now I'll home, and keep in my daughter. She shall neither go to +him nor send to him; I'll watch her, I'll warrant her. Before God, +Master Churms, it is the peevishest girl that ever I knew in my life; +she will not be ruled, I doubt. Pray ye, sir, do you endeavour to +persuade her to take Peter Plod-all. + +CHURMS. +I warrant ye, I'll persuade her; fear not. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ LELIA _and_ NURSE. + +LELIA. +What sorrow seizeth on my heavy heart! +Consuming care possesseth ev'ry part: +Heart-sad Erinnis keeps his mansion here +Within the closure of my woful breast; +And black Despair with iron sceptre stands, +And guides my thoughts down to his hateful cell. +The wanton winds with whistling murmur bear +My piercing plaints along the desert plains; +And woods and groves do echo forth my woes: +The earth below relents in crystal tears, +When heav'ns above, by some malignant course +Of fatal stars, are authors of my grief. +Fond love, go hide thy shafts in folly's den, +And let the world forget thy childish force; +Or else fly, fly, pierce Sophos' tender breast, +That he may help to sympathise these plaints, +That wring these tears from Lelia's weeping eyes. + +NURSE. +Why, how now, mistress? what, is it love that makes you weep, and toss, +and turn so a-nights, when you are in bed? Saint Leonard grant you fall +not love-sick. + +LELIA. +Ay, that's the point that pierceth to the quick. +Would Atropos would cut my vital thread, +And so make lavish of my loathed life: +Or gentle heav'ns would smile with fair aspect, +And so give better fortunes to my love! +Why, is't not a plague to be a prisoner to mine own father? + +NURSE. +Yes, and 't's a shame for him to use you so too: +But be of good cheer, mistress; I'll go +To Sophos ev'ry day; I'll bring you tidings +And tokens too from him, I'll warrant ye; +And if he'll send you a kiss or two, I'll bring it. +Let me alone; I am good at a dead lift: +Marry, I cannot blame you for loving of Sophos; +Why, he's a man as one should picture him in wax. +But, mistress--out upon's! wipe your eyes, +For here comes another wooer. + + _Enter_ PETER PLOD-ALL. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Mistress Lelia, God speed you. + +LELIA. +That's more than we +Need at this time, for we are doing nothing. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +'Twere as good say a good word as a bad. + +LELIA. +But it's more wisdom to say nothing at all, +Than speak to no purpose. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +My purpose is to wive you. + +LELIA. +And mine is never to wed you. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Belike, you are in love with somebody else. + +NURSE. +No, but she's lustily promised. Hear you--you with [the] long rifle by +your side--do you lack a wife? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Call ye this [a] rifle? it's a good backsword. + +NURSE. +Why, then, you with [the] backsword, let's see your back. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Nay, I must speak with Mistress Lelia Before I go. + +LELIA. +What would you with me? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Marry, I have heard very well of you, and so has my father too; and he +has sent me to you a-wooing; and if you have any mind of marriage, I +hope I shall maintain you as well as any husbandman's wife in the +country. + +NURSE. +Maintain her? with what? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Marry, with my lands and livings my father has promised me. + +LELIA. +I have heard much of your wealth, but +I never knew you manners before now. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Faith, I have no manors, but a pretty home-stall; and we have great +store of oxen and horses, and carts and ploughs and household-stuff +'bomination, and great flocks of sheep, and flocks of geese and capons, +and hens and ducks. O, we have a fine yard of pullen! And, thank God, +here's a fine weather for my father's lambs. + +LELIA. +I cannot live content in discontent: +For as no music can delight the ears, +Where all the parts of discords are composed. +So wedlock-bands will still consist in jars, +Where in condition there's no sympathy; +Then rest yourself contented with this answer-- +I cannot love. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +It's no matter what you say: for my father told me thus much before I +came, that you would be something nice at first; but he bad me like you +ne'er the worse for that, for I were the liker to speed. + +LELIA. +Then you were best leave off your suit till +Some other time: and when my leisure serves me +To love you, I'll send you word. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Will you? well then I'll take my leave of you; and if I may hear from +you, I'll pay the messenger well for his pains. But stay--God's death! I +had almost forgot myself! pray ye, let me kiss your hand, ere I go. + +NURSE. +Faith, mistress, his mouth runs a-water for a kiss; a little would serve +his turn, belike: let him kiss your hand. + +LELIA. +I'll not stick for that. [_He kisseth her hand_. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Mistress Lelia, God be with you. + +LELIA. +Farewell, Peter. [_Exit_ PETER. +Thus lucre's set in golden chair of state, +When learning's bid stand by, and keeps aloof: +This greedy humour fits my father's vein, +Who gapes for nothing but for golden gain. + + _Enter_ CHURMS. + +NURSE. +Mistress, take heed you speak nothing that will bear action, for here +comes Master Churms the pettifogger. + +CHURMS. +Mistress Lelia, rest you merry: what's the reason you and your nurse +walk here alone? + +LELIA. +Because, sir, we desire no other company but our own. + +CHURMS. +Would I were then your own, that I might keep you company. + +NURSE. +O sir, you and he that is her own are far asunder. + +CHURMS. +But if she please, we may be nearer. + +LELIA. +That cannot be; mine own is nearer than myself: +And yet myself, alas! am not mine own. +Thoughts, fears, despairs, ten thousand dreadful dreams, +Those are mine own, and those do keep me company. + +CHURMS. +Before God, +I must confess, your father is too cruel, +To keep you thus sequester'd from the world, +To spend your prime of youth thus in obscurity, +And seek to wed you to an idiot fool, +That knows not how to use himself: +Could my deserts but answer my desires, +I swear by Sol, fair Phoebus' silver eye, +My heart would wish no higher to aspire, +Than to be grac'd with Lelia's love. +By Jesus, I cannot play the dissembler, +And woo my love with courting ambages, +Like one whose love hangs on his smooth tongue's end; +But, in a word, I tell the sum of my desires, +I love fair Lelia: +By her my passions daily are increas'd; +And I must die, unless by Lelia's love they be releas'd. + +LELIA. +Why, Master Churms, I had thought that you had been my father's great +councillor in all these actions. + +CHURMS. +Nay, damn me, if I be: by heav'ns, sweet nymph, I am not! + +NURSE. +Master Churms, you are one can do much with her father: and if you love +as you say, persuade him to use her more kindly, and give her liberty to +take her choice; for these made marriages prove not well. + +CHURMS. +I protest I will. + +LELIA. +So Lelia shall accept thee as her friend:-- +Meanwhile, nurse, let's in: +My long absence, I know, will make my father muse. + + [_Exeunt_ LELIA and NURSE. + +CHURMS. +_So Lelia shall accept thee as her friend_:--who can but ruminate upon +these words? Would she had said, her love: but 'tis no matter; first +creep, and then go; now her friend: the next degree is Lelia's love. +Well, I'll persuade her father to let her have a little more liberty. +But soft; I'll none of that neither: so the scholar may chance cosen me. +Persuade him to keep her in still: and before she'll have Peter +Plod-all, she'll have anybody; and so I shall be sure that Sophos shall +never come at her. Why, I'll warrant ye, she'll be glad to run away with +me at length. Hang him that has no shifts. I promised Sophos to further +him in his suit; but if I do, I'll be pecked to death with hens. I swore +to Gripe I would persuade Lelia to love Peter Plod-all; but, God forgive +me, 'twas the furthest end of my thought. Tut! what's an oath? every man +for himself: I'll shift for one, I warrant ye. + [_Exit_. + + _Enter_ FORTUNATUS _solus_. + +FORTUNATUS. +Thus have I pass'd the beating billows of the sea, +By Ithac's rocks and wat'ry Neptune's bounds: +And wafted safe from Mars his bloody fields, +Where trumpets sound tantara to the fight, +And here arriv'd for to repose myself +Upon the borders of my native soil. +Now, Fortunatus, bend thy happy course +Unto thy father's house, to greet thy dearest friends; +And if that still thy aged sire survive, +Thy presence will revive his drooping spirits, +And cause his wither'd cheeks be sprent with youthful blood, +Where death of late was portray'd to the quick. +But, soft; who comes here? [_Stand aside_. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +I wonder I hear not of Master Churms; I would fain know how he speeds, +and what success he has in Lelia's love. Well, if he cosen the scholar +of her, 'twould make my worship laugh; and if he have her, he may +say,--Godamercy, Robin Goodfellow: O, ware a good head as long as you +live. Why, Master Gripe, he casts beyond the moon, and Churms is the +only man he puts in trust with his daughter; and, I'll warrant, the old +churl would take it upon his salvation that he will persuade her to +marry Peter Plod-all. But I will make a fool of Peter Plod-all; I'll +look him in the face, and pick his purse, whilst Churms cosen him of his +wench, and my old grandsire Holdfast of his daughter: and if he can do +so, I'll teach him a trick to cosen him of his gold too. Now, for +Sophos, let him wear the willow garland, and play the melancholy +malcontent, and pluck his hat down in his sullen eyes, and think on +Lelia in these desert groves: 'tis enough for him to have her in his +thoughts, although he ne'er embrace her in his arms. But now there's a +fine device comes into my head to scare the scholar: you shall see, I'll +make fine sport with him. They say that every day he keeps his walk +amongst these woods and melancholy shades, and on the bark of every +senseless tree engraves the tenor of his hapless hope. Now when he's at +Venus' altar at his orisons, I'll put me on my great carnation-nose, and +wrap me in a rowsing calf-skin suit, and come like some hobgoblin, or +some devil ascended from the grisly pit of hell, and like a scarbabe +make him take his legs: I'll play the devil, I warrant ye. + + [_Exit_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW. + +FORTUNATUS. +And if you do, by this hand, I'll play the conjuror. +Blush, Fortunatus, at the base conceit! +To stand aloof, like one that's in a trance, +And with thine eyes behold that miscreant imp, +Whose tongue['s] more venom['s] than the serpent's sting, +Before thy face thus taunt thy dearest friends-- +Ay, thine own father--with reproachful terms! +Thy sister Lelia, she is bought and sold, +And learned Sophos, thy thrice-vowed friend, +Is made a stale by this base cursed crew +And damned den of vagrant runagates: +But here, in sight of sacred heav'ns, I swear +By all the sorrows of the Stygian souls, +By Mars his bloody blade, and fair Bellona's bowers, +I vow, these eyes shall ne'er behold my father's face, +These feet shall never pass these desert plains; +But pilgrim-like, I'll wander in these woods, +Until I find out Sopho's secret walks. +And sound the depth of all their plotted drifts. +Nor will I cease, until these hands revenge +Th'injurious wrong, that's offer'd to my friend, +Upon the workers of this stratagem. + [_Exit_. + + _Enter_ PEG _sola_. + +I' faith, i' faith, I cannot tell what to do; +I love, and I love, and I cannot tell who: +Out upon this love! for, wot you what? +I have suitors come huddle, twos upon twos, +And threes upon threes: and what think you +Troubles me? I must chat and kiss with all comers, +Or else no bargain. + + _Enter_ WILL CRICKET, _and kisses her_. + +WILL CRICKET. +A bargain, i' faith: ha, my sweet honey-sops! how dost thou? + +PEG. +Well, I thank you, William; now I see y'are a man of your word. + +WILL CRICKET. +A man o' my word, quotha? why, I ne'er broke promise in my life that +I kept. + +PEG. +No, William, I know you did not; but I had forgotten me. + +WILL CRICKET. +Dost hear, Peg? if e'er I forget thee, I pray God, I may never remember +thee. + +PEG. +Peace! here comes my granam Midnight. + + _Enter_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +What, Peg! what, ho! what, Peg, I say! what, Peg, my wench? where art +thou, trow? + +PEG. +Here, granam, at your elbow. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +What mak'st thou here this twatter light? I think thou'rt in a dream; +I think the fool haunts thee. + +WILL CRICKET. +Zounds, fool in your face! Fool? O monstrous intitulation. Fool? O, +disgrace to my person. Zounds, fool not me, for I cannot brook such a +cold rasher, I can tell you. Give me but such another word, and I'll be +thy tooth-drawer--even of thy butter-tooth, thou toothless trot, thou! + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Nay, William, pray ye, be not angry; you must bear with old folks, they +be old and testy, hot and hasty. Set not your wit against mine, William; +for I thought you no harm, by my troth. + +WILL CRICKET. +Well, your good words have something laid my choler. But, granam, shall +I be so bold to come to your house now and then to keep Peg company? + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Ay, and beshrew thy good heart, and thou dost not. Come, and we'll have +a piece of a barley bag-pudding or something, and thou shalt be very +heartily welcome, that thou shalt, and Peg shall bid thee welcome too. +Pray ye, maid, bid him welcome, and make much of him, for, by my vay, +he's a good proper springal.[146] + +PEG. +Granam, if you did but see him dance, 'twould do your heart good. Lord! +'twould make anybody love him, to see how finely he'll foot it. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +William, prythee, go home to my house with us, and take a cup of our +beer, and learn to know the way again another time. + +WILL CRICKET. +Come on, granam. I'll man you home, i' faith. +Come, Peg. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ GRIPE, _old_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_ PETER, _and_ + CHURMS _the lawyer_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Come hither, Peter; hold up your head. +Where's your cap and leg, sir boy, ha? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +By your leave, Master Gripe. + +GRIPE. +Welcome, Peter; give me thy hand: thou'rt welcome. By'r Lady, this is a +good, proper, tall fellow, neighbour; call you him a boy? + +PLOD-ALL. +A good, pretty, square springal,[147] sir. + +GRIPE. +Peter, you have seen my daughter, I am sure. +How do you like her? What says she to you? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Faith, I like her well, and I have broken my mind to her, and she would +say neither ay nor no. But, thank God, sir, we parted good friends, for +she let me kiss her hand, and bad, _Farewell, Peter_, and therefore I +think I am like enough to speed. How think you, Master Churms? + +CHURMS. +Marry, I think so too, for she did show no token of any dislike of your +motion, did she? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +No, not a whit, sir. + +CHURMS. +Why then, I warrant ye, for we hold in our law that, _idem est non +apparere et non esse_. + + +GRIPE. +Master Churms, I pray you, do so much as call my daughter hither. I will +make her sure here to Peter Plod-all, and I'll desire you to be a +witness. + +CHURMS. +With all my heart, sir. [_Exit_ CHURMS. + +GRIPE. +Before God, neighbour, this same Master Churms is a very good lawyer, +for, I warrant, you cannot speak anything, but he has law for it _ad +unguem_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Marry, even the more joy on him, and he's one that I am very much +beholding to: but here comes your daughter. + + _Enter_ CHURMS, LELIA, _and_ NURSE. + +LELIA. +Father, did you send for me? + +GRIPE. +Ay, wench, I did. Come hither, Lelia; give me thy hand. Master Churms, +I pray you, bear witness, I here give Lelia to Peter Plod-all. [_She +plucks away her hand_.] How now? + +NURSE. +She'll none, she thanks you, sir. + +GRIPE. +Will she none? Why, how now, I say? What, you puling, peevish thing, you +untoward baggage, will you not be ruled by your father? Have I taken +care to bring you up to this, and will you do as you list? Away, I say; +hang, starve, beg; begone, pack, I say; out of my sight! Thou never +gettest pennyworth of my goods for this. Think on't, I do not use to +jest. Begone, I say; I will not hear thee speak. + + [_Exeunt_ LELIA _and_ NURSE. + +CHURMS. +I pray you, sir, patient yourself; she's young. + +GRIPE. +I hold my life, this beggarly scholar hankers about her still, makes her +so untoward. But I'll home; I'll set her a harder task. I'll keep her +in, and look to her a little better than I ha' done. I'll make her have +little mind of gadding, I warrant her. Come, neighbour, send your son to +my house, for he's welcome thither, and shall be welcome; and I'll make +Lelia bid him welcome too, ere I ha' done with her. Come, Peter, follow +us. + [_Exeunt all but_ CHURMS. + +CHURNS. +Why, this is excellent: better and better still. This is beyond +expectation; why, now this gear begins to work. But, beshrew my heart, I +was afraid that Lelia would have yielded. When I saw her father take her +by the hand and call me for a witness, my heart began to quake; but, to +say the truth, she had little reason to take a cullian lug-loaf, milksop +slave, when she may have a lawyer, a gentleman that stands upon his +reputation in the country, one whose diminutive defect of law may +compare with his little learning. Well, I see that Churms must be the +man must carry Lelia, when all's done. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +How now, Master Churms? What news abroad? Methinks you look very spruce; +y'are very frolic now a-late. + +CHURMS. +What, fellow Robin? How goes the squares with you? Y'are waxen very +proud a-late; you will not know your own friends. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Faith, I even came to seek you, to bestow a quart of wine of you. + +CHURMS. +That's strange; you were never wont to be so liberal. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Tush, man; one good turn asks another; clear gains, man, clear gains! +Peter Plod-all shall pay for all. I have gulled him once, and I'll come +over him again and again, I warrant ye. + +CHURMS. +Faith, Lelia has e'en given him the doff[148] here, and has made her +father almost stark-mad. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O, all the better; then I shall be sure of more of his custom. But what +success have you in your suit with her? + +CHURMS. +Faith, all hitherto goes well. I have made the motion to her, but as yet +we are grown to no conclusion. But I am in very good hope. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +But do you think you shall get her father's goodwill? + +CHURMS. +Tut, if I get the wench, I care not for that; that will come afterward; +and I'll be sure of something in the meantime, for I have outlawed a +great number of his debtors, and I'll gather up what money I can amongst +them, and Gripe shall never know of it neither. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Ay, and of those that are scarce able to pay, take the one half, and +forgive them the other, rather than sit out at all. + +CHURMS. +Tush! let me alone for that; but, sirrah, I have brought the scholar +into a fool's paradise. Why, he has made me his spokesman to Mistress +Lelia, and, God's my judge, I never so much as name him to her. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O, by the mass, well-remembered. +I'll tell you what I mean to do: +I'll attire myself fit for the same purpose, +Like to some hellish hag or damned fiend, +And meet with Sophos wandering in the woods. +O, I shall fray him terribly. + +CHURMS. +I would thou couldst scare him out of his wits, then should I ha' the +wench, cocksure. I doubt nobody but him. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Well, let's go drink together, +And then I'll go put on my devilish robes-- +I mean, my Christmas calf-skin suit, +And then walk to the woods. +O, I'll terrify him, I warrant ye. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _A Wood_. + + _Enter_ SOPHOS _solus_. + +SOPHOS. +Will heavens still smile at Sophos' miseries, +And give no end to my incessant moans? +These cypress shades are witness of my woes; +The senseless trees do grieve at my laments; +The leafy branches drop sweet Myrrha's tears: +For love did scorn me in my mother's womb, +And sullen Saturn, pregnant at my birth, +With all the fatal stars conspir'd in one +To frame a hapless constellation, +Presaging Sophos' luckless destiny. +Here, here doth Sophos turn Ixion's restless wheel, +And here lies wrapp'd in labyrinths of love-- +Of his sweet Lelia's love, whose sole idea still +Prolongs the hapless date of Sophos' hopeless life. +Ah! said I life? a life far worse than death-- +Than death? ay, than ten thousand deaths. +I daily die, in that I live love's thrall; +They die thrice happy that once die for all. +Here will I stay my weary wand'ring steps, +And lay me down upon this solid earth, [_He lies down_. +The mother of despair and baleful thoughts. +Ay, this befits my melancholy moods. +Now, now, methinks I hear the pretty birds +With warbling tunes record Fair Lelia's name, +Whose absence makes warm blood drop from my heart, +And forceth wat'ry tears from these my weeping eyes. +Methinks I hear the silver-sounding stream +With gentle murmur summon me to sleep, +Singing a sweet, melodious lullaby. +Here will I take a nap, and drown my hapless hopes +In the ocean seas of _Never like to speed_. + [_He falls in a slumber, and music sounds_. + + _Enter_ SYLVANUS. + +SYLVANUS. +Thus hath Sylvanus left his leafy bowers, +Drawn by the sound of Echo's sad reports, +That with shrill notes and high resounding voice +Doth pierce the very caverns of the earth, +And rings through hills and dales the sad laments +Of virtue's loss and Sophos' mournful plaints. +Now, Morpheus, rouse thee from thy sable den, +Charm all his senses with a slumb'ring trance; +Whilst old Sylvanus send[s] a lovely train +Of satyrs, dryades, and water[149] nymphs +Out of their bowers to tune their silver strings, +And with sweet-sounding music sing +Some pleasing madrigals and roundelays, +To comfort Sophos in his deep distress. + [_Exit_ SYLVANUS. + + _Enter the Nymphs and Satyrs singing_. + + THE SONG. + + 1. + + _Satyrs, sing, let sorrow keep her cell, + Let warbling Echoes ring, + And sounding music yell[150] + Through hills, through dales, sad grief and care to kill + In him long since, alas! hath griev'd his fill_. + + 2. + + _Sleep no more, but wake and live content, + Thy grief the Nymphs deplore: + The Sylvan gods lament + To hear, to see thy moan, thy loss, thy love, + Thy plaints to tears the flinty rocks do move_. + + 3. + + _Grieve not, then; the queen of love is mild, + She sweetly smiles on men, + When reason's most beguil'd; + Her looks, her smiles are kind, are sweet, are fair: + Awake therefore, and sleep not still in care_. + + 4. + + _Love intends to free thee from annoy, + His nymphs Sylvanus sends + To bid thee live in joy, + In hope, in joy, sweet love, delight's embrace: + Fair love herself will yield thee so much grace_. + + [_Exeunt the Nymphs and Satyrs_. + +SOPHOS. +What do I hear? what harmony is this, +With silver sound that glutteth Sophos' ears. +And drives sad passions from his heavy heart, +Presaging some good future hap shall fall, +After these blust'ring blasts of discontent? +Thanks, gentle Nymphs, and Satyrs too, adieu; +That thus compassionate a loyal lover's woe, +When heav'n sits smiling at his dire mishaps. + + _Enter_ FORTUNATUS. + +FORTUNATUS. +With weary steps I trace these desert groves, +And search to find out Sophos' secret walks, +My truest vowed friend and Lelia's dearest love. + +SOPHOS. +What voice is this sounds Lelia's sacred name? [_He riseth_. +Is it some satyr that hath view'd her late, +And's grown enamour'd of her gorgeous hue? + +FORTUNATUS. +No satyr, Sophos; but thy ancient friend, +Whose dearest blood doth rest at thy command: +Hath sorrow lately blear'd thy wat'ry eyes, +That thou forgett'st the lasting league of love, +Long since was vowed betwixt thyself and me? +Look on me, man; I am thy friend. + +SOPHOS. +O, now I know thee, now thou nam'st my friend; +I have no friend, to whom I dare +Unload the burden of my grief, +But only Fortunatus, he's my second self: +_Mi Fortunate, ter fortunate venis_.[151] + +FORTUNATUS. +How fares my friend? methinks you look not well; +Your eyes are sunk, your cheeks look pale and wan: +What means this alteration? + +SOPHOS. +My mind, sweet friend, is like a mastless ship, +That's hurl'd and toss'd upon the surging seas +By Boreas' bitter blast and Ae'lus' whistling winds, +On rocks and sands far from the wished port, +Whereon my silly ship desires to land: +Fair Lelia's love, that is the wished haven, +Wherein my wand'ring mind would take repose; +For want of which my restless thoughts are toss'd, +For want of which all Sophos' joys are lost. + +FORTUNATUS. +Doth Sophos love my sister Lelia? + +SOPHOS. +She, she it is, whose love I wish to gain, +Nor need I wish, nor do I love in vain: +My love she doth repay with equal meed-- +'Tis strange, you'll say, that Sophos should not speed. + +FORTUNATUS. +Your love repaid with equal meed, +And yet you languish still in love? 'tis strange. +From whence proceeds your grief, +Unfold unto your friend: a friend may yield relief. + +SOPHOS. +My want of wealth is author of my grief; +Your father says, my state is too-too low: +I am no hobby bred; I may not soar so high +As Lelia's love, +The lofty eagle will not catch at flies. +When I with Icarus would soar against the sun, +He is the only fiery Phaeton +Denies my course, and sears my waxen wings, +When as I soar aloft. +He mews fair Lelia up from Sophos' sight, +That not so much as paper pleads remorse. +Thrice three times Sol hath slept in Thetis' lap, +Since these mine eyes beheld sweet Lelia's face: +What greater grief, what other hell than this, +To be denied to come where my beloved is? + +FORTUNATUS. +Do you alone love Lelia? +Have you no rivals with you in your love? + +SOPHOS. +Yes, only one; and him your father backs: +'Tis Peter Plod-all, rich Plod-all's son and heir, +One whose base, rustic, rude desert +Unworthy far to win so fair a prize; +Yet means your father for to make a match +For golden lucre with this Coridon, +And scorns at virtue's lore: hence grows my grief. + +FORTUNATUS. +If it be true I hear, there is one Churms beside +Makes suit to win my sister to his bride. + +SOPHOS. +That cannot be; Churms is my vowed friend, +Whose tongue relates the tenor of my love +To Lelia's ears: I have no other means. + +FORTUNATUS. +Well, trust him not: the tiger hides his claws, +When oft he doth pretend[152] the greatest guiles. +But stay: here comes Lelia's nurse. + + _Enter_ NURSE. + +SOPHOS. +Nurse, what news? How fares my love? + +NURSE. +How fares she, quotha? marry, she may fare how she will for you. Neither +come to her nor send to her of a whole fortnight! Now I swear to you by +my maidenhead, if my husband should have served me so when he came a +wooing me, I would never have looked on him with a good face, as long as +I had lived. But he was as kind a wretch as ever laid lips of a woman: +he would a'come through the windows, or doors, or walls, or anything, +but he would have come to me. Marry, after we had been married a while, +his kindness began to slack, for I'll tell you what he did: he made me +believe he would go to Green-goose fair; and I'll be sworn he took his +legs, and ran clean away. And I am afraid you'll prove e'en such another +kind piece to my mistress; for she sits at home in a corner weeping for +you: and, I'll be sworn, she's ready to die upward for you. And her +father o' the other side, he yawls at her, and jawls at her; and she +leads such a life for you, it passes: and you'll neither come to her, +nor send to her. Why, she thinks you have forgotten her. + +SOPHOS. +Nay, then let heav'ns in sorrow end my days, +And fatal fortune never cease to frown: +And heav'n and earth, and all conspire to pull me down, +If black oblivion seize upon my heart, +Once to estrange my thoughts from Lelia's love. + +FORTUNATUS. +Why, nurse, I am sure that Lelia hears +From Sophos once a day at least by Churms +The lawyer, who is his only friend. + +NURSE. +What, young master! God bless mine eyesight. Now, by my maidenhead, +y'are welcome home: I am sure my mistress will be glad to see you. But +what said you of Master Churms? + +FORTUNATUS. +Marry, I say he's a well-wisher to my sister Lelia, +And a secret friend to Sophos. + +NURSE. +Marry, the devil he is! trust him, and hang him. Why, he cannot speak a +good word on him to my old master; and he does so ruffle before my +mistress with his barbarian eloquence,[153] and strut before her in a +pair of Polonian legs, as if he were a gentleman-usher to the great Turk +or to the devil of Dowgate. And if my mistress would be ruled by him, +Sophos might go snick-up: but he has such a butter-milk face, that +she'll never have him. + +SOPHOS. +Can falsehood lurk in those enticing looks! +And deep dissemblance lie, where truth appears? + +FORTUNATUS. +Injurious villain, to betray his friend! + +NURSE. +Sir, do you know the gentleman? + +FORTUNATUS. +Faith, not well. + +NURSE. +Why, sir, he looks like a red herring at a nobleman's table on +Easter-day, and he speaks nothing but almond-butter and sugarcandy. + +FORTUNATUS. +That's excellent. + +SOPHOS. +This world's the chaos of confusion; +No world at all, but mass of open wrongs, +Wherein a man, as in a map, may see +The highroad way from woe to misery. + +FORTUNATUS. +Content yourself, and leave these passions: +Now do I sound the depth of all their drifts, +The devil's[154] device and Churms his knavery; +On whom this heart hath vow'd to be reveng'd. +I'll scatter them: the plot's already in my head. +Nurse, hie thee home, commend me to my sister; +Bid her this night send for Master Churms: +To him she must recount her many griefs, +Exclaim against her father's hard constraint, and so +Cunningly temporise with this cunning Catso, +That he may think she loves him as her life; +Bid her tell him that, if by any means +He can convey her forth her father's gate +Unto a secret friend of hers, +The way to whom lies by this forest-side; +That none but he shall have her to his bride. +For her departure let her 'ppoint the time +To-morrow night, when Vesper 'gins to shine; +Here will I be when Lelia comes this way, +Accompani'd with her gentleman-usher, +Whose am'rous thoughts do dream on nought but love: +And if this bastinado hold, I'll make +Him leave his wench with Sophos for a pawn. +Let me alone to use him in his kind; +This is the trap which for him I have laid, +Thus craft by cunning once shall be betray'd: +And, for the devil,[155] I will conjure him. +Good nurse, begone; bid her not fail: +And for a token bear to her this ring, +Which well she knows; for, when I saw her last, +It was her favour, and she gave it me. + +SOPHOS. +And bear her this from me, +And with this ring bid her receive my heart-- +My heart! alas, my heart I cannot give; +How should I give her that which is her own? + +NURSE. +And your heart be hers, her heart is yours, and so change is no robbery. +Well, I'll give her your tokens, and tell her what ye say. + +FORTUNATUS. +Do, good nurse; but in any case let not my father know that I am here, +until we have effected all our purposes. + +NURSE. +I'll warrant you, I will not play with you, as Master Churms does with +Sophos; I would ha' my ears cut from my head first. + [_Exit_ NURSE. + +FORTUNATUS. +Come, Sophos, cheer up yourself, man; +Let hope expel these melancholy dumps. +Meanwhile, let's in, expecting +How the events of this device will fall, +Until to-morrow at th'appointed time, +When we'll expect the coming of your love. +What, man, I'll work it through the fire, +But you shall have her. + +SOPHOS. +And I will study to deserve this love. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ WILLIAM CRICKET _solus_. + +WILL CRICKET. +Look on me, and look of Master Churms, a good, proper man. Marry, Master +Churms has something a better pair of legs indeed, but for a sweet face, +a fine beard, comely corpse, and a carousing codpiece. + + All England, if it can, + Show me such a man, + To win a wench, by Gis, + To clip, to coll, to kiss, + As William Cricket is. + +Why, look you now: if I had been such a great, long, large, lobcocked, +loselled lurden, as Master Churms is, I'll warrant you, I should never +have got Peg as long as I had lived, for, do you mark, a wench will +never love a man that has all his substance in his legs. But stay: here +comes my landlord; I must go salute him. + + _Enter old_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_ PETER. + +PLOD-ALL. +Come hither, Peter. When didst thou see Robin Goodfellow? He's the man +must do the fact. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Faith, father, I see him not this two days, but I'll seek him out, for +I know he'll do the deed, and she were twenty Leilas. For, father, he's +a very cunning man for give him but ten groats, and he'll give me a +powder that will make Lelia come to bed to me, and when I have her there, +I'll use her well enough. + +PLOD-ALL. +Will he so? Marry, I will give him vorty shillings, if he can do it. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Nay, he'll do more than that too, for he'll make himself like a devil, +and fray the scholar that hankers about her out on's wits. + +PLOD-ALL. +Marry, Jesus bless us! will he so? Marry, thou shalt have vorty +shillings to give him, and thy mother shall bestow a hard cheese +on him beside. + +WILL CRICKET. +Landlord, a pox on you, this good morn! + +PLOD-ALL. +How now, fool? what, dost curse me? + +WILL CRICKET. +How now, fool! How now, caterpillar? It's a sign of death, when such +vermin creep hedges so early in the morning. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Sirrah foul manners, do you know to whom you speak? + +WILL CRICKET. +Indeed, Peter, I must confess I want some of your wooing manners, or +else I might have turned my fair bushtail to you instead of your father, +and have given you the ill salutation this morning. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Let him alone, Peter; I'll temper him well enough. Sirrah, I hear say, +you must be married shortly. I'll make you pay a sweet fine for your +house for this. Ha, sirrah! am not I your landlord? + +WILL CRICKET. +Yes, for fault of a better; but you get neither sweet fine nor sour +fine of me. + +PLOD-ALL. +My masters, I pray you bear witness I do discharge him then. + +WILL CRICKET. +My masters, I pray you bear witness my landlord has given me a general +discharge. I'll be married presently. My fine's paid; I have a discharge +for it. [_He offers to go away_. + +PLOD-ALL. +Nay, prythee, stay. + +WILL CRICKET. +No, I'll not stay. I'll go call the clerk. I'll be cried out upon i' the +church presently. What, ho! what, clerk, I say? where are you? + + _Enter_ CLERK. + +CLERK. +Who calls me? what would you with me? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, sir, I would have you to make proclamation that, if any manner of +man, o' the town or the country, can lay any claim to Peg Pudding, let +him bring word to the crier, or else William Cricket will wipe his nose +of her. + +CLERK. +You mean, you would be asked i' the church? + +WILL CRICKET. +Ay, that's it. A bots on't, I cannot hit of these marrying terms yet. +And I'll desire my landlord here and his son to be at the celebration of +my marriage too. I' faith, Peter, you shall cram your guts full of +cheesecakes and custards there; and, sirrah clerk, if thou wilt say amen +stoutly, i' faith, my powder-beef-slave, I'll have a rump of beef for +thee, shall make thy mouth stand o' the tother side. + +CLERK. +When would you have it done? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, e'en as soon as may be. Let me see; I will be asked i' the church +of Sunday morning prayer, and again at evening prayer, and the next +holyday that comes, I will be asked i' the forenoon and married i' the +afternoon, for, do you mark, I am none of these sneaking fellows that +will stand thrumming of caps and studying upon a matter, as long as +Hunks with the great head has been about to show his little wit in the +second part of his paltry poetry,[156] but if I begin with wooing, I'll +end with wedding, and therefore, good clerk, let me have it done with +all speed; for, I promise you, I am very sharp-set. + +CLERK. +Faith, you may be asked i' the church on Sunday at morning prayer, but +Sir John cannot 'tend[157] to do it at evening prayer, for there comes a +company of players to the town on Sunday i' the afternoon, and Sir John +is so good a fellow that I know he'll scarce leave their company to say +evening prayer; for, though I say it, he's a very painful man, and takes +so great delight in that faculty, that he'll take as great pain about +building of a stage or so, as the basest fellow among them. + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, if he have so lawful an excuse, I am content to defer it one day +the longer; and, landlord, I hope you and your son Peter will make bold +with us, and trouble us. + +PLOD-ALL. +Nay, William, we would be loth to trouble you; but you shall have our +company there. + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, you shall be very heartily welcome, and we will have good merry +rogues there, that will make you laugh till you burst. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Why, William, what company do you mean to have? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, first and foremost, there will be an honest Dutch cobbler, that +will sing _I will noe meare to Burgaine[158] go_, the best that ever you +heard. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +What, must a cobbler be your chief guest? Why, he's a base fellow. + +WILL CRICKET. +A base fellow! You may be ashamed to say so, for he's an honest fellow +and a good fellow; and he begins to carry the very badge of +good-fellowship upon his nose, that I do not doubt but in time he will +prove as good a cup-companion as Robin Goodfellow himself. Ay, and he's +a tall fellow, and a man of his hands too, for, I'll tell you what--tie +him to the bull-ring, and for a bag-pudding, a custard, a cheesecake, a +hog's cheek, or a calf's head, turn any man i' the town to him, and if +he do not prove himself as tall a man as he, let blind Hugh bewitch him, +and turn his body into a barrel of strong ale, and let his nose be the +spigot, his mouth the faucet, and his tongue a plug for the bunghole. +And then there will be Robin Goodfellow, as good a drunken rogue as +lives, and Tom Shoemaker; and I hope you will not deny that he's an +honest man, for he was constable o' the town; and a number of other +honest rascals which, though they are grown bankrouts, and live at the +reversion of other men's tables, yet, thanks be to God, they have a +penny amongst them at all times at their need. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Nay, if Robin Goodfellow be there, you shall be sure to have our +company; for he's one that we hear very well of, and my son here has +some occasion to use him, and therefore, if we may know when 'tis, +we'll make bold to trouble you. + +WILL CRICKET. +Yes, I'll send you word. + +PLOD-ALL. +Why then farewell, till we hear from you. + + [_Exeunt_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_. + +WILL CRICKET. +Well, clerk, you'll see this matter bravely performed; let it be +done as it should be. + +CLERK. +I'll warrant ye; fear it not. + +WILL CRICKET. +Why, then, go you to Sir John, and I'll to my wench, and bid her give +her maidenhead warning to prepare itself; for the destruction of it is +at hand. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ LELIA _sola_. + +LELIA. +How love and fortune both with eager mood, +Like greedy hounds, do hunt my tired heart, +Rous'd forth the thickets of my wonted joys! +And Cupid winds his shrill-note buglehorn, +For joy my silly heart so near is spent: +Desire, that eager cur, pursues the chase, +And fortune rides amain unto the fall; +Now sorrow sings, and mourning bears a part, +Playing harsh descant on my yielding heart. + + _Enter_ NURSE. + +Nurse, what news? + +NURSE. +Faith, a whole sackful of news. You love Sophos, and Sophos loves you, +and Peter Plod-all loves you, and you love not him, and you love not +Master Churms, and he loves you; and so, here's love and no love, and I +love and I love not, and I cannot tell what; but of all and of all +Master Churms must be the man you must love. + +LELIA. +Nay, first I'll mount me on the winged wind, +And fly for succour to the furthest Ind. +Must I love Master Churms? + +NURSE. +Faith, you must, and you must not. + +LELIA. +As how, I pray thee? + +NURSE. +Marry, I have commendations to you. + +LELIA. +From whom? + +NURSE. +From your brother Fortunatus. + +LELIA. +My brother Fortunatus! + +NURSE. +No, from Sophos. + +LELIA. +From my love? + +NURSE. +No, from neither. + +LELIA. +From neither? + +NURSE. +Yes, from both. + +LELIA. +Prythee, leave thy foolery, and let me know thy news. + +NURSE. +Your brother Fortunatus and your love to-morrow night will meet you by +the forest-side, there to confer about I know not what: but it is like +that Sophos will make you of his privy council, before you come again. + +LELIA. +Is Fortunatus then returned from the wars? + +NURSE. +He is with Sophos every day: but in any case you must not let your +father know; for he hath sworn he will not be descried, until he have +effected your desires; for he swaggers and swears out of all cry, that +he will venture all, + + Both fame and blood, and limb and life, + But Lelia shall be Sophos' wedded wife. + +LELIA. +Alas! nurse, my father's jealous brain +Doth scarce allow me once a month to go +Beyond the compass of his watchful eyes, +Nor once afford me any conference +With any man, except with Master Churms, +Whose crafty brain beguiles my father so, +That he reposeth trust in none but him: +And though he seeks for favour at my hands, +He takes his mark amiss, and shoots awry; +For I had rather see the devil himself +Than Churms the lawyer. Therefore +How I should meet them by the forest-side +I cannot possibly devise. + +NURSE. +And Master Churms must be the man must work the means: you must this +night send for him; make him believe you love him mightily; tell him you +have a secret friend dwells far away beyond the forest, to whom, if he +can secretly convey you from your father, tell him, you will love him +better than ever God loved him: and when you come to the place +appointed, let them alone to discharge the knave of clubs: and that you +must not fail, here receive this ring, which Fortunatus sent you for a +token, that this is the plot that you must prosecute; and this from +Sophos, as his true love's pledge. + +LELIA. +This ring my brother sent, I know right well: +But this my true love's pledge I more esteem +Than all the golden mines the solid earth contains-- +And see, in happy time, here comes Master Churms. + + _Enter_ CHURMS. + +Now love and fortune both conspire, +And sort their drifts to compass my desire. +Master Churms, y'are well met; I am glad to see you. + +CHURMS. +And I as glad to see fair Lelia, +As ever Paris was to see his dear; +For whom so many Trojans' blood was spilt: +Nor think I would do less than spend my dearest blood +To gain fair Lelia's love, although by loss of life. + +NURSE. +'Faith, mistress, he speaks like a gentleman. Let me persuade you; be +not hard-hearted. Sophos? Why, what's he? If he had loved you but half +so well, he would ha' come through stone walls, but he would have come +to you ere this. + +LELIA. +I must confess, I once lov'd Sophos well; +But now I cannot love him, whom +All the world knows to be a dissembler. + +CHURMS. +Ere I would wrong my love with one day's absence, +I would pass the boiling Hellespont, +As once Leander did for Hero's love, +Or undertake a greater task than that, +Ere I would be disloyal to my love. +And if that Lelia give her free consent, +That both our loves may sympathise in one, +My hand, my heart, my love, my life, and all, +Shall ever tend on Lelia's fair command. + +LELIA. +Master Churms, +Methinks 'tis strange you should make such a motion: +Say, I should yield and grant you love, +When most you did expect a sunshine day, +My father's will would mar your hop'd-for hay; +And when you thought to reap the fruits of love, +His hard constraint would blast it in the bloom: +For he so doats on Peter Plod-all's pelf, +That none but he forsooth must be the man: +And I will rather match myself +Unto a groom of Pluto's grisly den, +Than unto such a silly golden ass. + +CHURMS. +Bravely resolved, i' faith! + +LELIA. +But, to be short-- +I have a secret friend, that dwells from hence +Some two days' journey, that's the most; +And if you can, as well I know you may, +Convey me thither secretly-- +For company I desire no other than your own-- +Here take my hand: +That once perform'd, my heart is next. + +CHURMS. +If on th'adventure all the dangers lay, +That Europe or the western world affords; +Were it to combat Cerberus himself, +Or scale the brazen walls of Pluto's court, +When as there is so fair a prize propos'd; +If I shrink back, or leave it unperform'd, +Let the world canonise me for a coward: +Appoint the time, and leave the rest to me. + +LELIA. +When night's black mantle overspreads the sky, +And day's bright lamp is drenched in the west-- +To-morrow night I think the fittest time, +That silent shade[s] may give us[159] safe convoy +Unto our wished hopes, unseen of living eye. + +CHURMS. +And at that time I will not fail +In that, or ought may make for our avail. + +NURSE. +But what if Sophos should meet you by the forest-side, and encounter +you with his single rapier? + +CHURMS. +Sophos? a hop of my thumb! +A wretch, a wretch! Should Sophos meet +Us there accompani'd with some champion +With whom 'twere any credit to encounter, +Were he as stout as Hercules himself, +Then would I buckle with them hand to hand, +And bandy blows, as thick as hailstones fall, +And carry Lelia away in spite of all their force. +What? love will make cowards fight-- +Much more a man of my resolution. + +LELIA. +And on your resolution I'll depend. +Until to-morrow at th'appointed time, +When I look for you: till when I leave you, +And go make preparation for our journey. + +CHURMS. +Farewell, fair love, until we meet again. Why so: did I not tell you she +would be glad to run away with me at length? Why, this falls out, e'en +as a man would say, thus I would have it. But now I must go cast about +for some money too. Let me see, I have outlawed three or four of Gripe's +debtors; and I have the bonds in mine own hands. The sum that is due to +him is some two or three hundred pounds. Well, I'll to them; if I can +get but one half, I'll deliver them their bonds, and leave the other +half to their own consciences: and so I shall be sure to get money to +bear charges. When all fails, well fare a good wit! But soft; no more of +that. Here comes Master Gripe. + + _Enter_ GRIPE. + +GRIPE. +What, Master Churms? what, all alone? How fares your body? + +CHURMS. +Faith, sir, reasonable well: I am e'en walking here to take the +fresh air. + +GRIPE. +'Tis very wholesome, this fair weather. But, Master Churms, how like you +my daughter? Can you do any good on her? Will she be ruled yet? How +stands she affected to Peter Plod-all? + +CHURMS. +O, very well, sir; I have made her very conformable. O, let me alone to +persuade a woman. I hope you shall see her married within this week at +most,--(_Aside_) I mean to myself. + +GRIPE. +Master Churms, I am so exceedingly beholding to you, I cannot tell how I +shall requite your kindness. But, i' the meantime, here's a brace of +angels for you to drink for your pains. This news hath e'en lightened my +heart. O sir, my neighbour Plod-all is very wealthy. Come, Master +Churms, you shall go home with me: we'll have good cheer, and be merry +for this to-night, i' faith. + +CHURMS. +Well, let them laugh that win. [_Aside. Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ PEG _and her_ GRANAM. + +PEG. +Granam, give me but two crowns of red gold, and I'll give you twopence +of white silver, if Robin the devil be not a water-witch. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Marry, Jesus bless us! why, prythee? + +PEG. +Marry, I'll tell you why. Upon the morrow after the blessed new year, I +came trip, trip, trip, over the market hill, holding up my petticoat to +the calves of my legs, to show my fine coloured stockings, and how +finely I could foot it in a pair of new corked shoes I had bought; and +there I spied this Monsieur Muffe lie gaping up into the skies, to know +how many maids would be with child in the town all the year after. O, +'tis a base vexation slave! How the country talks of the large-ribbed +varlet! + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Marry, out upon him. What a Friday-faced slave it is: I think in my +conscience, his face never keeps holiday. + +PEG. +Why, his face can never be at quiet. He has such a choleric nose, I +durst ha' sworn by my maidenhead (God forgive me, that I should take +such an oath), that if William had had such a nose, I would never ha' +loved him. + + _Enter_ WILLIAM CRICKET. + +WILL CRICKET. +What a talking is here of noses? Come, Peg, we are toward marriage; let +us talk of that may do us good. Granam, what will you give us toward +housekeeping? + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Why, William, we are talking of Robin Goodfellow. What think you of him? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, I say, he looks like a tankard-bearer that dwells in Petticoat +Lane at the sign of the Mermaid; and I swear by the blood of my +codpiece, and I were a woman, I would lug off his lave[160] ears, or +run him to death with a spit. And, for his face, I think 'tis pity there +is not a law made, that it should be felony to name it in any other +places than in bawdy-houses. But, Granam, what will you give us? + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Marry, I will give Peg a pot and a pan, two platters, a dish and a +spoon, a dog and a cat. I trow, she'll prove a good huswife, and love +her husband well too. + +WILL CRICKET. +If she love me, I'll love her. I' faith, my sweet honeycomb, I'll love +thee _A per se A_. We must be asked in church next Sunday; and we'll be +married presently. + +PEG. +I' faith, William, we'll have a merry day on't. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +That we will, i' faith, Peg; we'll have a whole noise of fiddlers there. +Come, Peg, let's hie us home; we'll make a bag-pudding to supper, and +William shall go and sup with us. + +WILL CRICKET. +Come on, i' faith. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ FORTUNATUS _and_ SOPHOS. + +FORTUNATUS. +Why, how now, Sophos? all _amort_? still languishing in love? +Will not the presence of thy friend prevail, +Nor hope expel these sullen fits? +Cannot mirth wring if but a forged smile +From those sad drooping looks of thine? +Rely on hope, whose hap will lead thee right +To her, whom thou dost call thy heart's delight: +Look cheerly, man; the time is near at hand, +That Hymen, mounted on a snow-white coach, +Shall tend on Sophos and his lovely bride. + +SOPHOS. +'Tis impossible: her father, man, her father-- +He's all for Peter Plod-all. + +FORTUNATUS. +Should I but see that Plod-all offer love, +This sword should pierce the peasant's breast, +And chase his soul from his accursed corpse +By an unwonted way unto the grisly lake. +But now th'appointed time is near, +That Churms should come with his supposed love: +Then sit we down under these leafy shades, +And wait the time of Lelia's wish'd approach. + + [_They sit down_. + +SOPHOS. +Ay, here I'll wait for Lelia's wish'd approach; +More wish'd to me than is a calm at sea[161] +To shipwreck'd souls, when great god Neptune frowns. +Though sad despair hath almost drown'd my hopes, +Yet would I pass the burning vaults of Ork[162], +As erst did Hercules to fetch his love, +If I might meet my love upon the strond, +And but enjoy her love one minute of an hour. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW. + +But stay; what man or devil, or hellish fiend comes here, +Transformed in this ugly, uncouth shape? + +FORTUNATUS. +O, peace a while; you shall see good sport anon. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Now I am clothed in this hellish shape, +If I could meet with Sophos in these woods, +O, he would take me for the devil himself: +I should ha' good laughing, beside the forty +Shillings Peter Plod-all has given me; and if +I get no more, I'm sure of that. But soft; +Now I must try my cunning, for here he sits.-- +The high commander of the damned souls, +Great Dis, the duke of devils, and prince of Limbo lake, +High regent of Acheron, Styx, and Phlegeton, +By strict command from Pluto, hell's great monarch, +And fair Proserpina, the queen of hell, +By full consent of all the damned hags, +And all the fiends that keep the Stygian plains, +Hath sent me here from depth of underground +To summon thee to appear at Pluto's court. + +FORTUNATUS. +A man or devil, or whatsoe'er thou art, +I'll try if blows will drive thee down to hell: +Belike, thou art the devil's parator, +The basest officer that lives in hell; +For such thy words import thee for to be. +'Tis pity you should come so far without a fee; +And because I know money goes low with Sophos, +I'll pay you your fees: [_He beats him_. +Take that and that, and that, upon thee. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O good sir, I beseech you; I'll do anything. + +FORTUNATUS. +Then down to hell; for sure thou art a devil. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O, hold your hands; I am not a devil, by my troth. + +FORTUNATUS. +Zounds, dost thou cross me? I say thou art a devil. + [_Beats him again_. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O Lord! sir, save my life, and I'll say as you say, +Or anything else you'll ha' me do. + +FORTUNATUS. +Then stand up, +And make a preachment of thy pedigree, +And how at first thou learn'dst this devilish trade: +Up, I say. [_Beats him_. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +O, I will, sir: although in some places [_Stands upon a stool_. +I bear the title of a scurvy gentleman, +By birth I am a boat-wright's son of Hull, +My father got me of a refus'd hag, +Under the old ruins of Booby's barn; +Who, as she liv'd, at length she likewise died, +And for her good deeds went unto the devil: +But, hell not wont to harbour such a guest, +Her fellow-fiends do daily make complaint +Unto grim Pluto and his lady queen +Of her unruly misbehaviour; +Entreating that a passport might be drawn +For her to wander till the day of doom +On earth again, to vex the minds of men, +And swore she was the fittest fiend in hell +To drive men to desperation. +To this intent her passport straight was drawn, +And in a whirlwind forth of hell she came: +O'er hills she hurls, and scours along the plains; +The trees flew up by th'roots, the earth did quake for fear; +The houses tumble down; she plays the devil and all: +At length, not finding any one so fit +To effect her devilish charge as I, +She comes to me, as to her only child, +And me her instrument on earth she made: +And by her means I learn'd that devilish trade. + +SOPHOS. +O monstrous villain! + +FORTUNATUS. +But tell me, what's thy course of life, +And how thou shift'st for maintenance in the world? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Faith, sir, I am in a manner a promoter, +Or (more fitly term'd) a promoting knave; +I creep into the presence of great men, +And, under colour of their friendships, +Effect such wonders in the world, +That babes will curse me that are yet unborn. +Of the best men I raise a common fame, +And honest women rob of their good name: +Thus daily tumbling in comes all my thrift; +That I get best, is got but by a shift: +But the chief course of all my life +Is to set discord betwixt man and wife. + +FORTUNATUS. +Out upon thee, cannibal! [_He beats him_. +Dost thou think thou shalt ever come to heaven? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +I little hope for heav'n or heavenly bliss: +But if in hell doth any place remain +Of more esteem than is another room, +I hope, as guerdon for my just desert, +To have it for my detestable acts. + +FORTUNATUS. +Were't not thy tongue condemns thy guilty soul, +I could not think that on this living earth +Did breathe a villain more audacious. +Go, get thee gone, and come not in my walk; [_Beats him_. +For, if thou dost, thou com'st unto thy woe. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +The devil himself was never conjur'd so. + [_Exit_ ROBIN. + +SOPHOS. +Sure, he's no man, but an incarnate devil, +Whose ugly shape bewrays his monstrous mind. + +FORTUNATUS. +And if he be a devil, I am sure he's gone: +But Churms the lawyer will be here anon, +And with him comes my sister Lelia; +'Tis he I am sure you look for. + +SOPHOS. +Nay, she it is that I expect so long. + +FORTUNATUS. +Then sit we down, until we hear more news, +This but a prologue to our play ensues. + + [_They sit down_. + + _Enter_ CHURMS _and_ LELIA. + +But see where Churms and Lelia comes along: +He walks as stately as the great baboon. +Zounds, he looks as though his mother were a midwife. + +SOPHOS. +Now, gentle Jove, great monarch of the world, +Grant good success unto my wand'ring hopes. + +CHURMS. +Now Phoebus' silver eye is drench'd in western deep, +And Luna 'gins to show her splendent rays, +And all the harmless quiristers of woods +Do take repose, save only Philomel; +Whose heavy tunes do evermore record +With mournful lays the losses of her love. +Thus far, fair love, we pass in secret sort +Beyond the compass of thy father's bounds, +Whilst he on down-soft bed securely sleeps, +And not so much as dreams of our depart +The dangers pass'd, now think on nought but love; +I'll be thy dear, be thou my heart's delight. + +SOPHOS. +Nay, first I'll send thy soul to coal-black night. [_Aside_.] + +CHURMS. +Thou promis'dst love, now seal it with a kiss. + +FORTUNATUS. +Nay, soft, sir; your mark is at the fairest. +Forswear her love, and seal it with a kiss +Upon the burnish'd splendour of this blade, +Or it shall rip the entrails of thy peasant heart. + +SOPHOS. +Nay, let me do it, that's my part. + +CHURMS. +You wrong me much, to rob me of my love. + +SOPHOS. +Avaunt, base braggard! Lelia's mine. + +CHURMS. +She lately promis'd love to me. + +FORTUNATUS. +Peace, night-raven, peace! I'll end this controversy. +Come, Lelia, stand between them both, +As equal judge to end this strife: +Say which of these shall have thee to his wife. +I can devise no better way than this. +Now choose thy love, and greet him with a kiss. + +LELIA. +My choice is made, and here it is. + [_She kisses Sophos_. + +SOPHOS. +See here the mirror of true constancy, +Whose steadfast love deserves a prince's worth. + +LELIA. +Master Churms, are you not well? +I must confess I would have chosen you, +But that I ne'er beheld your legs till now; +Trust me, I never look'd so low before. + +CHURMS. +I know, you use to look aloft. + +LELIA. +Yet not so high as your crown. + +CHURMS. +What, if you had? + +LELIA. +Faith, I should ha' spied but a calf's head. + +CHURMS. +Zounds, cosen'd of the wench, and scoff'd at too! +'Tis intolerable; and shall I lose her thus? +How it mads me, that I brought not my sword +And buckler with me. + +FORTUNATUS. +What, are you in your sword-and-buckler terms? +I'll put you out of that humour. +There, Lelia sends you that by me, +And that, to recompense your love's desires; +And that, as payment for your well-earn'd hire. [_Beats him_. +Go, get thee gone, and boast of Lelia's love. + +CHURMS. +Where'er I go, I'll leave with her my curse, +And rail on you with speeches vild. + +FORTUNATUS. +A crafty knave was never so beguil'd. +Now Sophos' hopes have had their lucky haps, +And he enjoys the presence of his love: +My vow's perform'd, and I am full reveng'd +Upon this hell-bred race of cursed imps. +Now rests nought but my father's free consent, +To knit the knot that time can ne'er untwist, +And that, as this, I likewise will perform. +No sooner shall Aurora's pearled dew +O'erspread the mantled earth with silver drops, +And Phoebus bless the orient with a blush, +To chase black night to her deformed cell, +But I'll repair unto my father's house, +And never cease with my enticing words, +To work his will to knit this Gordian knot: +Till when I'll leave you to your am'rous chat. +Dear friend, adieu; fair sister, too, farewell: +Betake yourselves unto some secret place, +Until you hear from me how things fall out. + [_Exit_ FORTUNATUS. + +SOPHOS. +We both do wish a fortunate good-night. + +LELIA. +And pray the gods to guide thy steps aright. + +SOPHOS. +Now come, fair Lelia, let's betake ourselves +Unto a little hermitage hereby, +And there to live obscured from the world, +Till fates and fortune call us thence away, +To see the sunshine of our nuptial day. +See how the twinkling stars do hide their borrow'd shine, +As half-asham'd their lustre is so stain'd +By Lelia's beauteous eyes, that shine more bright +Than twinkling stars do in a winter's night-- +In such a night did Paris win his love. + +LELIA. +In such a night Aeneas prov'd unkind. + +SOPHOS. +In such a night did Troilus court his dear. + +LELIA. +In such a night fair Phillis was betray'd. + +SOPHOS. +I'll prove as true as ever Troilus was. + +LELIA. +And I as constant as Penelope. + +SOPHOS. +Then let us solace, and in love's delight +And sweet embracings spend the livelong night; +And whilst love mounts her on her wanton wings, +Let descant run on music's silver strings. + + [_Exeunt_. + + A SONG. + + 1. + _Old Triton must forsake his dear, + The lark doth chant her cheerful lay; + Aurora smiles with merry cheer, + To welcome in a happy day_. + + 2. + _The beasts do skip, + The sweet birds sing; + The wood-nymphs dance, + The echoes ring_. + + 3. + _The hollow caves with joy resounds, + And pleasure ev'rywhere abounds; + The Graces, linking hand in hand, + In love have knit a glorious band_. + + _Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW, _old_ PLOD-ALL, _and his son_ PETER. + +PLOD-ALL. +Hear you, Master Goodfellow, how have you sped? + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Ha' you played the devil bravely, and feared the scholar out on's wits? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +A pox of the scholar! + +PLOD-ALL. +Nay, hark you: I sent you vorty shillings, and you shall have the cheese +I promised you too. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +A plague of the vorty shillings, and the cheese too! + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Hear you, will you give me the powder you told me of? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +How you vex me! Powder, quotha? zounds, I have been powdered. + +PLOD-ALL. +Son, I doubt he will prove a crafty knave, and cosen us of our money. +We'll go to Master Justice, and complain on him, and get him whipped out +o' the country for a coneycatcher. + +PETER PLOD-ALL. +Ay, or have his ears nailed to the pillory. Come, let's go. + + [_Exeunt_ PLOD-ALL _and his son_. + + _Enter_ CHURMS. + +CHURMS. +Fellow Robin, what news? how goes the world? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Faith, the world goes, I cannot tell how. How sped you with your wench? + +CHURMS. +I would the wench were at the devil! A plague upon't, I never say my +prayers; and that makes me have such ill-luck. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +I think the scholar be hunted with some demi-devil. + +CHURMS. +Why, didst thou fray him? + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Fray him? a vengeance on't! all our shifting knavery's known; we are +counted very vagrants. Zounds, I am afraid of every officer for +whipping. + +CHURMS. +We are horribly haunted: our behaviour is so beastly, that we are grown +loathsome; our craft gets us nought but knocks. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +What course shall we take now? + +CHURMS. +Faith, I cannot tell: let's e'en run our country; for here's no staying +for us. + +ROBIN GOODFELLOW. +Faith, agreed: let's go into some place where we are not known, and +there set up the art of knavery with the second edition. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ GRIPE _solus_. + +GRIPE. +Every one tells me I look better than I was wont: my heart's lightened, +and my spirits are revived. Why, methinks I am e'en young again. It joys +my heart that this same peevish girl, my daughter, will be ruled at the +last yet; but I shall never be able to make Master Churms amends for the +great pains he hath taken. + + _Enter_ NURSE. + +NURSE. +Master, now out upon's. Well-a-day! we are all undone. + +GRIPE. +Undone! what sudden accident hath chanced? Speak! what's the matter? + +NURSE. +Alas! that ever I was born! My mistress and Master Churms are run away +together. + +GRIPE. +'Tis not possible; ne'er tell me: I dare trust Master Churms with a +greater matter than that. + +NURSE. +Faith, you must trust him, whether you will or no; for he's gone. + + _Enter_ WILL CRICKET. + +WILL CRICKET. +Master Gripe, I was coming to desire that I might have your absence at +my wedding; for I hear say you are very liberal grown o' late. For I +spake with three or four of your debtors this morning, that ought you +hundred pounds a piece; and they told me that you sent Master Churms to +them, and took of some ten pounds, and of some twenty, and delivered +them their bonds, and bad them pay the rest when they were able. + +GRIPE. +I am undone, I am robbed! My daughter! my money! Which way are they +gone? + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, sir, it's all to nothing, but your daughter and Master Churms are +gone both one way. Marry, your money flies, some one way, and some +another; and therefore 'tis but a folly to make hue and cry after it. + +GRIPE. +Follow them, make hue and cry after them. My daughter! my money! all's +gone! what shall I do? + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, if you will be ruled by me, I'll tell you what you shall do. Mark +what I say; for I'll teach you the way to come to heaven, if you stumble +not--give all you have to the poor but one single penny, and with that +penny buy you a good strong halter; and when you ha' done so, come to +me, and I'll tell you what you shall do with it. [_Aside_. + +GRIPE. +Bring me my daughter: that Churms, that villain! I'll tear him with my +teeth. + +NURSE. +Master, nay, pray you, do not run mad: I'll tell you good news; my young +Master Fortunatus is come home: and see where he comes. + + _Enter_ FORTUNATUS. + +GRIPE. +If thou hadst said Lelia, it had been something. + +FORTUNATUS. +Thus Fortunatus greets his father, +And craves his blessing on his bended knee. + +GRIPE. +Ay, here's my son; but Lelia she'll not come. +Good Fortunatus, rise: wilt thou shed tears, +And help thy father moan? +If so, say ay; if not, good son, begone. + +FORTUNATUS. +What moves my father to these uncouth fits? + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, sir, he's almost mad; I think he cannot tell you: and therefore +I--presuming, sir, that my wit is something better than his at this +time--do you mark, sir?--out of the profound circumambulation of my +supernatural wit, sir--do you understand?--will tell you the whole +superfluity of the matter, sir. Your sister Lelia, sir, you know, is a +woman, as another woman is, sir. + +FORTUNATUS. +Well, and what of that? + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, nothing, sir; but she fell in love with one Sophos, a very proper, +wise young man, sir. Now, sir, your father would not let her have him, +sir; but would have married her to one, sir, that would have fed her +with nothing but barley bag-puddings and fat bacon. Now, sir, to tell +you the truth, the fool, ye know, has fortune to land; but Mistress +Lelia's mouth doth not hang for that kind of diet. + +FORTUNATUS. +And how then? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry then, there was a certain cracking, cogging, pettifogging, +butter-milk slave, sir, one Churms, sir, that is the very quintessence +of all the knaves in the bunch: and if the best man of all his kin had +been but so good as a yeoman's son, he should have been a marked knave +by letters patents. And he, sir, comes me sneaking, and cosens them both +of their wench, and is run away with her. And, sir, belike, he has +cosened your father here of a great deal of his money too. + +NURSE. +Sir, your father did trust him but too much; but I always thought he +would prove a crafty knave. + +GRIPE. +My trust's betray'd, my joy's exil'd: +Grief kills the heart, my hope's beguil'd. + +FORTUNATUS. +Where golden gain doth blear a father's eyes, +That precious pearl, fetch'd from Parnassus' mount, +Is counted refuse, worse than bull'on brass; +Both joys and hopes hang of a silly twine, +That still is subject unto flitting time, +That turns joy into grief, and hope to sad despair, +And ends his days in wretched worldly care. +Were I the richest monarch under heaven, +And had one daughter thrice as fair +As was the Grecian Menelaus' wife, +Ere I would match her to an untaught swain, +Though one whose wealth exceeded Croesus' store, +Herself should choose, and I applaud her choice +Of one more poor than ever Sophos was, +Were his deserts but equal unto his. +If I might speak without offence, +You were to blame to hinder Lelia's choice; +As she in nature's graces doth excel, +So doth Minerva grace him full as well. + +NURSE. +Now, by cock and pie, you never spake a truer word in your life. He's a +very kind gentleman, for, last time he was at our house, he gave me +three-pence. + +WILL CRICKET. +O, nobly spoken: God send Peg to prove as wise a woman as her mother, +and then we shall be sure to have wise children. Nay, if he be so +liberal, old grandsire, you shall give him the goodwill of your +daughter. + +GRIPE. +She is not mine, I have no daughter now: +That I should say--I had, thence comes my grief. +My care of Lelia pass'd a father's love; +My love of Lelia makes my loss the more; +My loss of Lelia drowns my heart in woe; +My heart's woe makes this life a living death: +Care, love, loss, heart's woe, living death, +Join all in one to stop this vital breath. +Curs'd be the time I gap'd for golden gain, +I curse the time I cross'd her in her choice; +Her choice was virtuous, but my will was base: +I sought to grace her from the Indian mines, +But she sought honour from the starry mount. +What frantic fit possess'd my foolish brain? +What furious fancy fired so my heart, +To hate fair virtue, and to scorn desert? + +FORTUNATUS. +Then, father, give desert his due; +Let nature's graces and fair virtue's gifts +One sympathy and happy consort make +'Twixt Sophos' and my sister Lelia's love: +Conjoin their hands, whose hearts have long been one. +And so conclude a happy union. + +GRIPE. +Now 'tis too late: +What fates decree can never be recall'd; +Her luckless love is fall'n to Churms his lot, +And he usurps fair Lelia's nuptial bed. + +FORTUNATUS. +That cannot be; fear of pursuit +Must needs prolong his nuptial rights: +But if you give your full consent, +That Sophos may enjoy his long-wish'd love, +And have fair Lelia to his lovely bride, +I'll follow Churms whate'er betide; +I'll be as swift as is the light-foot roe, +And overtake him ere his journey's end, +And bring fair Lelia back unto my friend. + +GRIPE. +Ay, here's my hand; I do consent, +And think her happy in her happy choice; +Yet half forejudge my hopes will be deceiv'd. +But, Fortunatus, I must needs commend +Thy constant mind thou bear'st unto thy friend: +The after-ages, wond'ring at the same, +Shall say 't's a deed deserveth lasting fame. + +FORTUNATUS. +Then rest you here, till I return again; +I'll go to Sophos, ere I go along, +And bring him here to keep you company. +Perhaps he hath some skill in hidden arts, +Of planets' course, or secret magic spells, +To know where Lelia and that fox lies hid, +Whose craft so cunningly convey'd her hence. + [_Exit_ FORTUNATUS. + +GRIPE. +Ay, here I'll rest an hour or twain, +Till Fortunatus do return again. + +WILL CRICKET. +Faith, sir, this same Churms is a very scurvy lawyer; for once I put a +case to him, and methought his law was not worth a pudding. + +GRIPE. +Why, what was your case? + +WILL CRICKET. +Marry, sir, my case was a goose's case; for my dog wearied[163] my +neighbour's sow, and the sow died. + +NURSE. +And he sued you upon wilful murder? + +WILL CRICKET. +No; but he went to law with me, and would make me either pay for his +sow, or hang my dog. Now, sir, to the same returna[164] I went. + +NURSE. +To beg a pardon for your dog? + +WILL CRICKET. +No; but to have some of his wit for my money. I gave him his fee, and +promised him a goose beside for his counsel. Now, sir, his counsel was +to deny all was asked me, and to crave a longer time to answer, though I +knew the case was plain. So, sir, I take his counsel; and always when he +sends to me for his goose, I deny it, and crave a longer time to answer. + +NURSE. +And so the case was yours, and the goose was his: and so it came to be a +goose's case. + +WILL CRICKET. +True: but now we are talking of geese, see where Peg and my granam +Midnight comes. + + _Enter_ MOTHER MIDNIGHT _and_ PEG. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Come, Peg, bestir your stumps, make thyself smug, wench; thou must be +married to-morrow: let's go seek out thy sweetheart, to prepare all +things in readiness. + +PEG. +Why, granam, look where he is. + +WILL CRICKET. +Ha, my sweet tralilly: I thought thou couldst spy me amongst a hundred +honest men. A man may see that love will creep where it cannot go. Ha, +my sweet and too sweet: shall I say the tother sweet? + +PEG. +Ay, say it and spare not. + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, I will not say it: I will sing it. + + _Thou art mine own sweetheart, + From thee I'll never depart; + Thou art my Ciperlillie, + And I thy Trangdidowne-dilly: + And sing, Hey ding a ding ding, + And do the tother thing: + And when 'tis done, not miss + To give my wench a kiss: + And then dance_, Canst thou not hit it? + _Ho, brave William Cricket_! + +How like you this, granam? + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Marry, God's benison light o' thy good heart for't. Ha, that I were +young again! i' faith, I was an old doer at these love-songs when I was +a girl. + +NURSE. +Now, by the Mary matins, Peg, thou hast got the merriest wooer in all +womanshire. + +PEG. +Faith, I am none of those that love nothing but _tum, dum, diddle_. If +he had not been a merry shaver, I would never have had him. + +WILL CRICKET. + + But come, my nimble lass, + Let all these matters pass, + And in a bouncing bravation, + Let's talk of our copulation. + +What good cheer shall we have to-morrow? Old grandsire Thickskin, you +that sit there as melancholy as a mantle-tree, what will you give us +toward this merry meeting? + +GRIPE. +Marry, because you told me a merry goose case, I'll bestow a fat goose +on ye, and God give you good luck. + +MOTHER MIDNIGHT. +Marry, well-said, old master: e'en God give them joy indeed; for, by my +vay, they are a good, sweet young couple. + +WILL CRICKET. +Granam, stand out o' the way; for here come gentlefolk will run o'er +you else. + + _Enter_ FORTUNATUS, SOPHOS, _and_ LELIA. + +NURSE. +Master, here comes your son again. + +GRIPE. +Is Fortunatus there? Welcome, Fortunatus: Where's Sophos? + +FORTUNATUS. +Here Sophos is, as much o'erworn with love, +As you with grief for loss of Lelia. + +SOPHOS. +And ten times more, if it be possible: +The love of Lelia is to me more dear, +Than is a kingdom or the richest crown +That e'er adorn'd the temples of a king. + +GRIPE. +Thou welcome, Sophos--thrice more welcome now, +Than any man on earth--to me or mine: +It is not now with me as late it was; +I low'r'd at learning, and at virtue spurn'd: +But now my heart and mind, and all, is turn'd. +Were Lelia here, I soon would knit the knot +'Twixt her and thee, that time could ne'er untie, +Till fatal sisters victory had won, +And that your glass of life were quite outrun. + +WILL CRICKET. +Zounds, I think he be spurblind; why, Lelia stands hard by him. + +LELIA. +And Lelia here falls prostrate on her knee, +And craves a pardon for her late offence. + +GRIPE. +What, Lelia my daughter? Stand up, wench: +Why, now my joy is full; +My heart is lighten'd of all sad annoy: +Now fare well, grief, and welcome home, my joy.-- +Here, Sophos, take thy Lelia's hand: +Great God of heav'n your hearts combine, +In virtue's lore to raise a happy line. + +SOPHOS. +Now Phaeton hath check'd his fiery steeds, +And quench'd his burning beams that late were wont +To melt my waxen wings, when as I soar'd aloft; +And lovely Venus smiles with fair aspect +Upon the spring-time of our sacred love. +Thou great commander of the circled orbs, +Grant that this league of lasting amity +May lie recorded by eternity. + +LELIA. +Then wish'd content knit up our nuptial right; +And future joys our former griefs requite. + +WILL CRICKET. +Nay, and you be good at that, I'll tell you what we'll do: Peg and I +must be married to-morrow; and if you will, we'll go all to the church +together, and so save Sir John a labour. + +ALL. +Agreed. + +FORTUNATUS. +Then march along, and let's be gone, +To solemnise two marriages in one. + + [_Exeunt omnes_. + + +FINIS. + + + + + + +LINGUA. + + + + +_EDITIONS_. + + +(1.) _Lingva: Or, The Combat of the Tongue, And the fiue Senses for +Superiority. A pleasant Comoedie, At London Printed by G. Eld, for Simon +Waterson_, 1607, 4to[165]. + +(2.) _Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Senses, for +Superiority. A pleasant Comoedie. London, Printed by N. Okes, for Simon +Waterson_, [circa 1610], 4to. + +(3.) _Lingua; or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Senses, for +Superiority. A pleasant Comoedie. London, Printed by Nicholas Okes, for +Simon Waterson_, 1617, 4to. + +(4.) _Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Sences, for +Superiority. A pleasant Comedy. London, Printed by Nicholas Okes, for +Simon Waterson_, 1622, 4to. + +(5.) _Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Sences, for +Superioritie. A pleasant Comoedie. London, Printed by Augustine +Matthewes, for Simon Waterson_, 1632, 4to. + +(6.) _Lingua: or, The Combat of the Tongue, and the five Senses, for +Superiority. A pleasant Comoedy. London, Printed for Simon Miller, at +the Starre in St Paul's Churchyard_, 1657, 8vo. + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +[Of the author of "Lingua" nothing is known. By some of our earlier +bibliographers the play was ascribed, without the slightest authority, +to Anthony Brewer. + +In the former edition it was pointed out that Winstanley gave to the +same writer (among other pieces which he probably did _not_ write) +"Pathomachia; or, Love's Loadstone," published in 1630, upon which +point Reed observes:--"Whoever was the real author of 'Lingua,' there +is some plausibility in assigning to him also 'Pathomachia; or, Love's +Lodestone,' for they are certainly written upon the same plan, and very +much in the same stile, although the former is considerably superior +to the latter, both in design and execution. The first scene of +'Pathomachia' contains an allusion by Pride, one of the characters, to +'Lingua,' where it is said, 'Methinks it were fit now to renew the claim +to our old title of Affections, which we have lost, as sometimes Madame +Lingua did to the title of a Sense, for it is good fishing in troubled +waters.' + +"'Pathomachia' was not printed until 1630, and most likely was not +written until some years after 'Lingua,' from the allusion it contains +in act ii. to the stile of the stage, and the mention in act i. of +Coriat, the traveller, who did not become notorious until after the +publication of his 'Crudities' in 1611.... + +"The first edition of 'Lingua' is dated 1607, but from a passage in act +iv. sc. 7, it is evident that it was produced before the death of +Elizabeth. The last edition, in 1657, is rendered curious by the +circumstance that the bookseller, Simon Miller, asserts that it was +acted by Oliver Cromwell, the late usurper. This fact is not stated on +the title-page to the play, but in a list of works printed for the same +stationer, placed at the end of Heath's 'New Book of Loyal Martyrs' +[12mo, 1663][166].... Winstanley adds that the late usurper Cromwell +[when a young man] had therein the part of _Tactus_; and this mock +ambition for the Crown is said to have swollen his ambition so high, +that afterwards he contended for it in earnest...." + +The present text is taken from the 4to of 1607.] + + + +PROLOGUE + +Our Muse describes no lover's passion, +No wretched father, no unthrifty son! +No craving, subtle whore or shameless bawd, +Nor stubborn clown or daring parasite, +No lying servant or bold sycophant. +We are not wanton or satirical. +These have their time and places fit, but we +Sad hours and serious studies to reprieve, +Have taught severe Philosophy to smile, +The Senses' rash contentions we compose, +And give displeas'd ambitious Tongue her due: +Here's all; judicious friends, accept what is not ill. +Who are not such, let them do what they will. + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + +LINGUA, _Comoedus. Tragoedus_. +AUDITUS, _Comoedus. Tragoedus_. +MENDACIO, _Lingua's page_. +TACTUS, | _Odor_. +OLFACTUS, | _Tobacco_. +VISUS, | _Lumen_, + | _Coelum_, + | _Terra_, + | _Heraldry_, + | _Colour_. +GUSTUS; _Bacchus, Ceres, Beer_. +APPETITUS, _a parasite_. +PHANTASTES. +HEURESIS, _Phantastes's page_. +CRAPULA, _Gustus's follower_. +COMMUNIS SENSUS. +MEMORIA. +ANAMNESTES, _Memoria's page_. +SOMNUS. +Personae quarum mentio tantum fit. | _Psyche_, + | _Acrasia_, + | _Veritas_, + | _Oblivio_. + +_The scene is Microcosmus[167] in a grove. +The time from morning till night_. + + + + +LINGUA. + + + +ACTUS PRIMUS, SCAENA PRIMA. + + + LINGUA _apparelled in a crimson satin gown, a dressing of + white roses, a little skene[168] tied in a purple scarf, + a pair of white buskins[169] drawn with white ribbon, silk + garters, gloves, &c_. AUDITUS _in a garland of bays + intermingled with red and white roses upon a false hair, + a cloth of silver mantle upon a pair of satin bases, wrought + sleeves, buskins, gloves, &c_. + + LINGUA, AUDITUS. + +LIN. Nay, good Auditus, do but hear me speak. + +AUD. Lingua, thou strik'st too much upon one string, +Thy tedious plain-song[170] grates my tender ears. + +LIN. 'Tis plain indeed, for truth no descant needs; +Una's her name, she cannot be divided. + +AUD. O, but the ground[171] itself is naught, from whence +Thou canst not relish out a good division: +Therefore at length surcease, prove not stark-mad, +Hopeless to prosecute a hapless suit: +For though (perchance) thy first strains pleasing are, +I dare engage mine ear the close[172] will jar. + +LIN. If then your confidence esteem my cause +To be so frivolous and weakly wrought, +Why do you daily subtle plots devise, +To stop me from the ears of common sense? +Whom since our great queen Psyche hath ordain'd, +For his sound wisdom, our vice-governor, +To him and to his two so wise assistants, +Nimble Phantastes and firm Memory, +Myself and cause I humbly do commit. +Let them but hear and judge; I wish no more. + +AUD. Should they but know thy rash presumption, +They would correct it in the sharpest sort: +Good Jove! what sense hast thou to be a sense! +Since from the first foundation of the world, +We never were accounted more than five. +Yet you, forsooth, an idle prating dame, +Would fain increase the number, and upstart +To our high seats, decking your babbling self +With usurp'd titles of our dignity. + +LIN. An idle prating dame! know, fond Auditus, +Records affirm my title full as good, +As his amongst the five is counted best. + +AUD. Lingua, confess the truth: thou'rt wont to lie. + +LIN. I say so too, therefore I do not lie. +But now, spite of you all, I speak the truth. +You five among us subjects tyrannise; +Making the sacred name of Common Sense +A cloak to cover your enormities: +He bears the rule; he's judge, but judgeth still, +As he's inform'd by your false evidence: +So that a plaintiff cannot have access, +But through your gates. He hears, but what? nought else, +But what thy crafty ears to him conveys: +And all he sees is by proud Visus show'd him: +And what he touches is by Tactus' hand; +And smells, I know, but through Olfactus' nose; +Gustus begins to him whate'er he tastes: +By these quaint tricks free passage hath been barr'd, +That I could never equally be heard. +But well, 'tis well. + +AUD. Lingua, thy feeble sex +Hath hitherto withheld my ready hands, +That long'd to pluck that nimble instrument. + +LIN. O horrible ingratitude! that thou-- +That thou of all the rest should'st threaten me: +Who by my means conceiv'st as many tongues, +As Neptune closeth lands betwixt his arms: +The ancient Hebrew clad with mysteries: +The learned Greek rich in fit epithets, +Bless'd in the lovely marriage of pure words: +The Chaldee wise, th'Arabian physical, +The Roman eloquent and Tuscan grave, +The braving Spanish and the smooth-tongu'd French: +These precious jewels that adorn thine ears, +All from my mouth's rich cabinet are stolen. +How oft hast thou been chain'd unto my tongue, +Hang'd at my lips, and ravish'd with my words; +So that a speech fair-feather'd could not fly, +But thy ear's pitfall caught it instantly? +But now, O heavens! + +AUD. O heavens! thou wrong'st me much, +Thou wrong'st me much thus falsely to upbraid me: +Had not I granted thee the use of hearing, +That sharp-edged tongue whetted against her master, +Those puffing lungs, those teeth, those drowsy lips, +That scalding throat, those nostrils full of ire, +Thy palate, proper instrument of speech, +Like to the winged chanters of the wood, +Uttering nought else but idle sifflements,[173] +Tunes without sense, words inarticulate, +Had ne'er been able t' have abus'd me thus. +Words are thy children, but of my begetting. + +LIN. Perfidious liar, how can I endure thee! +Call'st my unspotted chastity in question? +O, could I use the breath mine anger spends, +I'd make thee know-- + +AUD. Heav'ns look on my distress, +Defend me from this railing viperess! +For if I stay, her words' sharp vinegar +Will fret me through. Lingua, I must be gone: +I hear one call me more than earnestly. + [_Exit_ AUDITUS. + +LIN. May the loud cannoning of thunderbolts, +Screeking of wolves, howling of tortur'd ghosts, +Pursue thee still, and fill thy amaz'd ears +With cold astonishment and horrid fears! +O, how these senses muffle Common Sense! +And more and more with pleasing objects strive +To dull his judgment and pervert his will +To their behests: who, were he not so wrapp'd +I'the dusky clouds of their dark policies, +Would never suffer right to suffer wrong. +Fie, Lingua, wilt thou now degenerate? +Art not a woman? dost not love revenge? +Delightful speeches, sweet persuasions, +I have this long time us'd to get my right. +My right--that is, to make the senses six; +And have both name and power with the rest. +Oft have I season'd savoury periods +With sugar'd words, to delude Gustus' taste, +And oft embellish'd my entreative phrase +With smelling flow'rs of vernant rhetoric, +Limning and flashing it with various dyes, +To draw proud Visus to me by the eyes; +And oft perfum'd my petitory[174] style +With civet-speech, t'entrap Olfactus' nose; +And clad myself in silken eloquence, +To allure the nicer touch of Tactus' hand. +But all's become lost labour, and my cause +Is still procrastinated: therefore now, +Hence, ye base offspring of a broken mind, +Supple entreaties and smooth flatteries: +Go kiss the love-sick lips of puling gulls,[175] +That 'still their brain to quench their love's disdain: +Go gild the tongues of bawds and parasites; +Come not within my thoughts. But thou, deceit, +Break up the pleasure of my brimful breast, +Enrich my mind with subtle policies. +Well then, I'll go; whither? nay, what know I? +And do, in faith I will, the devil knows what. +What, if I set them all at variance, +And so obtain to speak? it must be so. +It must be so, but how? there lies the point: +How? thus: tut, this device will never prove, +Augment it so: 'twill be too soon descried; +Or so, nor so; 'tis too-too dangerous. +Pish, none of these! what, if I take this course? ha! +Why, there it goes; good, good; most excellent! +He that will catch eels must disturb the flood; +The chicken's hatch'd, i' faith; for they are proud, +And soon will take a cause of disagreement. + + + +SCAENA SECUNDA. + + + MENDACIO, _attired in a taffeta suit of a light colour + changeable, like an ordinary page_.[176] + + LINGUA, MENDACIO. + +LIN. I see the heavens nurse my new-born device; +For lo, my page Mendacio comes already, +To file and burnish that I hammer'd out. +Never in better time, Mendacio, +What! hast thou done? + +MEN. Done? yes, long ago. + +LIN. Is't possible thou shouldst despatch so soon? + +MEN. Madam, I had no sooner told +Tactus that Gustus would fain speak with him, +But I spied Visus, Gustus, and the rest, +And serv'd them all with sauce of several lies. +Now the last sense I spake with was Olfactus +Who, having smelt the meaning of my message, +Straight blew his nose, and quickly puff'd me hither; +But in the whirlwind of his furious blast, +Had not by chance a cobweb held me fast, +Mendacio had been with you long ere this. + +LIN. Witness this lie, Mendacio's with me now; +But, sirrah, out of jesting will they come? + +MEN. Yes, and it like your ladyship, presently; +Here may you have me prest[177] to flatter them. + +LIN. I'll flatter no such proud companions, +'Twill do no good, therefore I am determin'd +To leave such baseness. + +MEN. Then shall I turn and bid them stay at home? + +LIN. No; for their coming hither to this grove +Shall be a means to further my device. +Therefore I pray thee, Mendacio, go presently; +Run, you vile ape. + +MEN. Whither? + +LIN. What, dost thou stand? + +MEN. Till I know what to do. + +LIN. 'Sprecious, 'tis true, +So might'st thou finely overrun thine errand. +Haste to my chest. + +MEN. Ay, ay. + +LIN. There shalt thou find +A gorgeous robe and golden coronet; +Convey them hither nimbly, let none see them. + +MEN. Madam, I fly, I fly. [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + +LIN. But hear you, sirrah? +Lock up your fellow-servant Veritas. + +MEN. I warrant you, +You need not fear so long as I am with you. + [_He goes out, and comes in presently_. +What colour is the robe? + +LIN. There is but one. + + [MENDACIO, _going, turns in haste_. + +MEN. The key, madam, the key. + +LIN. By Juno, how forgetful +Is sudden speed! Here, take it, run. + +MEN. I'll be here instantly. + + [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + + + +SCAENA TERTIA. + + + LINGUA _sola_. + +LIN. Whilome this crown and gorgeous ornament +Were the great prize for which five orators +With the sharp weapons of their tongues contended: +But all their speeches were so equal wrought +And alike gracious,[178] that, if his were witty, +His was as wise; the third's fair eloquence +Did parallel the fourth's firm gravity; +The last's good gesture kept the balance even +With all the rest; so that the sharpest eye +And most judicious censor could not judge, +To whom the hanging victory should fall. +Therefore with one consent they all agreed +To offer up both crown and robe to me, +As the chief patroness of their profession, +Which heretofore I holily have kept, +Like to a miser's gold, to look on only. +But now I'll put them to a better use, +And venture both, in hope to-- + + + +SCAENA QUARTA. + + + MENDACIO, LINGUA. + +MEN. Have I not hied me, madam? look you here, +What shall be done with these temptations? + +LIN. They say a golden Ball +Bred enmity betwixt three goddesses; +So shall this crown be author of debate +Betwixt five senses. + +MEN. Where shall it be laid! + +LIN. There, there, there; 'tis well; so, so, so. + +MEN. A crown's a pleasing bait to look upon; +The craftiest fox will hardly 'scape this trap. + +LIN. Come, let us away, and leave it to the chance. + +MEN. Nay, rather let me stand close hereabouts, +And see the event. + +LIN. Do so, and if they doubt, +How it came there, feign them some pretty fable, +How that some god-- + +MEN. Tut, tut, tut, let me alone: +I that have feign'd so many hundred gods, +Can easily forge some fable for the turn: +Whist, madam; away, away: you fright the fowl; +Tactus comes hard by, look you. + +LIN. Is't he for certain? + +MEN. Yes, yes, yes, 'tis he. + +LIN. 'Tis he indeed. + + [_Exit_ LINGUA. + + + +SCAENA QUINTA. + + + TACTUS, _in a dark-coloured satin mantle over a pair + of silk bases, a garland of bays, mixed with white and + red roses, upon a black grogram, a falchion, wrought + sleeves, buskins, &c_. + + MENDACIO, TACTUS. + +MEN. Now, chaste Diana, grant my nets to hold. + +TAC. The blushing[179] childhood of the cheerful morn +Is almost grown a youth, and overclimbs[180] +Yonder gilt eastern hills; about which time +Gustus most earnestly importun'd me +To meet him hereabouts, what cause I know not. + +MEN. You shall do shortly, to your cost, I hope. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. Sure by the sun it should be nine o'clock. + +MEN. What, a star-gazer! will you ne'er look down? [Aside.] + +TAC. Clear is the sun and blue the firmament; +Methinks the heavens do smile-- [TACTUS _sneezeth_. + +MEN. At thy mishap! +To look so high, and stumble in a trap. + [_Aside_. TACTUS _stumbleth at the robe and crown_. + +TAC. High thoughts have slipp'ry feet, I had well-nigh fallen. + +MEN. Well doth he fall that riseth with a fall. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. What's this? + +MEN. O, are you taken? 'tis in vain to strive. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. How now? + +MEN. You'll be so entangled straight-- [_Aside_.] + +TAC. A crown! + +MEN. That it will be hard-- [_Aside_.] + +TAC. And a robe. + +MEN. To loose yourself. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. A crown and a robe. + +MEN. It had been fitter for you to have found a fool's coat and a +bauble[181], eh, eh? [_Aside_.] + +TAC. Jupiter, Jupiter, how came this here? + +MEN. O sir, Jupiter is making thunder, he hears you not: here's one +knows better. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. 'Tis wondrous rich, ha! but sure it is not so, ho! +Do I not sleep and dream of this good luck, ha? +No, I am awake and feel it now; +Whose should it be? [_He takes it up_. + +MEN. Set up a _si quis_ for it. [_Aside_.] + +TAC. Mercury! all's mine own; here's none to cry half's mine. + +MEN. When I am gone. + + [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + + + +SCAENA SEXTA. + + + TACTUS _solus_. + +TAC. Tactus, thy sneezing somewhat did portend. +Was ever man so fortunate as I? +To break his shins at such a stumbling-block! +Roses and bays, pack hence[182]: this crown and robe +My brows and body circles and invests; +How gallantly it fits me! sure the slave +Measur'd my head that wrought this coronet. +They lie that say complexions cannot change: +My blood's ennobled, and I am transform'd +Unto the sacred temper of a king. +Methinks I hear my noble parasites +Styling me Caesar or great Alexander; +Licking my feet, and wondering where I got +This precious ointment. How my pace is mended! +How princely do I speak! how sharp I threaten! +Peasants, I'll curb your headstrong impudence, +And make you tremble when the lion roars, +Ye earth-bred worms. O, for a looking-glass! +Poets will write whole volumes of this scorce[183]; +Where's my attendants? Come hither, sirrah, quickly; +Or by the wings of Hermes-- + + + +SCAENA SEPTIMA. + + + OLFACTUS, _in a garland of bays intermingled with + white and red roses upon a false hair, his sleeves + wrought with flowers under a damask mantle, over a + pair of silk bases; a pair of buskins drawn with + ribbon, a flower in his hand_. + + TACTUS, OLFACTUS. + +TAC. Ay me! Olfactus comes; I call'd too soon, +He'll have half part, I fear; what shall I do! +Where shall I run? how shall I shift him off? + [TACTUS _wraps up the robe and crown, and sits upon them_. + +OLF. This is the time, and this the place appointed, +Where Visus promis'd to confer with me. +I think he's there--no, no, 'tis Tactus sure. +How now? what makes you sit so nicely? + +TAC. 'Tis past imagination, 'tis so indeed. + +OLF. How fast his hands[184] are fixed, and how melancholy he looks! +Tactus! Tactus! + +TAC. For this is true, man's life is wondrous brittle. + +OLF. He's mad, I think, he talks so idly. So ho, Tactus! + +TAC. And many have been metamorphosed +To stranger matters and more uncouth forms. + +OLF. I must go nearer him; he doth not hear. + +TAC. And yet methinks, I speak as I was wont; +And-- + +OLF. Tactus, Tactus! + +TAC. Olfactus, as thou lov'st me, come not near me. + +OLF. Why, art thou hatching eggs? th'art afeard[185] to break them? + +TAC. Touch me not, lest thou chance to break my life. + +OLF. What's this under thee? + +TAC. If thou meddle with me, I am utterly undone. + +OLF. Why, man, what ails thee? + +TAC. Let me alone, and I'll tell thee; +Lately I came from fine Phantastes' house. + +OLF. So I believe, for thou art very foolish. + +TAC. No sooner had I parted out of doors[186], +But up I held my hands before my face, +To shield mine eyes from th'light's piercing beams; +When I protest I saw the sun as clear +Through these my palms, as through a perspective. +No marvel; for when I beheld my fingers, +I saw my fingers were transform'd to glass; +Opening my breast, my breast was like a window, +Through which I plainly did perceive my heart: +In whose two concaves[187] I discern'd my thoughts +Confus'dly lodged in great multitudes. + +OLF. Ha, ha, ha, ha! why, this is excellent, +Momus himself can find no fault with thee, +Thou'dst make a passing live anatomy; +And decide the question much disputed +Betwixt the Galenists and Aristotle. + +TAC. But when I had arriv'd, and set me down +Viewing myself--myself, ay me! was changed, +As thou now seest, to a perfect urinal. + +OLF. T'a perfect urinal? O monstrous, monstrous! +Art not mad to think so? + +TAC. I do not think so, but I say I am so, +Therefore, Olfactus, come not near, I advise you. + +OLF. See the strange working of dull melancholy! +Whose drossy thoughts, drying the feeble brain, +Corrupts the sense, deludes the intellect, +And in the soul's fair table falsely graves +Whole squadrons of fantastical chimeras +And thousand vain imaginations, +Making some think their heads as big as horses, +Some that th'are dead[188], some that th'are turn'd to wolves[189], +As now it makes him think himself all glass. +Tactus, dissuade thyself; thou dost but think so. + +TAC. Olfactus, if thou lov'st me, get thee gone; +I am an urinal, I dare not stir +For fear of cracking in the bottom. + +OLF. Wilt thou sit thus all day? + +TAC. Unless thou help me. + +OLF. Bedlam must help thee. What wouldst have me do? + +TAC. Go to the city, make a case for me; +Stuff it with wool, then come again and fetch me. + +OLF. Ha, ha, ha! +Thou'lt be laughed out of case and countenance. + +TAC. I care not. So it must be, or I cannot stir. + +OLF. I had best leave troubling him; he's obstinate. Urinal, I leave you, +but above all things take heed Jupiter sees you not; for, if he do, he'll +ne'er make water in a sieve again; thou'lt serve his turn so fit, to +carry his water unto Esculapius. Farewell, Urinal, farewell. + [_Exit_ OLFACTUS. + +TAC. Speak not so loud; the sound's enough to crack me. What, is he +gone? I an urinal! ha, ha, ha! I protest I might have had my face washed +finely if he had meant to abuse me. I an urinal! ha, ha, ha! Go to, +Urinal; you have 'scaped a fair scouring. Well, I'll away, and get me to +mine own house; there I'll lock up myself fast, playing the chemic, +Augmenting this one crown to troops of angels, +With which gold-winged messengers I mean +To work great wonders, as to build and purchase; +Fare daintily; tie up men's tongues and loose them; +Command their lives, their goods, their liberties, +And captive all the world with chains of gold. +Hey, hey, tery, linkum tinkum. + [_He offers to go out, but comes in suddenly amazed_. +O Hercules! +Fortune, the queen, delights to play with me, +Stopping my passage with the sight of Visus: +But as he makes hither, I'll make hence, +There's more ways to the wood than one[190]. +What, more devils to affright me? +O Diabolo! Gustus comes here to vex me. +So that I, poor wretch, am like +A shuttlecock betwixt two battledoors. +If I run there, Visus beats me to Scylla; +If here, then Gustus blows me to Charybdis. +Neptune hath sworn my hope shall suffer shipwreck. +What shall I say? mine Urinal's too thin +To bide the fury of such storms as these. + + + +SCAENA OCTAVA. + + + VISUS _in a garland of bays, mixed with white and + red roses, a light-coloured taffeta mantle striped + with silver, and fringed upon green silk bases, + buskins, &c_. GUSTUS _in the same fashion, differing + only in colour_. TACTUS _in a corner of the stage_. + + VISUS, GUSTUS, TACTUS. + +VIS. Gustus, good day. + +GUS. I cannot have a bad, +Meeting so fair an omen as yourself. + +TAC. Shall I? will't prove? ha! well, 'tis best to venture. + [TACTUS _puts on the robes_. + +GUS. Saw you not Tactus? I should speak with him. + +TAC. Perchance so; a sudden lie hath best luck. + +VIS. That face is his, or else mine eye's deceiv'd. +Why, how now, Tactus! what, so gorgeous? + +GUS. Where didst thou get these fair habiliments? + +TAC. Stand back, I charge you, as you love your lives; +By Styx, the first that toucheth me shall die. + +VIS. I can discern no weapons. Will he kill us? + +TAC. Kill you? not I, but come not near me, +You had best. + +VIS. Why, art thou mad? + +TAC. Friends, as you love your lives, +Venture not once to come within my reach. + +GUS. Why dost threaten so? + +TAG. I do not threaten, +But in pure love advise you for the best: +Dare not to touch me, but hence fly apace; +Add wings unto your feet, and save your lives. + +VIS. Why, what's the matter, Tactus? prythee, tell me? + +TAC. If you will needs jeopard your lives so long, +As hear the ground of my amazedness, +Then for your better safety stand aside. + +GUS. How full of ceremonies! sure he'll conjure; +For such like robes magicians use to wear. + +VIS. I'll see the end, though he should unlock hell, +And set th'infernal hags at liberty. + +TAC. How rash is man on hidden harms[191] to rush! +It was my chance--O chance most miserable!-- +To walk that way that to Crumena leads. + +GUS. You mean Cremona, a little town hard-by. + +TAC. I say Crumena, called Vacua, +A town which doth, and always hath belong'd, +Chiefly to scholars. From Crumena walls +I saw a man come stealing craftily, +Apparell'd in this vesture which I wear; +But, seeing me, eftsoons[192] he took his heels, +And threw his garment from him all in haste, +Which I perceiving to be richly wrought, +Took it me up; but, good, now get you gone, +Warn'd by my harms, and 'scape my misery. + +VIS. I know no danger: leave these circumstances. + +TAC. No sooner had I put it on my back, +But suddenly mine eyes began to dim, +My joints wex[193] sore, and all my body burn['d] +With most intestine torture, and at length +It was too evident, I had caught the plague. + +VIS. The plague! away, good Gustus, let's be gone; +I doubt 'tis true, now I remember me, +Crumena Vacua never wants the plague. + +GUS. Tactus, I'll put myself in jeopardy +To pleasure thee. + +TAC. No, gentle Gustus, +Your absence is the only thing I wish, +Lest I infect you with my company. + +GUS. Farewell. [_Exit_ GUSTUS. + +VIS. I willingly would stay to do thee good. + +TAC. A thousand thanks; but since I needs must die, +Let it suffice, death only murders me. +O, 'twould augment the dolour of my death, +To know myself the most unhappy bow, +Through which pale death should aim his shafts at you. + +VIS. Tactus, farewell; yet die with this good hope, +Thy corpse shall be interred as it ought. + [_Exit_ VISUS. + +TAC. Go, make my tomb, provide my funerals; ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! +Excellent asses thus to be deluded, +Bewail his death and cruel destinies, +That lives, and laughs your fooleries to scorn. +But where's my crown! O, here: I well deserve +Thus to be crown'd for two great victories! +Ha, ha, ha! +Visus, take care my corpse be well interr'd: +Go make my tomb, and write upon the stone, + + _Here lies the Sense that living[194] gull'd them all + With a false plague and feigned urinal_. + + + +SCAENA NONA. + + + AUDITUS, TACTUS. + +AUD. Tactus, Tactus! + +TAC. O Jupiter, 'tis Auditus, all's marred, I doubt: the sly knave +hears so far; but yet I'll grope him. How now, Ears[195], what make +you here, ha? + +AUD. Nay, what make you here, I pray? What were you talking even now +of an ass, and a crown, and an urinal, and a plague? + +TAC. A plague on you! what, I? + +AUD. O, what you! + +TAC. O, I had well-nigh forgot; nothing; but I say-- + +AUD. What? + +TAC. That if a man (do you mark, sir?), being sick of the plague (do you +see, sir?), had a, a, a--hem, hem (this cold troubles me; it makes me +cough sometimes extremely)--had a French crown, sir, (you understand +me?) lying by him, and (come hither, come hither), and would not bestow +twopence (do you hear?) to buy an urinal (do you mark me?) to carry his +water to the physician, hem! + +AUD. What of all this? + +TAC. I say such a one was a very ass. This was all. I use to speak to +myself, when I am alone; but, Auditus, when shall we hear a new set of +singing-books? Or the viols? Or the concert of instruments? + +AUD. This was not all, for I heard mention of a tomb and an epitaph. + +TAC. True, true, I made myself merry with this epitaph upon such a +fool's tomb thus a--thus, thus: plague brought this man--foh, I have +forgotten--O, thus, plague brought this man (so, so, so), unto his +burial, because, because, because (hem, hem)--because he would not buy +an urinal. Come, come, Auditus, shall we hear thee play the lyreway or +the luteway, shall we? Or the cornet, or any music? I am greatly +revived, when I hear. + +AUD. Tactus, Tactus, this will not serve; I heard all. You have not +found a crown, you? no, you have not! + + + +SCAENA ULTIMA. + + + TACTUS, AUDITUS, VISUS, GUSTUS, MENDACIO. + +TAC. Peace, peace, faith, peace; come hither, hark thee, +Good [Auditus], now. + +AUD. I cannot hold, I must needs tell. + +TAC. O, do not, do not, do not; come hither. +Will you be a fool? + +VIS. Had he not wings upon his feet and shoulders? + +MEN. Yes, yes, and a fine wand in his hand, +Curiously wrapped with a pair of snakes. + +TAC. Will half content you? pish, 'twill ne'er be known. + +GUS. My life, 'twas Mercury. + +MEN. I do not know his name; +But this I'm sure, his hat had wings upon't. + +VIS. Doubtless 'twas he; but say, my boy, what did he? + +MEN. First I beheld him hovering in the air, +And then down stooping with an hundred gyres:[196] +His feet he fixed on Mount Cephalon;[197] +From whence he flew and lighted on that plain, +And with disdainful steps soon glided thither: +Whither arrived, he suddenly unfolds +A gorgeous robe and glittering ornament, +And lays them all upon that hillock: +This done, he wafts his wand, took wing again, +And in a moment vanish'd out of sight. +With that mine eyes 'gan stare, and heart grew cold, +And all my quiv'ring joints with sweat bedew'd: +My heels (methought) had wings as well as his, +And so away I ran; but by the way +I met a man, as I thought, coming thither. + +GUS. What marks had he? + +MEN. He had a great--what! this is he, this is he. + +VIS. What, Tactus? + +GUS. This was the plague vex'd him so: +Tactus, your grave gapes for you; are you ready? + +VIS. Since you must needs die, do as others do, +Leave all your goods behind you; bequeath +The crown and robe to your executors. + +TAC. No such matter; I, like the Egyptian kings,[198] +For the more state will be buried in them. + +VIS. Come, come, deliver. + [VISUS _snatcheth the crown, and sees letters graven in it_. + +TAC. What, will you take my purse from me? + +VIS. No, but a crown, that's just more than your own. +Ha, what's this? 'tis a very small hand, +What inscription is this? + + _He of the five that proves himself the best, + Shall have his temples with this coronet blest_. + +This crown is mine, and mine this garment is; +For I have always been accounted best-- + +TAC. Next after me--high[199] as yourself at any time: +Besides, I found it first, therefore 'tis mine. + +GUS. Neither of yours, but mine as much as both. + +AUD. And mine the most of any of you all. + +VIS. Give me it, or else-- + +TAC. I'll make you late repent it-- + +GUS. Presumptuous as you are-- + +AUD. Spite of your teeth-- + +MEN. Never till now. Ha, ha! it works apace. [_Aside_. +Visus, I know 'tis yours; and yet methinks, +Auditus, you should have some challenge to it; +But that your title, Tactus, is so good, +Gustus, I would swear the coronet were yours: +What, will you all go brawl about a trifle? +View but the pleasant coast of Microcosm, +Is't not great pity to be rent with wars? +Is't not a shame to stain with brinish tears +The smiling cheeks of ever-cheerful peace? +Is't not far better to live quietly, +Than broil in fury of dissension? +Give me the crown, ye shall not disagree, +If I can please you. I'll play Paris' part, +And, most impartial, judge the controversy. + +VIS. Sauce-box! go meddle with your lady's fan, +And prate not here. + +MEN. I speak not for myself, +But for my country's sole[200] commodity. + +VIS. Sirrah, be still. + +MEN. Nay, and you be so hot, the devil part you! +I'll to Olfactus, and send him amongst you. +O, that I were Alecto for your sakes! +How liberally would I bestow my snakes! + [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + +VIS. Tactus, upon thine honour, +I challenge thee to meet me here, +Strong as thou canst provide, in th'afternoon. + +TAC. I undertake the challenge, and here's my hand, +In sign thou shalt be answered. + +GUS. Tactus, I'll join with thee, on this condition +That, if we win, he that fought best of us +Shall have the crown, the other wear the robe. + +TAC. Give me your hand: I like the motion. + +VIS. Auditus, shall we make our forces double +Upon the same terms? + +AUD. Very willingly. + +VIS. Come, let's away: fear not the victory; +Right's more advantage than an host of soldiers. + + [_Exeunt omnes_. + + + + +ACTUS SECUNDUS, SCAENA PRIMA. + + + APPETITUS, _a long, lean, raw-boned fellow, + in a soldier's coat, a sword, &c_. + + MENDACIO, APPETITUS. + +MEN. I long to see those hotspur Senses at it: they say they have +gallant preparations, and not unlikely, for most of the soldiers are +ready in arms, since the last field fought against their yearly enemy +Meleager[201] and his wife Acrasia; that conquest hath so fleshed them, +that no peace can hold them. But had not Meleager been sick, and +Acrasia drunk, the Senses might have whistled for the victory. + +APP. Foh, what a stink of gunpowder is yonder! + +MEN. Who's this? O, O, 'tis Appetitus, Gustus's hungry parasite. + [_Aside_.] + +APP. I cannot endure the smoking of guns, the thundering of drums: I +had rather hear the merry hacking of pot-herbs, and see the reeking of +a hot capon. If they would use no other bucklers in war but shields of +brawn, brandish no swords but sweards of bacon,[202] trail no spears +but spare-ribs of pork, and instead of arquebuss pieces discharge +artichoke-pies: toss no pikes but boiled pickrels, then Appetitus would +rouse up his crest, and bear up himself with the proudest. + +MEN. Ah! here's a youth stark naught at a trench, but an old dog at a +trencher, a tall squire at a square table. [_Aside_.] + +APP. But now my good masters must pardon me; I am not one for their +service, for their service is without service, and indeed their service +is too hot for my diet. But what, if I be not myself, but only this be +my spirit that wanders up and down, and Appetitus be killed in the camp? +the devil he is as soon. How's that possible? tut, tut, I know I am. I +am Appetitus, and alive, too--by this infallible token, that I feel +myself hungry. + +MEN. Thou mightest have taken a better token of thyself, by knowing thou +art a fool. [_Aside_.] + +APP. Well, then, though I made my fellow-soldiers admire the beauty of +my back, and wonder at the nimbleness of my heels, yet now will I, at +safety at home, tell in what dangers they are in abroad. I'll speak +nothing but guns and glaves,[203] and staves and phalanges,[204] and +squadrons and barricadoes, ambuscadoes, palmedoes, blank-point, +demi-point,[205] counterpoint, counterscarp, sallies and lies, saladoes, +tarantantaras, ranta, tara, tara, hey. + +MEN. I must take the fife out of his mouth, or he'll ne'er ha' done. + [_Aside_.] + +APP. But, above all, I'll be sure on my knees to thank the great-- + + [MENDACIO _blinds him_. + +MEN. Who am I, who am I, who I? + +APP. By the blood-stained falchion of Mavors,[206] I am on your side. + +MEN. Why, who am I? + +APP. Are you a soldier? + +MEN. No. + +APP. Then you are Master Helluo the bearward. + +MEN. No, no; he's dead. + +APP. Or Gulono the gutty serjeant, or Delphino the vintner, or else I +know you not; for these are all my acquaintance. + +MEN. Would I were hanged, if I be any of these! + +APP. What, Mendacio! By the faith of a knight, thou art welcome; I must +borrow thy whetstone, to sharpen the edges of my martial compliments. + +MEN. By the faith of a knight! What a pox, where are thy spurs?[207] + +APP. I need no spurs; I ride, like Pegasus, on a winged horse--on a +swift jennet, my boy, called Fear. + +MEN. What shouldst thou fear in the wars? He's not a good soldier that +hath not a good stomach. + +APP. O, but the stink of powder spoils Appetitus's stomach, and then +thou knowest, when 'tis gone, Appetitus is dead; therefore I very +manfully drew my sword, and flourished it bravely about mine ears, +hist![208] and finding myself hurt, most manfully ran away. + +MEN. All heart indeed, for thou rann'st like a hart out of the field. It +seems, then, the Senses mean to fight it out. + +APP. Ay, and outfight themselves, I think; and all about a trifle, a +paltry bauble found, I know not where. + +MEN. Thou art deceived: they fight for more than that; a thing called +superiority, of which the crown is but an emblem. + +APP. Mendacio, hang this superiority; crown me no crown, but Bacchus's +crown of roses; give me no sceptre but a fat capon's leg, to show that I +am the great king of Hungary! Therefore, I prythee, talk no more of +state-matters: but in brief, tell me, my little rascal, how thou hast +spent thy time this many a day. + +MEN. Faith, in some credit, since thou sawest me last. + +APP. How so? where? + +MEN. Everywhere. In the court your gentlewomen hang me at their +apron-strings, and that makes them answer so readily. In the city I am +honoured like a god; none so well acquainted with your tradesmen. Your +lawyers, all the termtime, hire me of my lady; your gallants, if they +hear my name abused, they stab for my sake; your travellers so doat upon +me as passes.[209] O, they have good reason; for I have carried them to +many a good meal under the countenance of my familiarity. Nay, your +statesmen have oftentimes closely conveyed me under their tongues, to +make their policies more current. As for old men, they challenge my +company by authority. + +APP. I am exceeding glad of your great promotion. + +MEN. Now, when I am disposed, I can philosophy it in the university with +the subtlest of them all. + +APP. I cannot be persuaded that thou art acquainted with scholars, ever +since thou wert pressed to death in a printing-house. + +MEN. No? why, I was the first founder of the three sects of philosophy, +except one of the Peripatetics, who acknowledge Aristotle, I confess, +their great grandfather. + +APP. Thou boy! how is this possible? Thou art but a child, and there +were sects of philosophy, before thou wert born. + +MEN. Appetitus, thou mistakest me. I tell thee, three thousand years ago +was Mendacio born in Greece,[210] nursed in Crete, and ever since +honoured everywhere. I'll be sworn I held old Homer's pen, when he writ +his Iliads and his Odysseys. + +APP. Thou hadst need, for I hear say he was blind. + +MEN. I helped Herodotus to pen some part of his "Muses";[211] lent Pliny +ink to write his history; rounded Rabelais in the ear,[212] when he +historified Pantagruel: as for Lucian, I was his genius. O, those two +books "De Vera Historia," howsoever they go under his name, I'll be +sworn I writ them every tittle. + +APP. Sure as I am hungry, thou'st have it for lying. But hast thou +rusted this latter time for want of exercise? + +MEN. Nothing less. I must confess I would fain have jogged Stow and +great Hollingshed on their elbows, when they were about their +chronicles; and, as I remember, Sir John Mandeville's "Travels" and a +great part of the "Decads"[213] were of my doing. But for the "Mirror of +Knighthood," "Bevis of Southampton," "Palmerin of England," "Amadis of +Gaul," "Huon de Bordeaux," "Sir Guy of Warwick," "Martin Marprelate," +"Robin Hood," "Garragantua," "Gerileon," and a thousand such exquisite +monuments as these, no doubt but they breathe in my breath up and down. + +APP. Downwards, I'll swear, for there's stinking lies in them. + +MEN. But what, should I light a candle to the bright sunshine of my +glorious renown? The whole world is full of Mendacio's fame. + +APP. And so it will be so long as the world is full of fame. + +MEN. But, sirrah, how hast thou done this long time? + +APP. In as much request as thyself. To begin with the court, as thou +didst: I lie with the ladies all night, and that's the reason they call +for cullies and gruellies so early before their prayers. Your gallants +never sup, breakfast, or bever[214] without me. + +MEN. That's false, for I have seen them eat with a full stomach. + +APP. True, but because they know a little thing drives me from them, +therefore in midst of meat they present me with some sharp sauce or a +dish of delicate anchovies, or a caviare,[215] to entice me back again. +Nay, more: your old sires, that hardly go without a prop, will walk a +mile or two every day to renew their acquaintance with me. As for the +academy, it is beholding to me for adding the eighth province unto the +noble Heptarchy of the liberal sciences.[216] + +MEN. What's that, I prythee? + +APP. The most desired and honourable art of cookery. Now, sirrah, in the +city I am------'st, 'st! O, the body of a louse! + +MEN. What, art a louse in the city? + +APP. Not a word more; for yonder comes Phantastes and somebody else. + +MEN. What a pox can Phantastes do? + +APP. Work a miracle, if he would prove wise. + +MEN. 'Tis he indeed, the vilest nup.[217] Yet the fool loves me +exceedingly; but I care not for his company, for if he once catch me, +I shall never be rid of him. + + [_Exeunt_ APPETITUS _and_ MENDACIO. + + + +SCAENA SECUNDA. + + + PHANTASTES, _a swart-complexioned fellow, but quick-eyed, in a + white satin doublet of one fashion, green velvet hose of another, + a fantastical hat with a plume of feathers of several colours, a + little short taffeta cloak, a pair of buskins cut, drawn out with + sundry-coloured ribbands, with scarfs hung about him after all + fashions and of all colours, rings, jewels, a fan, and in every + place other odd complements_.[218] HEURESIS, _a nimble-sprited + page in the newest fashion, with a garland of bays, &c_. + + PHANTASTES, HEURESIS. + +PHA. Sirrah boy! Heuresis! boy! how now, biting your nails? + +HEU. Three things have troubled my brain this many a day, and just now, +when I was laying hold on the invention of them, your sudden call made +them, like Tantalus's apples, fly from my fingers. + +PHA. Some great matters, questionless; what were they? + +HEU. The quadrature of a circle, the philosopher's stone, and the next +way to the Indies. + +PHA. Thou dost well to meditate on these three things at once, for +they'll be found out altogether--_ad Graecas Calendas_; but let them +pass, and carry the conceit I told you this morning to the party you wot +of. In my imagination 'tis capricious; 'twill take, I warrant thee. + +HEU. I will, sir. But what say you to the gentleman that was with you +yesterday? + +PHA. O, I think thou meanest him that made nineteen sonnets of his +mistress's busk-point.[219] + +HEU. The same, the same, sir. You promised to help him out with the +twentieth. + +PHA. By Jupiter's cloven pate, 'tis true. But we witty fellows are so +forgetful; but stay, Heu, Heu,[220] carry him this. + + _The Gordian knot, which Alexander great + Did whilom, cut with his all-conquering sword, + Was nothing like thy busk-point, pretty peat,[221] + Nor could so fair an augury afford_. + +Then to conclude, let him pervert Catullas's _Zonam solvit diu ligatum_ +thus, thus-- + + _Which if I chance to cut, or else untie, + Thy little world I'll conquer presently_. + +'Tis pretty, pretty, tell him 'twas extemporal. + +HEU. Well, sir, but now for Master Inamorato's love-letter. + +PHA. Some nettling stuff, i'faith; let him write thus: _Most +heart-commanding-faced gentlewoman, even as the stone in India, called +Basaliscus, hurts all that looks on it, and as the serpent in Arabia, +called Smaragdus, delighteth the sight, so does thy celestial +orb-assimilating eyes both please, and in pleasing wound my love-darted +heart_. + +HEU. But what trick shall I invent for the conclusion? + +PHA. Pish, anything, love will minister ink for the rest. He that [hath] +once begun well, hath half done; let him begin again, and there's all. + +HEU. Master Gullio spoke for a new fashion; what for him? + +PHA. A fashion for his suit! Let him button it down the sleeve with four +elbows, and so make it the pure hieroglyphic of a fool. + +HEU. Nay, then let me request one thing of you. + +PHA. What's that, boy? By this fair hand, thou shalt have it. + +HEU. Mistress Superbia, a gentlewoman of my acquaintance, wished me to +devise her a new set for her ruff and an odd tire. I pray, sir, help me +out with it. + +PHA. Ah, boy, in my conceit 'tis a hard matter to perform. These women +have well-nigh tired me with devising tires for them, and set me at a +nonplus for new sets. Their heads are so light, and their eyes so coy, +that I know not how to please them. + +HEU. I pray, sir, she hath a bad face, and fain would have suitors. +Fantastical and odd apparel would perchance draw somebody to look on +her. + +PHA. If her face be nought, in my opinion, the more view it the worse. +Bid her wear the multitude of her deformities under a mask, till my +leisure will serve to devise some durable and unstained blush of +painting. + +HEU. Very good, sir. + +PHA. Away, then, hie thee again; meet me at the court within this hour +at the farthest. [_Exit_ HEURESIS.] O heavens! how have I been troubled +these latter times with women, fools, babes, tailors, poets, swaggerers, +gulls, ballad-makers! They have almost disrobed me of all the toys and +trifles I can devise. Were it not that I pity the multitude of printers, +these sonnet-mongers should starve for conceits for all Phantastes. But +these puling lovers--I cannot but laugh at them, and their encomiums of +their mistresses. They make, forsooth, her hair of gold, her eyes of +diamond, her cheeks of roses, her lips of rubies, her teeth of pearl, +and her whole body of ivory; and when they have thus idoled her like +Pygmalion, they fall down and worship her.[222] Psyche, thou hast laid a +hard task upon my shoulders to invent at every one's ask. Were it not +that I refresh my dulness once a day with thy most angelical presence, +'twere impossible for me to undergo it. + + + +SCAENA TERTIA. + + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, _a grave man, in a black velvet cassock + like a councillor, speaks coming out of the door_. + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, PHANTASTES. + +COM. SEN. I cannot stay, I tell you. 'Tis more than time I were at +court. I know my sovereign Psyche hath expected me this hour. + +PHA. In good time; yonder comes Common Sense. I imagine it should be +he by his voice. + +COM. SEN. Crave my counsel! Tell me what manner of man he is? Can he +entertain a man in his house? Can he hold his velvet cap in one hand, +and vail[223] his bonnet with the other? Knows he how to become a +scarlet gown? Hath he a pair of fresh posts at his door?[224] + +PHA. He's about some hasty state matters. He talks of posts, methinks. + +COM. SEN. Can he part a couple of dogs brawling in the street? Why, +then, choose him mayor. Upon my credit, he'll prove a wise officer. + +PHA. Save you, my lord; I have attended your leisure this hour. + +COM. SEN. Fie upon't! What a toil have I had to choose them a mayor +yonder? There's a fusty currier will have this man; there's a chandler +wipes his nose on his sleeve, and swears it shall not be so; there's a +mustard-maker looks as keen as vinegar will have another. O, this +many-headed multitude, 'tis a hard matter to please them! + +PHA. Especially where the multitude is so well-headed. But I pray you, +where's Master Memory? Hath he forgotten himself, that he is not here? + +COM. SEN. 'Tis high time he were at court. I would he would come. + + + + +SCAENA QUARTA. + + + MEMORY, _an old decrepit man, in a black velvet cassock,[225] + a taffeta gown furred with white grogram, a white beard, velvet + slippers, a watch, staff, &c_. ANAMNESTES, _his page, in a grave + satin suit, purple buskins, a garland of bays and rosemary, a + gimmal ring[226] with one link hanging, ribbons and threads tied + to some of his fingers; in his hand a pair of table-books, &c_. + + MEMORY, ANAMNESTES, PHANTASTES, COMMUNIS SENSUS. + +MEM. How soon a wise man shall have his wish! + +COM. SEN. Memory, the season of your coming is very ripe. + +PHA. Had you stayed a little longer, 'twould have been stark rotten. + +MEM. I am glad I saved it from the swine. 'Sprecious, I have forgot +something. O, my purse, my purse! Why, Anamnestes, Remembrance? that +wild boy is always gadding. I remember he was at my heels even now, and +now the vile rascal is vanished. + +PHA. Is he not here? Why, then in my imagination he's left behind. +Hollo! Anamnestes, Remembrance! + +ANA. [_Running in haste_.] Anon, anon, sir; anon, anon, sir; anon, +anon, sir; anon, anon, sir. + +MEM. Ha, sirrah, what a brawling's here? + +ANA. I do but give you an answer with, anon, sir. + +MEM. You answer sweetly; I have called you three or four times one +after another. + +ANA. Sir, I hope I answered you three or four times, one in the neck of +another. But if your good worship have lent me any more calls, tell me, +and I'll repay them, as I'm a gentleman. + +MEM. Leave your tattle. Had you come at first, I had not spent so much +breath in vain. + +ANA. The truth is, sir, the first time you called I heard you not: the +second, I understood you not: the third, I knew not whether it were you +or no: the fourth, I could not tell where you were, and that's the +reason I answered so suddenly. + +MEM. Go, sirrah: run: seek everywhere. I have lost my purse somewhere. + +ANA. I go, sir. _Go, sirrah, seek, run; I have lost; bring_! here's a +dog's life, with a pox! Shall I be always used like a water-spaniel? + [_Exit_ ANAMNESTES. + +COM. SEN. Come, good Master Register, I wonder you be so late now-a-days. + +MEM. My good lord, I remember that I knew your grandfather in this your +place, and I remember your grandfather's great grandfather's +grandfather's father's father; yet in those days I never remember that +any of them could say that Register Memory ever broke one minute of his +appointment. + +COM. SEN. Why, good father, why are you so late now-a-days? + +MEM. Thus 'tis; the most customers I remember myself to have, are, as +your lordship knows, scholars; and now-a-days the most of them are +become critics, bringing me home such paltry things to lay up for them, +that I can hardly find them again. + +PHA. Jupiter, Jupiter, I had thought these flies had bit none but +myself: do critics tickle you, i'faith? + +MEM. Very familiarly: for they must know of me, forsooth, how every idle +word is written in all the musty moth-eaten manuscripts, kept in all the +old libraries in every city betwixt England and Peru. + +COM. SEN. Indeed, I have noted these times to affect antiquities more +than is requisite. + +MEM. I remember, in the age of Assaracus and Ninus, and about the wars +of Thebes and the siege of Troy, there were few things committed to my +charge, but those that were well worthy the preserving; but now every +trifle must be wrapped up in the volume of eternity. A rich pudding-wife +or a cobbler cannot die but I must immortalise his name with an epitaph; +a dog cannot piss in a nobleman's shoe, but it must be sprinkled into +the chronicles; so that I never could remember my treasure more full, +and never emptier of honourable and true heroical actions. + +PHA. By your leave, Memory, you are not alone troubled; chronologers +many of them are so fantastic, as when they bring a captain to the +combat, lifting up his revengeful arm to dispart the head of his enemy, +they'll hold up his arms so long, till they have bestowed three or four +pages in describing the gold hilts of his threatening falchion: so that +in my fancy the reader may well wonder his adversary stabs him not, +before he strikes. Moreover, they are become most palpable flatterers, +always begging at my gates for invention. + +COM. SEN. This is a great fault in a chronologer to turn parasite: an +absolute historian should be in fear of none;[227] neither should he +write anything more than truth for friendship, or less for hate; but +keep himself equal and constant in all his discourses. But, for us, we +must be contented; for, as our honours increase, so must the burthen of +the cares of our offices urge us to wax heavy. + +PHA. But not till our backs break; 'slud, there was never any so haunted +as I am: this day there comes a sophister to my house, knocks at my +door; his errand being asked, forsooth his answer was to borrow a fair +suit of conceits out of my wardrobe, to apparel a show he had in hand: +and what think you is the plot? + +COM. SEN. Nay, I know not, for I am little acquainted with such toys. + +PHA. Meanwhile, he's somewhat acquainted with you, for he's bold to +bring your person upon the stage. + +COM. SEN. What, me? I can't remember that I was ever brought upon the +stage before. + +PHA. Yes, you, and you, and myself with all my fantastical tricks and +humours: but I trow I have fitted him with fooleries: I trust he'll +never trouble me again. + +COM. SEN. O times! O manners! when boys dare to traduce men in +authority; was ever such an attempt heard? + +MEM. I remember there was: for, to say the truth, at my last being at +Athens--it is now, let me see, about one thousand eight hundred years +ago--I was at a comedy of Aristophanes' making.[228] I shall never +forget it; the arch-governor of Athens took me by the hand, and placed +me; and there, I say, I saw Socrates abused most grossly, himself being +then a present spectator: I remember he sat full against me, and did not +so much as show the least countenance of discontent. + +COM. SEN. In those days it was lawful; but now the abuse of such liberty +is insufferable. + +PHA. Think what you will of it, I think 'tis done, and I think it is +acting by this time: hark, hark; what drumming's yonder! I'll lay my +life they are come to present the show I spake of. + +COM. SEN. It may be so; stay, we'll see what 'tis. + + + +SCAENA QUINTA. + + + LINGUA, MENDACIO, COMMUNIS SENSUS, _and the rest_. + +LIN. Feign thyself in great haste. + +MEN. I warrant you, madam: I doubt 'tis in vain to run, by this they are +all past overtaking. + +COM. SEN. Is not this Lingua, that is in such haste? + +PHA. Yes, yes, stand still. + +MEN. I must speak with him. + +COM. SEN. With whom? + +MEN. Assure yourself they are all at court ere this. + +LIN. Run after them, for, unless he know it-- + +COM. SEN. Lingua! + +LIN. O, is't your lordship? I beseech you, pardon me. Haste and fear, I +protest, put out mine eyes: I looked so long for you, that I knew not, +when I had found you. + +PHA. In my conceit that's like the man that inquired who saw his ass, +when himself rid on him. + +LIN. O, my heart beats so! fie, fie, fie, fie! + +MEN. I am so weary; so, so, so, so. + +COM. SEN. I prythee, Lingua, make an end. + +LIN. Let me begin first, I beseech you; but if you will needs have the +end first--thus 'tis: the commonwealth of Microcosm at this instant +suffers the pangs of death, 'tis gasping for breath. Will you have all? +'tis poisoned. + +PHA. What apothecary durst be so bold as make such a confection? ha, +what poison is't? + +LIN. A golden crown. + +MEN. I mistake; or else Galen, in his book "De Sanitate Tuenda," +commends gold as restorative. + +COM. SEN. Lingua, express yourself. + +MEN. Madam, if you want breath, let me help you out. + +LIN. I prythee do, do. + +MEN. My lord, the report is that Mercury, coming late into this country, +in this very place left a coronet with this inscription, _that the best +of the five should have it_, which the Senses thinking to belong unto +them-- + +LIN. Challenge each other, and are now in arms, and't like your +lordship. + +COM. SEN. I protest it likes not me. + +LIN. Their battles are not far hence; ready ranged. + +COM. SEN. O monstrous presumption! what shall we do? + +MEM. My lord, in your great grandfather's time there was, I remember, +such a breach amongst them; therefore my counsel is that, after his +example, by the strength of your authority you convene them before you. + +COM. SEN. Lingua, go presently; command the Senses, upon their +allegiance to our dread sovereign Queen Psyche, to dismiss their +companies, and personally to appear before me without any pretence of +excuse. + +LIN. I go, my lord. + +PHA. But hear you, madam? I pray you, let your Tongue's page[229] walk +with us a little, till you return again. + +LIN. With all my heart. [_Exit_ LINGUA. + +PHA.[230] Hot youths, I protest: saw you those warlike preparations? + +MEN, Lately, my lords, I sped into the army; +But O, 'tis far beyond my reach of wit +Or strength of utterance to describe their forces. + +COM. SEN. Go to; speak what thou canst. + +MEN. Upon the right hand of a spacious hill +Proud Visus marshalleth a puissant army, +Three thousand eagles strong, whose valiant captain +Is Jove's swift thunder-bearer, that same bird, +That hoist up Ganymede from the Trojan plains. +The vanguard strengthened with a wondrous flight +Of falcons, haggards, hobbies, terselets,[231] +Lanards and goshawks, sparhawks, and ravenous birds. +The rearward granted to Auditus' charge, +Is stoutly follow'd with an impetuous herd +Of stiff-neck'd bulls and many horn-mad stags, +Of the best head the forest can afford. + +PHA. I promise you, a fearful troop of soldiers. + +MEN. Right opposite stands Tactus, strongly mann'd +With three thousand bristled urchens[232] for his pikemen, +Four hundred tortoises for elephants; +Besides a monstrous troop of ugly spiders, +Within an ambushment he hath commanded +Of their own guts to spin a cordage fine, +Whereof t'have fram'd a net (O wondrous work!) +That, fastened by the concave of the moon, +Spreads down itself to th'earth's circumference. + +MEM. 'Tis very strange; I cannot remember the like engine at any time. + +MEN. Nay more, my lord, the masks[233] are made so strong, +That I myself upon them scal'd the heavens, +And boldly walk'd about the middle region, +Where, in the province of the meteors, +I saw the cloudy shops of hail and rain, +Garners of snow, and crystals full of dew; +Rivers of burning arrows, dens of dragons, +Huge beams of flames, and spears like firebrands. +Where I beheld hot Mars and Mercury, +With rackets made of spheres and balls of stars, +Playing at tennis for a tun of Nectar. +And that vast gaping of the firmament +Under the southern pole is nothing else +But the great hazard[234] of their tennis-court; +The Zodiac is the line; the shooting stars, +Which in an eye-bright evening seem to fall, +Are nothing but the balls they lose at bandy. +Thus, having took my pleasure with those sights, +By the same net I went up I descended. + +COM. SEN. Well, sirrah, to what purpose tends this stratagem? + +MEN. None know directly; but I think it is +T'entrap the eagles, when the battles join. + +PHA. Who takes Tactus his part? + +MEN. Under the standard of thrice-hardy Tactus, +Thrice-valiant Gustus leads his warlike forces; +An endless multitude of desperate apes; +Five hundred marmosets and long-tail'd monkeys, +All trained to the field, and nimble gunners. + +PHA. I imagine there's old moving[235] amongst them: methinks a handful +of nuts would turn them all out of their soldiers' coats. + +MEN. Ramparts of pasty-crust and forts of pies, +Entrench'd with dishes full of custard stuff, +Hath Gustus made, and planted ordinance-- +Strange ordinance, cannons of hollow canes, +Whose powder's rape-seed, charg'd with turnip-shot. + +MEM. I remember, in the country of Utopia[236] they use no other kind of +artillery. + +COM. SEN. But what's become of Olfactus? + +MEN. He politicly leans to neither part, +But stands betwixt the camps as at receipt, +Having great swine[237] his pioneers to entrench them. + +PHA. In my foolish imagination Olfactus is very like the Goddess of +Victory, that never takes any part but the conqueror's. + +MEN. And in the woods be[238] placed secretly +Two hundred couple of hounds and hungry mastiffs; +And o'er his head hover at his command +A cloud of vultures, which o'erspread the light, +Making a night before the day be done: +But to what end not known, but fear'd of all. + +PHA. I conjecture he intends to see them fight, and after the battle to +feed his dogs, hogs, and vultures upon the murdered carcases. + +MEN. My lord, I think the fury of their anger will not be obedient to +the message of Lingua; for otherwise, in my conceit, they should have +been here ere this. With your lordship's good liking, we'll attend upon +you to see the field for more certainty. + +COM. SEN. It shall be so; come, Master Register, let's walk. + + [_Exeunt omnes_. + + + + +ACTUS TERTIUS, SCAENA PRIMA. + + + ANAMNESTES, _with a purse in his hand_. + +ANA. Forsooth, Oblivio, shut the door upon me; I could come no sooner: +ha! is he not here? O excellent! would I were hanged, but I looked for a +sound rap on the pate, and that made me beforehand to lift up this +excuse for a buckler. I know he's not at court, for here is his purse, +without which warrant there's no coming thither; wherefore now, +Anamnestes, sport thyself a little, while thou art out of the prison of +his company. What shall I do? by my troth, anatomise his purse in his +absence. Plutus send there be jewels in it, that I may finely geld it of +the stones--the best, sure, lies in the bottom; pox on't, here's nothing +but a company of worm-eaten papers: what's this? Memorandum that Master +Prodigo owes me four thousand pounds, and that his lands are in pawn for +it. Memorandum that I owe. That he owes? 'Tis well the old slave hath +some care of his credit; to whom owes he, trow I? that I owe Anamnestes; +what, me? I never lent him anything; ha, this is good, there's something +coming to me more than I looked for. Come on; what is't? Memorandum that +I owe Anamnestes------a breeching;[239] i'faith, sir, I will ease you +of that payment. [_He rends the bill_.] Memorandum that, when I was a +child, Robusto tripped up my heels at football: what a revengeful +dizard[240] is this? + + + +SCAENA SECUNDA. + + + MENDACIO, _with cushions under his arms, + trips up_ ANAMNESTES' _heels_. + + MENDACIO, ANAMNESTES. + +ANA. How now? + +MEN. Nothing, but lay you upon the cushion, sir, or so. + +ANA. Nothing, but lay the cushion upon you, sir. + +MEN, What, my little Nam? By this foot, I am sorry I mistook thee. + +ANA. What, my little Men? By this hand, it grieves me I took thee so +right. But, sirrah, whither with these cushions? + +MEN. To lay them here, that the judges may sit softly, lest my Lady +Lingua's cause go hard with her. + +ANA. They should have been wrought with gold; these will do nothing. But +what makes my lady with the judges? + +MEN. Pish! know'st not? She sueth for the title of a Sense, as well as +the rest that bear the name of the Pentarchy. + +ANA. Will Common Sense and my master leave their affairs to determine +that controversy? + +MEN. Then thou hear'st nothing. + +ANA. What should I hear? + +MEN. All the Senses fell out about a crown fallen from heaven, and +pitched a field for it; but Vicegerent Common Sense, hearing of it, took +upon him to umpire the contention, in which regard he hath appointed +them (their arms dismissed) to appear before him, charging every one to +bring, as it were in a show, their proper objects, that by them he may +determine of their several excellencies. + +ANA. When is all this? + +MEN. As soon as they can possibly provide. + +ANA. But can he tell which deserves best by their objects? + +MEN. No, not only; for every Sense must describe his instrument, that +is, his house, where he performs his daily duty, so that by the object +and the instrument my lord can with great ease discern their place and +dignities. + +ANA. His lordship's very wise. + +MEN. Thou shalt hear all anon. Fine Master Phantastes and thy master +will be here shortly. But how is't, my little rogue? methinks thou +look'st lean upon't! + +ANA. Alas! how should I do otherwise, that lie all night with such a +raw-boned skeleton as Memory, and run all day on his errands? The +churl's grown so old and forgetful, that every hour he's calling, +Anamnestes, Remembrance; where art, Anamnestes? Then presently +something's lost. Poor I must run for it, and these words, _Run, boy; +come, sirrah, quick, quick, quick_! are as familiar with him as the +cough, never out on's mouth. + +MEN. Alack, alack! poor rogue, I see my fortunes are better. My lady +loves me exceedingly; she's always kissing me, so that I tell thee, Nam, +Mendacio's never from betwixt her lips. + +ANA. Nor I out of Memory's mouth,[241] but in a worse sort, always +exercising my stumps, and, which is more, when he favours best, then I +am in the worst taking. + +MEN. How so? + +ANA. Thus: when we are friends, then must I come and be dandled upon his +palsy-quaking knees, and he'll tell me a long story of his acquaintance +with King Priamus and his familiarity with Nestor, and how he played at +blowpoint[242] with Jupiter, when he was in his sidecoats, and how he +went to look bird-nests with Athous,[243] and where he was at +Deucalion's flood, and twenty such old wives' tales. + +MEN. I wonder he, being so old, can talk so much. + +ANA. Nature, thou know'st, knowing what an unruly engine the tongue is, +hath set teeth round about for watchmen. Now, sir, my master's old age +hath coughed out all his teeth, and that's the cause it runs so much at +liberty. + +MEN. Philosophical! + +ANA. O, but there's one thing stings me to the very heart--to see an +ugly, foul, idle, fat, dusty cloghead, called Oblivio, preferred before +me. Dost know him? + +MEN. Who, I? Ay, but care not for his acquaintance. Hang him, blockhead! +I could never abide him. Thou, Remembrance, are the only friend that the +arms of my friendship shall embrace. Thou hast heard _Oportet mendacem +esse memorem_. But what of Oblivio? + +ANA. The very naming of him hath made me forget myself. O, O, O, O, that +rascal is so made of everywhere! + +MEN. Who, Oblivio? + +ANA. Ay, for our courtiers hug him continually in their ungrateful +bosoms, and your smooth-bellied,[244] fat-backed, barrel-paunched, +tun-gutted drones are never without him. As for Memory, he's a +false-hearted fellow; he always deceives them; they respect not him, +except it be to play a game at chests,[245] primero,[246] saunt,[247] +maw,[248] or such like. + +MEN. I cannot think such fellows have to do with Oblivio, since they +never got anything to forget. + +ANA. Again, these prodigal swaggerers that are so much bound to their +creditors, if they have but one cross about them, they'll spend it in +wine upon Oblivio. + +MEN. To what purpose, I prythee? + +ANA. Only in hope he'll wash them in the Lethe of their cares. + +MEN. Why, then, no man cares for thee. + +ANA. Yes, a company of studious paperworms and lean scholars, and +niggarly scraping usurers, and a troop of heart-eating, envious persons, +and those canker-stomached, spiteful creatures that furnish up +commonplace books with other men's faults. The time hath been, in those +golden days when Saturn reigned, that, if a man received a benefit of +another, I was presently sent for to put him in mind of it; but now, in +these iron afternoons, save your friend's life, and Oblivio will be more +familiar with him than you. + + + +SCAENA TERTIA. + + + HEURESIS, MENDACIO, ANAMNESTES. + +HEU. Phantastes not at court? Is't possible? 'Tis the strangest accident +that ever was heard of. I had thought the ladies and gallants would +never lie without him. + +ANA. Hist, hist, Mendacio; I prythee observe Heuresis. It seems he +cannot find his master, that's able to find out all things. And art thou +now at a fault? Canst not find out thine own master? + +HEU. I'll try one more way. O yes![249] + +MEN. What a proclamation for him? + +ANA. Ay, ay, his nimble head is always full of proclamations. + +HEU. O yes! + +MEN. But doth he cry him in the wood? + +ANA. O good sir, and good reason, for every beast hath Phantasy at his +pleasure. + +HEU. O yes! If any man can tell any tidings of a spruce, neat, apish, +nimble, fine, foolish, absurd, humorous, conceited, fantastic gallant, +with hollow eyes, sharp look, swart complexion, meagre face, wearing as +many toys in his apparel as fooleries in his looks and gesture, let him +come forth and certify me thereof, and he shall have for his +reward-- + +ANA. I can tell you where he is. What shall he have? + +HEU. A box o' the ear, sirrah. [_Snap_.] + +ANA. How now, Invention, are you so quick-fingered? I'faith, there's +your principal, sirrah, [_snap_], and here's the interest ready in my +hand [_snap. They fall together by the ears_.] Yea, have you found out +scratching? Now I remember me-- + +HEU. Do you bite me, rascal? + +MEN. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Here's the lively picture of this axiom, +_A quick invention and a good memory can never agree_. Fie, fie, fie: +Heuresis! beat him, when he's down? + +ANA. Prythee, let's alone: proud jackanapes, I'll-- + +HEU. What will you do? + +ANA. Untruss thy points, and whip thee, thou paltry ----. Let me go, +Mendacio, if thou lov'st me. Shall I put up the-- + +MEN. Come, come, come, you shall fight no more, in good faith. Heuresis, +your master will catch you anon. + +HEU. My master! where is he? + +MEN. I'll bring you to him; come away. + +HEU. Anamnestes, I scorn that thou shouldst think I go away for fear of +anything thou canst do unto me. Here's my hand, as soon as thou canst +pick the least occasion, put up thy finger, I am for thee. + +ANA. When thou dar'st, Heuresis, when thou dar'st, I'll be as ready as +thyself at any time. [_Exeunt_ MENDACIO _and_ HEURESIS.] This Heuresis, +this Invention, is the proudest jackanapes, the pertest, self-conceited +boy that ever breathed. Because, forsooth, some odd poet or some such +fantastic fellows make much on him, there's no ho with him.[250] The +vile dandi-prat will overlook the proudest of his acquaintance; but well +I remember me, I learned a trick t'other day to bring a boy o'er the +thigh finely. If he come, i'faith, I'll tickle him with it. + + [MENDACIO _comes running back in great haste_. + +MEN. As I am a rascal, Nam, they are all coming. I see Master Register +trudging hither as fast as his three feet will carry up his four ages. + + [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + + + +SCAENA QUARTA. + + + MEMORIA, ANAMNESTES. + +MEM. Ah, you leaden-heeled rascal! + +ANA. Here 'tis, sir; I have it, I have it. + +MEM. Is this all the haste you make? + +ANA. An't like your worship, your cloghead Oblivio went before me, and +foiled the trail of your footsteps, that I could hardly undertake the +quest of your purse, forsooth. + +MEM. You might have been here long ere this. Come hither, sirrah, come +hither: what, must you go round about? Goodly, goodly, you are full of +circumstances. + +ANA. In truth, sir, I was here before, and missing you, went back into +the city, sought you in every alehouse, inn, tavern, dicing-house, +tennis-court, stews, and such like places, likely to find your worship +in. + +MEM. Ha, villain! am I a man likely to be found in such places, ha? + +ANA. No, no, sir; but I was told by my Lady Lingua's page that your +worship was seeking me; therefore I inquired for you in those places, +where I knew you would ask for me, an it please your worship. + +MEM. I remember another quarrel, sirrah; but--well, well, I have no +leisure. + + + +SCAENA QUINTA. + + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, LINGUA, PHANTASTES, MEMORY, ANAMNESTES. + +COM. SEN. Lingua, the Senses, by our appointment, anon are to present +their objects before us. Seeing, therefore, they be not in readiness, we +license you in the meanwhile, either in your own person or by your +advocate, to speak what you can for yourself. + +LIN. My lord, if I should bring before your honour all my friends, ready +to importune you in my behalf, I should have so many rhetoricians, +logicians, lawyers, and (which is more) so many women, to attend me, +that this grove would hardly contain the company; wherefore, to avoid +the tediousness, I will lay the whole cause upon the tip of mine own +tongue. + +COM. SEN. Be as brief as the necessity of our short time requires. + +LIN. My lord, though the _imbecillitas_ of my feeble sex might draw me +back from this tribunal, with the _habenis_, to wit _timoris_ and the +_Catenis pudoris_, notwithstanding being so fairly led on with the +gracious [Greek: epiecheia] of your _justissime_ [Greek: dikaiosynaes]. +Especially so _aspremente spurd' con gli sproni di necessita mia +pugente_, I will without the help of orators commit the _totam salutem_ +of my action to the _volutabilitati_ [Greek: ton gynaicheion logon], +which _avec vostre bonne plaisir_, I will finish with more than +_Laconica brevitate_. + +COM. SEN. What's this? here's a gallimaufry of speech indeed. + +MEM. I remember about the year 1602 many used this skew kind of language +which, in my opinion, is not much unlike the man Platony,[251] the son +of Lagus, king of Egypt, brought for a spectacle, half-white, half-black. + +COM. SEN. I am persuaded these same language-makers have the very +quality of cold in their wit, that freezeth all heterogeneal languages +together, congealing English tin, Grecian gold, Roman latten[252] all in +a lump. + +PHA. Or rather, in my imagination, like your fantastical gull's apparel, +wearing a Spanish felt, a French doublet, a Granado stocking, a Dutch +slop, an Italian cloak, with a Welsh freeze jerkin. + +COM. SEN. Well, leave your toying: we cannot pluck the least feather +from the soft wing of time. Therefore, Lingua, go on, but in a less +formal manner. You know an ingenious oration must neither swell above +the banks with insolent words, nor creep too shallow in the ford with +vulgar terms; but run equally, smooth and cheerful, through the clean +current of a pure style. + +LIN. My lord, this one thing is sufficient to confirm my worth to be +equal or better than the Senses, whose best operations are nothing till +I polish them with perfection; for their knowledge is only of things +present, quickly sublimed with the deft[253] file of time: whereas the +tongue is able to recount things past, and often pronounce things to +come, by this means re-edifying such excellences as time and age do +easily depopulate. + +COM. SEN. But what profitable service do you undertake for our dread +queen Psyche? + +LIN. O, how I am ravished to think how infinitely she hath graced me +with her most acceptable service! But above all (which you, Master +Register, well remember), when her highness, taking my mouth for her +instrument, with the bow of my tongue struck so heavenly a touch upon my +teeth, that she charmed the very tigers asleep, the listening bears and +lions to couch at her feet, while the hills leaped, and the woods danced +to the sweet harmony of her most angelical accents. + +MEM. I remember it very well. Orpheus played upon the harp, while she +sung, about some four years after the contention betwixt Apollo and Pan, +and a little before the excoriation of Marsyas. + +ANA. By the same token the river Alpheus, at that time pursuing his +beloved Arethusa, dischannelled himself of his former course, to be +partaker of their admirable consort[254], and the music being ended, +thrust himself headlong into earth, the next way to follow his amorous +chace. If you go to Arcadia, you shall see his coming up again. + +COM. SEN. Forward, Lingua, with your reason. + +LIN. How oft hath her excellency employed me as ambassador in her most +urgent affairs to foreign kings and emperors--I may say to the gods +themselves? How many bloodless battles have my persuasions attained, +when the Senses' forces have been vanquished? how many rebels have I +reclaimed, when her sacred authority was little regarded? Her laws +(without exprobation be it spoken) had been altogether unpublished, her +will unperformed, her illustrious deeds unrenowned, had not the silver +sound of my trumpet filled the whole circuit of the universe with her +deserved fame. Her cities would dissolve, traffic would decay, +friendships be broken, were not my speech the knot, mercury, and mastic, +to bind, defend, and glue them together. What should I say more? I can +never speak enough of the unspeakable praise of speech, wherein I can +find no other imperfection at all, but that the most exquisite power and +excellency of speech cannot sufficiently express the exquisite power and +excellency of speaking. + +COM. SEN. Lingua, your service and dignity we confess to be great; +nevertheless these reasons prove you not to have the nature of a Sense. + +LIN. By your ladyship's favour, I can soon prove that a Sense is a +faculty, by which our queen sitting in her privy chamber hath +intelligence of exterior occurrences. That I am of this nature, I prove +thus. The object which I challenge is-- + + _Enter_ APPETITUS _in haste_. + +APP. Stay, stay, my lord; defer, I beseech you, defer the judgment. + +COM. SEN. Who's this that boldly interrupts us thus? + +APP. My name is Appetitus, common servant to the pentarchy of the Senses +who, understanding that your honour was handling this action of +Lingua's, sent me hither thus hastily, most humbly requesting the Bench +to consider these articles they allege against her, before you proceed +to judgment. + +COM. SEN. Hum, here's good stuff; Master Register, read them. Appetitus, +you may depart, and bid your mistress make convenient speed. + +APP. At your lordship's pleasure. [_Exit_ APPETITUS. + +MEM. I remember that I forgot my spectacles; I left them in the 349th +page of Hall's "Chronicles," where he tells a great wonder of a +multitude of mice, which had almost destroyed the country, but that +there resorted a great mighty flight of owls, that destroyed them. +Anamnestes, read these articles distinctly. + +ANA. Art. 1. Imprimis, We accuse Lingua of high treason and sacrilege +against the most honourable commonwealth of letters; for, under pretence +of profiting the people with translations, she hath most vilely +prostituted the hard mysteries of unknown languages to the profane ears +of the vulgar. + +PHA. This is as much as to make a new hell in the upper world; for in +hell they say Alexander is no better than a cobbler, and now by these +translations every cobbler is as familiar with Alexander as he that +wrote his life. + +ANA. Art. 2. Item, that she hath wrongfully imprisoned a lady called +Veritas. + +Art. 3. Item, That she's a witch, and exerciseth her tongue in exorcisms. + +Art. 4. Item, That she's a common whore, and lets every one lie with her. + +Art. 5. Item, that she rails on men in authority, depraving their honours +with bitter jests and taunts; and that she's a backbiter, setting strife +betwixt bosom friends. + +Art. 6. Item, that she lends wives weapons to fight against their +husbands. + +Art. 7. Item, that she maintains a train of prating pettifoggers, +prowling sumners[255], smooth-tongued bawds, artless[256] empirics, +hungry parasites, newscarriers, janglers[257], and such like idle +companions, that delude the commonalty. + +Art. 8. Item, that she made rhetoric wanton, logic to babble, astronomy +to lie. + +Art. 9. Item that she's an incontinent tell-tale. + +Art. 10. Item (which is the last and worst), that she's a woman in every +respect, and for these causes not to be admitted to the dignity of a +Sense. That these articles be true, we pawn our honours, and subscribe +our names. + + 1. VISUS. 4. OLFACTUS. + 3. GUSTUS. + 2. AUDITUS. 5. TACTUS. + +COM. SEN. Lingua, these be shrewd allegations, and, as I think, +unanswerable. I will defer the judgment of your cause, till I have +finished the contention of the Senses. + +LIN. Your lordship must be obeyed. But as for them, most ungrateful and +perfidious wretches-- + +COM. SEN. Good words become you better; you may depart, if you will, +till we send for you. Anamnestes, run, remember Visus; 'tis time he were +ready. + +ANA. I go. [_Exit_ ANAMNESTES _et redit_.] He stays here, expecting your +lordship's pleasure. + + + +SCAENA SEXTA. + + + _A page carrying a scutcheon argent, charged with an eagle displayed + proper: then_ VISUS, _with a fan of peacock's feathers: next_ LUMEN, + _with a crown of bays and a shield with a bright sun in it, + apparelled in tissue: then a page bearing a shield before_ COELUM, + _clad in azure taffeta, dimpled with stars, a crown of stars on his + head, and a scarf resembling the zodiac overthwart the shoulders: + next a page clad in green, with a terrestrial globe before_ TERRA, + _in a green velvet gown stuck with branches and flowers, a crown of + turrets upon her head, in her hand a key: then a herald, leading in + his hand_ COLOUR, _clad in changeable silk, with a rainbow out of a + cloud on her head: last, a boy_. VISUS _marshalleth his show about + the stage, and presents it before the Bench_. + + VISUS, LUMEN, COELUM, PHANTASTES, COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORY. + +VIS. Lo, here the objects that delight the sight! +The goodliest objects that man's heart can wish! +For all things, that the orb first movable +Wraps in the circuit of his large-stretch'd arms, +Are subject to the power of Visus' eyes. +That you may know what profit light doth bring, +Note Lumen's words, that speaks next following. + +LUM. Light, the fair grandchild to the glorious sun, +Opening the casements of the rosy morn, +Makes the abashed heavens soon to shun +The ugly darkness it embrac'd beforn;[258] +And, at his first appearance, puts to flight +The utmost relics of the hell-born night. +This heavenly shield, soon as it is display'd, +Dismays the vices that abhor the light; +To wanderers by sea and land gives aid; +Conquers dismay, recomforteth affright; +Rouseth dull idleness, and starts soft sleep, +And all the world to daily labour keep. +This a true looking-glass impartial, +Where beauty's self herself doth beautify +With native hue, not artificial, +Discovering falsehood, opening verity: +The day's bright eye colours distinction, +Just judge of measure and proportion. +The only means by which each mortal eye +Sends messengers to the wide firmament, +That to the longing soul brings presently +High contemplation and deep wonderment; +By which aspirement she her wings displays, +And herself thither, whence she came, upraise. + +PHA. What blue thing's that, that's dappled so with stars. + +VIS. He represents the heaven. + +PHA. In my conceit +'Twere pretty, if he thundered when he speaks. + +VIS. Then none could understand him. + +COEL. Tropic, colures, the equinoctial, +The zodiac, poles, and line ecliptical, +The nadir, zenith, and anomalies, +The azimuth and ephimerides, +Stars, orbs, and planets, with their motions, +The oriental regradations, +Eccentrics, epicyctes, and--and--and-- + +PHA. How now, Visus, is your heaven at a stay, +Or is it his _motus trepidationis_ that makes him stammer? +I pray you, Memory, set him a-gate[259] again. + +MEM. I remember, when Jupiter made Amphitryo cuckold, and lay with his +wife Alcmena, Coelum was in this taking for three days space, and stood +still just like him at a nonplus. + +COM. SEN. Leave jesting; you'll put the fresh actor out of countenance. + +COEL. Eccentrics, epicyctes, and aspects +In sextile, trine and quadrate, which effects +Wonders on earth: also the oblique part +Of signs, that make the day both long and short, +The constellations, rising cosmical, +Setting of stars, chronic, and heliacal, +In the horizon or meridional, +And all the skill in deep astronomy, +Is to the soul derived by the eye. + +PHA. Visus, you have made Coelum a heavenly speech, past earthly +capacity; it had been as good for him he had thundered. But I pray +you, who taught him to speak and use no action? methinks it had been +excellent to have turned round about in his speech. + +VIS. He hath so many motions, he knows not which to begin withal. + +PHA. Nay, rather it seems he's of Copernicus' opinion, and that makes +him stand still. + + [TERRA _comes to the midst of the stage, stands still + a while, saith nothing, and steps back_. + +COM. SEN. Let's hear what Terra can say--just nothing? + +VIS. And't like your lordship, 'twere an indecorum Terra should speak. + +MEM. You are deceived; for I remember, when Phaeton ruled the sun (I +shall never forget him, he was a very pretty youth), the Earth opened +her mouth wide, and spoke a very good speech to Jupiter. + +ANA. By the same token Nilus hid his head then, he could never find it +since. + +PHA. You know, Memory, that was an extreme hot day, and 'tis likely +Terra sweat much, and so took cold presently after, that ever since she +hath lost her voice. + +HER. A canton ermine added to the field +Is a sure sign the man that bore these arms +Was to his prince as a defensive shield, +Saving him from the force of present harms[260]. + +PHA. I know this fellow of old, 'tis a herald: many a centaur, +chimaera[261], barnacle[262], crocodile, hippopotame, and such like +toys hath he stolen out of the shop of my Invention, to shape new coats +for his upstart gentlemen. Either Africa must breed more monsters,[263] +or you make fewer gentlemen, Master Herald, for you have spent all my +devices already. But since you are here, let me ask you a question in +your own profession: how comes it to pass that the victorious arms of +England, quartered with the conquered coat of France, are not placed on +the dexter side, but give the flower-de-luce the better hand? + +HER. Because that the three lions are one coat made of two French +dukedoms, Normandy and Aquitain. + +[PHA.][264] But I pray you, Visus, what joy is that, that follows him? + +VIS. 'Tis Colour, an object of mine, subject to his commandment. + +PHA. Why speaks he not? + +VIS. He is so bashful, he dares not speak for blushing: +What thing is that? tell me without delay. + +BOY. That's nothing of itself, yet every way +As like a man as a thing like may be: +And yet so unlike as clean contrary, +For in one point it every way doth miss, +The right side of it a man's left side is; +'Tis lighter than a feather, and withal +It fills no place nor room, it is so small. + +COM. SEN. How now, Visus, have you brought a boy with a riddle to pose +us all? + +PHA. Pose us all, and I here? That were a jest indeed. My lord, if he +have a Sphinx, I have an Oedipus, assure yourself; let's hear it once +again. + +BOY. What thing is that, sir, &c. + +PHA. This such a knotty enigma? Why, my lord, I think 'tis a woman, for +first a woman is nothing of herself, and, again, she is likest a man of +anything. + +COM. SEN. But wherein is she unlike? + +PHA. In everything: in peevishness, in folly. 'St, boy? + +HEU. In pride, deceit, prating, lying, cogging, coyness, spite, hate, +sir. + +PHA. And in many more such vices. Now, he may well say, the left side a +man's right side is, for a cross wife is always contrary to her husband, +ever contradicting what he wisheth for, like to the verse in Martial, +_Velle tuum_. + +MEM. _Velle tuum nolo, Dindyme, nolle volo_. + +PHA. Lighter than a feather--doth any man make question of that? + +MEM. They need not, for I remember I saw a cardinal weigh them once, and +the woman was found three grains lighter. + +COM. SEN. 'Tis strange, for I have seen gentlewomen wear feathers +oftentimes. Can they carry heavier things than themselves? + +MEM. O, sir, I remember, 'tis their only delight to do so. + +COM. SEN. But how apply you the last verse? it fills no place, sir. + +PHA. By my faith, that spoils all the former, for these farthingales +take up all the room now-a-days; 'tis not a woman, questionless. Shall I +be put down with a riddle? Sirrah Heuresis, search the corners of your +conceit, and find it me quickly. + +HEU. Eh, [Greek: heureka, heureka] I have it: 'tis a man's face in a +looking-glass. + +PHA. My lord, 'tis so indeed. Sirrah let's see it, for do you see my +right eye here? + +COM. SEN. What of your eye? + +PHA. O lord, sir, this kind of frown is excellent, especially when 'tis +sweetened with such a pleasing smile. + +COM. SEN. Phantastes! + +PHA. O sir, my left eye is my right in the glass, do you see? By these +lips, my garters hang so neatly, my gloves and shoes become my hands and +feet so well. Heuresis, tie my shoe-strings with a new knot--this point +was scarce well-trussed, so, 'tis excellent. Looking-glasses were a +passing invention. I protest the fittest books for ladies to study on-- + +MEM. Take heed you fall not in love with yourself. Phantastes, as I +remember--Anamnestes, who was't that died of the looking disease? + +ANA. Forsooth, Narcissus: by the same token he was turned to a daffodil, +and as he died for love of himself, so, if you remember, there was an +old ill-favoured, precious-nosed, babber-lipped, beetle-browed, +blear-eyed, slouch-eared slave that, looking himself by chance in a +glass, died for pure hate. + +PHA. By the lip of my ---- I could live and die with this face. + +COM. SEN. Fie, fie, Phantastes, so effeminate! for shame, leave off. +Visus, your objects I must needs say, are admirable, if the house and +instrument be answerable. Let's hear therefore in brief your +description. + +VIS. Under the forehead of Mount Cephalou,[265] +That overpeers the coast of Microcosm, +All in the shadow of two pleasant groves, +Stand by two mansion-houses, both as round +As the clear heavens: both twins, as like each other +As star to star, which by the vulgar sort, +For their resplendent composition, +Are named the bright eyes of Mount Cephalon: +With four fair rooms those lodgings are contrived, +Four goodly rooms in form most spherical, +Closing each other like the heavenly orbs: +The first whereof, of nature's substance wrought, +As a strange moat the other to defend, +Is trained movable by art divine, +Stirring the whole compacture of the rest: +The second chamber is most curiously +Compos'd of burnish'd and transparent horn. + +PHA. That's a matter of nothing. I have known many have such +bed-chambers. + +MEM. It may be so, for I remember, being once in the town's library, I +read such a thing in their great book of monuments, called "Cornucopia," +or rather their "Copiacornu." + +VIS. The third's a lesser room of purest glass; +The fourth's smallest, but passeth all the former +In worth of matter: built most sumptuously, +With walls transparent of pure crystalline. +This the soul's mirror and the body's guide, +Love's cabinet, bright beacons of the realm, +Casements of light, quiver of Cupid's shafts, +Wherein I sit, and immediately receive +The species of things corporeal, +Keeping continual watch and sentinel; +Lest foreign hurt invade our Microcosm, +And warning give (if pleasant things approach), +To entertain them. From this costly room +Leadeth, my lord, an entry to your house, +Through which I hourly to yourself convey +Matters of wisdom by experience bred: +Art's first invention, pleasant vision, +Deep contemplation, that attires the soul +In gorgeous robes of flowing literature: +Then, if that Visus have deserved best, +Let his victorious brow with crown be blest. + +COM. SEN. Anamnestes, see who's to come next. + +ANA. Presently, my lord. + +PHA. Visus, I wonder that amongst all your objects, you presented us +not with Plato's idea, or the sight of Nineveh,[266] Babylon, London, or +some Stourbridge-fair monsters; they would have done passing well. Those +motions, in my imagination, are very delightful. + +VIS. I was loth to trouble your honours with such toys, neither could I +provide them in so short a time. + +COM. SEN. We will consider your worth; meanwhile, we dismiss you. + + [VISUS _leads his show about the stage, and so goeth out with it_. + + + +SCAENA ULTIMA. + + + AUDITUS, _&c_. + +AUD. Hark, hark, hark, hark! peace, peace, O, peace! O sweet, admirable, +swanlike, heavenly! hark, O most mellifluous strain! O, what a pleasant +close was there! O fall[267] most delicate! + +COM. SEN. How now, Phantastes! is Auditus mad? + +PHA. Let him alone, his musical head is always full of old crotchets. + +AUD. Did you mark the dainty driving of the last point, an excellent +maintaining of the song; by the choice timpan of mine ear, I never heard +a better! hist, 'st, 'st, hark! why, there's a cadence able to ravish +the dullest stoic. + +COM. SEN. I know not what to think on him. + +AUD. There how sweetly the plain-song was dissolved into descant, and +how easily they came off with the last rest. Hark, hark, the +bitter'st[268] sweetest achromatic. + +COM. SEN. Auditus! + +AUD. Thanks, good Apollo, for this timely grace, +Never couldst thou in fitter hour indulge it: +O more than most musical harmony! +O most admirable concert! have you no ears? +Do you not hear this music? + +PHA. It may be good; but, in my opinion, they rest too long in the +beginning. + +AUD. Are you then deaf? do you not yet perceive +The wondrous sound the heavenly orbs do make +With their continual motion? hark, hark, +O honey-sweet! + +COM. SEN. What tune do they play? + +AUD. Why such a tune as never was, nor ever shall be heard. +Mark now, now mark: now, now! + +PHA. List, list, list. + +AUD. Hark! O sweet, sweet, sweet. + +PHA. List! how my heart envies my happy ears. +Hist, by the gold-strung harp of Apollo, +I hear the celestial music of the spheres, +As plainly as ever Pythagoras did. +O most excellent diapason! good, good. +It plays _Fortune my foe_,[269] as distinctly as may be. + +COM. SEN. As the fool thinketh, so the bell clinketh. I protest I hear +no more than a post. + +PHA. What, the Lavolta![270] eh? nay, if the heavens fiddle, Fancy must +needs dance. + +COM. SEN. Prythee, sit still, thou must dance nothing but the passing +measures[271]. Memory, do you hear this harmony of the spheres? + +MEM. Not now, my lord; but I remember about some four thousand years +ago, when the sky was first made, we heard very perfectly. + +ANA. By the same token, the first tune the planets played, I remember +Venus the treble ran sweet division upon Saturn the bass. The first tune +they played was Sellenger's round[272], in memory whereof ever since it +hath been called "the beginning of the world." + +COM. SEN. How comes it we cannot hear it now? + +MEM. Our ears are so well acquainted with the sound, that we never mark +it. As I remember, the Egyptian Catadupes[273] never heard the roaring +of the fall of Nilus, because the noise was so familiar unto them. + +COM. SEN. Have you no other objects to judge by than these, Auditus? + +AUD. This is the rarest and most exquisite: +Most spherical, divine, angelical; +But since your duller ears cannot perceive it, +May it please your lordship to withdraw yourself +Unto this neighbouring grove: there shall you see +How the sweet treble of the chirping birds, +And the soft stirring of the moved leaves, +Running delightful descant to the sound +Of the base murmuring of the bubbling brook[274], +Becomes a concert of good instruments; +While twenty babbling echoes round about, +Out of the stony concave of their mouths, +Restore the vanished music of each close, +And fill your ears full with redoubled pleasure. + +COM. SEN. I will walk with you very willingly, for I grow weary of +sitting. Come, Master Register and Master Phantastes. + + [_Exeunt_ OMNES. + + + + +ACTUS QUARTUS, SCAENA PRIMA. + + + MENDACIO, ANAMNESTES, HEURESIS. + +MEN. Prythee, Nam, be persuaded: is't not better to go to a feast, than +stay here for a fray? + +ANA. A feast? dost think Auditus will make the judges a feast? + +MEN. Faith, ay. Why should he carry them to his house else? + +ANA. Why, sirrah, to hear a set or two of songs: 'slid, his banquets are +nothing but fish, all sol, sol, sol.[275] I'll teach thee wit, boy; +never go thee to a musician's house for junkets, unless thy stomach lies +in thine ears; for there is nothing but commending this song's delicate +air, that ode's dainty air, this sonnet's sweet air, that madrigal's +melting air, this dirge's mournful air: this church air, that chamber +air: French air, English air, Italian air. Why, lad, they be pure +camelions; they feed only upon air. + +MEN. Camelions? I'll be sworn some of your fiddlers be rather camels, +for by their good wills they will never leave eating. + +ANA. True, and good reason, for they do nothing all the day but stretch +and grate their small guts. But, O, yonder's the ape Heuresis; let me +go, I prythee. + +MEN. Nay, good-now, stay a little, let's see his humour. + +HEU. I see no reason to the contrary, for we see the quintessence of +wine will convert water into wine; why therefore should not the elixir +of gold turn lead into pure gold? [_Soliloquises_.] + +MEN. Ha, ha, ha, ha! He is turned chemic, sirrah; it seems so by his +talk. + +HEU. But how shall I devise to blow the fire of beechcoals with a +continual and equal blast? ha? I will have my bellows driven with a +wheel, which wheel shall be a self-mover. + +ANA. Here's old turning[276]; these chemics, seeking to turn lead into +gold, turn away all their own silver. + +HEU. And my wheel shall be geometrically proportioned into seven or nine +concave encircled arms, wherein I will put equal poises: ay, ay; [Greek: +heureka, heureka] I have it, I have it, I have it. + +MEN. Heuresis! + +HEU. But what's best to contain the quicksilver, ha? + +ANA. Do you remember your promise, Heuresis? + +HEU. It must not be iron; for quicksilver is the tyrant of metals, and +will soon fret it. + +ANA. Heuresis? Heuresis? + +HEU. Nor brass, nor copper, nor mastlin[277], nor mineral: [Greek: +heureka, heureka] I have it, I have it, it must be-- + +ANA. You have, indeed, sirrah, and thus much more than you looked for. + [_Snap_. + + [HEURESIS _and_ ANAMNESTES _about to fight, + but_ MENDACIO _parts them_. + +MEN. You shall not fight; but if you will always disagree, let us have +words and no blows. Heuresis, what reason have you to fall out with him? + +HEU. Because he is always abusing me, and takes the upper hand of me +everywhere. + +ANA. And why not, sirrah? I am thy better in any place. + +HEU. Have I been the author of the seven liberal sciences, and +consequently of all learning, have I been the patron of all mechanical +devices, to be thy inferior? I tell thee, Anamnestes, thou hast not so +much as a point, but thou art beholding to me for it. + +ANA. Good, good; but what had your invention been, but for my +remembrance? I can prove that thou, belly-sprung invention, art the most +improfitable member in the world; for ever since thou wert born, thou +hast been a bloody murderer; and thus I prove it: In the quiet years of +Saturn (I remember Jupiter was then but in his swathe-bands), thou +rentest the bowels of the earth, and broughtest gold to light, whose +beauty, like Helen, set all the world by the ears. Then, upon that, thou +foundest out iron, and puttest weapons in their hands, and now in the +last populous age thou taughtest a scabshin friar the hellish invention +of powder and guns. + +HEU. Call'st it hellish? thou liest! It is the admirablest invention of +all others, for whereas others imitate nature, this excels nature +herself. + +MEM. True; for a cannon will kill as many at one shot as thunder doth +commonly at twenty. + +ANA. Therefore more murdering art thou than the light-bolt[278]. + +HEU. But to show the strength of my conceit, I have found out a means to +withstand the stroke of the most violent culverin. Mendacio, thou saw'st +it, when I demonstrated the invention. + +ANA. What, some woolpacks or mud walls, or such like? + +HEU. Mendacio, I prythee tell it him, for I love not to be a trumpeter +of mine own praises. + +MEN. I must needs confess this device to pass all that ever I heard or +saw, and thus it was--first he takes a falcon, and charges it (without +all deceits) with dry powder well-camphired[279], then did he put in a +single bullet, and a great quantity of drop-shot both round and +lachrymal. This done, he sets me a boy sixty paces off, just point blank +over against the mouth of the piece. Now in the very midst of the direct +line he fastens a post, upon which he hangs me in a cord a siderite of +Herculean stone[280]. + +ANA. Well, well, I know it well, it was found out in Ida, in the year of +the world ---- by one Magnes, whose name it retains, though vulgarly +they call it the Adamant. + +MEN. When he had hanged this adamant in a cord, he comes back, and gives +fire to the touchhole: now the powder consumed to a void vacuum-- + +HEU. Which is intolerable in nature, for first shall the whole machine +of the world, heaven, earth, sea, and air, return to the misshapen house +of Chaos, than the least vacuum be found in the universe. + +MEN. The bullet and drop-shot flew most impetuously from the fiery +throat of the culverin; but, O, strange, no sooner came they near the +adamant in the cord, but they were all arrested by the serjeant of +nature, and hovered in the air round about it, till they had lost the +force of their motion, clasping themselves close to the stone in most +lovely manner, and not any one flew to endanger the mark; so much did +they remember their duty to nature, that they forgot the errand they +were sent of. + +ANA. This is a very artificial lie. + +MEN. Nam, believe it, for I saw it, and which is more, I have practised +this device often. Once when I had a quarrel with one of my lady +Veritas' naked knaves, and had 'ppointed him the field, I conveyed into +the heart of my buckler an adamant, and when we met, I drew all the +foins of his rapier, whithersoever he intended them, or howsoever I +guided mine arm, pointed still to the midst of my buckler, so that by +this means I hurt the knave mortally, and myself came away untouched, to +the wonder of all the beholders. + +ANA. Sirrah, you speak metaphorically, because thy wit, Mendacio, always +draws men's objections to thy forethought excuses. + +HEU. Anamnestes, 'tis true, and I have an addition to this, which is to +make the bullet shot from the enemy to return immediately upon the +gunner. But let all these pass, and say the worst thou canst against me. + +ANA. I say, guns were found out for the quick despatch of mortality; and +when thou sawest men grow wise, and beget so fair a child as Peace of so +foul and deformed a mother as War, lest there should be no murder, thou +devisedst poison. + +MEN. Nay, fie, Nam, urge him not too far. + +ANA. And last and worst, thou foundest out cookery, that kills more than +weapons, guns, wars, or poisons, and would destroy all, but that thou +invented'st physic, that helps to make away some. + +HEU. But, sirrah, besides all this, I devised pillories for such forging +villains as thyself. + +ANA. Call'st me villain? + + [_They fight, and are parted by_ MENDACIO. + +MEN. You shall not fight as long as I am here. Give over, I say. + +HEU. Mendacio, you offer me great wrong to hold me: in good faith, +I shall fall out with you. + +MEN. Away, away, away; you are Invention, are you not? + +HEU. Yes, sir; what then? + +MEN. And you Remembrance? + +ANA. Well, sir, well? + +MEN. Then I will be Judicium, the moderator betwixt you, and make you +both friends; come, come, shake hands, shake hands. + +HEU. Well, well, if you will needs have it so. + +ANA. I am in some sort content. + + [MENDACIO _walks with them, holding them by the hands_. + +MEN. Why, this is as it should be; when Mendacio hath Invention on the +one hand, and Remembrance on the other, as he'll be sure never to be +found with truth in his mouth, so he scorns to be taken in a lie. Eh, +eh, eh, my fine wags? Whist! + + [COMMUNIS SENSUS _and the rest are seen to approach_.] + +ANA. Whist! + +HEU. Whist! + + + +SCAENA SECUNDA. + + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORY, PHANTASTES, HEURESIS, ANAMNESTES, + _take their places on the bench as before_, AUDITUS _on the + stage, a page before him, bearing his target, the field Sable, + a heart Or; next him_ TRAGEDUS _apparelled in black velvet, fair + buskins, a falchion, &c.; then_ COMEDUS, _in a light-coloured + green taffeta robe, silk stockings, pumps, gloves, &c_. + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORY, PHANTASTES, HEURESIS, ANAMNESTES, &c. + +COM. SEN. They had some reason that held the soul a harmony, for it is +greatly delighted with music; how fast we were tied by the ears to the +consort of Voice's power! but all is but a little pleasure; what +profitable objects hath he? + +PHA. Your ears will teach you presently, for now he is coming. That +fellow in the bays, methinks I should have known him; O, 'tis Comedus, +'tis so; but he has become nowadays something humorous, and too-too +satirical up and down, like his great grandfather Aristophanes. + +ANA. These two, my lord, Comedus and Tragedus, +My fellows both, both twins, but so unlike, +As birth to death, wedding to funeral. +For this, that rears himself in buskins quaint, +Is pleasant at the first, proud in the midst, +Stately in all, and bitter death at end. +That in the pumps doth frown at first acquaintance, +Trouble in the midst, but in the end concludes, +Closing up all with a sweet catastrophe. +This grave and sad, distain'd with brinish tears; +That light and quick with wrinkled laughter[281] painted; +This deals with nobles, kings, and emperors, +Full of great fears, great hopes, great enterprises. +This other trades with men of mean condition: +His projects small, small hopes, and dangers little. +This gorgeous-broider'd with rich sentences: +That fair and purfled round with merriments. +Both vice detect and virtue beautify, +By being death's mirror, and life's looking-glass. + +COM[282]. _Salutem primum jam a principio propitiam. +Mihi atque vobis, spectatores, nuntio_[283]-- + +PHA. Pish, pish, this is a speech with no action; let's hear Terence, +_Quid igitur faciam, &c_. + +COM. _Quid igitur faciam? non eam? ne nunc quidem, +Cum arcessor ultro?[284] + +PHA. Fie, fie, fie, no more action! lend me your bays, do it thus--_Quid +igitur, &c_. + [_He acts it after the old kind of pantomimic action_. + +COM. SEN. I should judge this action, Phantastes, most absurd, unless we +should come to a comedy, as gentlewomen to the Commencement[285], only +to see men speak. + +PHA. In my imagination, 'tis excellent; for in this kind the hand, you +know, is harbinger to the tongue, and provides the words a lodging in +the ears of the auditors. + +COM. SEN. Auditus, it is now time you make us acquainted with the +quality of the house you keep in, for our better help in judgment. + +AUD. Upon the sides of fair mount Cephalon +Have I two houses passing human skill: +Of finest matter by Dame Nature wrought, +Whose learned fingers have adorn'd the same +With gorgeous porches of so strange a form, +That they command the passengers to stay. +The doors whereof in hospitality +Nor day nor night are shut, but, open wide, +Gently invite all comers; whereupon +They are named the open ears of Cephalon. +But lest some bolder sound should boldly rush, +And break the nice composure of the work, +The skilful builder wisely hath enrang'd +An entry from each port with curious twines +And crook'd meanders, like the labyrinth +That Daedalus fram'd t'enclose the Minotaur; +At th'end whereof is plac'd a costly portal, +Resembling much the figure of a drum, +Granting slow entrance to a private closet. +Where daily, with a mallet in my hand, +I set and frame all words and sounds that come +Upon an anvil, and so make them fit +For the periwinkling porch[286], that winding leads +From my close chamber to your lordship's cell. +Thither do I, chief justice of all accents, +Psyche's next porter, Microcosm's front, +Learning's rich treasure, bring discipline, +Reason's discourse, knowledge of foreign states, +Loud fame of great heroes' virtuous deeds; +The marrow of grave speeches, and the flowers +Of quickest wits, neat jests, and pure conceits; +And oftentimes, to ease the heavy burthen +Of government your lordship's shoulders bear, +I thither do conduce the pleasing nuptials +Of sweetest instruments with heavenly noise. +If then Auditus have deserv'd the best, +Let him be dignified before the rest. + +COM. SEN. Auditus, I am almost a sceptic in this matter, scarce knowing +which way the balance of the cause will decline. When I have heard the +rest, I will despatch judgment; meanwhile, you may depart. + + [AUDITUS _leads his show about the stage, and then goes out_. + + + +SCAENA TERTIA. + + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORIA, PHANTASTES, ANAMNESTES, HEURESIS, + _as before_; OLFACTUS _in a garment of several flowers, a + page before him, bearing his target, his field Vert, a hound + Argent, two boys with casting-bottles[287], and two censers + with incense[288], another with a velvet cushion stuck with + flowers, another with a basket of herbs, another with a box + of ointment_. OLFACTUS _leads them about, and, making obeisance, + presents them before the Bench_. + +1ST BOY. Your only way to make a good pomander[289] is this:--Take an +ounce of the purest garden mould, cleansed and steeped seven days in +change of motherless rosewater; then take the best ladanum, benzoine, +both storaxes, ambergris, civet, and musk: incorporate them together, +and work them into what form you please. This, if your breath be not too +valiant, will make you smell as sweet as my lady's dog. + +PHA. This boy, it should seem, represents Odour, he is so perfect a +perfumer. + +ODOUR. I do, my lord, and have at my command +The smell of flowers and odoriferous drugs, +Of ointments sweet and excellent perfumes, +And courtlike waters, which if once you smell, +You in your heart would wish, as I suppose, +That all your body were transform'd to nose. + +PHA. Olfactus, of all the Senses, your objects have the worst luck; they +are always jarring with their contraries; for none can wear civet, but +they are suspected of a proper bad scent[290]; whence the proverb +springs, He smelleth best, that doth of nothing smell. + + + +SCAENA QUARTA. + + + _The Bench and_ OLFACTUS, _as before_. TOBACCO, _apparelled in a + taffeta mantle, his arms brown and naked, buskins made of the + peeling of osiers, his neck bare, hung with Indian leaves, his + face brown, painted with blue stripes, in his nose swines' teeth, + on his head a painted wicker crown with tobacco-pipes set in it, + plumes of tobacco leaves, led by two Indian boys naked, with + tapers in their hands, tobacco-boxes, and pipes lighted_. + +PHA. Foh, foh, what a smell is here! Is this one of your delightful +objects? + +OLF. It is your only scent in request, sir. + +COM. SEN. What fiery fellow is that, which smokes so much in the mouth? + +OLF. It is the great and puissant God of Tobacco. + +TOB. _Ladoch guevarroh pufuer shelvaro baggon, +Olfia di quanon, Indi cortilo vraggon_. + +PHA. Ha, ha, ha, ha! this, in my opinion, is the tongue of the +Antipodes. + +MEM. No, I remember it very well, it was the language the Arcadians +spake that lived long before the moon. + +COM. SEN. What signifies it, Olfactus? + +OLF. This is the mighty Emperor Tobacco, king of Trinidado, that, in +being conquered, conquered all Europe, in making them pay tribute for +their smoke. + +TOB. _Erfronge inglues conde hesingo, +Develin floscoth ma pu cocthingo_. + +OLF. Expeller of catarrhs, banisher of all agues, your guts' only salve +for the green wounds of a _non-plus_. + +TOB. _All vulcam vercu, I parda pora si de gratam, ka famala mora, che +Bauho respartera, quirara_. + +OLF. Son to the god Vulcan and Tellus, kin to the father of mirth, +called Bacchus. + +TOB. _Viscardonok, pillostuphe, pascano tinaromagas, +Pagi dagon stollisinfe, carocibato scribas_. + +OLF. Genius of all swaggerers, professed enemy to physicians, sweet +ointment for sour teeth, firm knot of good fellowship, adamant of +company, swift wind to spread the wings of time, hated of none but +those that know him not, and of so great deserts that, whoso is +acquainted with him can hardly forsake him. + +PHA. It seems these last words were very significant. I promise you, +a god of great denomination; he may be my Lord Tappes for his large +titles[291]. + +COM. SEN. But forward, Olfactus, as they have done before you, with your +description? + +OLF. Just in the midst of Cephalon's round face, +As 'twere a frontispiece unto the hill, +Olfactus' lodging built in figure long, +Doubly disparted with two precious vaults, +The roofs whereof most richly are enclos'd +With orient pearls and sparkling diamonds +Beset at th'end with emerauds and turchis[292], +And rubies red and flaming chrysolites, +At upper end whereof, in costly manner, +I lay my head between two spongeous pillows, +Like fair Adonis 'twixt the paps of Venus, +Where I, conducting in and out the wind, +Daily examine all the air inspir'd +By my pure searching, if that it be pure, +And fit to serve the lungs with lively breath: +Hence do I likewise minister perfume[s] +Unto the neighbour brain--perfumes of force +To cleanse your head, and make your fancy bright, +To refine wit and sharp[293] invention, +And strengthen memory: from whence it came, +That old devotion incense did ordain +To make man's spirit more apt for things divine. +Besides a thousand more commodities, +In lieu whereof your lordships I request, +Give me the crown, if I deserve it best. + + [OLFACTUS _leads his company about the stage, and goes out_. + + + +SCAENA QUINTA. + + + _The Bench as before. A page with a shield Argent, an ape proper + with an apple; then_ GUSTUS _with a cornucopia in his hand_. + BACCHUS _in a garland of leaves and grapes, a white suit, and + over it a thin sarcenet to his foot, in his hand a spear wreathed + with vine leaves, on his arm a target with a tiger_. CERES _with a + crown of ears of corn, in a yellow silk robe, a bunch of poppy in + her hand, a scutcheon charged with a dragon_. + +COM. SEN. In good time, Gustus. Have you brought your objects? + +GUS. My servant Appetitus followeth with them. + +APP. Come, come, Bacchus, you are so fat; enter, enter. + +PHA. Fie, fie, Gustus! this is a great indecorum to bring Bacchus alone; +you should have made Thirst lead him by the hand. + +GUS. Right, sir; but men nowadays drink often when they be not dry; +besides, I could not get red herrings and dried neats' tongues enough to +apparel him in. + +COM. SEN. What, never a speech of him? + +GUS. I put an octave of iambics in his mouth, and he hath drunk it down. + +APP. Well done, muscadine and eggs stand hot. What, buttered claret? go +thy way, thou hadst best; for blind men that cannot see how wickedly +thou look'st--How now, what small, thin fellow are you here? ha? + +BOY. Beer, forsooth: Beer, forsooth. + +APP. Beer forsooth, get you gone to the buttery, till I call for you; +you are none of Bacchus's attendants, I am sure; he cannot endure the +smell of malt. Where's Ceres? O, well, well, is the march-pane broken? +Ill luck, ill luck! Come hang't, never stand to set it together again. +Serve out fruit there. + + [_Enter boys with a banquet, marmalade, sweets, &c.; + deliver it round among the gentlewomen, and go out_.] + +What, do you come with roast-meat after apples? Away with it. Digestion, +serve out cheese. What, but a pennyworth! It is just the measure of his +nose that sold it! Lamb's wool, the meekest meat in the world; 'twill +let any man fleece it. Snapdragon there! + +MEM. O, I remember this dish well: it was first invented by Pluto, to +entertain Proserpina withal. + +PHA. I think not so, Memory; for when Hercules had killed the flaming +dragon of Hesperia with the apples of that orchard, he made this fiery +meat; in memory whereof he named it Snapdragon. + +COM. SEN. Gustus, let's hear your description? + +GUS. Near to the lowly base of Cephalon, +My house is plac'd not much unlike a cave: +Yet arch'd above by wondrous workmanship, +With hewen stones wrought smoother and more fine +Than jet or marble fair from Iceland brought. +Over the door directly doth incline +A fair percullis of compacture strong, +To shut out all that may annoy the state +Or health of Microcosm; and within +Is spread a long board like a pliant tongue, +At which I hourly sit, and trial take +Of meats and drinks needful and delectable: +Twice every day do I provision make +For the sumptuous kitchen of the commonwealth; +Which, once well-boil'd, is soon distributed +To all the members, well refreshing them +With good supply of strength-renewing food. +Should I neglect this nursing[294] diligence, +The body of the realm would ruinate; +Yourself, my lord, with all your policies +And wondrous wit, could not preserve yourself: +Nor you, Phantastes; nor you, Memory. +Psyche herself, were't not that I repair +Her crazy house with props of nourishment, +Would soon forsake us: for whose dearest sake +Many a grievous pain have I sustain'd +By bitter pills and sour purgations; +Which if I had not valiantly abiden, +She had been long ere this departed. +Since the whole Microcosm I maintain, +Let me, as Prince, above the Senses reign. + +COM. SEN. The reasons you urge, Gustus, breed a new doubt, whether it +be commodious or necessary, the resolution whereof I refer to your +judgment, licensing you meanwhile to depart. + + [GUSTUS _leads his show about the stage, and goes out_. + + + +SCAENA SEXTA. + + + _The Bench as before_; TACTUS, _a page before him + bearing his scutcheon, a tortoise Sable_. + +TAC. Ready anon, forsooth! the devil she will! +Who would be toil'd with wenches in a show? + +COM. SEN. Why in such anger, Tactus? what's the matter? + +TAC. My lord, I had thought, as other Senses did, +By sight of objects to have prov'd my worth; +Wherefore considering that, of all the things +That please me most, women are counted chief, +I had thought to have represented in my show +The queen of pleasure, Venus and her son, +Leading a gentleman enamoured +With his sweet touching of his mistress' lips, +And gentle griping of her tender hands, +And divers pleasant relishes of touch, +Yet all contained in the bounds of chastity. + +PHA. Tactus, of all I long to see your objects; +How comes it we have lost those pretty sports? + +TAC. Thus 'tis: five hours ago I set a dozen maids to attire a boy like +a nice gentlewoman; but there is such doing with their looking-glasses, +pinning, unpinning, setting, unsetting, formings and conformings; +painting blue veins and cheeks; such stir with sticks and combs, +cascanets, dressings, purls, falls, squares, busks, bodies, scarfs, +necklaces, carcanets, rebatoes, borders, tires, fans, palisadoes, puffs, +ruffs, cuffs, muffs, pusles, fusles, partlets, frislets, bandlets, +fillets, crosslets, pendulets, amulets, annulets, bracelets, and so many +lets, that yet she's scarce dressed to the girdle; and now there is such +calling for fardingales, kirtles, busk-points, shoe-ties, &c., that +seven pedlars' shops--nay, all Stourbridge fair, will scarce furnish +her. A ship is sooner rigged by far, than a gentlewoman made ready. + +PHA. 'Tis strange that women, being so mutable, +Will never change in changing their apparel. + +COM. SEN. Well, let them pass; Tactus, we are content +To know your dignity by relation. + +TAC. The instrument of instruments, the hand, +Courtesy's index, chamberlain to nature, +The body's soldier, and mouth's caterer, +Psyche's great secretary, the dumb's eloquence, +The blind man's candle, and his forehead's buckler, +The minister of wrath, and friendship's sign, +This is my instrument: nevertheless my power +Extends itself far as our queen commands, +Through all the parts and climes of Microcosm. +I am the root of life, spreading my virtue +By sinews, that extend from head to foot +To every living part. +For as a subtle spider, closely sitting +In centre of her web that spreadeth round, +If the least fly but touch the smallest thread, +She feels it instantly; so doth myself, +Casting my slender nerves and sundry nets +O'er every particle of all the body, +By proper skill perceive the difference +Of several qualities, hot, cold, moist, and dry; +Hard, soft, rough, smooth, clammy, and slippery: +Sweet pleasure and sharp pain profitable, +That makes us (wounded) seek for remedy. +By these means do I teach the body fly +From such bad things as may endanger it. +A wall of brass can be no more defence +Unto a town than I to Microcosm. +Tell me what Sense is not beholden to me? +The nose is hot or cold, the eyes do weep, +The ears do feel, the taste's a kind of touching: +Thus, when I please, I can command them all, +And make them tremble, when I threaten them. +I am the eldest and biggest of all the rest, +The chiefest note and first distinction +Betwixt a living tree and living beast; +For though one hear and see, and smell and taste, +If he wants touch, he is counted but a block. +Therefore, my lord, grant me the royalty; +Of whom there is such great necessity. + +COM. SEN. Tactus, stand aside. You, sirrah Anamnestes, +tell the Senses we expect their appearance. + +ANA. At your lordship's pleasure. + + [_Exit_ ANAMNESTES. + + + +SCAENA SEPTIMA. + + + COMMUNIS SENSUS, PHANTASTES, MEMORIA, HEURESIS, ANAMNESTES, + _upon the Bench consulting among themselves. _VISUS, AUDITUS, + TACTUS, GUSTUS, _and_ OLFACTUS, _every one with his shield + upon his arm_. LINGUA, _and_ MENDACIO _with them_. + +COM. SEN. Though you deserve no small punishment for these uproars, yet +at the request of these my assistants I remit it; and by the power of +judgment our gracious sovereign Psyche hath given me, thus I determine +of your controversies: hum! By your former objects, instruments and +reasons, I conceive the state of sense to be divided into two parts; one +of commodity, the other of necessity; both which are either for our +queen or for our country; but as the soul is more excellent than the +body, so are the Senses that profit the soul to be estimated before +those that are needful for the body. Visus and Auditus, serve +yourselves. Master Register, give me the crown; because it is better to +be well, than simply to be, therefore I judge the crown by right to +belong to you of the commodity's part, and the robe to you of the +necessity's side: and since you, Visus, are the author of invention, and +you, Auditus, of increase and addition to the same, seeing it is more +excellent to invent than to augment, I establish you, Visus, the better +of the two, and chief of all the rest: in token whereof I bestow upon +you this crown, to wear at your liberty. + +VIS. I most humbly thank your lordships. + +COM. SEN. But lest I should seem to neglect you, Auditus, I here choose +you to be the lord intelligencer to Psyche her majesty: and you, +Olfactus, we bestow upon you the chief priesthood of Microcosm, +perpetually to offer incense in her majesty's temple. As for you, +Tactus, upon your reasons alleged I bestow upon you the robe. + +TAC. I accept it most gratefully at your just hands, and will wear it in +the dear remembrance of your good lordship. + +COM. SEN. And lastly, Gustus, we elect you Psyche's only taster, and +great purveyor for all her dominions both by sea and land, in her realm +of Microcosm. + +GUS. We thank your lordship, and rest well content with equal +arbitrament. + +COM. SEN. Now for you, Lingua. + +LIN. I beseech your honour, let me speak; I will neither trouble the +company, nor offend your patience. + +COM. SEN. I cannot stay so long; we have consulted about you, and find +your cause to stand upon these terms and conditions. The number of the +Senses in this world is answerable to the first[295] bodies in the great +world: now, since there be but fire in the universe, the four elements +and the pure substance of the heavens, therefore there can be but five +Senses in our Microcosm, correspondent to those; as the sight to the +heavens, hearing to the air, touching to the earth, smelling to the +fire, tasting to the water, by which five means only the understanding +is able to apprehend the knowledge of all corporeal substances: +wherefore we judge you to be no sense simply: only thus much we from +henceforth pronounce, that all women for your sake shall have six +senses--that is, seeing hearing, tasting, smelling, touching, and the +last and feminine sense, the sense of speaking. + +GUS. I beseech your lordship and your assistants (the only cause of our +friendship) to grace my table with your most welcome presence this night +at supper. + +COM. SEN. I am sorry I cannot stay with you: you know we may by no means +omit our daily attendance at the court, therefore I pray you pardon us. + +GUS. I hope I shall not have the denial at your hands, my masters, and +you, my Lady Lingua. Come, let us drown all our anger in a bowl of +hippocras[296]. + + [_Exeunt_ SENSUS _omnes exteriores_. + +COM. SEN. Come, Master Register, shall we walk? + +MEM. I pray you, stay a little. Let me see! ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! + +PHA. How now, Memory, so merry? what, do you trouble yourself with two +palsies at once, shaking and laughing? + +MEM. 'Tis a strange thing that men will so confidently oppose themselves +against Plato's great year. + +PHA. Why not? + +MEM. 'Tis as true an opinion as need be; for I remember it very readily +now, that this time 49,000 years ago all we were in this very place, and +your lordship judged the very same controversy, after the very same +manner, in all respects and circumstances alike. + +COM. SEN. 'Tis wondrous strange. + +ANA. By the same token you held your staff in your right hand, just as +you do now; and Master Phantastes stood wondering at you, gaping as wide +as you see him. + +PHA. Ay, but I did not give you a box on the ear, sirrah, 49,000 years +ago, did I? [_Snap_.] + +ANA. I do not remember that, sir. + +PHA. This time Plato's twelvemonth to come, look you save your cheeks +better. + +COM. SEN. But what entertainment had we at court for our long staying? + +MEM. Let's go, I'll tell you as we walk. + +PHA. If I do not seem pranker[297] now than I did in those days, I'll be +hanged. + + [_Exeunt omnes interiores Sensus: manet_ LINGUA. + + + +SCAENA OCTAVA. + + + LINGUA, MENDACIO. + +LIN. Why, this is good. By Common Sense's means, +Lingua, thou hast fram'd a perfect comedy. +They are all good friends, whom thou mad'st enemies; +And I am half a Sense: a sweet piece of service, +I promise you, a fair step to preferment! +Was this the care and labour thou hast taken +To bring thy foes together to a banquet, +To lose thy crown, and be deluded thus! +Well, now I see my cause is desperate, +The judgment's pass'd, sentence irrevocable, +Therefore I'll be content and clap my hands, +And give a plaudite to their proceedings. +What, shall I leave my hate begun unperfect? +So foully vanquish'd by the spiteful Senses! +Shall I, the embassadress of gods and men, +That pull'd proud Phoebe from her brightsome sphere, +And dark'd Apollo's countenance with a word, +Raising at pleasure storms, and winds, and earthquakes, +Be overcrow'd, and breathe without revenge? +Yet they forsooth, base slaves, must be preferred, +And deck themselves with my right ornaments. +Doth the all-knowing Phoebus see this shame +Without redress? will not the heavens help me? +Then shall hell do it; my enchanting tongue +Can mount the skies, and in a moment fall +From the pole arctic to dark Acheron. +I'll make them know mine anger is not spent; +Lingua hath power to hurt, and will to do it. +Mendacio, come hither quickly, sirrah. + +MEN. Madam. + +LIN. Hark, hither in thine ear. + +MEN. Why do you whisht[298] thus? here's none to hear you. + +LIN. I dare not trust these secrets to the earth, +E'er since she brought forth reeds, whose babbling noise +Told all the world of Midas' ass's ears. +[_She whispers him in the ear_.] Dost understand me? + +MEN. Ay, ay, ay--never fear that--there's a jest indeed-- +Pish, pish--madam--do you think me so foolish?--Tut, tut, doubt not. + +LIN. Tell her, if she do not-- + +MEN. Why do you make any question of it?--what a stir is here--I +warrant you--presently! + [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + +LIN. Well, I'll to supper, and so closely cover +The rusty canker of mine iron spite +With golden foil of goodly semblances. +But if I do not trounce them-- + + [_Exit_ LINGUA. + + + + +ACTUS QUINTUS, SCAENA PRIMA. + + + MENDACIO, _with a bottle in his hand_. + +MEN. My Lady Lingua is just like one of these lean-witted comedians +who, disturbing all to the fifth act, bring down some Mercury or Jupiter +in an engine to make all friends: so she, but in a contrary manner, +seeing her former plots dispurposed, sends me to an old witch called +Acrasia to help to wreak her spite upon the Senses. The old hag, after +many an encircled circumstance, and often naming of the direful Hecate +and Demogorgon. gives me this bottle of wine, mingled with such hellish +drugs and forcible words that, whosoever drinks of it shall be presently +possessed with an enraged and mad kind of anger. + + + +SCAENA SECUNDA. + + + MENDACIO, CRAPULA, APPETITUS _crying_. + +MEN. What's this, Crapula beating Appetitus out of doors? ha? + +CRA. You filthy long crane, you mean slave, will you kill your guests +with blowing continual hunger in them? The Senses have overcharged their +stomachs already, and you, sirrah, serve them up a fresh appetite with +every new dish. They had burst their guts if thou hadst stayed but a +thought longer. Begone, or I'll set thee away; begone, ye gnaw-bone, +raw-bone rascal![299] [_Beats him_. + +MEN. Then my device is clean spoiled. Appetitus should have been as the +bowl to present this medicine to the Senses, and now Crapula hath beaten +him out of doors; what shall I do? [_Aside_.] + +CRA. Away, sirrah. [_Beats him_. + +APP. Well, Crapula, well; I have deserved better at your hands than so. +I was the man, you know, first brought you into Gustus's service. I +lined your guts there, and you use me thus? but grease a fat sow, &c. + +CRA. Dost thou talk? Hence, hence; avaunt, cur; avaunt, you dog! + [_Exit_ CRAPULA. + +APP. The belching gorbelly[300] hath well-nigh killed me; I am shut out +of doors finely. Well, this is my comfort, I may walk now in liberty at +my own pleasure. + +MEN. Appetitus, Appetitus! + +APP. Ah, Mendacio, Mendacio! + +MEN. Why, how now, man, how now? how is't? canst not speak? + +APP. Faith, I am like a bagpipe, that never sounds but when the belly +is full. + +MEN. Thou empty, and com'st from a feast? + +APP. From a fray. I tell thee, Mendacio, I am now just like the ewe that +gave suck to a wolf's whelp; I have nursed up my fellow Crapula so long, +that he's grown strong enough to beat me. + +MEN. And whither wilt thou go, now thou art banished out of service? + +APP. Faith, I'll travel to some college or other in an university. + +MEN. Why so? + +APP. Because Appetitus is well-beloved amongst scholars, for there I can +dine and sup with them, and rise again as good friends as we sat down. +I'll thither, questionless. + +MEN. Hear'st thou? give me thy hand. By this, I love thee: go to, then. +Thou shalt not forsake thy masters thus, I say thou shalt not. + +APP. Alas! I am very loth; but how should I help it? + +MEN. Why, take this bottle of wine, come on; go thy ways to them again. + +APP. Ha, ha, ha! what good will this do? + +MEN. This is the Nepenthe that reconciles the gods. Do but let the +Senses taste of it, and fear not, they'll love thee as well as ever +they did. + +APP. I pray thee, where hadst it? + +MEN. My lady gave it me to bring her. Mercury stole it from Hebe for +her. Thou knowest there were some jars betwixt her and thy masters, and +with this drink she would gladly wash out all the relics of their +disagreement. Now, because I love thee, thou shalt have the grace of +presenting it to them, and so come in favour again. + +APP. It smells well. I would fain begin to them. + +MEN. Nay, stay no longer, lest they have supped before thou come. + +APP. Mendacio, how shall I requite thy infinite courtesy? + +MEN. Nay, pray thee leave, go catch occasion by the foretop. But hear'st +thou? As soon as it is presented, round[301] my Lady Lingua in the ear, +and tell her of it. + +APP. I will, I will: adieu, adieu, adieu. + + [_Exit_ APPETITUS. + + + +SCAENA TERTIA. + + + MENDACIO _solus_. + +MEN. Why. this is better than I could have wish'd it; +Fortune, I think, is fallen in love with me, +Answering so right my expectation. +By this time Appetite is at the table, +And with a lowly cringe presents the wine +To his old master Gustus; now he takes it, +And drinks, perchance, to Lingua; she craftily +Kisses the cup, but lets not down a drop, +And gives it to the rest: 'tis sweet, they'll swallow it: +But when 'tis once descended to the stomach, +And sends up noisome vapours to the brain, +'Twill make them swagger gallantly; they'll rage +Most strangely, or Acrasia's art deceives her; +When if my lady stir her nimble tongue, +And closely sow contentious words amongst them, +O, what a stabbing there will be! what bleeding! + + + +SCAENA QUARTA. + + + LINGUA, MENDACIO. + +LIN. What, art thou there, Mendacio? pretty rascal! +Come let me kiss thee for thy good deserts. + +MEN. Madam, does't take? Have they all tasted it? + +LIN. All, all, and all are well-nigh mad already. +O, how they stare and swear, and fume, and brawl! +Wrath gives them weapons; pots and candlesticks, +Joint stools and trenchers, fly about the room, +Like to the bloody banquet of the centaurs. +But all the sport's to see what several thoughts +The potion works in their imaginations. +For Visus thinks himself a ----, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! + + + +SCAENA QUINTA. + + + APPETITUS, MENDACIO, LINGUA. + +APP. So ho, Mendacio! so ho, so ho! + +MEN. Madam, I doubt they come; yonder is Appetitus. You had best be +gone, lest in their outrage they should injure you. [_Exit_ LINGUA.] +How now, Hunger? How dost thou, my fine maypole, ha? + +APP. I may well be called a maypole, for the Senses do nothing but dance +a morrice about me. + +MEN. Why, what ails them? Are they not (as I promised thee) friends with +thee? + +APP. Friends with me! nay, rather frenzy. I never knew them in such a +case in all my life. + +MEN. Sure, they drank too much, and are mad for love of thee. + +APP. They want Common Sense amongst them. There's such a hurlyburly. +Auditus is stark deaf, and wonders why men speak so softly that he +cannot hear them. Visus hath drunk himself stark blind, and therefore +imagineth himself to be Polyphemus. Tactus is raging mad, and cannot be +otherwise persuaded but he is Hercules _furens_. There's such conceits +amongst them. + + + +SCAENA SEXTA. + + + VISUS, APPETITUS, MENDACIO. + +VIS. O, that I could but find the villain Outis[302], +Outis the villain, that thus blinded me! + +MEN. Who is this? Visus? + +APP. Ay, ay, ay; otherwise called Polyphemus. + +VIS. By heaven's bright sun, the day's most glorious eye, +That lighteneth all the world but Polypheme. +And by mine eye, that once was answerable +Unto that sun, but now's extinguished-- + +MEN. He can see to swear, methinks. + +VIS. If I but once lay hands upon the slave, +That thus hath robb'd me of my dearest jewel, +I'll rend the miscreant to a thousand pieces, +And gnash his trembling members 'twixt my teeth, +Drinking his live-warm blood to satisfy +The boiling thirst of pain and furiousness, +That thus exasperates great Polypheme. + +MEN. Pray thee, Appetitus, see how he grasps for that he would be loth +to find. + +APP. What's that? a stumblingblock? + +VIS. These hands, that whilom tore up sturdy oaks, +And rent the rock that dash'd out Acis' brains, +Bath'd[303] in the stole bliss of my Galatea, +Serve now (O misery!) to no better use, +But for bad guides to my unskilful feet, +Never accustom'd thus to be directed. + +MEN. As I am a rogue, he wants nothing but a wheel to make him the true +picture of fortune; how say'st? what, shall we play at blind-man's-buff +with him? + +APP. Ay, if thou wilt; but first I'll try whether he can see? + +VIS. Find me out Outis, search the rocks and woods, +The hills and dales, and all the coasts adjoining, +That I may have him, and revenge my wrong. + +APP. Visus, methinks your eyes are well enough. + +VIS. What's he that calls me Visus? dost not know-- + + [_They run about him, playing with him, and abusing him_. + +APP. To him, Mendacio, to him, to him. + +MEN. There, there, Appetitus, he comes, he comes; ware, ware, he comes; +ha, ha, ha, ha! + + [VISUS _stumbles, falls down, and sits still_. + + + +SCAENA SEPTIMA. + + + MENDACIO, APPETITUS, TACTUS, _with a great blackjack in his hand_. + +MEN. Is this he that thinks himself Hercules? + +APP. Ay, wilt see me outswagger him? + +MEN. Ay, do, do; I love not to sport with such mad playfellows: tickle +him, Appetitus; tickle him, tickle him. [_Exit_ MENDACIO. + +TAC. Have I not here the great and puissant club, +Wherewith I conquer'd three-chapp'd Cerberus? + +APP. Have I not here the sharp and warlike teeth, +That at one breakfast quail'd thrice-three hogs' faces? + +TAC. And are not these Alcides' brawny arms, +That rent the lion's jaws, and kill'd the boar? + +APP. And is not this the stomach that defeated +Nine yards of pudding and a rank[304] of pies? + +TAC. Did not I crop the sevenfold hydra's crest, +And with a river cleans'd Augaea's stable? + +APP. Did not I crush a sevenfold custard's crust, +And with my tongue swept a well-furnish'd table? + +TAC. Did not these feet and hands o'ertake and slay +The nimble stag and fierce impetuous bull? + +APP. Did not this throat at one good meal devour +That stag's sweet venison and that strong bull's beef? + +TAC. Shall Hercules be thus disparaged? +Juno! you pouting quean, you louring trull, +Take heed I take you not; for by Jove's thunder +I'll be reveng'd. + + [APPETITUS _draws_ VISUS _backward from_ TACTUS. + +APP. Why, Visus, Visus, will you be kill'd? away, away. + + [_Exit_ VISUS. + +TAC. Who have we here? see, see, the giant Cacus +Draws an ox backward to his thievish den. +Hath this device so long deluded me? +Monster of men, Cacus, restore my cattle, +Or instantly I'll crush thy idle coxcomb, +And dash thy doltish brains against thy cave. + +APP. Cacus! I Cacus? ha, ha, ha! Tactus, you mistake me; +I am yours to command, Appetitus. + +TAC. Art Appetitus? Th'art so; run quickly, villain; +Fetch a whole ox to satisfy my stomach. + +APP. Fetch an ass to keep you company. + +TAC. Then down to hell: tell Pluto, prince of devils, +That great Alcides wants a kitchen wench +To turn his spit. Command him from myself +To send up Proserpine; she'll serve the turn. + +APP. I must find you meat, and the devil find you cooks! +Which is the next[305] way? + +TAC. Follow the beaten path, thou canst not miss it. +'Tis a wide causeway that conducteth thither, +An easy track, and down-hill all the way. +But if the black prince will not send her quickly, +But still detain her for his bedfellow, +Tell him I'll drag him from his iron chair +By the steel tresses, and then sew him fast +With the three furies in a leathern bag, +And thus will drown them in the ocean. + _He pours the jack of beer upon_ APPETITUS. + +APP. You had better keep him alive to light tobacco-pipes, or to sweep +chimneys. + +TAC. Art thou not gone? nay, then I'll send thy soul +Before thee; 'twill do thy message sooner. [_Beats him_. + +APP. Hercules, Hercules, Hercules! do not you hear Omphale? hark how she +calls you, hark! + +TAC. 'Tis she indeed, I know her sugar'd voice: +Omphale, dear commandress of my life, +My thoughts' repose, sweet centre of my cares, +Where all my hopes and best desires take rest. +Lo! where the mighty son of Jupiter +Throws himself captive at your conquering feet! +Do not disdain my voluntary humbleness: +Accept my service, bless me with commanding. +I will perform the hardest imposition, +And run through twelve new labours for thy sake. +Omphale, dear commandress of my life. + +APP. Do you not see how she beckons to you to follow her? Look how she +holds her distaff, look ye? + +TAC. Where is she gone, that I may follow her? +Omphale, stay, stay, take thy Hercules! + +APP. There, there, man, you are right. + + [_Exit_ TACTUS. + + + +SCAENA OCTAVA. + + + APPETITUS _solus_. + +APP. What a strange temper are the Senses in! +How come their wits thus topsy-turvy turn'd? +Hercules Tactus, Visus Polypheme! +Two goodly surnames have they purchased. +By the rare ambrosia[306] of an oyster-pie, +They have got such proud imaginations, +That I could wish I were mad for company: +But since my fortunes cannot stretch so high, +I'll rest contented with this wise estate. + + + +SCAENA NONA. + + + APPETITUS: [_to him enter_] AUDITUS _with a candlestick_. + +APP. What, more anger? Auditus got abroad too? + +AUD. Take this abuse at base Olfactus' hands? +What, did he challenge me to meet me here, +And is not come? well, I'll proclaim the slave +The vilest dastard that e'er broke his word. +But stay, yonder's Appetitus. + +APP. I pray you, Auditus, what ails you? + +AUD. Ha, ha! + +APP. What ails you? + +AUD. Ha! what say'st thou? + +APP. Who hath abused you thus? + +AUD. Why dost thou whisper thus? Canst not speak out? + +APP. Save me, I had clean forgotten. Why are you so angry, Auditus? + +AUD. Bite us! who dare bite us? + +APP. I talk of no biting; I say, what's the matter between Olfactus +and you? + +AUD. Will Olfactus bite me? do, if he dares; would he would meet me here +according to his promise! Mine ears are somewhat thick of late; I pray +thee, speak out louder. + +APP. Ha, ha, ha, ha! this is fine, i'faith: ha, ha, ha! Hear you, have +you lost your ears at supper? + +AUD. Excellent cheer at supper, I confess it; +But when 'tis sauc'd with sour contentions, +And breeds such quarrels, 'tis intolerable. + +APP. Pish, pish, this is my question: hath your supper spoiled your +hearing? + +AUD. Hearing at supper? tell not me of hearing? +But if thou saw'st Olfactus, bring me to him. + +APP. I ask you, whether you have lost your hearing? + +AUD. O, dost thou hear them ring? what a grief is this +Thus to be deaf, and lose such harmony. +Wretched Auditus, now shalt thou never hear +The pleasing changes that a well-tun'd chord +Of trolling bells will make, when they are rung. + +APP. Here's ado indeed! I think he's mad, as well as drunk or deaf. + +AUD. Ha, what's that? + +APP. I say you have made me hoarse with speaking so loud. + +AUD. Ha, what say'st thou of a creaking crowd?[307] + +APP. I am hoarse, I tell you, and my head aches. + +AUD. O, I understand thee! the first crowd was made of a horse-head. +'Tis true, the finding of a dead horse-head +Was the first invention of string instruments, +Whence rose the gittern, viol, and the lute: +Though others think the lute was first devis'd +In imitation of a tortoise-back, +Whose sinews, parched by Apollo's beams, +Echo'd about the concave of the shell: +And seeing the shortest and smallest gave shrill'st sound, +They found out frets, whose sweet diversity +(Well-touched by the skilful learned fingers) +Raiseth so strange a multitude of chords. +Which their opinion many do confirm, +Because Testado signifies a lute. +But if I by no means-- + +APP. Nay, if you begin to critic once, we shall never have done. + + [_Exit_ APPETITUS, _and carries away_ AUDITUS _perforce_. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA. + + + CRAPULA, _a fat-bellied slave, clothed in a light veil of + sarsanet, a garland of vine-leaves on his head, &c_. SOMNUS + _in a mantle of black cobweb lawn down to the foot, over a + dusky-coloured taffeta coat, and a crown of poppy-tops on + his head, a company of dark-coloured silk scarfs in one hand, + a mace of poppy in the other, leaving his head upon a pillow + on_ CRAPULA'S _shoulders_. + +CRA. Somnus, good Somnus, sweet Somnus, come apace! + +SOM. Eh, O, O; are you sure they be so? oho, oho, oho; eh, waw? +What good can I do? ou, hoh, haw. + +CRA. Why, I tell you, unless you help-- + [SOMNUS _falls down and sleeps_. +Soft son of night, right heir to quietness, +Labour's repose, life's best restorative, +Digestion's careful nurse, blood's comforter, +Wit's help, thought's charm, the stay of Microcosm, +Sweet Somnus, chiefest enemy to care: +My dearest friend, lift up thy lumpish head, +Ope thy dull eyes, shake off this drowsiness, +Rouse up thyself. + +SOM. O Crapula, how now, how now! O, O, how; who's there? +Crapula, speak quickly, what's the matter? + +CRA. As I told you, the noble Senses, peers of Microcosm, +Will eftsoon fall to ruin perpetual. +Unless your ready helping-hand recure them. +Lately they banqueted at Gustus' table, +And there fell mad or drunk, I know not whether; +So that it's doubtful in these outrageous fits, +That they'll murder one another. + +SOM. Fear it not. +If they have 'scap'd already, bring me to them +Or them to me; I'll quickly make them know +The power of my large-stretched authority. +These cords of sleep, wherewith I wont to bind +The strongest arm that e'er resisted me, +Shall be the means whereby I will correct +The Senses' outrage and distemperature. + +CRA. Thanks, gentle Somnus, I'll go seek them out, +And bring them to you soon as possible. + +SOM. Despatch it quickly, lest I fall asleep for want of work. + +CRA. Stand still, stand still! Visus, I think, comes yonder. +If you think good, begin and bind him first; +For, he made fast, the rest will soon be quiet. + + [_Exit_ CRAPULA. + + + +SCAENA UNDECIMA. + + + VISUS, SOMNUS. + +VIS. Sage Telemus, I now too late admire +Thy deep foresight and skill in prophecy, +Who whilom told'st me, that in time to come +Ulysses should deprive me of my sight. +And now the slave, that march'd in Outis' name, +Is prov'd Ulysses; and by this device +Hath 'scap'd my hands, and fled away by sea, +Leaving me desolate in eternal night. +Ah, wretched Polypheme! where's all thy hope, +And longing for thy beauteous Galatea? +She scorn'd thee once, but now she will detest +And loathe to look upon thy dark'ned face; +Ah me, most miserable Polyphemus! +But as for Ulysses, heaven and earth +Send vengeance ever on thy damned head, +In just revenge of my great injury! + [SOMNUS _binds him_. +Who is he that dares to touch me? Cyclops, come, +Come, all ye Cyclops, help to rescue me. + [SOMNUS _charms him; he sleeps_. + +SOM. There rest thyself, and let thy quiet sleep +Restore thy weak imaginations. + + + +SCAENA DUODECIMA. + + + LINGUA, SOMNUS, VISUS. + +LIN. Ha, ha, ha! O, how my spleen is tickled with this sport +The madding Senses make about the woods! +It cheers my soul, and makes my body fat, +To laugh at their mischances: ha, ha, ha, ha! +Heigho, the stitch hath caught me: O, my heart! +Would I had one to hold my sides awhile, +That I might laugh afresh: O, how they run, +And chafe, and swear, and threaten one another! + [SOMNUS _binds her_. +Ay me, out, alas! ay me, help, help, who's this that binds me? +Help, Mendacio! Mendacio, help! Here's one will ravish me. + +SOM. Lingua, content yourself, you must be bound. + +LIN. What a spite's this? Are my nails pared so near? Can I not scratch +his eyes out? What have I done? What, do you mean to kill me? Murder, +murder, murder! + + [_She falls asleep_. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA TERTIA. + + + GUSTUS, _with a voiding knife[308] in his hand_. + SOMNUS, LINGUA, VISUS. + +GUS. Who cries out murder? What, a woman slain! +My Lady Lingua dead? O heavens unjust! +Can you behold this fact, this bloody fact, +And shower not fire upon the murderer? +Ah, peerless Lingua! mistress of heavenly words, +Sweet tongue of eloquence, the life of fame, +Heart's dear enchantress! What disaster, fates, +Hath reft this jewel from our commonwealth? +Gustus, the ruby that adorns the ring, +Lo, here defect, how shalt thou lead thy days, +Wanting the sweet companion of thy life, +But in dark sorrow and dull melancholy? +But stay, who's this? inhuman wretch! +Bloodthirsty miscreant! is this thy handiwork? +To kill a woman, a harmless lady? +Villain, prepare thyself; +Draw, or I'll sheathe my falchion in thy sides. +There, take the guerdon[309] fit for murderers. + + [GUSTUS _offers to run at_ SOMNUS, _but being + suddenly charmed, falls asleep_. + +SOM. Here's such a stir, I never knew the Senses in such disorder. + +LIN. Ha, ha, ha! Mendacio, Mendacio! See how Visus hath broke his +forehead against the oak yonder, ha, ha, ha! + +SOM. How now? is not Lingua bound sufficiently? I have more trouble +to make one woman sleep than all the world besides; they are so full +of tattle. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA QUARTA. + + + SOMNUS, CRAPULA, LINGUA, VISUS, GUSTUS, AUDITUS _pulling_ OLFACTUS + _by the nose, and_ OLFACTUS _wringing_ AUDITUS _by the ears_. + +AUD. O, mine ears, mine ears, mine ears! + +OLF. O, my nose, my nose, my nose! + +CRA. Leave, leave, at length, these base contentions: +Olfactus, let him go. + +OLF. Let him first loose my nose. + +CRA. Good Auditus, give over. + +AUD. I'll have his life that sought to kill me. + +SOM. Come, come, I'll end this quarrel; bind them[310], Crapula. + + [_They bind them both_. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA QUINTA. + + + TACTUS, _with the robe in his hand_, SOMNUS, + CRAPULA, LINGUA, GUSTUS, OLFACTUS VISUS, AUDITUS. + +TAC. Thanks, Dejanira, for thy kind remembrance, +'Tis a fair shirt: I'll wear it for thy sake. + +CRA. Somnus, here's Tactus, worse than all his fellows: +Stay but awhile, and you shall see him rage! + +SOM. What will he do? see that he escapes us not. + +TAC. 'Tis a good shirt: it fits me passing well: +'Tis very warm indeed: but what's the matter? +Methinks I am somewhat hotter than I was, +My heart beats faster than 'twas wont to do, +My brain's inflam'd, my temples ache extremely; O, O! +O, what a wildfire creeps among my bowels! +Aetna's within my breast, my marrow fries, +And runs about my bones; O my sides! O my sides! +My sides, my reins: my head, my reins, my head! +My heart, my heart: my liver, my liver, O! +I burn, I burn, I burn; O, how I burn +With scorching heat of implacable fire! +I burn extreme with flames insufferable. + +SOM. Sure he doth but try how to act Hercules. + +TAC. Is it this shirt that boils me thus? O heavens! +It fires me worse, and heats more furiously +Than Jove's dire thunderbolts! O miserable! +They bide less pain that bathe in Phlegeton! +Could not the triple kingdom of the world, +Heaven, earth, and hell, destroy great Hercules? +Could not the damned spite[311] of hateful Juno, +Nor the great dangers of my labours kill me? +Am I the mighty son of Jupiter, +And shall this poison'd linen thus consume me? +Shall I be burnt? Villains, fly up to heaven, +Bid Iris muster up a troop of clouds, +And shower down cataracts of rain to cool me; +Or else I'll break her speckled bow in pieces. +Will she not? no, she hates me like her mistress. +Why then descend, you rogues, to the vile deep. +Fetch Neptune hither: charge him bring the sea +To quench these flames, or else the world's fair frame +Will be in greater danger to be burnt, +Than when proud Phaeton rul'd the sun's rich chariot. + +SOM. I'll take that care the world shall not be burnt, +If Somnus' cords can hold you. [SOMNUS _binds him_. + +TAC. What Vulcan's this that offers to enchain +A greater soldier than the god of war?[312] + +SOM. He that each night with bloodless battle conquers +The proudest conqueror that triumphs by wars. + +CRA. Now, Somnus, there's but only one remaining, +That was the author of these outrages. + +SOM. Who's that? is he under my command? + +CRA. Yes, yes, 'tis Appetitus; if you go that way and look about those +thickets, I'll go hither, and search this grove. I doubt not but to +find him. + +SOM. Content. + + [_Exeunt_ SOMNUS _et_ CRAPULA. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA SEXTA. + + + APPETITUS IRASCIBILIS _with a willow in his hand, pulled up + by the roots_, SOMNUS, CRAPULA. _The Senses all asleep_. + +APP. So now's the time that I would gladly meet +These madding Senses that abus'd me thus; +What, haunt me like an owl? make an ass of me? +No, they shall know I scorn to serve such masters, +As cannot master their affections. +Their injuries have chang'd my nature now; +I'll be no more call'd hungry parasite, +But henceforth answer to the wrathful name +Of Angry Appetite. My choler's up. +Zephyrus, cool me quickly with thy fan, +Or else I'll cut thy cheeks. Why this is brave, +Far better than to fawn at Gustus' table +For a few scraps; no, no such words as these-- +By Pluto, stab the villain, kill the slave: +By the infernal hags I'll hough[313] the rogue, +And paunch the rascal that abus'd me thus. +Such words as these fit angry Appetite. + + _Enter_ CRAPULA. + +CRA. Somnus, Somnus, come hither, come hither quickly, he's here, +he's here! + +APP. Ay, marry is he, sirrah, what of that base miscreant Crapula? + +CRA. O gentle Appetitus! + +APP. You muddy gulch[314], dar'st look me in the face, +While mine eyes sparkle with revengeful fire? [_Beats him_. + +CRA. Good Appetitus! + +APP. Peace, you fat bawson[315], peace, +Seest not this fatal engine of my wrath? +Villain, I'll maul thee for thine old offences, +And grind thy bones to powder with this pestle! +You, when I had no weapons to defend me, +Could beat me out of doors; but now prepare: +Make thyself ready, for thou shalt not 'scape. +Thus doth the great revengeful Appetite +Upon his fat foe wreak his wrathful spite. + + [APPETITUS _heaveth up his club to brain_ CRAPULA; _but_ + SOMNUS _in the meantime catcheth him behind, and binds him_. + +SOM. Why, how now, Crapula? + +CRA. Am I not dead? is not my soul departed? + +SOM. No, no, see where he lies, +That would have hurt thee: fear nothing. + + [SOMNUS _lays the Senses all in a circle, feet to feet, + and wafts his wand over them_. + +So rest you all in silent quietness; +Let nothing wake you, till the power of sleep, +With his sweet dew cooling your brains enflam'd, +Hath rectified the vain and idle thoughts, +Bred by your surfeit and distemperature; +Lo, here the Senses, late outrageous, +All in a round together sleep like friends; +For there's no difference 'twixt the king and clown, +The poor and rich, the beauteous and deform'd, +Wrapp'd in the veil of night and bonds of sleep; +Without whose power and sweet dominion +Our life were hell, and pleasure painfulness. +The sting of envy and the dart of love, +Avarice' talons, and the fire of hate, +Would poison, wound, distract, and soon consume +The heart, the liver, life, and mind of man. +The sturdy mower, that with brawny arms +Wieldeth the crooked scythe, in many a swath +Cutting the flowery pride on velvet plain, +Lies down at night, and in the weird[316] folds +Of his wife's arms forgets his labour past. +The painful mariner and careful smith, +The toiling ploughman, all artificers, +Most humbly yield to my dominion: +Without due rest nothing is durable. +Lo, thus doth Somnus conquer all the world +With his most awful wand, and half the year +Reigns o'er the best and proudest emperors. +Only the nurslings of the Sisters nine +Rebel against me, scorn my great command; +And when dark night from her bedewed[317] wings +Drops sleepy silence to the eyes of all, +They only wake, and with unwearied toil +Labour to find the _Via Lactea_, +That leads to the heaven of immortality; +And by the lofty towering of their minds, +Fledg'd with the feathers of a learned muse, +They raise themselves unto the highest pitch, +Marrying base earth and heaven in a thought. +But thus I punish their rebellion: +Their industry was never yet rewarded: +Better to sleep, than wake and toil for nothing. + + [_Exeunt_ SOMNUS _and_ CRAPULA. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA SEPTIMA. + + + _The five Senses_, LINGUA, APPETITUS, _all asleep + and dreaming_; PHANTASTES, HEURESIS. + +AUD. So ho, Rockwood;[318] so ho, Rockwood; Rockwood, your organ: eh, +Chanter, Chanter; by Acteon's head-tire, it's a very deep-mouthed dog, +a most admirable cry of hounds. Look here, again, again: there, there, +there! ah, ware counter![319] + +VIS. Do you see the full moon yonder, and not the man in it? why, +methinks 'tis too-too evident: I see his dog very plain, and look you, +just under his tail is a thorn-bush of furze. + +GUS. 'Twill make a fine toothpick, that lark's heel there: O, do not +burn it. + +PHA. Boy Heuresis, what think'st thou I think, when I think nothing? + +HEU. And it please you, sir, I think you are devising how to answer a +man that asks you nothing. + +PHA. Well-guessed, boy; but yet thou mistook'st it, for I was thinking +of the constancy of women[320]. [APPETITUS _snores aloud_.] Beware, +sirrah, take heed; I doubt me there's some wild boar lodged hereabout. +How now? methinks these be the Senses; ha? in my conceit the elder +brother of death has kissed them. + +TAC. O, O, O, I am stabbed, I am stabbed; hold your hand, O, O, O. + +PHA. How now? do they talk in their sleep? are they not awake, Heuresis? + +HEU. No, questionless, they be all fast asleep. + +GUS. Eat not too many of those apples, they be very flative[321]. + +OLF. Foh, beat out this dog here; foh, was it you, Appetitus? + +AUD. In faith, it was most sweetly-winded, whosoever it was; the warble +is very good, and the horn is excellent. + +TAC. Put on, man, put on; keep your head warm, 'tis cold. + +PHA. Ha, ha, ha, ha? 'st: Heuresis, stir not, sirrah. + +APP. Shut the door, the pot runs over, sirrah. Cook, that will be a +sweet pasty, if you nibble the venison so. + +GUS. Say you so? is a marrow-pie the Helena of meats? give me't; if I +play not Paris, hang me. Boy, a clean trencher. + +APP. Serve up, serve up; this is a fat rabbit, would I might have the +maidenhead of it: come, give me the fish there; who hath meddled with +these maids, ha? + +OLF. Fie, shut your snuffers closer for shame; 'tis the worst smell that +can be. + +TAC. O, the cramp, the cramp, the cramp: my leg, my leg! + +LIN. I must abroad presently: reach me my best necklace presently. + +PHA. Ah, Lingua, are you there? + +AUD. Here take this rope, and I'll help the leader close with the second +bell. Fie, fie, there's a goodly peal clean-spoiled. + +VIS. I'll lay my life that gentlewoman is painted: well, well, I know +it; mark but her nose: do you not see the complexion crack out? I must +confess 'tis a good picture. + +TAC. Ha, ha, ha! fie, I pray you leave, you tickle me so: oh, ha, ha, +ha! take away your hands, I cannot endure; ah, you tickle me, ha, ha, +ha, ha, ha! + +VIS. Hai, Rett, Rett, Rett, now, bird, now,--look about that bush, she +trussed her thereabout.--Here she is, ware wing, Cater,[322] ware wing, +avaunt. + +LIN. Mum, mum, mum, mum. + +PHA. Hist, sirrah, take heed you wake her not. + +HEU. I know, sir, she is fast asleep, for her mouth is shut. + +LIN. This 'tis to venture upon such uncertainties; to lose so rich a +crown to no end, well, well. + +PHA. Ha, ha, ha! we shall hear anon where she lost her maidenhead: 'st, +boy, my Lord Vicegerent and Master Register are hard by: run quickly; +tell them of this accident, wish them come softly. + + [_Exit_ HEURESIS. + +LIN. Mendacio, never talk farther, I doubt 'tis past recovery, and my +robe likewise: I shall never have them again. Well, well. + +PHA. How? her crown and her robe, never recover them? hum, was it not +said to be left by Mercury, ha? I conjecture here's some knavery,--fast +locked with sleep, in good faith. Was that crown and garment yours, +Lingua? + +LIN. Ay, marry were they, and that somebody hath felt, and shall feel +more, if I live. + +PHA. O, strange, she answers in her sleep to my question: but how come +the Senses to strive for it? + +LIN. Why, I laid it on purpose in their way, that they might fall +together by the ears. + +PHA. What a strange thing is this! + + + +SCAENA DECIMA OCTAVA. + + + _The Senses_, APPETITUS, _and_ LINGUA, _asleep_. + PHANTASTES, COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORIA, ANAMNESTES. + +PHA. Hist, my lord: softly, softly! here's the notablest piece of +treason discovered; how say you? Lingua set all the Senses at odds, she +hath confessed it to me in her sleep. + +COM. SEN. Is't possible, Master Register? did you ever know any talk in +their sleep. + +MEM. I remember, my lord, many have done so very oft; but women are +troubled especially with this talking disease; many of them have I heard +answer in their dreams, and tell what they did all day awake. + +ANA. By the same token, there was a wanton maid, that being asked by her +mother what such a one did with her so late one night in such a room, +she presently said that-- + +MEM. Peace, you vile rake-hell, is such a jest fit for this company? no +more, I say, sirrah. + +PHA. My lord, will you believe your own ears? you shall hear her answer +me as directly and truly as may be. Lingua, what did you with the crown +and garments? + +LIN. I'll tell thee, Mendacio. + +PHA. She thinks Mendacio speaks to her; mark now, mark how truly she +will answer. What say you, madam? + +LIN. I say Phantastes is a foolish, transparent gull; a mere fanatic +napson[323], in my imagination not worthy to sit as a judge's assistant. + +COM. SEN. Ha, ha, ha! how truly and directly she answers. + +PHA. Faw, faw, she dreams now; she knows not what she says. I'll try her +once again. Madam, what remedy can you have for your great losses? + +LIN. O, are you come, Acrasia? welcome, welcome! boy, reach a cushion, +sit down, good Acrasia: I am so beholding to you, your potion wrought +exceedingly; the Senses were so mad: did not you see how they raged +about the woods? + +COM. SEN. Hum, Acrasia? is Acrasia her confederate? my life, that witch +hath wrought some villainy. [LINGUA _riseth in her sleep, and walketh_.] +How is this? is she asleep? have you seen one walk thus before? + +MEM. It is a very common thing; I have seen many sick of the peripatetic +disease. + +ANA. By the same token, my lord, I knew one that went abroad in his +sleep, bent his bow, shot at a magpie, killed her, fetched his arrow, +came home, locked the doors, and went to bed again. + +COM. SEN. What should be the reason of it? + +MEM. I remember Scaliger told me the reason once, as I think thus: the +nerves that carry the moving faculty from the brains to the thighs, +legs, feet, and arms, are wider far than the other nerves; wherefore +they are not so easily stopped with the vapours of sleep, but are night +and day ready to perform what fancy shall command them. + +COM. SEN. It may be so. But, Phantastes, inquire more of Acrasia. + +PHA. What did you with the potion Acrasia made you? + +LIN. Gave it to the Senses, and made them as mad as--well, if I cannot +recover it--let it go. I'll not leave them thus. + [_She lies down again_. + +COM. SEN. Boy, awake the Senses there. + +ANA. Ho, ho, Auditus, up, up; so ho, Olfactus, have at your nose; up, +Visus, Gustus, Tactus, up: what, can you not feel a pinch? have at you +with a pin. + +TAC. O, you stab me, O! + +COM. SEN. Tactus, know you how you came hither? + +TAC. No, my lord, not I; this I remember, +We supp'd with Gustus, and had wine good store, +Whereof I think I tasted liberally. +Amongst the rest, we drunk a composition +Of a most delicate and pleasant relish, +That made our brains somewhat irregular. + + + +SCAENA DECIMA NONA. + + + _The Senses awake_, LINGUA _asleep_, COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORY, + PHANTASTES, ANAMNESTES, HEURESIS _drawing_ CRAPULA. + +HEU. My lord, here's a fat rascal was lurking in a bush very +suspiciously: his name, he says, is Crapula. + +COM. SEN. Sirrah, speak quickly what you know of these troubles. + +CRA. Nothing, my lord, but that the Senses were mad, and that Somnus, at +my request, laid them asleep, in hope to recover them. + +COM. SEN. Why then, 'tis too evident Acrasia, at Lingua's request, +bewitched the Senses: wake her quickly, Heuresis. + +LIN. Heigho, out alas, ah me, where am I? how came I here? +where am I? ah! + +COM. SEN. Lingua, look not so strangely upon the matter; you have +confessed in your sleep, that with a crown and a robe you have disturbed +the Senses, using a crafty help to enrage them: can you deny it? + +LIN. Ah me, most miserable wretch! I beseech your lordship forgive me. + +COM. SEN. No, no, 'tis a fault unpardonable. + [_He consults with_ MEMORY. + +PHA. In my conceit, Lingua, you should seal up your lips when you go to +bed, these feminine tongues be so glib. + +COM. SEN. Visus, Tactus, and the rest, our former sentence concerning +you we confirm as irrevocable, and establish the crown to you, Visus, +and the robe to you, Tactus; but as for you, Lingua-- + +LIN. Let me have mine own, howsoever you determine, I beseech you. + +COM. SEN. That may not be: your goods are fallen into our hands; my +sentence cannot be recalled: you may see, those that seek what is not +theirs, oftentimes lose what's their own: therefore, Lingua, granting +you your life, I commit you to close prison in Gustus's house, and +charge you, Gustus, to keep her under the custody of two strong doors, +and every day, till she come to eighty years of age, see she be +well-guarded with thirty tall watchmen, without whose licence she shall +by no means wag abroad. Nevertheless, use her ladylike, according to her +estate. + +PHA. I pray you, my lord, add this to the judgment--that, whensoever +she obtaineth licence to walk abroad, in token the tongue was the cause +of her offence, let her wear a velvet hood, made just in the fashion of +a great tongue. In my conceit, 'tis a very pretty emblem of a woman. + +TAC. My lord, she hath a wild boy to her page, a chief agent in this +treason: his name's Mendacio. + +COM. SEN. Ha! well, I will inflict this punishment on him for this time: +let him be soundly whipped, and ever after, though he shall strengthen +his speeches with the sinews of truth, yet none shall believe him. + +PHA. In my imagination, my lord, the day is dead to the great toe, and +in my conceit it grows dark, by which I conjecture it will be cold; and +therefore, in my fancy and opinion, 'tis best to repair to our lodgings. + + [_Exeunt omnes, praeter_ ANAMNESTES _et_ APPETITUS. + + + +SCAENA VIGESSIMA. + + + ANAMNESTES, APPETITUS, _asleep in a corner_. + +ANA. What's this? a fellow whispering so closely with the earth? so ho, +so ho, Appetitus? faith, now I think Morpheus himself hath been here. +Up, with a pox to you; up, you lusk[324]? I have such news to tell thee, +sirrah: all the Senses are well, and Lingua is proved guilty: up, up, +up; I never knew him so fast asleep in my life. [APPETITUS _snorts_.] +Nay, then, have at you afresh. [_Jogs him_. + +APP. Jog me once again, and I'll throw this whole mess of pottage into +your face; cannot one stand quiet at the dresser for you. + +ANA. Ha, ha, ha! I think 'tis impossible for him to sleep longer than +he dreams of his victuals. What, Appetitus, up quickly: quickly up, +Appetitus, quickly, sirrah. [_Jogs him_. + +APP. I'll come presently; but I hope you'll stay till they be roasted: +will you eat them raw? + +ANA. Roasted? ha, ha, ha, ha! up, up, up, away! + +APP. Reach the sauce quickly; here's no sugar: whaw, whaw, O, O, O! + +ANA. What, never wake? [_Jogs him_.] Wilt never be? Then I must try +another way, I see. + + + +EPILOGUE + +Judicious friends, it is so late at night, +I cannot waken hungry Appetite: +Then since the close upon his rising stands, +Let me obtain this at your courteous hands; +Try, if this friendly opportunity +Of your good-will and gracious plaudite, +With the thrice-welcome murmur it shall keep, +Can beg this prisoner from the bands of sleep. + +[_Upon the plaudite_ APPETITUS _awakes, and runs in after_ ANAMNESTES. + + + + + + +THE MISERIES OF ENFORCED MARRIAGE. + + + + +_EDITIONS_. + + +(1.) _The Miseries of Inforst Mariage. As it is now playd by his +Maiesties Servants. Qui alios (seipsum) docet. By George Wilkins. +London. Printed for George Vincent, and are to be sold at his shop +in Woodstreete_. 1607, 4to. + +(2.) _The Miseries of Inforst Marriage. Playd by his Maiesties +Seruantes. Qui Alios, (seipsum) docet. By George Wilkins. London +Printed for George Vincent, and are to be sold at his Shoppe in +Woodstreete_. 1611. 4to. + +(3.) _The Miseries of Inforst Marriage. Playd by his Maiesties Servants. +Qui alios (seipsum) docet. By George Wilkins. London, Printed by Aug. +Mathewes for Richard Thrale, and are to bee sold at his Shop at Pauls +gate, next to Cheape-side_. 1629. 4to. + +(4.) _The Miseries of Inforst Marriage. Playd by his Majesties Servants. +Qui alios (seipsum) docet. By George Wilkins. London, Printed by I.N. +for Richard Thrale, and are to be sold at his Shop at Pauls gate; next +to Cheape-side_. M.DC.XXXVII. 4to. + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +George Wilkins, like many other minor poets of his time, has had no +memorials concerning him transmitted to us. He wrote no play alone, +except that which is here reprinted; but he joined with John Day and +William Rowley in "The Travels of the Three English Brothers, Sir +Thomas, Sir Anthony, and Sir Robert Shirley," an historical play, +printed in 4to, 1607[325]. He was also the author of "Three Miseries +of Barbary: Plague, Famine, Civill warre." [1603.] 4to. B.L.[326] + +[There was a second writer of both these names, probably a son, +who published in 1608 a prose novel, founded on the play of +"Pericles."[327]] + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE[328]. + +SIR FRANCIS ILFORD. +WENTLOE. +BARTLEY. +WILLIAM SCARBOROW. +THOMAS SCARBOROW, | _his brothers_ +JOHN SCARBOROW, | +SIR JOHN HARCOP. +LORD FALCONBRIDGE. +SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW. +DOCTOR BAXTER. +GRIPE, _the usurer_. +_Butler_. +_Clown_. +_Secretary_. +_Steward_. +_Page_. +_Children_. +CLARE, _daughter to Sir John Harcop_. +KATHERINE, _wife to William Scarborow_. +_Sister to William Scarborow_. + + + + +THE MISERIES OF ENFORCED MARRIAGE[329]. + + + + _Enter_ SIR FRANCIS ILFORD, WENTLOE, _and_ BARTLEY. + +BAR. But Frank, Frank, now we are come to the house, what shall we make +to be our business? + +ILF. Tut, let us be impudent enough, and good enough. + +WEN. We have no acquaintance here, but young Scarborow. + +ILF. How no acquaintance? Angels guard me from thy company. I tell thee, +Wentloe, thou art not worthy to wear gilt spurs[330], clean linen, nor +good clothes. + +WEN. Why, for God's sake? + +ILF. By this hand, thou art not a man fit to table at an ordinary, keep +knights company to bawdy-houses, nor beggar thy tailor. + +WEN. Why, then, I am free from cheaters, clear from the pox, and escape +curses. + +ILF. Why, dost thou think there is any Christians in the world? + +WEN. Ay, and Jews too, brokers, puritans, and sergeants. + +ILF. Or dost thou mean to beg after charity, that goes in a cold suit +already, that thou talkest thou hast no acquaintance here? I tell thee, +Wentloe, thou canst not live on this side of the world, feed well, drink +tobacco[331], and be honoured into the presence, but thou must be +acquainted with all sorts of men; ay, and so far in too, till they +desire to be more acquainted with thee. + +BAR. True, and then you shall be accounted a gallant of good credit. + + _Enter_ CLOWN. + +ILF. But stay, here is a scrape-trencher arrived: +How now, blue-bottle,[332] are you of the house? + +CLOWN. I have heard of many black-jacks, sir, but never of a +blue-bottle. + +ILF. Well, sir, are you of the house? + +CLOWN. No, sir, I am twenty yards without, and the house stands +without me. + +BAR. Prythee, tell's who owes[333] this building? + +CLOWN. He that dwells in it, sir. + +ILF. Who dwells in it, then? + +CLOWN. He that owes it. + +ILF. What's his name? + +CLOWN. I was none of his god-father. + +ILF. Does Master Scarborow lie here? + +CLOWN. I'll give you a rhyme for that, sir-- +Sick men may lie, and dead men in their graves. +Few else do lie abed at noon, but drunkards, punks, and knaves. + +ILF. What am I the better for thy answer? + +CLOWN. What am I the better for thy question? + +ILF. Why, nothing. + +CLOWN. Why, then, of nothing comes nothing. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +WEN. 'Sblood, this is a philosophical fool. + +CLOWN. Then I, that am a fool by art, am better than you, that are fools +by nature. [_Exit_. + +SCAR. Gentlemen, welcome to Yorkshire. + +ILF. And well-encountered, my little villain of fifteen hundred a year. +'Sfoot, what makest thou here in this barren soil of the North, when +thy honest friends miss thee at London? + +SCAR. Faith, gallants, 'tis the country where my father lived, where +first I saw the light, and where I am loved. + +ILF. Loved! ay, as courtiers love usurers, and that is just as long as +they lend them money. Now, dare I lay-- + +WEN. None of your land, good knight, for that is laid to mortgage +already. + +ILF. I dare lay with any man, that will take me up. + +WEN. _Who list to have a lubberly load_. [_Sings this_.[334] + +ILF. Sirrah wag, this rogue was son and heir to Antony Now-now[335] and +Blind Moon. And he must needs be a scurvy musician, that hath two +fiddlers to his fathers: but tell me, in faith, art thou not--nay, I +know thou art, called down into the country here by some hoary knight or +other who, knowing thee a young gentleman of good parts and a great +living, hath desired thee to see some pitiful piece of his workmanship +--a daughter, I mean. Is't not so? + +SCAR. About some such preferment I came down. + +ILF. Preferment's a good word. And when do you commence into the +cuckold's order--the preferment you speak of? when shall we have +gloves;[336] when, when? + +SCAR. Faith, gallants, I have been guest here but since last night. + +ILF. Why, and that is time enough to make up a dozen marriages, as +marriages are made up nowadays. For look you, sir; the father, according +to the fashion, being sure you have a good living, and without +encumbrance, comes to you thus:--takes you by the hand thus:--wipes his +long beard thus:--or turns up his moustachio thus:--walks some turn or +two thus:--to show his comely gravity thus:--and having washed his foul +mouth thus: at last breaks out thus.---- + +WEN. O God! let us hear no more of this? + +ILF.----Master Scarborow, you are a young gentleman; I knew your +father well, he was my worshipful good neighbour, for our demesnes lay +near together. Then, sir, you and I must be of more near acquaintance, +at which you must make an eruption thus:--O God (sweet sir)-- + +BAR. 'Sfoot, the knight would have made an excellent Zany in an Italian +comedy. + +ILF. When he goes forward thus: Sir, myself am lord of some thousand a +year, a widower (Master Scarborow). I have a couple of young gentlewomen +to my daughters: a thousand a year will do well divided among them; ha, +will't not, Master Scarborow? At which you out of your education must +reply thus: The portion will deserve them worthy husbands: on which +tinder he soon takes fire, and swears you are the man his hopes shot at, +and one of them shall be yours. + +WEN. If I did not like her, should he swear himself[337] to the devil, I +would make him foresworn. + +ILF. Then putting you and the young pug[338] too in a close room +together---- + +WEN. If he should lie with her there, is not the father partly the bawd? + +ILF.----Where the young puppet, having the lesson before from the old +fox, gives the son half a dozen warm kisses which, after her father's +oaths, takes such impression in thee, thou straight call'st, By Jesu, +mistress, I love you!--when she has the wit to ask, But, sir, will you +marry me? and thou, in thy cock-sparrow humour, repliest, Ay, before +God, as I am a gentleman, will I; which the father overhearing, leaps +in, takes you at your word, swears he is glad to see this; nay, he will +have you contracted straight, and for a need makes the priest of +himself. +Thus in one hour, from a quiet life, +Thou art sworn in debt, and troubled with a wife. + +BAR. But can they love one another so soon? + +ILF. O, it is no matter nowadays for love; 'tis well, and they can but +make shift to lie together. + +WEN. But will your father do this too, if he know the gallant breathes +himself at some two or three bawdy-houses in a morning? + +ILF. O, the sooner; for that and the land together tell the old lad, he +will know the better how to deal with his daughter. +The wise and ancient fathers know this rule, +Should both wed maids, the child would be a fool. +Come, wag, if thou hast gone no further than into the ordinary fashion-- +meet, see, and kiss--give over; marry not a wife, to have a hundred +plagues for one pleasure: let's to London, there's variety: and change +of pasture makes fat calves. + +SCAR. But change of women bald knaves, sir knight. + +ILF. Wag, and thou beest a lover but three days, thou wilt be heartless, +sleepless, witless, mad, wretched, miserable, and indeed a stark fool; +and by that thou hast been married but three weeks, though thou shouldst +wed a _Cynthia rara avis_, thou wouldst be a man monstrous--a cuckold, +a cuckold. + +BAR. And why is a cuckold monstrous, knight? + +ILF. Why, because a man is made a beast by being married. Take but +example thyself from the moon: as soon as she is delivered of her great +belly, doth she not point at the world with a pair of horns, as who +would say: Married men, ye are cuckolds. + +SCAR. I construe more divinely of their sex: +Being maids, methinks they are angels; and being wives, +They are sovereign cordials that preserve our lives,[339] +They are like our hands that feed us; this is clear, +They renew man, as spring renews the year. + +ILF. There's ne'er a wanton wench that hears thee, but thinks thee a +coxcomb for saying so: marry none of them; if thou wilt have their true +characters, I'll give it thee. Women are the purgatory of men's purses, +the paradise of their bodies, and the hell of their minds; marry none of +them. Women[340] are in churches saints, abroad angels, at home devils. +Here are married men enough know this: marry none of them. + +SCAR. Men that traduce by custom, show sharp wit +Only in speaking ill; and practice it +Against the best creatures, divine women, +Who are God's agents' here, and the heavenly eye, +By which this orb hath her maturity: +Beauty in women gets the world with child, +Without whom she were barren, faint and wild. +They are the stems on which do angels grow, +From whence virtue is still'd, and arts do flow. + + _Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP _and his daughter_ CLARE. + +ILF. Let them be what flowers they will; and they were roses, I will +pluck none of them for pricking my fingers. But soft, here comes a +voider for us: and I see, do what I can, as long as the world lasts, +there will be cuckolds in it. Do you hear, child, here's one come to +blend you together: he has brought you a kneading-tub, if thou dost +take her at his hands. +Though thou hadst Argus' eyes, be sure of this, +Women have sworn with more than one to kiss. + +HAR. Nay, no parting, gentlemen. Hem! + +WEN. 'Sfoot, does he make punks of us, that he hems already? + +HAR. Gallants, +Know old John Harcop keeps a wine-cellar, +Has travell'd, been at court, known fashions, +And unto all bear habit like yourselves-- +The shapes of gentlemen and men of sort, +I have a health to give them, ere they part. + +WEN. Health, knight! not as drunkards give their healths, I hope: to go +together by the ears when they have done? + +HAR. My healths are Welcome: Welcome, gentlemen. + +ILF. Are we welcome, knight, in faith? + +HAR. Welcome, in faith, sir. + +ILF. Prythee, tell me, hast not thou been a whoremaster? + +HAR. In youth I swill'd my fill at Venus' cup, +Instead of full draughts now I am fain to sup. + +ILF. Why then thou art a man fit for my company: +Dost thou hear? (_to_ WEN. _and_ BAR.) he is a good fellow of our stamp. +Make much of this[341] father. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Manent_ SCARBOROW _and_ CLARE. + +SCAR. The father and the gallants have left me here with a gentlewoman, +and if I know what to say to her, I am a villain. Heaven grant her life +hath borrowed so much impudence of her sex but to speak to me first: +for, by this hand, I have not so much steel of immodesty in my face to +parley to a wench without blushing. I'll walk by her, in hope she can +open her teeth. Not a word? Is it not strange a man should be in a +woman's company all this while and not hear her tongue. I'll go +further. God of his goodness! not a syllable. I think if I should take +up her clothes too, she would say nothing to me. With what words, trow, +does a man begin to woo. Gentlewoman, pray you, what is't a clock? + +CLARE. Troth, sir, carrying no watch about me but mine eyes, I answer +you: I cannot tell. + +SCAR. And if you cannot tell, beauty, I take the adage for my reply: you +are naught to keep sheep. + +CLARE. Yet I am big enough to keep myself. + +SCAR. Prythee tell me: are you not a woman? + +CLARE. I know not that neither, till I am better acquainted with a man. + +SCAR. And how would you be acquainted with a man? + +CLARE. To distinguish betwixt himself and myself. + +SCAR. Why, I am a man? + +CLARE. That's more than I know, sir. + +SCAR. To approve I am no less, thus I kiss thee. + +CLARE. And by that proof I am a man too; for I have kissed you. + +SCAR. Prythee, tell me, can you love? + +CLARE. O Lord, sir, three or four things: I love my meat, choice of +suitors, clothes in the fashion, and, like a right woman, I love to have +my will. + +SCAR. What think you of me for a husband? + +CLARE. Let me first know what you think of me for a wife? + +SCAR. Troth, I think you are a proper gentlewoman. + +CLARE. Do you but think so? + +SCAR. Nay, I see you are a very perfect proper gentlewoman. + +CLARE. It is great pity then I should be alone without a proper man. + +SCAR. Your father says I shall marry you. + +CLARE. And I say, God forbid, sir! alas, I am a great deal too young. + +SCAR. I love thee, by my troth. + +CLARE. O, pray you do not so; for then you stray from the steps of +gentility; the fashion among them is to marry first, and love after by +leisure. + +SCAR. That I do love thee, here by heaven I swear, And call it as a +witness to this kiss. + +CLARE. You will not enforce me, I hope, sir? + +SCAR. Make me this woman's husband! thou art my Clare: +Accept my heart, and prove as chaste as fair. + +CLARE. O God! you are too hot in your gifts; should I accept them, we +should have you plead nonage some half a year hence, sue for +reversement, and say the deed was done under age. + +SCAR. Prythee, do not jest. + +CLARE. No (God is my record), I speak in earnest: and desire to know +Whether ye mean to marry me, yea or no? + +SCAR. This hand thus takes thee as my loving wife. + +CLARE. For better, for worse. + +SCAR. Ay, till death us depart,[342] love. + +CLARE. Why, then, I thank you, sir, and now I am like to have +That I long look'd for--a husband. +How soon from our own tongues is the word said +Captives our maiden-freedom to a head! + +SCAR. Clare, you are now mine, and I must let you know, +What every wife doth to her husband owe: +To be a wife, is to be dedicate, +Not to a youthful course, wild and unsteady, +But to the soul of virtue, obedience, +Studying to please, and never to offend. +Wives have two eyes created, not like birds +To roam about at pleasure, but for[343] sentinels, +To watch their husbands' safety as their own. +Two hands; one's to feed him, the other herself: +Two feet, and one of them is their husbands'. +They have two of everything, only of one, +Their chastity, that should be his alone. +Their very thoughts they cannot term their own.[344] +Maids, being once made wives, can nothing call +Rightly their own; they are their husbands' all: +If such a wife you can prepare to be, +Clare, I am yours: and you are fit for me. + +CLARE. We being thus subdued, pray you know then, +As women owe a duty, so do men. +Men must be like the branch and bark to trees, +Which doth defend them from tempestuous rage, +Clothe them in winter, tender them in age: +Or as ewes love unto their eanlings gives,[345] +Such should be husbands' custom to their wives. +If it appear to them they've stray'd amiss, +They only must rebuke them with a kiss; +Or clock them, as hens chickens, with kind call, +Cover them under wing, and pardon all: +No jars must make two beds, no strife divide them, +Those betwixt whom a faith and troth is given, +Death only parts, since they are knit by heaven: +If such a husband you intend to be, +I am your Clare, and you are fit for me. + +SCAR. By heaven-- + +CLARE. Advise, before you swear, let me remember you,[346] +Men never give their faith and promise marriage, +But heaven records their oath: if they prove true, +Heaven smiles for joy; if not, it weeps for you: +Unless your heart, then, with your words agree, +Yet let us part, and let us both be free. + +SCAR. If ever man, in swearing love, swore true, +My words are like to his. Here comes your father. + + _Enter SIR JOHN HARCOP, ILFORD, WENTLOE, BARTLEY, _and Butler_. + +HAR. Now, Master Scarborrow. + +SCAR. Prepar'd to ask, how you like that we have done: +Your daughter's made my wife, and I your son. + +HAR. And both agreed so? + +BOTH. We are, sir. + +HAR. Then long may you live together, have store of sons! + +ILF. 'Tis no matter who is the father. [_Aside_.] + +HAR. But, son, here is a man of yours is come from London. + +BUT. And brought you letters, sir. + +SCAR. What news from London, butler? + +BUT. The old news, sir. The ordinaries are full of cheaters, some +citizens are bankrupts, and many gentlemen beggars. + +SCAR. Clare, here is an unwelcome pursuivant; +My lord and guardian writes to me, with speed +I must return to London. + +HAR. And you being ward to him, son Scarborow, +And no ingrate,[347] it fits that you obey him. + +SCAR.[348] It does, it does; for by an ancient law +We are born free heirs, but kept like slaves in awe. +Who are for London, gallants? + +ILF. Switch and Spur, we will bear you company. + +SCAR. Clare, I must leave thee--with what unwillingness, +Witness this dwelling kiss upon thy lip; +And though I must be absent from thine eye, +Be sure my heart doth in thy bosom lie. +Three years I am yet a ward, which time I'll pass, +Making thy faith my constant looking-glass, +Till when-- + +CLARE. Till when you please, where'er you live or lie, +Your love's here worn: you're present[349] in my eye. + + _Enter_ LORD FALCONBRIDGE _and_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW. + +LORD. Sir William, +How old, say you, is your kinsman Scarborow? + +WIL. Eighteen, my lord, next Pentecost. + +LORD. Bethink you, good Sir William, +I reckon thereabout myself; so by that account +There's full three winters yet he must attend +Under our awe, before he sue his livery: +Is it not so? + +WIL. Not a day less, my lord. + +LORD. Sir William, you are his uncle, and I must speak, +That am his guardian; would I had a son +Might merit commendations equal[350] with him. +I'll tell you what he is: he is a youth, +A noble branch, increasing blessed fruit, +Where caterpillar vice dare not to touch: +He bears[351] himself with so much gravity, +Praise cannot praise him with hyperbole: +He is one, whom older look upon as on a book: +Wherein are printed noble sentences +For them to rule their lives by. Indeed he is one, +All emulate his virtues, hate him none. + +WIL. His friends are proud to hear this good of him. + +LORD. And yet, Sir William, being as he is, +Young and unsettled, though of virtuous thoughts +By genuine disposition, yet our eyes +See daily precedents, [how] hopeful gentlemen, +Being trusted in the world with their own will, +Divert the good is look'd from them to ill; +Make their old names forgot, or not worth note: +With company they keep such revelling, +With panders, parasites, prodigies of knaves, +That they sell all, even their old fathers' graves. +Which to prevent we'll match him to a wife: +Marriage restrains the scope of single life. + +WIL. My lord speaks like a father for my kinsman. + +LORD. And I have found him one of noble parentage, +A niece of mine; nay, I have broke with her, +Know thus much of her mind, that[352] for my pleasure, +As also for the good appears in him, +She is pleased of all that's hers to make him king. + +WIL. Our name is bless'd in such an honoured marriage. + + _Enter_ DOCTOR BAXTER. + +LORD. Also I have appointed Doctor Baxter, +Chancellor of Oxford, to attend me here: +And see, he is come. Good Master Doctor. + +BAX. My honourable lord. + +WIL. I have possess'd you[353] with this business, Master Doctor. + +BAX. To see the contract 'twixt your honoured niece +And Master Scarborow? + +LORD. 'Tis so, and I did look for him by this. + +BAX. I saw him leave his horse, as I came up. + +LORD. So, so. +Then he will be here forthwith: you, Master Baxter, +Go usher hither straight young Katherine, +Sir William here and I will keep this room, +Till you return. + [_Exit_ DOCTOR. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +SCAR. My honourable[354] lord. + +LORD. 'Tis well-done, Scarborow. + +SCAR. Kind uncle. + +WIL. Thanks, my good coz. + +LORD. You have been welcome in your country Yorkshire? + +SCAR. The time that I spent there, my lord, was merry. + +LORD. 'Twas well, 'twas very well! and in your absence +Your uncle here and I have been bethinking, +What gift 'twixt us we might bestow on you, +That to your house large dignity might bring, +With fair increase, as from a crystal spring. + + _Enter_ DOCTOR _and_ KATHERINE. + +SCAR. My name is bound to your benificence, +Your hands have been to me like bounty's purse, +Never shut up, yourself my foster nurse: +Nothing can from your honour come, prove me so rude, +But I'll accept, to shun ingratitude. + +LORD. We accept thy promise, now return thee this, +A virtuous wife: accept her with a kiss. + +SCAR. My honourable lord! + +LORD. Fear not to take her, man: she will fear neither, +Do what thou canst, being both abed together. + +SCAR. O, but my lord-- + +LORD. But me? dog of wax! come kiss, and agree, +Your friends have thought it fit, and it must be. + +SCAR. I have no hands to take her to my wife. + +LORD. How, sauce-box? + +SCAR. O, pardon me, my lord; the unripeness of my years, +Too green for government, is old in fears +To undertake that charge. + +LORD. Sir, sir, and sir knave, then here is a mellowed experience knows +how to teach you. + +SCAR. O God. + +LORD. O Jack, +Have[355] both our cares, your uncle and myself, +Sought, studied, found out, and for your good, +A maid, a niece of mine, both fair and chaste; +And must we stand at your discretion? + +SCAR. O good my lord, +Had I two souls, then might I have two wives: +Had I two faiths, then had I one for her; +Having of both but one, that one is given +To Sir John Harcop's daughter. + +LORD. Ha, ha! what's that? let me hear that again. + +SCAR. To Sir John Harcop's Clare I have made an oath: +Part me in twain, yet she's one-half of both. +This hand the which I wear, it is half hers: +Such power hath faith and troth 'twixt couples young, +Death only cuts that knot tied with the tongue. + +LORD. And have you knit that knot, sir? + +SCAR. I have done so much that, if I wed not her, +My marriage makes me an adulterer: +In which black sheets I wallow all my life, +My babes being bastards, and a whore my wife. + + _Enter_ SECRETARY. + +LORD. Ha, is't even so? my secretary there, +Write me a letter straight to Sir John Harcop, +I'll see, sir Jack, and if that Harcop dare, +Being my ward, contract you to his daughter. + + [_Exit_ SECRETARY. + + _Enter_ STEWARD. + +My steward too, post you to Yorkshire, +Where lies my youngster's land; and, sirrah, +Fell me his wood, make havoc, spoil and waste. [_Exit_ STEWARD. +Sir, you shall know that you are ward to me, +I'll make you poor enough: then mend yourself. + +WIL. O cousin! + +SCAR. O uncle! + +LORD. Contract yourself, and where you list? +I'll make you know me, sir, to be your guard. + +SCAR. World, now thou seest what 'tis to be a ward. + +LORD. And where I meant myself to have disburs'd +Four thousand pounds, upon this marriage +Surrendered up your land to your own use, +And compass'd other portions to your hands, +Sir, I'll now yoke you still. + +SCAR. A yoke indeed. + +LORD. And, spite of them[356] dare contradict my will, +I'll make thee marry to my chambermaid. Come, coz. + [_Exit_. + +BAX. Faith, sir, it fits you to be more advis'd. + +SCAR, Do not you flatter for preferment, sir? + +WIL. O, but, good coz! + +SCAR. O, but, good uncle, could I command my love, +Or cancel oaths out of heaven's brazen book, +Engross'd by God's own finger, then you might speak. +Had men that law to love, as most have tongues +To love a thousand women with, then you might speak. +Were love like dust, lawful for every wind +To bear from place to place; were oaths but puffs, +Men might forswear themselves; but I do know, +Though, sin being pass'd with us, the act's forgot, +The poor soul groans, and she forgets it not. + +WIL. Yet hear your own case. + +SCAR. O, 'tis too miserable! +That I, a gentleman, should be thus torn +From mine own right, and forc'd to be forsworn. + +WIL. Yet, being as it is, it must be your care, +To salve it with advice, not with despair; +You are his ward: being so, the law intends +He is to have your duty, and in his rule +Is both your marriage and your heritage. +If you rebel 'gainst these injunctions, +The penalty takes hold on you; which for himself +He straight thus prosecutes; he wastes your land, +Weds you where he thinks fit:[357] but if yourself +Have of some violent humour match'd yourself +Without his knowledge, then hath he power +To merce[358] your purse, and in a sum so great, +That shall for ever keep your fortunes weak, +Where otherwise, if you be rul'd by him, +Your house is rais'd by matching to his kin. + + _Enter_ FALCONBRIDGE. + +LORD. Now, death of me, shall I be cross'd +By such a jack? he wed himself, and where he list: +Sirrah malapert, I'll hamper you, +You that will have your will, come, get you in: +I'll make thee shape thy thoughts to marry her, +Or wish thy birth had been thy murderer. + +SCAR. Fate, pity me, because I am enforc'd: +For I have heard those matches have cost blood, +Where love is once begun, and then withstood. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT II. + + + _Enter_ ILFORD, _and a_ PAGE _with him_. + +ILF. Boy, hast thou delivered my letter? + +BOY. Ay, sir, I saw him open the lips on't. + +ILF. He had not a new suit on, had he? + +BOY. I am not so well acquainted with his wardrobe, sir; but I saw a +lean fellow, with sunk eyes and shamble legs, sigh pitifully at his +chamber door, and entreat his man to put his master in mind of him. + +ILF. O, that was his tailor. I see now he will be blessed, he profits by +my counsel: he will pay no debts, before he be arrested--nor then +neither, if he can find e'er a beast that dare but be bail for him; but +he will seal[359] i' th' afternoon? + +BOY. Yes, sir, he will imprint for you as deep as he can. + +ILF. Good, good, now have I a parson's nose, and smell tithe coming in +then. Now let me number how many rooks I have half-undone already this +term by the first return: four by dice, six by being bound with me, and +ten by queans: of which some be courtiers, some country gentlemen, and +some citizens' sons. Thou art a good Frank; if thou purgest[360] thus, +thou art still a companion for gallants, may'st keep a catamite, take +physic at the spring and the fall. + + _Enter_ WENTLOE. + +WEN. Frank, news that will make thee fat, Frank. + +ILF. Prythee, rather give me somewhat will keep me lean; I have no mind +yet to take physic. + +WEN. Master Scarborow is married, man. + +ILF. Then heaven grant he may (as few married men do) make much of his +wife. + +WEN. Why? wouldst have him love her, let her command all, and make her +his master? + +ILF. No, no; they that do so, make not much of their wives, but give +them their will, and its the marring of them. + + _Enter_ BARTLEY. + +BAR. Honest Frank, valorous Frank, a portion of thy wit, but to help us +in this enterprise, and we may walk London streets, and cry _pish_ at +the serjeants. + +ILF. You may shift out one term, and yet die in the Counter. These are +the scabs now that hang upon honest Job. I am Job, and these are the +scurvy scabs [_aside_]; but what's this your pot seethes over withal? + +BAR. Master Scarborough is married, man. + +WEN. He has all his land in his own hand. + +BAR. His brother's and sister's portions. + +WEN. Besides four thousand pounds in ready money with his wife. + +ILF. A good talent,[361] by my faith; it might help many gentlemen to +pay their tailors, and I might be one of them. + +WEN. Nay, honest Frank, hast thou found a trick for him? if thou hast +not, look, here's a line to direct thee. First draw him into bands[362] +for money, then to dice for it; then take up stuff at the mercer's; +straight to a punk with it; then mortgage his land, and be drunk with +that; so with them and the rest, from an ancient gentleman make him a +young beggar. + +ILF. What a rogue this is, to read a lecture to me--and mine own lesson +too, which he knows I have made perfect to nine hundred fourscore and +nineteen! A cheating rascal! will teach me!--I, that have made them, +that have worn a spacious park, lodge, and all on their backs[363] this +morning, been fain to pawn it afore night! And they that have stalked +like a huge elephant, with a castle on their necks, and removed that to +their own shoulders in one day, which their fathers built up in seven +years--been glad by my means, in so much time as a child sucks, to drink +bottle-ale, though a punk pay for't. And shall this parrot instruct me? + +WEN. Nay, but, Frank-- + +ILF. A rogue that hath fed upon me and the fruit of my wit, like +pullen[364] from a pantler's chippings, and now I have put him into good +clothes to shift two suits in a day, that could scarce shift a patched +shirt once in a year, and say his prayers when he had it--hark, how he +prates! + +WEN. Besides, Frank, since his marriage, he stalks me like a cashiered +captain discontent; in, which melancholy the least drop of mirth, of +which thou hast an ocean, will make him and all his ours for ever. + +ILF. Says mine own rogue so? Give me thy hand then; we'll do't, and +there's earnest. [_Strikes him_.] 'Sfoot, you chittiface, that looks +worse than a collier through a wooden window, an ape afraid of a whip, +or a knave's head, shook seven years in the weather upon London +Bridge[365]--do you catechise me? + +WEN. Nay, but valorous Frank, he that knows the secrets of all hearts +knows I did it in kindness. + +ILF. Know your seasons: besides, I am not of that species for you to +instruct. Then know your seasons. + +BAR. 'Sfoot, friends, friends, all friends; here comes young Scarborow. +Should he know of this, all our designs were prevented. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +ILF. What! melancholy, my young master, my young married man? God give +your worship joy. + +SCAR. Joy of what, Frank? + +ILF. Of thy wealth, for I hear of few that have joy of their wives. + +SCAR. Who weds as I have to enforced sheets, +His care increaseth, but his comfort fleets. + +ILF. Thou having so much wit, what a devil meant'st thou to marry? + +SCAR. O, speak not of it, +Marriage sounds in mine ear like a bell, +Not rung for pleasure, but a doleful knell. + +ILF. A common course: those men that are married in the morning to wish +themselves buried ere night. + +SCAR. I cannot love her. + +ILF. No news neither. Wives know that's a general fault amongst their +husbands. + +SCAR. I will not lie with her. + +ILF. _Caeteri volunt_, she'll say still; +If you will not, another will. + +SCAR. Why did she marry me, knowing I did not love her? + +ILF. As other women do, either to be maintained by you, or to make you +a cuckold. Now, sir, what come you for? + + _Enter_ CLOWN. + +CLOWN. As men do in haste, to make an end of their business. + +ILF. What's your business? + +CLOWN. My business is this, sir--this, sir--and this, sir. + +ILF. The meaning of all this, sir? + +CLOWN. By this is as much as to say, sir, my master has sent unto you; +by this is as much as to say, sir, my master has him humbly commended +unto you; and by this is as much as to say, my master craves your +answer. + +ILF. Give me your letter, and you shall have this, sir, this, sir, and +this, sir. [_Offers to strike him_. + +CLOWN. No, sir. + +ILF. Why, sir? + +CLOWN. Because, as the learned have very well instructed me, _Qui supra +nos, nihil ad nos_, and though many gentlemen will have to do with other +men's business, yet from me know the most part of them prove knaves for +their labour. + +WEN. You ha' the knave, i'faith, Frank. + +CLOWN. Long may he live to enjoy it. From Sir John Harcop, of Harcop, in +the county of York, Knight, by me his man, to yourself my young master, +by these presents greeting. + +ILF. How cam'st thou by these good words? + +CLOWN. As you by your good clothes, took them upon trust, and swore I +would never pay for them. + +SCAR. Thy master, Sir John Harcop, writes to me, +That I should entertain thee for my man. +His wish is acceptable; thou art welcome, fellow. +O, but thy master's daughter sends an article, +Which makes me think upon my present sin; +Here she remembers me to keep in mind +My promis'd faith to her, which I ha' broke. +Here she remembers me I am a man, +Black'd o'er with perjury, whose sinful breast +Is charactered like those curst of the blest. + +ILF. How now, my young bully, like a young wench, forty weeks after the +loss of her maidenhead, crying out. + +SCAR. Trouble me not. Give me pen, ink, and paper; +I will write to her. O! but what shall I write +In mine excuse?[366] why, no excuse can serve +For him that swears, and from his oath doth swerve. +Or shall I say my marriage was enforc'd? +'Twas bad in them; not well in me to yield: +Wretched they two, whose marriage was compell'd. +I'll only write that which my grief hath bred: +Forgive me, Clare, for I am married: +'Tis soon set down, but not so soon forgot +Or worn from hence-- +Deliver it unto her, there's for thy pains. +Would I as soon could cleanse these perjur'd stains! + +CLOWN. Well, I could alter mine eyes from filthy mud into fair water: +you have paid for my tears, and mine eyes shall prove bankrouts, and +break out for you. Let no man persuade me: I will cry, and every town +betwixt Shoreditch Church and York Bridge shall bear me witness. + [_Exit_. + +SCAR. Gentlemen, I'll take my leave of you, +She that I am married to, but not my wife, +Will London leave, in Yorkshire lead our life. [_Exit_. + +ILF. We must not leave you so, my young gallant; we three are sick in +state, and your wealth must help to make us whole again. For this saying +is as true as old-- +Strife nurs'd 'twixt man and wife makes such a flaw, +How great soe'er their wealth, 'twill have a thaw. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP _with his daughter_ CLARE, + _and two younger brothers_, THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +HAR. Brothers to him ere long shall be my son +By wedding this young girl: you are welcome both. +Nay, kiss her, kiss her; though that she shall be +Your brother's wife, to kiss the cheek is free. + +THOM. Kiss, 'sfoot, what else? thou art a good plump wench, I like you +well; prythee, make haste and bring store of boys; but be sure they have +good faces, that they may call me uncle. + +JOHN. Glad of so fair a sister, I salute you. + +HAR. Good, good, i' faith, this kissing's good, i' faith, +I lov'd to smack it too when I was young, +But mum: they have felt thy cheek, Clare, let them hear thy tongue. + +CLARE. Such welcome as befits my Scarborow's brothers, +From me his trothplight wife be sure to have, +And though my tongue prove scant in any part, +The bounds be sure are full large[367] in my heart. + +THOM. Tut, that's not that we doubt on, wench; but do you hear, Sir +John? what do you think drew me from London and the Inns of Court thus +far into Yorkshire? + +HAR. I guess, to see this girl shall be your sister. + +THOM. Faith, and I guess partly so too, but the main was--and I will not +lie to you--that, your coming now in this wise into our kindred, I might +be acquainted with you aforehand, that after my brother had married your +daughter, I his brother might borrow some money of you. + +HAR. What, do you borrow of your kindred, sir? + +THOM. 'Sfoot, what else? they, having interest in my blood, why should I +not have interest in their coin? Besides, sir, I, being a younger +brother, would be ashamed of my generation if I would not borrow of any +man that would lend, especially of my affinity, of whom I keep a +calendar. And look you, sir, thus I go over them. First o'er my uncles: +after, o'er mine aunts: then up to my nephews: straight down to my +nieces: to this cousin Thomas and that cousin Jeffrey, leaving the +courteous claw given to none of their elbows, even unto the third and +fourth remove of any that hath interest in our blood. All which do, upon +their summons made by me, duly and faithfully provide for appearance. +And so, as they are, I hope we shall be, more entirely endeared, better +and more feelingly acquainted.[368] + +HAR. You are a merry gentleman. + +THOM. 'Tis the hope of money makes me so; and I know none but fools use +to be sad with it. + +JOHN. From Oxford am I drawn from serious studies, +Expecting that my brother still hath sojourn'd +With you, his best of choice, and this good knight. + +HAR. His absence shall not make our hearts less merry, +Than if we had his presence. A day ere long +Will bring him back, when one the other meets, +At noon i'th' church, at night between the sheets. +We'll wash this chat with wine. Some wine! fill up; +The sharp'ner of the wit is a full cup. +And so to you, sir. + +THOM. Do, and I'll drink to my new sister; but upon this condition, +that she may have quiet days, little rest o' nights, have pleasant +afternoons, be pliant to my brother, and lend me money, whensoe'er I'll +borrow it. + +HAR. Nay, nay, nay. +Women are weak, and we must bear with them: +Your frolic healths are only fit for men. + +THOM. Well, I am contented; women must to the wall, though it be to a +feather-bed. Fill up, then. [_They drink_. + + _Enter_ CLOWN. + +CLOWN. From London am I come, +Though not with pipe and drum, +Yet I bring matter +In this poor paper +Will make my young mistress, +Delighting in kisses, +Do as all maidens will, +Hearing of such an ill, +As to have lost +The thing they wish'd most, +A husband, a husband, +A pretty sweet husband, +Cry O, O, O, +And alas, and at last +Ho, ho, ho, +As I do. + +CLARE. Return'd so soon from London? what's the news? + +CLOWN. O mistress, if ever you have seen Demoniseacleer, look into mine +eyes: mine eyes are Severn, plain Severn; the Thames nor the river of +Tweed are nothing to them: nay, all the rain that fell at Noah's flood +had not the discretion that my eyes have: that drunk but up the whole +world, and I have drowned all the way betwixt this and London. + +CLARE. Thy news, good Robin. + +CLOWN. My news, mistress? I'll tell you strange news. The dust upon +London way being so great, that not a lord, gentleman, knight, or knave +could travel, lest his eyes should be blown out: at last they all +agreed to hire me to go before them, when I, looking but upon this +letter, did with this water, this very water, lay the dust, as well as +if it had rained from the beginning of April till the last of May. + +CLARE. A letter from my Scarborow I give it thy mistress. + +CLOWN. But, mistress-- + +CLARE. Prythee, begone, +I would not have my father nor these gentlemen +Be witness of the comfort it doth bring. + +CLOWN. O, but mistress-- + +CLARE. Prythee, begone, +With this and the glad news leave me alone. + + [_Exit_ CLOWN. + +THOM. 'Tis your turn, knight; take your liquor, know I am bountiful; +I'll forgive any man anything that he owes me but his drink, and that +I'll be paid for. + +CLARE. Nay, gentlemen, the honesty of mirth +Consists not in carousing with excess; +My father hath more welcomes than in wine. +Pray you, no more. + +THOM. Says my sister so? I'll be ruled by thee then. But do you hear? I +hope hereafter you'll lend me some money. Now we are half-drunk, let's +go to dinner. Come, knight. + [_Exeunt_. + + _Manet_ CLARE. + +CLARE. I am glad you're gone. +Shall I now open't? no, I'll kiss it first, +Because this outside last did kiss his hand. +Within this fold (I'll call't a sacred sheet) +Are writ black lines, where our white hearts shall meet. +Before I ope this door of my delight, +Methinks I guess how kindly he doth write +Of his true love to me; as chuck, sweetheart, +I prythee do not think the time too long +That keeps us from the sweets of marriage rites: +And then he sets my name, and kisses it, +Wishing my lips his sheet to write upon; +With like desire (methinks) as mine own thoughts +Ask him now here for me to look upon; +Yet at the last thinking his love too slack, +Ere it arrive at my desired eyes, +He hastens up his message with like speed, +Even as I break this ope, wishing to read. +O, what is here? mine eyes are not mine own; +Sure, sure, they are not. [O eyes,] +Though you have been my lamps this sixteen years, + [_Lets fall the letter_. +You do belie my Scarborow reading so; +_Forgive him, he is married_, that were ill: +What lying lights are these? look, I have no such letter, +No wedded syllable of the least wrong +Done to a trothplight virgin like myself. +Beshrew you for your blindness: _Forgive him, he is married_! +I know my Scarborow's constancy to me +Is as firm knit as faith to charity, +That I shall kiss him often, hug him thus, +Be made a happy and a fruitful mother +Of many prosperous children like to him; +And read I, he was married! ask'd forgiveness? +What a blind fool was I; yet here's a letter, +To whom, directed too? _To my beloved Clare_. +Why, la! +Women will read, and read not that they saw. +'Twas but my fervent love misled mine eyes, +I'll once again to the inside, _Forgive me, I am married; +William Scarborow_. He has set his name to't too. +O perjury! within the hearts of men +Thy feasts are kept, their tongue proclaimeth them. + + _Enter_ THOMAS SCARBOROW. + +THOM. Sister, God's precious, the cloth's laid, the meat cools, we all +stay, and your father calls for you. + +CLARE. Kind sir, excuse me, I pray you, a little; +I'll but peruse this letter, and come straight. + +THOM. Pray you, make haste, the meat stays for us, and our stomach's +ready for the meat; for believe this-- +Drink makes men hungry, or it makes them lie,[369] +And he that's drunk o'er night, i'th'morning's dry: +Seen and approved. [_Exit_. + +CLARE. He was contracted mine, yet he unjust +Hath married to another: what's my estate, then? +A wretched maid, not fit for any man; +For being united his with plighted faiths, +Whoever sues to me commits a sin, +Besiegeth me; and who shall marry me, +Is like myself, lives in adultery. O God, +That such hard fortune should betide my youth! +I am young, fair, rich, honest, virtuous, +Yet for all this, whoe'er shall marry me, +I'm but his whore, live in adultery. +I cannot step into the path of pleasure +For which I was created, born unto: +Let me live ne'er so honest, rich or poor, +If I once wed, yet I must live a whore. +I must be made a strumpet 'gainst my will, +A name I have abhorr'd; a shameful ill +I have eschewed; and now cannot withstand it +In myself. I am my father's only child: +In me he hath a hope, though not his name +Can be increas'd, yet by my issue +His land shall be possess'd, his age delighted. +And though that I should vow a single life +To keep my soul unspotted, yet will he +Enforce me to a marriage: +So that my grief doth of that weight consist, +It helps me not to yield nor to resist; +And was I then created for a whore? a whore! +Bad name, bad act, bad man, makes me a scorn: +Than live a strumpet, better be unborn.[370] + + _Enter_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +JOHN. Sister, pray you, will you come? Your father and the whole +meeting stays for you. + +CLARE. I come, I come; I pray, return; I come. + +JOHN. I must not go without you. + +CLARE. Be thou my usher, sooth, I'll follow you. [_Exit_. +He writes here to _forgive him, he is married_: +False gentleman, I do forgive thee with my heart; +Yet will I send an answer to thy letter, +And in so short words thou shalt weep to read them, +And here's my agent ready: _Forgive me, I am dead_. +'Tis writ, and I will act it. Be judge, you maids +Have trusted the false promises of men: +Be judge, you wives, the which have been enforc'd +From the white sheets you lov'd to them ye loathed: +Whether this axiom may not be assured,-- +_Better one sin than many be endured_: +My arms embracing, kisses, chastity, +Were his possessions; and whilst I live, +He doth but steal those pleasures he enjoys, +Is an adulterer in his married arms, +And never goes to his defiled bed, +But God writes sin upon the tester's head. +I'll be a wife now, help to save his soul +Though I have lost his body: give a slake +To his iniquities, and with one sin, +Done by this hand, and many done by him. +Farewell the world then, farewell the wedded joys +Till this I have hop'd for from that gentleman! +Scarborow, forgive me; thus thou hast lost thy wife, +Yet record, world,[371] though by an act too foul, +A wife thus died to cleanse her husband's soul. + + [_Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP.] + +HAR. God's precious for his mercy, where's this wench? +Must all my friends and guests attend on you? +Where are you, minion? + +CLARE. Scarborow, come, close mine eyes; for I am dead. + +HAR. That sad voice was not hers, I hope: +Who's this? +My daughter? + +CLARE. Your daughter, +That begs of you to see her buried, +Prays Scarborow to forgive her: she is dead. [_Dies_. + +HAR. Patience, good tears, and let my words have way! +Clare, my daughter! help, my servants, there! +Lift up thine eyes, and look upon thy father, +They were not born to lose their light so soon: +I did beget thee for my comforter, +And not to be the author of my care. +Why speakest thou not? some help, my servants, there! +What hand hath made thee pale? or if thine own, +What cause hadst thou, that wert thy father's joy, +The treasure of his age, the cradle of his sleep, +His all in all? I prythee, speak to me: +Thou art not ripe for death; come back again. +Clare, my Clare, if death must needs have one, +I am the fittest: prythee, let me go. +Thou dying whilst I live, I am dead with woe. + + _Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +THOM. What means this outcry? + +JOHN. O ruthful spectacle! + +HAR. Thou wert not wont to be so sullen, child, +But kind and loving to thy aged father: +Awake, awake! if't be thy lasting sleep, +Would I had not sense for grief, nor eyes to weep. + +JOHN. What paper's this? the sad contents do tell me, +My brother writ he hath broke his faith to her, +And she replies for him she hath kill'd herself. + +HAR. Was that the cause that thou hast soil'd thyself +With these red spots, these blemishes of beauty? +My child, my child! was't perjury in him +Made thee so fair act now so foul a sin? +Hath[372] he deceived thee in a mother's hopes, +Posterity, the bliss of marriage? +Thou hast no tongue to answer no or ay, +But in red letters write,[373] _For him I die_. +Curse on his traitorous tongue, his youth, his blood, +His pleasures, children, and possessions! +Be all his days, like winter, comfortless! +Restless his nights, his wants remorseless![374] +And may his corpse be the physician's stage, +Which play'd upon stands not to honour'd age! +Or with diseases may he lie and pine, +Till grief wax blind his eyes, as grief doth mine! + [_Exit_. + +JOHN. O good old man, made wretched by this deed, +The more thy age, more to be pitied. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW, _his wife_ KATHERINE, ILFORD, + WENTLOE, BARTLEY, _and_ BUTLER. + +ILF. What, ride by the gate, and not call? that were a shame, i'faith. + +WEN. We'll but taste of his beer, kiss his daughter, and to horse again. +Where's the good knight here? + +SCAR. You bring me to my shame unwillingly. + +ILF. Shamed of what? for deceiving of a wench! I have not blushed, +that have done't to a hundred of 'em? +In women's love he's wise that follow this, +Love one so long, till he[375] another kiss. +Where's the good knight here? + +JOHN. O brother, you are come to make your eye +Sad mourner at a fatal tragedy. +Peruse this letter first, and then this corpse. + +SCAR. O wronged Clare! accursed Scarborow! +I writ to her, _that I was married_, +She writes to me, _Forgive her, she is dead_. +I'll balm thy body with my faithful tears, +And be perpetual mourner at thy tomb; +I'll sacrifice this comet into sighs,[376] +Make a consumption of this pile of man, +And all the benefits my parents gave, +Shall turn distemper'd to appease the wrath +For this bloodshed, that[377] I am guilty of. + +KATH. Dear husband! + +SCAR. False woman, not my wife, though married to me: +Look what thy friends and thou art guilty of, +The murder of a creature equall'd heaven +In her creation, whose thoughts (like fire) +Never look'd base, but ever did aspire +To blessed benefits, till you and yours undid her: +Eye her, view her; though dead, yet she does look +Like a fresh frame or a new-printed book +Of the best paper, never look'd into +But with one sullied finger, which did spot her, +Which was her own too; but who was cause of it? +Thou and thy friends, and I will loathe thee for't. + + _Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP. + +HAR. They do belie her that do say she's dead; +She is but stray'd to some by-gallery, +And I must have her again. Clare; where art thou, Clare? + +SCAR. Here laid to take her everlasting sleep. + +HAR. He lies that says so; +Yet now I know thee, I do lie that say it, +For if she be a villain like thyself, +A perjur'd traitor, recreant, miscreant, +Dog--a dog, a dog, has done't. + +SCAR. O Sir John Harcop! + +HAR. O Sir John villain! to betroth thyself +To this good creature, harmless, harmless child: +This kernel, hope, and comfort of my house: +Without enforcement--of thine own accord: +Draw all her soul in th'compass of an oath: +Take that oath from her, make her for none but thee-- +And then betray her! + +SCAR. Shame on them were the cause of it. + +HAR. But hark, what thou hast got by it: +Thy wife is but a strumpet, thy children bastards, +Thyself a murderer, thy wife accessory, +Thy bed a stews, thy house a brothel. + +SCAR. O, 'tis too true! + +HAR. I made a wretched father, childless. + +SCAR. I made a married man, yet wifeless. + +HAR. Thou the cause of it? + +SCAR. Thou the cause of it? [_To his wife_. + +HAR. Curse on the day that e'er it was begun, +For I, an old man, am undone, undone. [_Exit_. + +SCAR. For charity, have care upon that father, +Lest that his grief bring on a more mishap. + [_Exeunt_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW.[378] +This to my arms my sorrow shall bequeath, +Though I have lost her, to the grave I'll bring; +Thou wert my wife, and I'll thy requiem sing. +Go you to the country, I'll to London back: +All riot now, since that my soul's so black. + [_Exit, with_ CLARE. + +KATH. Thus am I left like sea-toss'd mariners. +My fortunes being no more than my distress; +Upon what shore soever I am driven, +Be it good or bad, I must account it heaven:[379] +Though married, I am reputed no wife, +Neglected of my husband, scorn'd, despis'd: +And though my love and true obedience +Lies prostrate to his beck, his heedless eye +Receives my services unworthily. +I know no cause, nor will be cause of none, +But hope for better days, when bad be gone. +You are my guide. Whither must I, butler? + +BUT. Toward Wakefield, where my master's living lies. + +KATH. Toward Wakefield, where thy master we'll attend; +When things are at the worst, 'tis hop'd they'll mend. + + _Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +THOM. How now, sister? no further forward on your journey yet? + +KATH. When grief's before one, who'd go on to grief? +I'd rather turn me back to find some comfort. + +JOHN. And that way sorrow's hurtfuller than this, +My brother having brought unto a grave +That murder'd body whom he call'd his wife, +And spent so many tears upon her hearse, +As would have made a tyrant to relent; +Then, kneeling at her coffin, this he vow'd +From thence he never would embrace your bed. + +THOM. The more fool he. + +JOHN. Never from hence acknowledge you his wife: +Where others strive t'enrich their father's name, +It should be his only aim to beggar ours, +To spend their means should be his only pride: +Which, with a sigh confirm'd, he's rid to London, +Vowing a course,[380] that by his life so foul +Men ne'er should join the hands without the soul. + +KATH. All is but grief, and I am arm'd for it. + +JOHN. We'll bring you on your way in hope thus strong: +Time may at length make straight what yet is wrong. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT III. + + + _An Inn_. + + _Enter_ ILFORD, WENTLOE, BARTLEY. + +WEN. He's our own, he's our own! Come, let's make use of his wealth, +as the sun of ice: melt it, melt it. + +ILF. But art sure he will hold his meeting? + +WEN. As sure as I am now, and was dead drunk last night. + +ILF. Why then so sure will I be arrested by a couple of serjeants, and +fall into one of the unlucky cranks about Cheapside, called Counters. + +BAR. Withal, I have provided Master Gripe the usurer, who upon the +instant will be ready to step in, charge the serjeants to keep thee +fast, and that now he will have his five hundred pounds, or thou shalt +rot for it. + +WEN. When it follows, young Scarborow shall be bound for the one; then +take up as much more. We share the one-half, and help him to be drunk +with the other. + +ILF. Ha, ha, ha! + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +BAR. Why dost laugh, Frank? + +ILF. To see that we and usurers live by the fall of young heirs, as +swine by the dropping of acorns. But he's come. Where be these rogues: +shall we have no 'tendance here? + +SCAR. Good day, gentlemen. + +ILF. A thousand good days, my noble bully, and as many good fortunes as +there were grasshoppers in Egypt, and that's covered over with good +luck. But nouns, pronouns and participles! where be these rogues here? +what, shall we have no wine here? + + _Enter_ DRAWER. + +DRAW. Anon, anon, sir. + +ILF. Anon, goodman rascal, must we stay your leisure? give't us by and +by, with a pox to you. + +SCAR. O, do not hurt the fellow. + + [_Exit_ DRAWER. + +ILF. Hurt him! hang him, scrapetrencher, stair-wearer,[381] +wine-spiller, metal-clanker, rogue by generation. Why, dost hear, Will? +If thou dost not use these grape-spillers as you do their pottle-pots, +quoit them down-stairs three or four times at a supper, they'll grow as +saucy with you as serjeants, and make bills more unconscionable than +tailors. + + _Enter_ DRAWER. + +DRAW. Here's the pure and neat grape, gentlemen, I assure you.[382] + +ILF. Fill up: what have you brought here, goodman rogue? + +DRAW. The pure element of claret, sir. + +ILF. Have you so, and did not I call for Rhenish, you mongrel? + + [_Throws the wine in the_ DRAWER'S _face_. + +SCAR. Thou need'st no wine; I prythee, be more mild. + +ILF. Be mild in a tavern? 'tis treason to the red lattice,[383] enemy to +their sign-post, and slave to humour: prythee, let's be mad. + + _Sings this. + + Then fill our heads with wine + Till every pate be drunk, then piss i'the street, + Jostle all you meet, + And swagger with a punk_-- + +As thou wilt do now and then: thank me, thy good master, that brought +thee to it. + +WEN. Nay, he profits well; but the worst is, he will not swear yet. + +SCAR. Do not belie me: if there be any good in me, that's the best. +Oaths are necessary for nothing; they pass out of a man's mouth, like +smoke through a chimney, that files[384] all the way it goes. + +WEN. Why then I think tobacco to be a kind of swearing; for it furs our +nose pockily. + +SCAR. But, come, let's drink ourselves into a stomach afore supper. + +ILF. Agreed. I'll begin with a new health. Fill up. + + _To them that make land fly, + By wines, whores, and a die: + To them that only thrives + By kissing others' wives: + To them that pay for clothes + With nothing but with oaths: + Care not from whom they get, + So they may be in debt. + This health, my hearts! [_Drinks_. + But who their tailors pay, + Borrow, and keep their day, + We'll hold him like this glass, + A brainless, empty ass, + And not a mate for us_. + Drink round, my hearts! + +WEN. An excellent health. + + _Enter_ DRAWER. + +DRAW. Master Ilford, there's a couple of strangers beneath desires to +speak with you. + +ILF. What beards have they? gentlemenlike-beards, or brokerlike-beards? + +DRAW. I am not so well acquainted with the art of face-mending, sir: but +they would speak with you. + +ILF. I'll go down to them. + +WEN. Do; and we'll stay here and drink tobacco.[385] + +SCAR. Thus like a fever that doth shake a man +From strength to weakness, I consume myself. +I know this company, their custom vile, +Hated, abhorr'd of good men, yet like a child +By reason's rule, instructed how to know +Evil from good, I to the worser go. +Why do you suffer this, you upper powers, +That I should surfeit in the sin of taste, +Have sense to feel my mischiefs, yet make waste +Of heaven and earth? +Myself will answer, what myself doth ask. +Who once doth cherish sin, begets his shame, +For vice being foster'd once, comes impudence, +Which makes men count sin custom, not offence: +When all like me their reputation blot, +Pursuing evil, while the good's forgot. + + _Enter_ ILFORD, _led in by a couple of_ SERJEANTS, + _and_ GRIPE _the usurer_. + +SER. Nay, never strive, we can hold you. + +ILF. Ay, me, and the devil too,[386] and he fall into your clutches. +Let go your tugging; as I am a gentleman, I'll be your true prisoner. + +WEN. How now: what's the matter, Frank? + +ILF. I am fallen into the hands of Serjeants: I am arrested. + +BAR. How, arrested? a gentleman in our company? + +ILF. Put up, put up; for sin's sake put up; let's not all sup in the +Counter to night; let me speak with Master Gripe the creditor. + +GRIPE. Well, what say you to me, sir? + +ILF. You have arrested me here, Master Gripe. + +GRIPE. Not I, sir; the serjeants have. + +ILF. But at your suit, Master Gripe: yet hear me, as I am a gentleman. + +GRIPE. I rather you could say as you were an honest man, and then I +might believe you. + +ILF. Yet hear me. + +GRIPE. Hear me no hearing; I lent you my money for goodwill. + +ILF. And I spent it for mere necessity. I confess I owe you five hundred +pound, and I confess I owe not a penny to any man, but he would be glad +to ha't [on my word]: my bond you have already, Master Gripe; if you +will, now take my word. + +GRIPE. Word me no words! officers, look to your prisoner. If you cannot +either make me present payment, or put me in security--such as I shall +like, too-- + +ILF. Such as you shall like, too: what say you to this young gentleman? +he is the widgeon that we must feed upon. [_Aside_.] + +GRIPE. Who, young Master Scarborow? he's an honest gentleman for aught I +know; I ne'er lost a penny by him. + +ILF. I would be ashamed any man should say so by me, that I have had +dealings withal [_Aside_]: but, my enforced friends, will't please you +but to retire into some small distance, whilst I descend with a few +words to these gentlemen, and I'll commit myself into your merciless +hands immediately. + +SER. Well, sir, we'll wait upon you. [_They retire_. + +ILF. Gentlemen, I am to prefer some conference and especially to you, +Master Scarborow: our meeting here for your mirth hath proved to me thus +adverse, that in your companies I am arrested. How ill it will stand +with the flourish of your reputations, when men of rank and note +communicate that I, Frank Ilford, gentleman, whose fortunes may +transcend to make ample gratuities future, and heap satisfaction for any +present extension of his friends' kindness, was enforced from the Mitre +in Bread Street to the Counter in the Poultry. For mine own part, if +you shall think it meet, and that it shall accord with the state of +gentry to submit myself from the feather-bed in the master's side[387] +or the flock-bed in the knight's ward, to the straw-bed in the hole, I +shall buckle to my heels, instead of gilt spurs, the armour of patience, +and do't. + +WEN. Come, come, what a pox need all this! this is _mellis flora_, the +sweetest of the honey: he that was not made to fat cattle, but to feed +gentlemen. + +BAR. You wear good clothes. + +WEN. Are well-descended. + +BAR. Keep the best company. + +WEN. Should regard your credit. + +BAR. Stand not upon't, be bound, be bound. + +WEN. Ye are richly married. + +BAR. Love not your wife. + +WEN. Have store of friends. + +BAR. Who shall be your heir? + +WEN. The son of some slave. + +BAR. Some groom. + +WEN. Some horse-keeper. + +BAR. Stand not upon't; be bound, be bound. + +SCAR. Well, at your importunance,[388] for once I'll stretch my purse; +Who's born to sink, as good this way as worse. + +WEN. Now speaks my bully like a gentleman of worth. + +BAR. Of merit. + +WEN. Fit to be regarded. + +BAR. That shall command our souls. + +WEN. Our swords. + +BAR. Ourselves. + +ILF. To feed upon you, as Pharaoh's lean kine did upon the fat. + [_Aside_.] + +SCAR. Master Gripe, is my bond current for this gentleman? + +ILF. Good security, you Egyptian grasshopper, good security. + [_Aside_.] + +GRIPE. And for as much more, kind Master Scarborow, +Provided that men, mortal as we are, +May have-- + +SCAR. May have security. + +GRIPE. Your bond with land conveyed, which may assure me of mine own +again. + +SCAR. You shall be satisfied, and I'll become your debtor +For full five hundred more than he doth owe you. +This night we sup here; bear us company, +And bring your counsel, scrivener, and the money +With you, where I will make as full assurance +As in the law you'd wish. + +GRIPE. I take your word, sir, +And so discharge you of your prisoner. + +ILF. Why then let's come +And take up a new room, the infected hath spit in this. +He that hath store of coin wants not a friend; +Thou shalt receive, sweet rogue, and we will spend. + + [_Aside. Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +JOHN. Brother, you see the extremity of want +Enforceth us to question for our own, +The rather that we see, not like a brother, +Our brother keeps from us to spend on other. + +THOM. True, he has in his hands our portions--the patrimony which our +father gave us, with which he lies fatting himself with sack and +sugar[389] in the house, and we are fain to walk with lean purses +abroad. Credit must be maintained, which will not be without money; good +clothes must be had, which will not be without money; company must be +kept, which will not be without money; all which we must have, and from +him we will have money. + +JOHN. Besides, we have brought our sister to this town, +That she herself, having her own from him, +Might bring herself in court to be preferr'd +Under some noble personage; or else that he, +Whose friends are great in court by his late match, +As he is in nature bound, provide for her. + +THOM. And he shall do it, brother, though we have waited at his lodging +longer than a tailor's bill on a young knight for an old reckoning, +without speaking with him. Here we know he is, and we will call him to +parley. + +JOHN. Yet let us do't in mild and gentle terms; +Fair words perhaps may sooner draw our own +Than rougher course,[390] by which is mischief grown. + + _Enter_ DRAWER. + +DRAW. Anon, anon. Look down into the Dolphin[391] there. + +THOM. Here comes a drawer, we will question him. Do you hear, my friend? +is not Master Scarborow here? + +DRAW. Here, sir! what a jest is that! where should he be else? I would +have you well know my master hopes to grow rich,[392] before he leave +him. + +JOHN. How long hath he continued here, since he came hither? + +DRAW. Faith, sir, not so long as Noah's flood, yet long enough to have +drowned up the livings of three knights, as knights go nowadays--some +month, or thereabouts. + +JOHN. Time ill-consum'd to ruinate our house; +But what are they that keep him company? + +DRAW. Pitch, pitch; but I must not say so; but, for your further +satisfaction, did you ever see a young whelp and a lion play together? + +JOHN. Yes. + +DRAW. Such is Master Scarborow's company.[393] + [_Within, Oliver_! +Anon, anon, look down to the Pomegranate[394] there. + +THOM. I prythee, say here's them would speak with him. + +DRAW. I'll do your message. Anon, anon, there. + [_Exit_. + +JOHN. This fool speaks wiser than he is aware. +Young heirs left in this town, where sin's so rank, +And prodigals gape to grow fat by them, +Are like young whelps thrown in the lions' den, +Who play with them awhile, at length devour them. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +SCAR. Who's there would speak with me? + +JOHN. Your brothers, who are glad to see you well. + +SCAR. Well. + +JOHN. 'Tis not your riot, that we hear you use +With such as waste their goods, as tire[395] the world +With a continual spending, nor that you keep +The company of a most leprous rout, +Consumes your body's wealth, infects your name +With such plague sores that, had you reason's eye, +'Twould make you sick to see you visit them-- +Hath drawn us, but our wants to crave the due +Our father gave, and yet remains with you. + +THOM. Our birthright, good brother; this town craves maintenance; silk +stockings must be had, and we would be loth our heritage should be +arraigned at the vintner's bar, and so condemned to the vintner's box. +Though, while you did keep house, we had some belly timber at your table +or so; yet we would have you think we are your brothers, yet no Esaus, +to sell our patrimony for porridge. + +SCAR. So, so; what hath your coming else? + +JOHN. With us our sister joins in our request, +Whom we have brought along with us to London, +To have her portion, wherewith to provide +An honour'd service or an honest bride. + +SCAR. So then you two my brothers, and she my sister, come not, as in +duty you are bound, to an elder brother out of Yorkshire to see us, but +like leeches to suck from us. + +JOHN. We come compelled by want to crave our own. + +SCAR. Sir, for your own? then thus be satisfied, +Both hers and yours were left in trust with me, +And I will keep it for ye: must you appoint us, +Or what we please to like mix with reproof? +You have been too saucy both, and you shall know +I'll curb you for it: ask why? I'll have it so. + +JOHN. We do but crave our own. + +SCAR. Your own, sir? what's your own? + +THOM. Our portions given us by our father's will. + +JOHN. Which here you spend. + +THOM. Consume. + +JOHN. Ways worse than ill. + +SCAR. Ha, ha, ha! + + _Enter_ ILFORD. + +ILF. Nay, nay, nay, Will: prythee, come away, we have a full gallon of +sack stays in the fire for thee. Thou must pledge it to the health of a +friend of thine. + +SCAR. What dost think these are, Frank? + +ILF. Who? They are fiddlers, I think. If they be, I prythee send them +into the next room, and let them scrape there, and we'll send to them +presently. + +SCAR. They are my brothers, Frank, come out of Yorkshire +To the tavern here, to ask their portions: +They call my pleasures riots, my company leprous; +And like a schoolboy they would tutor me. + +ILF. O, thou shouldst have done well to have bound them 'prentices when +they were young; they would have made a couple of good saucy tailors. + +THOM. Tailors? + +ILF. Ay, birdlime tailors. Tailors are good men, and in the term-time +they wear good clothes. Come, you must learn more manners: as to stand +at your brother's back, to shift a trencher neatly, and take a cup of +sack and a capon's leg contentedly. + +THOM. You are a slave, +That feeds upon my brother like a fly, +Poisoning where thou dost suck. + +SCAR. You lie. + +JOHN. O (to my grief I speak it), you shall find +There's no more difference in a tavern-haunter +Than is between a spital and a beggar. + +THOM. Thou work'st on him like tempests on a ship. + +JOHN. And he the worthy traffic that doth sink. + +THOM. Thou mak'st his name more loathesome than a grave. + +JOHN. Livest like a dog by vomit. + +THOM. Die a slave! + + [_Here they draw_, WENTLOE _and_ BARTLEY _come in, and the + two vintner's boys with clubs. All set upon the two brothers_. + BUTLER, _Scarborow's man, comes in, stands by, sees them fight, + takes part with neither_. + +BUT. Do, fight. I love you all well, because you were my old master's +sons, but I'll neither part you, nor be partaker with you. I come to +bring my master news; he hath two sons born at a birth in Yorkshire, and +I find him together by the ears with his brothers in a tavern in London. +Brother and brother at odds, 'tis naught: sure it was not thus in the +days of charity. What's this world like to? Faith, just like an +innkeeper's chamber-pot, receives all waters, good and bad. It had need +of much scouring. My old master kept a good house, and twenty or thirty +tall sword-and-buckler men about him, and i'faith his son differs not +much, he will have metal too; though he hath not store of cutler's +blades, he will have plenty of vintner's pots. His father kept a good +house for honest men his tenants, that brought him in part; and his son +keeps a bad house with knaves that help to consume all. 'Tis but the +change of time; why should any man repine at it? Crickets, good, loving, +and lucky worms, were wont to feed, sing, and rejoice in the father's +chimney, and now carrion crows build in the son's kitchen. I could be +sorry for it, but I am too old to weep. Well then, I will go tell him +news of his offspring. + [_Exit. + + _Enter the two brothers_, THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW, + _hurt, and_ SISTER. + +SIS. Alas! good brothers, how came this mischance? + +THOM. Our portions, our brother hath given us our portions, sister, +hath he not? + +SIS. He would not be so monstrous, I am sure. + +JOHN. Excuse him not; he is more degenerate, +Than greedy vipers that devour their mother, +They eat on her but to preserve themselves, +And he consumes himself, and beggars us. +A tavern is his inn, where amongst slaves +He kills his substance, making pots the graves +To bury that which our forefather's gave. +I ask'd him for our portions, told him that you +Were brought to London, and we were in want; +Humbly we crav'd our own; when his reply +Was, he knew none we had: beg, starve, or die. + +SIS. Alas! +What course is left us to live by, then? + +THOM. In troth, sister, we two to beg in the fields, +And you to betake yourself to the old trade, +Filling of small cans in the suburbs. + +SIS. Shall I be left then like a common road, +That every beast that can but pay his toll +May travel over, and, like to camomile,[396] +Flourish the better being trodden on. + + _Enter_ BUTLER, _bleeding_. + +BUT. Well, I will not curse him: he feeds now upon sack and anchovies, +with a pox to him: but if he be not fain, before he dies, to eat +acorns, let me live with nothing but pollard, and my mouth be made a +cucking-stool for every scold to set her tail on. + +THOM. How now, butler, what's the meaning of this? + +BUT. Your brother means to lame as many as he can, that when he is a +beggar himself, he may live with them in the hospital. His wife sent me +out of Yorkshire to tell him that God had blessed him with two sons; he +bids a plague of them, a vengeance of her, crosses me o'er the pate, and +sends me to the surgeon's to seek salve: I looked, at least he should +have given me a brace of angels for my pains. + +THOM. Thou hast not lost all thy longing; I am sure he hath given thee a +cracked crown! + +BUT. A plague on his fingers! I cannot tell, he is your brother and my +master; I would be loth to prophesy of him; but whosoe'er doth curse his +children being infants, ban his wife lying in childbed, and beats his +man brings him news of it, they may be born rich, but they shall live +slaves, be knaves, and die beggars. + +SIS. Did he do so? + +BUT. Guess you? he bid a plague of them, a vengeance on her, and sent me +to the surgeon's. + +SIS. Why then I see there is no hope of him; +Some husbands are respectless of their wives, +During the time that they are issueless; +But none with infants bless'd can nourish hate, +But love the mother for the children's sake. + +JOHN. But he that is given over unto sin, +Leproused therewith without, and so within-- +O butler, we were issue to one father! + +BUT. And he was an honest gentleman. + +JOHN. Whose hopes were better than the son he left +Should set so soon unto his house's shame. +He lives in taverns, spending of his wealth, +And here his brothers and distressed sister, +Not having any means to help us with. + +THOM. Not a Scots baubee (by this hand) to bless us with. + +JOHN. And not content to riot out his own, +But he detains our portions, suffers us +In this strange air, open to every wrack, +Whilst he in riot swims to be in lack. + +BUT. The more's the pity. + +SIS. I know not what in course to take me to; +Honestly I fain would live, what shall I do? + +BUT. Sooth, I'll tell you; your brother hath hurt us; we three will hurt +you, and then go all to a 'spital together. + +SIS. Jest not at her whose burden is too grievous, +But rather lend a means how to relieve us. + +BUT. Well, I do pity you, and the rather because you say you would fain +live honest, and want means for it; for I can tell you 'tis as strange +here to see a maid fair, poor, and honest, as to see a collier with a +clean face. Maids here do live (especially without maintenance) +Like mice going to a trap, +They nibble long, at last they get a clap. +Your father was my good benefactor, and gave me a house whilst I live +to put my head in: I would be loth then to see his only daughter, for +want of means, turn punk. I have a drift to keep you honest, have you a +care to keep yourself so: yet you shall not know of it, for women's +tongues are like sieves, they will hold nothing they have power to vent. +You two will further me? + +JOHN. In anything, good honest Butler. + +THOM. If't be to take a purse, I'll be one. + +BUT. Perhaps thou speakest righter than thou art aware of. Well, as +chance is, I have received my wages; there is forty shillings for you, +I'll set you in a lodging, and till you hear from us, let that provide +for you: we'll first to the surgeon's. + + To keep you honest, and to keep you brave, + For once an honest man will turn a knave. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW, _having a boy carrying a torch + with him_: ILFORD, WENTLOE, _and_ BARTLEY. + +SCAR. Boy, bear the torch fair: now am I armed to fight with a windmill, +and to take the wall of an emperor; much drink, no money: a heavy head +and a light pair of heels. + +WEN. O, stand, man. + +SCAR. I were an excellent creature to make a punk of; I should down with +the least touch of a knave's finger. Thou hast made a good night of +this: what hast won, Frank? + +ILF. A matter of nothing, some hundred pounds. + +SCAR. This is the hell of all gamesters. I think, when they are at play, +the board eats up the money; for if there be five hundred pound lost, +there's never but a hundred pounds won. Boy, take the wall of any man: +and yet by light such deeds of darkness may not be. + + [_Put out the torch_. + +WEN. What dost mean by that, Will? + +SCAR. To save charge, and walk like a fury with a firebrand in my hand: +every one goes by the light, and we'll go by the smoke. + + _Enter_ LORD FALCONBRIDGE. + +SCAR. Boy, keep the wall: I will not budge[397] for any man, by these +thumbs; and the paring of the nails shall stick in thy teeth. Not for a +world. + +LORD. Who's this? young Scarborow? + +SCAR. The man that the mare rid on. + +LORD. Is this the reverence that you owe to me. + +SCAR. You should have brought me up better. + +LORD. That vice should thus transform man to a beast! + +SCAR. Go to, your name's lord; I'll talk with you, when you're out of +debt and have better clothes. + +LORD. I pity thee even with my very soul. + +SCAR. Pity i' thy throat! I can drink muscadine and eggs, and mulled +sack; do you hear? you put a piece of turned stuff upon me, but I +will-- + +LORD. What will you do, sir? + +SCAR. Piss in thy way, and that's no slander. + +LORD. Your sober blood will teach you otherwise. + + _Enter_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW. + +SIR WIL. My honoured lord, you're happily well-met. + +LORD. Ill met to see your nephew in this case, +More like a brute beast than a gentleman. + +SIR WIL. Fie, nephew! shame you not thus to transform yourself? + +SCAR. Can your nose smell a torch? + +ILF. Be not so wild; it is thine uncle Scarborow. + +SCAR. Why then 'tis the more likely 'tis my father's brother. + +SIR WIL. Shame to our name to make thyself a beast, +Thy body worthy born, and thy youth's breast +Till'd in due time for better discipline. + +LORD. Thyself new-married to a noble house, +Rich in possessions and posterity, +Which should call home thy unstay'd affections. + +SIR WIL. Where thou mak'st havoc. + +LORD. Riot, spoil, and waste. + +SIR WIL. Of what thy father left. + +LORD. And livest disgraced. + +SCAR. I'll send you shorter to heaven than you came to the earth. Do you +catechise? do you catechise? [_He draws, and strikes at them_. + +ILF. Hold, hold! do you draw upon your uncle? + +SCAR. Pox of that lord! +We'll meet at th'Mitre, where we'll sup down sorrow, +We are drunk to-night, and so we'll be to-morrow. + + [_Exeunt_. + +LORD. Why, now I see: what I heard of, I believed not, +Your kinsman lives-- + +SIR WIL. Like to a swine. + +LORD. A perfect Epythite,[398] he feeds on draff, +And wallows in the mire, to make men laugh: +I pity him. + +SIR WIL. No pity's fit for him. + +LORD. Yet we'll advise him. + +SIR WIL. He is my kinsman. + +LORD. Being in the pit, where many do fall in, +We will both comfort him and counsel him. + + [_Exeunt_. + + + + +ACT IV. + + _A noise within, crying Follow, follow, follow! then enter_ + BUTLER, THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW, _with money-bags_. + +THOM. What shall we do now, butler? + +BUT. A man had better line a good handsome pair of gallows before his +time, than be born to do these sucklings good, their mother's milk not +wrung out of their nose yet; they know no more how to behave themselves +in this honest and needful calling of pursetaking, than I do to piece +stockings. + +WITHIN. This way, this way, this way! + +BOTH. 'Sfoot, what shall we do now? + +BUT. See if they do not quake like a trembling asp-leaf, and look more +miserable than one of the wicked elders pictured in the painted +cloth.[399] Should they but come to the credit to be arraigned for their +valour before a worshipful bench, their very looks would hang 'em, and +they were indicted but for stealing of eggs. + +WITHIN. Follow, follow! This way! Follow! + +THOM. Butler. + +JOHN. Honest butler. + +BUT. Squat, heart, squat, creep me into these bushes, and lie me as +close to the ground as you would do to a wench. + +THOM. How, good butler? show us how. + +BUT. By the moon, patroness of all pursetakers, who would be troubled +with such changelings? squat, heart, squat. + +THOM. Thus, butler? + +BUT. Ay so, suckling, so; stir not now: if the peering rogues chance to +go over you, yet stir not: younger brothers call you them, and have no +more forecast, I am ashamed of you. These are such whose fathers had +need leave them money, even to make them ready withal; for, by these +hilts, they have not wit to button their sleeves without teaching: +close, squat, close. Now if the lot of hanging do fall to my share, so; +then the old father's[400] man drops for his young masters. If it +chance, it chances; and when it chances, heaven and the sheriff send me +a good rope! I would not go up the ladder twice for anything: in the +meantime preventions, honest preventions do well, off with my skin; so; +you on the ground, and I to this tree, to escape the gallows. + [_Ascends a tree_.] + +WITHIN. Follow, follow, follow! + +BUT. Do: follow. If I do not deceive you, I'll bid a pox of this wit, +and hang with a good grace. + + _Enter_ SIR JOHN HARCOP, _with two or three others with him_. + +HAR. Up to this wood they took: search near, my friends, I am this morn +robbed of three hundred pound. + +BUT. I am sorry there was not four to make even money. Now, by the +devil's horns, 'tis Sir John Harcop. + +HAR. Leave not a bush unbeat nor tree unsearch'd; +As sure as I was robb'd, the thieves went this way. + +BUT. There's nobody, I perceive, but may lie at some time, for one of +them climbed this way. + +1ST MAN. Stand, I hear a voice; and here's an owl in an ivy-bush. + +BUT. You lie, 'tis an old servingman in a nut-tree. + +2D MAN. Sirrah, sir, what make you in that tree? + +BUT. Gathering of nuts, that such fools as you are may crack the shells, +and I eat the kernels. + +HAR. What fellow's that? + +BUT. Sir John Harcop, my noble knight; I am glad of your good health; +you bear your age fair, you keep a good house, I have fed at your board, +and been drunk in your buttery. + +HAR. But sirrah, sirrah, what made you in that tree? +My man and I, at foot of yonder hill, +Were by three knaves robb'd of three hundred pound. + +BUT. A shrewd loss, by'r Lady, sir; but your good worship may now see +the fruit of being miserable: you will ride but with one man to save +horse-meat and man's meat at your inn at night, and lose three hundred +pound in a morning. + +HAR. Sirrah, I say I have lost three hundred pound. + +BUT. And I say, sir, I wish all miserable knights might be served so; +for had you kept half a dozen tall fellows, as a man of your coat should +do, they would have helped now to keep your money. + +HAR. But tell me, sir, why lurked you in that tree? + +BUT. Marry, I will tell you, sir. Coming to the top of the hill where +you (right worshipful) were robbed at the bottom, and seeing some +a-scuffling together, my mind straight gave me there were knaves abroad: +now, sir, I knowing myself to be old, tough, and unwieldy, not being +able to do as I would, as much as to say rescue you (right +worshipful)--I, like an honest man, one of the king's liege people, and +a good subject-- + +SER. But he says well, sir. + +BUT. Got me up to the top of that tree: the tree (if it could speak) +would bear me witness, that there I might see which way the knaves took, +then to tell you of it, and you right worshipfully to send hue and[401] +cry after them. + +HAR. Was it so? + +BUT. Nay, 'twas so, sir. + +HAR. Nay, then, I tell thee they took into this wood. + +BUT. And I tell thee (setting thy worship's knighthood aside) he lies in +his throat that says so: had not one of them a white frock? did they not +bind your worship's knighthood by the thumbs? then faggoted you and the +fool your man back to back. + +MAN. He says true. + +BUT. Why, then, so truly came not they into this wood, but took over the +lawns, and left Winnowe steeple on the left hand. + +HAR. It may be so. By this they are out of reach; +Well, farewell it. + +BUT. Ride with more men, good knight. + +HAR. It shall teach me wit. + + [_Exit_. HARCOP _with followers_. + +BUT. So, if this be not played a weapon beyond a scholar's prize, let me +be hissed at. Now to the next. Come out, you hedgehogs! + +THOM. O butler! thou deserv'st to be chronicled for this. + +BUT. Do not belie me, if I had any right, I deserve to be hanged for't. +But come, down with your dust, our morning's purchase.[402] + +THOM. Here 'tis; thou hast played well; thou deserv'st two shares in it. + +BUT. Three hundred pound! a pretty breakfast: many a man works hard all +his days, and never sees half the money. But come, though it be badly +got, it shall be better bestowed. But do ye hear, gallants? I have not +taught you this trade to get your livings by. Use it not; for if you +do, though I 'scaped by the nut-tree, be sure you'll speed by the rope. +But for your pains at this time, there's a hundred pounds for you; how +you shall bestow it, I'll give you instructions. But do you hear? look +ye, go not to your gills, your punks, and your cock-tricks with it. If I +hear you do, as I am an honest thief, though I helped you now out of the +briars, I'll be a means yet to help you to the gallows. How the rest +shall be employed, I have determined, and by the way I'll make you +acquainted with it. +To steal is bad, but taken, where is store; +The fault's the less, being done to help the poor. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ WENTLOE, BARTLEY, _and_ ILFORD _with a letter in his hand_. + +ILF. Sure, I have said my prayers, and lived virtuously o' late, that +this good fortune's befallen me. Look, gallants, I am sent for to come +down to my father's burial. + +WEN. But dost mean to go? + +ILF. Troth, no; I'll go down to take possession of his land: let the +country bury him, and they will. I'll stay here a while, to save charge +at his funeral. + +BAR. And how dost feel thyself, Frank, now thy father is dead? + +ILF. As I did before, with my hands; how should I feel myself else? but +I'll tell you news, gallants. + +WEN. What's that? dost mean now to serve God? + +ILF. Faith, partly; for I intend shortly to go to church, and from +thence do faithful service to one woman. + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +BUT. Good! I have met my flesh-hooks together. [_Aside_.] + +BAR. What, dost mean to be married? + +ILF. Ay, mongrel, married. + +BUT. That's a bait for me. [_Aside_.] + +ILF. I will now be honestly married. + +WEN. It's impossible, for thou hast been a whoremaster this seven year. + +ILF. 'Tis no matter; I will now marry, and to some honest woman too; and +so from hence her virtues shall be a countenance to my vices. + +BAR. What shall she be, prythee? + +ILF. No lady, no widow, nor no waiting gentlewoman, for under protection +Ladies may lard their husbands' heads, +Widows will woodcocks make, +And chambermaids of servingmen +Learn that they'll never forsake. + +WEN. Who wilt thou wed then, prythee? + +ILF. To any maid, so she be fair: +To any maid, so she be rich: +To any maid, so she be young: +And to any maid-- + +BAR. So she be honest. + +ILF. Faith, it's no great matter for her honesty, for in these days +that's a dowry out of request. + +BUT. From these crabs will I gather sweetness: wherein I'll imitate the +bee, that sucks her honey, not from the sweetest flowers, but [from] +thyme, the bitterest: so these having been the means to beggar my +master, shall be the helps to relieve his brothers and sister. + [_Aside_.] + +ILF. To whom shall I now be a suitor? + +BUT. Fair fall ye, gallants. + +ILF. Nay, and she be fair, she shall fall sure enough. Butler, how +is't, good butler? + +BUT. Will you be made gallants? + +WEN. Ay, but not willingly cuckolds, though we are now talking about +wives. + +BUT. Let your wives agree of that after: will you first be richly +married? + +ALL. How, butler? richly married? + +BUT. Rich in beauty, rich in purse, rich in virtue, rich in all things. +But mum, I'll say nothing, I know of two or three rich heirs. But +cargo![403] my fiddlestick cannot play without rosin: avaunt. + +WEN. Butler. + +ILF. Dost not know me, butler? + +BUT. For kex,[404] dried kex, that in summer has been so liberal to +fodder other men's cattle, and scarce have enough to keep your own in +winter. Mine are precious cabinets, and must have precious jewels put +into them, and I know you to be merchants of stock-fish, dry-meat,[405] +and not men for my market: then vanish. + +ILF. Come, ye old madcap, you: what need all this? cannot a man have +been a little whoremaster in his youth, but you must upbraid him with +it, and tell him of his defects which, when he is married, his wife +shall find in him? Why, my father's dead, man, now; who by his death has +left me the better part of a thousand a year. + +BUT. Tut, she of Lancashire has fifteen hundred. + +ILF. Let me have her then, good butler. + +BUT. And then she, the bright beauty of Leicestershire, has a thousand, +nay, thirteen hundred a year, at least. + +ILF. O, let me have her, honest butler. + +BUT. Besides, she the most delicate, sweet countenanced, black-browed +gentlewoman in Northamptonshire, in substance equals the best of them. + +ILF. Let me have her then. + +BAR. Or I. + +WEN. Or I, good butler. + +BUT. You were best play the parts of right fools and most desperate +whoremasters, and go together by the ears for them, ere ye see them. +But they are the most rare-featured, well-faced, excellent-spoke, +rare-qualitied, virtuous, and worthy-to-be-admired gentlewomen. + +ALL. And rich, butler? + +BUT. Ay, that must be one, though they want all the rest [_Aside_]; +--and rich, gallants, as are from the utmost parts of Asia to the +present confines of Europe. + +ALL. And wilt thou help us to them, butler? + +BUT. Faith, 'tis to be doubted; for precious pearl will hardly be bought +without precious stones, and I think there's scarce one indifferent one +to be found betwixt you three: yet since there is some hope ye may prove +honest, as by the death of your fathers you are proved rich, walk +severally; for I, knowing you all three to be covetous tug-muttons, will +not trust you with the sight of each other's beauty, but will severally +talk with you: and since you have deigned in this needful portion of +wedlock to be ruled by me, Butler will most bountifully provide wives +for you generally. + +ALL. Why, that's honestly said. [_He walks with each apart_. + +BUT. Why so: and now first to you, sir knight. + +ILF. Godamercy. + +BUT. You see this couple of abominable woodcocks here. + +ILF. A pox on them! absolute coxcombs. + +BUT. You heard me tell them I had intelligence to give of three +gentlewomen. + +ILF. True. + +BUT. Now indeed, sir, I have but the performance of one. + +ILF. Good. + +BUT. And her I do intend for you, only for you. + +ILF. Honest butler. + +BUT. Now, sir, she being but lately come to this town, and so nearly +watched by the jealous eyes of her friends, she being a rich heir,[406] +lest she should be stolen away by some dissolute prodigal or +desperate-estated spendthrift, as you have been, sir-- + +ILF. O, but that's passed, butler. + +BUT. True, I know't, and intend now but to make use of them, flatter +them with hopeful promises, and make them needful instruments. + +ILF. To help me to the wench? + +BUT. You have hit it--which thus must be effected: first by keeping +close your purpose. + +ILF. Good. + +BUT. Also concealing from them the lodging, beauty, and riches of your +new, but admirable mistress. + +ILF. Excellent. + +BUT. Of which your following happiness if they should know, either in +envy of your good or hope of their own advancement, they'd make our +labours known to the gentlewoman's uncles, and so our benefit be +frustrate. + +ILF. Admirable, butler. + +BUT. Which done, all's but this: being, as you shall be, brought into +her company, and by my praising your virtues, you get possession of her +love, one morning step to the Tower, or to make all sure, hire some +stipendiary priest for money--for money in these days what will not be +done, and what will not a man do for a rich wife?--and with him make no +more ado but marry her in her lodging, and being married, lie with her, +and spare not. + +ILF. Do they not see us, do they not see us? let me kiss thee, let me +kiss thee, butler! let but this be done, and all the benefit, requital +and happiness I can promise thee for't, shall be this--I'll be thy rich +master, and thou shalt carry my purse. + +BUT. Enough, meet me at her lodging some half an hour hence: hark, she +lies--[407] + +ILF. I ha't. + +BUT. Fail not. + +ILF. Will I live? + +BUT. I will, but shift off these two rhinoceros. + +ILF. Widgeons, widgeons: a couple of gulls! + +BUT. With some discourse of hope to wive them too, and be with you +straight. + +ILF. Blessed day! my love shall be thy cushion, honest butler. + [_Exit_. + +BUT. So now to my t'other gallants. + +WEN. O butler, we have been in passion at thy tediousness. + +BUT. Why, look you, I had all this talk for your good! + +BAR. Hadst? + +BUT. For you know the knight is but a scurvy-proud-prating prodigal, +licentious, unnecessary-- + +WEN. An ass, an ass, an ass. + +BUT. Now you heard me tell him I had three wenches in store. + +BAR. And he would have had them all, would he? + +BUT. Hear me. Though he may live to be an ox, he had not now so much of +the goat in him, but only hopes for one of the three, when indeed I have +but two; and knowing you to be men of more virtue, and dearer in my +respect, intend them to be yours. + +WEN. We shall honour thee. + +BAR. But how, butler? + +BUT. I am now going to their place of residence, situate in the choicest +place of the city, and at the sign of the Wolf, just against Goldsmith's +Row, where you shall meet me; but ask not for me, only walk to and fro, +and to avoid suspicion you may spend some conference with the +shopkeeper's wives[408]; they have seats built a purpose for such +familiar entertainment--where, from a bay-window[409] which is opposite, +I will make you known to your desired beauties, commend the good parts +you have-- + +WEN. By the mass, mine are very few. [_Aside_.] + +BUT. And win a kind of desire, as women are soon won, to make you be +beloved; where you shall first kiss, then woo, at length wed, and at +last bed, my noble hearts. + +BOTH. O butler! + +BUT. Wenches, bona robas[410], blessed beauties, without colour or +counterfeit. Away, put on your best clothes, get you to the barber's, +curl up your hair, walk with the best struts you can: you shall see more +at the window, and I have vowed to make you-- + +BAR. Wilt thou? + +BUT. Both fools [_Aside_]; and I'll want of my wit, but I'll do't. + +BAR. We will live together as fellows. + +WEN. As brothers. + [_Exeunt_. + +BUT. As arrant knaves, if I keep you company. +O, the most wretched season of this time! +These men, like fish, do swim within one stream, +Yet they'd eat one another, making no conscience +To drink with them they'd poison; no offence +Betwixt their thoughts and actions has control, +But headlong run, like an unbiass'd bowl. +Yet I will draw[411] them on; but like to him, +At play knows how to lose, and when to win. + + _Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +THOM. Butler. + +BUT. O, are you come, +And fit as I appointed? so, 'tis well, +You know your cues, and have instructions +How to bear yourselves: all, all is fit, +Play but your part, your states from hence are firm. + [_Exit_. + +JOHN. What shall I term this creature? not a man, + + [_Betwixt this_ BUTLER _leads_ ILFORD _in_. + +He's not of mortal's temper, but he's one +Made all of goodness, though of flesh and bone: +O brother, brother, but for that honest man, +As near to misery had been our breath, +As where the thundering pellet strikes, is death. + +THOM. Ay, my shift of shirts and change of clothes know't. + +JOHN. We'll tell of him, like bells whose music rings +On coronation-day for joy of kings, +That hath preserv'd their steeples, not like tolls, +That summons living tears for the dead souls. + + _Enter_ BUTLER _and_ ILFORD _above_[412]. + +BUT. God's precious, see the hell, sir: even as you had new-kissed, and +were about to court her, if her uncles be not come. + +ILF. A plague on the spite on't. + +BUT. But 'tis no matter, sir; stay you here in this upper chamber, and +I'll stay beneath with her: 'tis ten to one you shall hear them talk now +of the greatness of her possessions, the care they have to see her +well-bestowed, the admirableness of her virtues, all which for all their +coming shall be but happiness ordained for you, and by my means be your +inheritance. + +ILF. Then thou'lt shift them away, and keep me from the sight of them? + +BUT. Have I not promised to make you? + +ILF. Thou hast. + +BUT. Go to, then, rest here with patience, and be confident in my trust; +only in my absence you may praise God for the blessedness you have to +come, and say your prayers, if you will. I'll but prepare her heart for +entertainment of your love, dismiss them for your free access, and +return straight. + +ILF. Honest-blessed-natural-friend, thou dealest with me like a brother, +butler. [_Exit_ BUTLER.] Sure, heaven hath reserved this man to wear +grey hairs to do me good. Now will I listen--listen close to suck in her +uncles' words with a rejoicing ear. + +THOM. As we were saying, brother[413], +Where shall we find a husband for my niece? + +ILF. Marry, she shall find one here, though you little know't. Thanks, +thanks, honest butler. + +JOHN. She is rich in money, plate, and jewels. + +ILF. Comfort, comfort to my soul. + +THOM. Hath all her manor-houses richly furnished. + +ILF. Good, good; I'll find employment for them. + +BUT. _within_. Speak loud enough, that he may hear you. + +JOHN. I take her estate to be about a thousand pound a year. + +ILF. And that which my father hath left me will make it about fifteen +hundred. Admirable! + +JOHN. In debt to no man: then must our natural care be, +As she is wealthy, to see her married well. + +ILF. And that she shall be as well as the priest can; he shall not leave +a word out. + +THOM. I think she has-- + +ILF. What, a God's name? + +THOM. About four thousand pound in her great chest. + +ILF. And I'll find a vent for't, I hope. + +JOHN. She is virtuous, and she is fair. + +ILF. And she were foul, being rich, I would be glad of her. + +BUT. Pish, pish! + +JOHN. Come, we'll go visit her, but with this care, +That to no spendthrift we do marry her. + + [_Exeunt_. + +ILF. You may chance be deceived, old greybeards; here's he will spend +some of it; thanks, thanks, honest butler! Now do I see the happiness of +my future estate. I walk me as to-morrow, being the day after my +marriage, with my fourteen men in livery-cloaks after me, and step to +the wall in some chief streets of the city, though I have no occasion to +use it, that the shopkeepers may take notice how many followers stand +bare to me. And yet in this latter age, the keeping of men being not in +request, I will turn my aforesaid fourteen into two pages and two +coaches. I will get myself into grace at court, run headlong into debt, +and then look scurvily upon the city. I will walk you into the presence +in the afternoon, having put on a richer suit than I wore in the +morning, and call, boy or sirrah. I will have the grace of some great +lady, though I pay for't, and at the next triumphs run a-tilt, that when +I run my course, though I break not my lance, she may whisper to +herself, looking upon my jewel: well-run, my knight. I will now keep +great horses, scorning to have a queen to keep me; indeed I will +practise all the gallantry in use; for by a wife comes all my happiness. + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +BUT. Now, sir, you have heard her uncles, and how do you like them? + +ILF. O butler, they have made good thy words, and I am ravished with +them. + +BUT. And having seen and kissed the gentlewoman, how do you like her? + +ILF. O butler, beyond discourse, beyond any element; she's a paragon for +a prince, rather than a fit implement for a gentleman.[414] + +BUT. Well then, since you like her, and by my means, she shall like you, +nothing rests now, but to have you married. + +ILF. True, butler, but withal to have her portion! + +BUT. Tut, that's sure yours, when you are married once, for 'tis hers by +inheritance; but do you love her? + +ILF. O, with my soul. + +BUT. Have you sworn as much? + +ILF. To thee, to her; and have called heaven to witness. + +BUT. How shall I know that? + +ILF. Butler, here I protest, make vows irrevocable. + +BUT. Upon your knees? + +ILF. Upon my knees, with my heart and soul I love her. + +BUT. Will live with her? + +ILF. Will live with her. + +BUT. Marry her and maintain her? + +ILF. Marry her and maintain her. + +BUT. For her forsake all other women? + +ILF. Nay, for her forswear all other women. + +BUT. In all degrees of love? + +ILF. In all degrees of love, either to court, kiss, give private +favours, or use private means. I'll do nothing that married men, being +close whoremasters, do, so I may have her. + +BUT. And yet you, having been an open whoremaster, I will not believe +you till I hear you swear as much in the way of contract to herself, +and call me to be a witness. + +ILF. By heaven, by earth, by hell, by all that man can swear, I will, so +I may have her. + +BUT. Enough. +Thus at first sight rash men to women swear, +When, such oaths broke, heaven grieves and sheds a tear. +But she's come; ply her, ply her. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW'S SISTER. + +ILF. Kind mistress, as I protested, so again I vow, +I'faith, I love you. + +SIS. And I am not, sir, so uncharitable, +To hate the man that loves me. + +ILF. Love me then, +The which loves you as angels love good men; +Who wisheth them to live with them for ever, +In that high bliss, whom hell cannot dissever. + +BUT. I'll steal away and leave them, as wise men do; +Whom they would match, let them have leave to woo. + [_Exit_ BUTLER. + +ILF. Mistress, I know your worth is beyond my desert; yet by my praising +of your virtues, I would not have you, as women use to do, become proud. + +SIS. None of my affections are pride's children, nor akin to them. + +ILF. Can you love me then? + +SIS. I can; for I love all the world, but am in love with none. + +ILF. Yet be in love with me; let your affections +Combine with mine, and let our souls +Like turtles have a mutual sympathy, +Who love so well, that they die together. +Such is my life, who covets to expire, +If it should lose your love. + +SIS. May I believe you? + +ILF. In troth you may: +Your life's my life, your death my dying-day. + +SIS. Sir, the commendations I have received from Butler of your birth +and worth, together with the judgment of mine own eye, bids me believe +and love you. + +ILF. O, seal it with a kiss. Bless'd hour! my life had never joy till +this. + + _Enter_ WENTLOE _and_ BARTLEY _beneath_. + +BAR. Hereabout is the house, sure. + +WEN. We cannot mistake it; for here's the sign of the Wolf, and the +bay-window. + + _Enter_ BUTLER _above_. + +BUT. What, so close? 'Tis well I have shifted away your uncles, +mistress. But see the spite of Sir Francis! if yon same couple of +smell-smocks, Wentloe and Bartley, have not scented after us. + +ILF. A pox on them! what shall we do then, butler? + +BUT. What, but be married straight, man? + +ILF. Ay, but how, butler? + +BUT. Tut, I never fail at a dead lift; for, to perfect your bliss, I +have provided you a priest. + +ILF. Where? prythee, butler, where? + +BUT. Where but beneath in her chamber? I have filled his hands with +coin, and he shall tie you fast with words; he shall close your hands in +one, and then do clap yourself into her sheets, and spare not. + +ILF. O sweet! + + [_Exit_ ILFORD _with_ SCARBOROW'S SISTER.[415] + +BUT. Down, down, 'tis the only way for you to get up. +Thus in this task for others' good I toil, +And she, kind gentlewoman, weds herself, +Having been scarcely woo'd, and ere her thoughts +Have learn'd to love him that, being her husband, +She may relieve her brothers in their wants; +She marries him to help her nearest kin: +I make the match, and hope it is no sin. + +WEN. 'Sfoot, it is scurvy walking for us so near the two Counters; would +he would come once! + +BAR. Mass, he's yonder: now, Butler. + +BUT. O gallants, are you here? I have done wonders for you, commended +you to the gentlewomen who, having taken note of your good legs and good +faces, have a liking to you; meet me beneath. + +BOTH. Happy butler. + +BUT. They are yours, and you are theirs; meet me beneath, I say. + + [_Exeunt_ WENTLOE _and_ BARTLEY. + +By this they are wed; ay, and perhaps have bedded. +Now follows whether, knowing she is poor, +He'll swear he lov'd her, as he swore before. + + [_Exit_ BUTLER. + + + + +ACT V. + + + _Enter_ ILFORD _with_ SCARBOROW'S SISTER. + +ILF. Ho, sirrah, who would have thought it? I perceive now a woman may +be a maid, be married, and lose her maidenhead, and all in half an hour. +And how dost like me now, wench? + +SIS. As doth befit your servant and your wife, +That owe you love and duty all my life. + +ILF. And there shall be no love lost, nor service neither; I'll do thee +service at board, and thou shalt do me service a-bed: now must I, as +young married men use to do, kiss my portion out of my young wife. Thou +art my sweet rogue, my lamb, my pigsny, my playfellow, my pretty-pretty +anything. Come, a buss, prythee, so 'tis my kind heart; and wots thou +what now? + +SIS. Not till you tell me, sir. + +ILF. I have got thee with child in my conscience, and, like a kind +husband, methinks I breed it for thee. For I am already sick at my +stomach, and long extremely. Now must thou be my helpful physician, and +provide for me. + +SIS. Even to my blood, +What's mine is yours, to gain your peace or good. + +ILF. What a kind soul is this! Could a man have found a greater content +in a wife, if he should have sought through the world for her? Prythee, +heart, as I said, I long, and in good troth I do, and methinks thy first +child will be born without a nose, if I lose my longing: 'tis but for a +trifle too; yet methinks it will do me no good, unless thou effect it +for me. I could take thy keys myself, go into thy closet, and read over +the deeds and evidences of thy land, and in reading over them, rejoice I +had such blessed fortune to have so fair a wife with so much endowment, +and then open thy chests, and survey thy plate, jewels, treasure; but a +pox on't, all will do me no good, unless thou effect it for me. + +SIS. Sir, I will show you all the wealth I have +Of coin, of jewels, and possessions. + +ILF. Good gentle heart, I'll give thee another buss for that: for that, +give thee a new gown to-morrow morning by this hand; do thou but dream +what stuff and what fashion thou wilt have it on to-night. + +SIS. The land I can endow you with's my Love: +The riches I possess for you is Love, +A treasure greater than is land or gold, +It cannot be forfeit, and it shall ne'er be sold. + +ILF. Love, I know that; and I'll answer thee love for love in abundance: +but come, prythee, come, let's see these deeds and evidences--this +money, plate, and jewels. Wilt have thy child born without a nose? if +thou be'st so careless, spare not: why, my little frappet, you, I heard +thy uncles talk of thy riches, that thou hadst hundreds a year, several +lordships, manors, houses, thousands of pounds in your great chest; +jewels, plate, and rings in your little box. + +SIS. And for that riches you did marry me? + +ILF. Troth, I did, as nowadays bachelors do: swear I lov'd thee, but +indeed married thee for thy wealth. + +SIS. Sir, I beseech you say not your oaths were such, +So like false coin being put unto the touch; +Who bear a flourish in the outward show +Of a true stamp, but truly[416] are not so. +You swore me love, I gave the like to you: +Then as a ship, being wedded to the sea, +Does either sail or sink, even so must I, +You being the haven, to which my hopes must fly. + +ILF. True, chuck, I am thy haven, and harbour too, +And like a ship I took thee, who brings home treasure +As thou to me the merchant-venturer. + +SIS. What riches I am ballast with are yours. + +ILF. That's kindly said now. + +SIS. If but with sand, as I am but with earth, +Being your right, of right you must receive me: +I have no other lading but my love, +Which in abundance I will render you. +If other freight you do expect my store, +I'll pay you tears: my riches are no more. + +ILF. How's this? how's this? I hope you do but jest. + +SIS. I am sister to decayed Scarborow. + +ILF. Ha! + +SIS. Whose substance your enticements did consume. + +ILF. Worse than an ague. + +SIS. Which as you did believe, so they supposed. +'Twas fitter for yourself than for another +To keep the sister, had undone the brother. + +ILF. I am gulled, by this hand. An old coneycatcher, and beguiled! where +the pox now are my two coaches, choice of houses, several suits, a +plague on them, and I know not what! Do you hear, puppet, do you think +you shall not be damned for this, to cosen a gentleman of his hopes, and +compel yourself into matrimony with a man, whether he will or no with +you? I have made a fair match, i'faith: will any man buy my commodity +out of my hand? As God save me, he shall have her for half the money she +cost me. + + _Enter_ WENTLOE _and_ BARTLEY. + +WEN. O, have we met you, sir? + +BAR. What, turned micher, steal a wife, and not make your old friends +acquainted with it? + +ILF. A pox on her, I would you had her! + +WEN. Well, God give you joy! we can hear of your good fortune, now 'tis +done, though we could not be acquainted with it aforehand. + +BAR. As that you have two thousand pounds a year. + +WEN. Two or three manor-houses. + +BAR. A wife, fair, rich, and virtuous. + +ILF. Pretty, i'faith, very pretty. + +WEN. Store of gold. + +BAR. Plate in abundance. + +ILF. Better, better, better. + +WEN. And so many oxen, that their horns are able to store all the +cuckolds in your country. + +ILF. Do not make me mad, good gentlemen, do not make me mad: I could be +made a cuckold with more patience, than endure this. + +WEN. Foh! we shall have you turn proud now, grow respectless of your +ancient acquaintance. Why, Butler told us of it, who was the maker of +the match for you. + +ILF. A pox of his furtherance! gentlemen, as you are Christians, vex me +no more. That I am married, I confess; a plague of the fates, that +wedding and hanging comes by destiny; but for the riches she has +brought, bear witness how I'll reward her. [_Kicks her_. + +SIS. Sir! + +ILF. Whore, ay, and jade. Witch! Ill-faced, stinking-breath, +crooked-nose, worse than the devil--and a plague on thee that ever +I saw thee! + +BAR. A comedy, a comedy! + +WEN. What's the meaning of all this? is this the masque after thy +marriage! + +ILF. O gentlemen, I am undone, I am undone, for I am married! I, +that could not abide a woman, but to make her a whore, hated all +she-creatures, fair and poor; swore I would never marry but to one +that was rich, and to be thus coney-catched! Who do you think this +is, gentlemen? + +WEN. Why, your wife; who should it be else? + +ILF. That's my misfortune; that marrying her in hope she was rich, +she proves to be the beggarly sister to the more beggarly Scarborow. + +BAR. How? + +WEN. Ha, ha, ha! + +ILF. Ay, you may laugh, but she shall cry as well as I for't. + +BAR. Nay, do not weep. + +WEN. He does but counterfeit now to delude us. He has all her portion +of land, coin, plate, jewels, and now dissembles thus, lest we should +borrow some money of him. + +ILF. And you be kind, gentlemen, lend me some; for, having paid the +priest, I have not so much left in the world as will hire me a horse to +carry me away from her. + +BAR. But art thou thus gulled, i'faith? + +ILF. Are you sure you have eyes in your head? + +WEN. Why, then, [it is] by her brother's setting on, in my conscience; +who knowing thee now to have somewhat to take to by the death of thy +father, and that he hath spent her portion and his own possessions, +hath laid this plot for thee to marry her, and so he to be rid of her +himself. + +ILF. Nay, that's without question; but I'll be revenged of 'em both. +For you, minx:--nay, 'sfoot, give 'em me, or I'll kick else. + +SIS. Good, sweet. + +ILF. Sweet with a pox! you stink in my nose, give me your jewels: nay, +bracelets too. + +SIS. O me most miserable! + +ILF. Out of my sight, ay, and out of my doors: for now what's within +this house is mine; and for your brother, +He made this match in hope to do you good, +And I wear this, the[417] which shall draw his blood. + +WEN. A brave resolution. + +BAR. In which we'll second thee. + [_Exit with_ WENTLOE. + +ILF. Away, whore! out of my doors, whore! + [_Exit_. + +SIS. O grief, that poverty should have that power to tear +Men from themselves, though they wed, bed, and swear. + + _Enter_ THOMAS _and_ JOHN SCARBOROW _with_ BUTLER. + +THOM. How now, sister? + +SIS. Undone, undone! + +BUT. Why, mistress, how is't? how is't? + +SIS. My husband has forsook me. + +BUT. O perjury! + +SIS. Has ta'en my jewels and my bracelets from me. + +THOM. Vengeance, I played the thief for the money that bought 'em. + +SIS. Left me distressed, and thrust me forth o' doors. + +THOM. Damnation on him! I will hear no more. +But for his wrong revenge me on my brother, +Degenerate, and was the curse of all, +He spent our portion, and I'll see his fall. + +JOHN. O, but, brother-- + +THOM. Persuade me not. +All hopes are shipwreck'd, misery comes on, +The comfort we did look from him is frustrate, +All means, all maintenance, but grief is gone; +And all shall end by his destruction. [_Exit_. + +JOHN. I'll follow, and prevent what in this heat may happen: +His want makes sharp his sword; too great's the ill, +If that one brother should another kill. [_Exit_. + +BUT. And what will you do, mistress? + +SIS. I'll sit me down, sigh loud instead of words, +And wound myself with grief as they with swords. +And for the sustenance that I should eat, +I'll feed on grief, 'tis woe's best-relish'd meat. + +BUT. Good heart, I pity you, +You shall not be so cruel to yourself, +I have the poor serving-man's allowance: +Twelve pence a day, to buy me sustenance; +One meal a day I'll eat, the t'other fast, +To give your wants relief. And, mistress, +Be this some comfort to your miseries, +I'll have thin cheeks, ere you shall have wet eyes. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +SCAR. What is a prodigal? Faith, like a brush, +That wears himself to furbish[418] others' clothes, +And, having worn his heart even to the stump, +He's thrown away like a deformed lump. +O, such am I: I have spent all the wealth +My ancestors did purchase, made others brave +In shape and riches, and myself a knave. +For though my wealth rais'd some to paint their door, +'Tis shut against me saying I am but poor: +Nay, even the greatest arm, whose hand hath grac'd +My presence to the eye of majesty, shrinks back, +His fingers clutch, and like to lead, +They are heavy to raise up my state, being dead. +By which I find spendthrifts (and such am I) +Like strumpets flourish, but are foul within, +And they (like snakes) know when to cast their skin. + + _Enter_ THOMAS SCARBOROW. + +THOM. Turn, draw, and die; I come to kill thee. + +SCAR. What's he that speaks like sickness? O, is't you? +Sleep still, you cannot move me: fare you well. + +THOM. Think not my fury slakes so, or my blood +Can cool itself to temper by refusal: +Turn, or thou diest. + +SCAR. Away. + +THOM. I do not wish to kill thee like a slave, +That taps men in their cups, and broach[es] their hearts, +Ere with a warning-piece they have wak'd their ears; +I would not like to powder shoot thee down +To a flat grave, ere thou hast thought to frown: +I am no coward, but in manly terms +And fairest oppositions vow to kill thee. + +SCAR. From whence proceeds this heat? + +THOM. From sparkles bred +By thee, that like a villain-- + +SCAR. Ha! + +THOM. I'll hollow it +In thine ears, till thy soul quake to hear it, +That like a villain hast undone thy brothers. + +SCAR. Would thou wert not so near me! yet, farewell. + +THOM. By Nature and her laws make[419] us akin-- +As near as are these hands, or sin to sin-- +Draw and defend thyself, or I'll forget +Thou art a man. + +SCAR. Would thou wert not my brother! + +THOM. I disclaim thee[420]. + +SCAR. Are we not offspring of one parent, wretch? + +THOM. I do forget it; pardon me the dead, +I should deny the pains you bid for me. +My blood grows hot for vengeance, thou hast spent +My life's revenues, that our parents purchas'd. + +SCAR. O, do not rack me with remembrance on't. + +THOM. Thou hast made my life a beggar in this world, +And I will make thee bankrupt of thy breath: +Thou hast been so bad, the best that I can give[421]. +Thou art a devil: not with men to live. + +SCAR. Then take a devil's payment + + _Here they make a pass one upon another, when at Scarborow's + back come in_ ILFORD, WENTLOE, _and_ BARTLEY. + +ILF. He's here; draw, gentlemen. + +WEN., BART. Die, Scarborow. + +SCAR. Girt round with death! + +THOM. How, set upon by three! 'Sfoot, fear not, brother; you cowards, +three to one! slaves, worse than fencers that wear long weapons. You +shall be fought withal, you shall be fought withal. + + [_Here the brothers join, drive the rest out, and return_. + +SCAR. Brother, I thank you, for you now have been +A patron of my life. Forget the sin, +I pray you, which my loose and wasteful hours +Hath made against your fortunes; I repent 'em, +And wish I could new-joint and strength your hopes, +Though with indifferent ruin of mine own. +I have a many sins, the thought of which +Like finest[422] needles prick me to the soul, +But find your wrongs to have the sharpest point. +If penitence your losses might repair, +You should be rich in wealth, and I in care. + +THOM. I do believe you, sir: but I must tell you, +Evils the which are 'gainst another done, +Repentance makes no satisfaction +To him that feels the smart. Our father, sir, +Left in your trust my portion: you have spent it, +And suffered me (whilst you in riot's house-- +A drunken tavern--spill'd my maintenance, +Perhaps upon the ground with o'erflown cups;) +Like birds in hardest winter half-starv'd, to fly +And pick up any food, lest I should die. + +SCAR. I pr'ythee, let us be at peace together. + +THOM. At peace for what? For spending my inheritance? +By yonder sun that every soul has life by, +As sure as thou hast life, I'll fight with thee. + +SCAR. I'll not be mov'd unto't. + +THOM. I'll kill thee then, wert thou now clasp'd +Within thy mother, wife, or children's arms. + +SCAR. Would'st, homicide? art so degenerate? +Then let my blood grow hot. + +THOM. For it shall cool. + +SCAR. To kill rather than be kill'd is manhood's rule. + + _Enter_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +JOHN. Stay, let not your wraths meet. + +THOM. Heart! what mak'st thou here? + +JOHN. Say, who are you, or you? are you not one, +That scarce can make a fit distinction +Betwixt each other? Are you not brothers? + +THOM. I renounce him. + +SCAR. Shalt not need. + +THOM. Give way. + +SCAR. Have at thee! + +JOHN. Who stirs? which of you both hath strength within his arm +To wound his own breast? who's so desperate +To damn himself by killing of himself? +Are you not both one flesh? + +THOM. Heart! give me way. + +SCAR. Be not a bar betwixt us, or by my sword +I'll[423] mete thy grave out. + +JOHN. O, do: for God's sake, do; +'Tis happy death, if I may die, and you +Not murder one another. O, do but hearken: +When do the sun and moon, born in one frame, +Contend, but they breed earthquakes in men's hearts? +When any star prodigiously appears, +Tells it not fall of kings or fatal years? +And then, if brothers fight, what may men think? +Sin grows so high, 'tis time the world should sink. + +SCAR. My heart grows cool again; I wish it not. + +THOM. Stop not my fury, or by my life I swear. +I will reveal the robbery we have done, +And take revenge on thee, +That hinders me to take revenge on him. + +JOHN. I yield to that; but ne'er consent to this, +I shall then die, as mine own sin affords, +Fall by the law, not by my brothers' swords. + +THOM. Then, by that light that guides me here, I vow, +I'll straight to Sir John Harcop, and make known +We were the two that robb'd him. + +JOHN. Prythee, do. + +THOM. Sin has his shame, and thou shalt have thy due. + [_Exit_. + +JOHN. Thus have I shown the nature of a brother, +Though you have proved unnatural to me. +He's gone in heat to publish out the theft, +Which want and your unkindness forc'd us to: +If now I die, that death and public shame +Is a corsive to your soul, blot to your name. + [_Exit_. + +SCAR. O, 'tis too true, there's not a thought I think, +But must partake thy grief, and drink +A relish of thy sorrow and misfortune. +With weight of others' tears I am o'erborne, +That scarce am Atlas to hold up mine own, +And all too good for me. A happy creature +In my cradle, and I have made myself +The common curse of mankind by my life; +Undone my brothers, made them thieves for bread, +And begot pretty children to live beggars. +O conscience, how thou art stung to think upon't! +My brothers unto shame must yield their blood: +My babes at others' stirrups beg their food, +Or else turn thieves too, and be chok'd for it, +Die a dog's death, be perch'd upon a tree; +Hang'd betwixt heaven and earth, as fit for neither. +The curse of heaven that's due to reprobates +Descends upon my brothers and my children, +And I am parent to it--ay, I am parent to it. + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +BUT. Where are you, sir? + +SCAR. Why star'st thou, what's thy haste? + +BUT. Here's fellows swarm like flies to speak with you. + +SCAR. What are they? + +BUT. Snakes, I think, sir; for they come with stings in their mouths, +and their tongues are turn'd to teeth too: they claw villainously, they +have ate up your honest name and honourable reputation by railing +against you: and now they come to devour your possessions. + +SCAR. In plainer evargy,[424] what are they? speak. + +BUT. Mantichoras,[425] monstrous beasts, enemies to mankind, that have +double rows of teeth in their mouths. They are usurers, they come +yawning for money, and the sheriff with them is come to serve an extent +upon your land, and then seize on your body by force of execution: they +have begirt the house round. + +SCAR. So that the roof our ancestors did build +For their sons' comfort, and their wives for charity, +I dare not to look out at. + +BUT. Besides, sir, here's your poor children-- + +SCAR. Poor children they are indeed. + +BUT. Come with fire and water, tears in their eyes and burning grief in +their hearts, and desire to speak with you. + +SCAR. Heap sorrow upon sorrow! tell me, are +My brothers gone to execution +For what I did? for every heinous sin +Sits on his soul, by whom it did begin. +And so did theirs by me. Tell me withal, +My children carry moisture in their eyes, +Whose speaking drops say, father, thus must we +Ask our relief, or die with infamy, +For you have made us beggars. Yet when thy tale has kill'd me, +To give my passage comfort from this stage, +Say all was done by enforc'd marriage: +My grave will then be welcome. + +BUT. What shall we do, sir? + +SCAR. Do as the devil does, hate (panther-like) mankind![426] +And yet I lie; for devils sinners love, +When men hate men, though good like some above. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW'S _wife_ KATHERINE, _with two Children_. + +BUT. Your wife's come in, sir. + +SCAR. Thou li'st, I have not a wife. None can be call'd +True man and wife, but those whom heaven install'd, +Say-- + +KATH. O my dear husband! + +SCAR. You are very welcome. Peace: we'll have compliment. +Who are you, gentlewoman? + +KATH. Sir, your distressed wife, and these your children, + +SCAR. Mine! Where, how, begot? +Prove me by certain instance that's divine, +That I should call them lawful, or thee mine. + +KATH. Were we not married, sir? + +SCAR. No; though we heard the words of ceremony, +But had hands knit, as felons that wear fetters +Forc'd upon them. For tell me, woman, +Did e'er my love with sighs entreat thee mine? +Did ever I in willing conference +Speak words, made half with tears, that I did love thee? +Or was I ever but glad to see thee, as all lovers are? +No, no, thou know'st I was not. + +KATH. O me! + +BUT. The more's the pity. + +SCAR. But when I came to church, I did there stand, +As water, whose forc'd breach[427] had drown'd my land. +Are you my wife, or these my children? +Why, 'tis impossible; for like the skies +Without the sun's light, so look all your eyes; +Dark, cloudy, thick, and full of heaviness; +Within my country there was hope to see +Me and my issue to be like our fathers, +Upholders of our country all our life, +Which should have been if I had wed a wife: +Where now, +As dropping leaves in autumn you look all, +And I, that should uphold you, like to fall. + +KATH. 'Twas nor shall be my fault, heaven bear me witness. + +SCAR. Thou liest, strumpet, thou liest! + +BUT. O sir! + +SCAR. Peace, saucy Jack! strumpet, I say thou liest, +For wife of mine thou art not, and these thy bastards +Whom I begot of thee with this unrest, +That bastards born are born not to be blest. + +KATH. On me pour all your wrath, but not on them. + +SCAR. On thee and them, for 'tis the end of lust +To scourge itself, heaven lingering to be just: +Harlot! + +KATH. Husband! + +SCAR. Bastards! + +CHIL. Father! + +BUT. What heart not pities this? + +SCAR. Even in your cradle, you were accurs'd of heaven, +Thou an adultress in my married arms. +And they that made the match, bawds to thy lust: +Ay, now you hang the head; shouldst have done so before, +Then these had not been bastards, thou a whore. + +BUT. I can brook't no longer: sir, you do not well in this. + +SCAR. Ha, slave! + +BUT. 'Tis not the aim of gentry to bring forth +Such harsh unrelish'd fruit unto their wines[428], +And to their pretty--pretty children by my troth. + +SCAR. How, rascal! + +BUT. Sir, I must tell you, your progenitors, +Two of the which these years were servant to, +Had not such mists before their understanding, +Thus to behave themselves. + +SCAR. And you'll control me, sir! + +BUT. Ay, I will. + +SCAR. You rogue! + +BUT. Ay, 'tis I will tell 'tis ungently done +Thus to defame your wife, abuse your children: +Wrong them, you wrong yourself; are they not yours? + +SCAR. Pretty--pretty impudence, in faith. + +BUT. Her whom you are bound to love, to rail against! +Those whom you are bound to keep, to spurn like dogs! +And you were not my master, I would tell you-- + +SCAR. What, slave? [_Draws_. + +BUT. Put up your bird-spit, tut, I fear it not; +In doing deeds so base, so vile as these, +'Tis but a kna, kna, kna-- + +SCAR. Rogue! + +BUT. Tut, howsoever, 'tis a dishonest part, +And in defence of these I throw off duty. + +KATH. Good butler. + +BUT. Peace, honest mistress, I will say you are wrong'd, +Prove it upon him, even in his blood, his bones, +His guts, his maw, his throat, his entrails. + +SCAR. You runagate of threescore! + +BUT. 'Tis better than a knave of three-and-twenty. + +SCAR. Patience be my buckler! +As not to file[429] my hands in villain's blood; +You knave, slave, trencher-groom! +Who is your master? + +BUT. You, if you were a master. + +SCAR. Off with your coat then, get you forth a-doors. + +BUT. My coat, sir? + +SCAR. Ay, your coat, slave. + +BUT. 'Sfoot, when you ha't, 'tis but a threadbare coat, +And there 'tis for you: know that I scorn +To wear his livery is so worthy born, +And live[s] so base a life; old as I am, +I'll rather be a beggar than your man, +And there's your service for you. [_Exit_. + +SCAR. Away, out of my door: away! +So, now your champion's gone, minx, thou hadst better +Have gone quick unto thy grave-- + +KATH. O me! that am no cause of it. + +SCAR. Than have suborn'd that slave to lift his hand against me. + +KATH. O me! what shall become of me? + +SCAR. I'll teach you tricks for this: have you a companion? + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +BUT. My heart not suffers me to leave my honest mistress and her pretty +children. + +SCAR. I'll mark thee for a strumpet, and thy bastards-- + +BUT. What will you do to them, sir? + +SCAR. The devil in thy shape come back again? + +BUT. No, but an honest servant, sir, will take this coat, +And wear it with this sword to safeguard these, +And pity them, and I am woe for you[430], too; +But will not suffer +The husband, viper-like, to prey on them +That love him and have cherish'd him, as these +And they have you. + +SCAR. Slave! + +BUT. I will outhumour you, [I will] +Fight with you and lose my life, ere[431] these +Shall taste your wrong, whom you are bound to love. + +SCAR. Out of my doors, slave! + +BUT. I will not, but will stay and wear this coat, +And do you service whether you will or no. +I'll wear this sword, too, and be champion +To fight for her, in spite of any man. + +SCAR. You shall: you shall be my master, sir. + +BUT. No, I desire it not, +I'll pay you duty, even upon my knee, +But lose my life, ere these oppress'd I'll see. + +SCAR. Yes, goodman slave, you shall be master, +Lie with my wife, and get more bastards; do, do, do. + +KATH. O me! + +SCAR. Turns the world upside down, +That men o'erbear their masters? it does, it does. +For even as Judas sold his master Christ, +Men buy and sell their wives at highest price, +What will you give me? what will you give me? +What will you give me? [_Exit_. + +BUT. O mistress, my soul weeps, though mine eyes be dry, +To see his fall and your adversity; +Some means I have left, which I'll relieve you with. +Into your chamber, and if comfort be akin +To such great grief, comfort your children. + +KATH. I thank thee, butler; heaven, when he please, +Send death unto the troubled--a blest ease. + + [_Exit with children_. + +BUT. In troth I know not, if it be good or ill, +That with this endless toil I labour thus: +'Tis but the old time's ancient conscience +That would do no man hurt, that makes me do't: +If it be sin, that I do pity these, +If it be sin, I have relieved his brothers, +Have played the thief with them to get their food, +And made a luckless marriage for his sister, +Intended for her good, heaven pardon me. +But if so, I am sure they are great sinners, +That made this match, and were unhappy[432] men; +For they caus'd all, and may heaven pardon them. + + _Enter_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW. + +SIR WIL. Who's within here? + +BUT. Sir William, kindly welcome. + +SIR WIL. Where is my kinsman Scarborow? + +BUT. Sooth, he's within, sir, but not very well. + +SIR WIL. His sickness? + +BUT. The hell of sickness; troubled in his mind. + +SIR WIL. I guess the cause of it, +But cannot now intend to visit him. +Great business for my sovereign hastes me hence; +Only this letter from his lord and guardian to him, +Whose inside, I do guess, tends to his good; +At my return I'll see him: so farewell. [_Exit_. + +BUT. _Whose inside, I do guess, turns to his good_. +He shall not see it now, then; for men's minds, +Perplex'd like his, are like land-troubling-winds, +Who have no gracious temper. + + _Enter_ JOHN SCARBOROW. + +JOHN. O butler! + +BUT. What's the fright now? + +JOHN. Help, straight, or on the tree of shame +We both shall perish for the robbery. + +BUT. What, is't reveal'd, man? + +JOHN. Not yet, good butler: only my brother Thomas, +In spleen to me that would not suffer him +To kill our elder brother had undone us, +Is riding now to Sir John Harcop straight, +To disclose it. + +BUT. Heart! who would rob with sucklings? +Where did you leave him? + +JOHN. Now taking horse to ride to Yorkshire. + +BUT. I'll stay his journey, lest I meet a hanging. + + [_Exeunt_. + + _Enter_ SCARBOROW. + +SCAR. I'll parley with the devil: ay, I will, +He gives his counsel freely, and the cause +He for his clients pleads goes always with them: +He in my cause shall deal then; and I'll ask him +Whether a cormorant may have stuff'd chests, +And see his brother starve? why, he'll say, ay[433], +The less they give, the more I gain thereby; + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +Their souls, their souls, their souls. +How now, master? nay, you are my master; +Is my wife's sheets warm? does she kiss well? + +BUT. Good sir. + +SCAR. Foh! make't not strange, for in these days, +There's many men lie in their masters' sheets, +And so may you in mine, and yet--your business, sir? + +BUT. There's one in civil habit, sir, would speak with you. + +SCAR. In civil habit? + +BUT. He is of seemly rank, sir, and calls himself +By the name of Doctor Baxter of Oxford. + +SCAR. That man undid me; he did blossoms blow, +Whose fruit proved poison, though 'twas good in show: +With him I'll parley, and disrobe my thoughts +Of this wild frenzy that becomes me not. +A table, candles, stools, and all things fit, +I know he comes to chide me, and I'll hear him: +With our sad conference we will call up tears, +Teach doctors rules, instruct succeeding years: +Usher him in: +Heaven spare a drop from thence, where's bounteous throng: +Give patience to my soul, inflame my tongue. + + _Enter_ DOCTOR. + +DOC. Good Master Scarborow. + +SCAR. You are most kindly welcome, sooth, ye are. + +DOC. I have important business to deliver you. + +SCAR. And I have leisure to attend your hearing. + +DOC. Sir, you know I married you. + +SCAR. I know you did, sir. + +DOC. At which you promis'd both to God and men, +Your life unto your spouse should be like snow, +That falls to comfort, not to overthrow: +And love unto your issue should be like +The dew of heaven, that hurts not, though it strike: +When heaven and men did witness and record +'Twas an eternal oath, no idle word: +Heaven, being pleased therewith, bless'd you with children, +And at heaven's blessings all good men rejoice. +So that God's chair and footstool, heaven and earth, +Made offering at your nuptials as a knot +To mind you of your vow; O, break it not. + +SCAR. 'Tis very true[434]. + +DOC. Now, sir, from this your oath and band[435], +Faith's pledge and seal of conscience you have run, +Broken all contracts, and the forfeiture +Justice hath now in suit against your soul: +Angels are made the jurors, who are witnesses +Unto the oath you took, and God himself, +Maker of marriage, he that seal'd the deed, +As a firm lease unto you during life, +Sits now as judge of your transgression: +The world informs against you with this voice: +If such sins reign, what mortals can rejoice? + +SCAR. What then ensues to me? + +DOC. A heavy doom, whose execution's +Now serv'd upon your conscience, that ever +You shall feel plagues, whom time shall not dissever; +As in a map your eyes see all your life, +Bad words, worse deeds, false oaths, and all the injuries, +You have done unto your soul: then comes your wife, +Full of woe's drops, and yet as full of pity, +Who though she speaks not, yet her eyes are swords[436], +That cut your heart-strings: and then your children-- + +SCAR. O, O, O! + +DOC. Who, what they cannot say, talk in their looks; +You have made us up, but as misfortune's books, +Whom other men may read in, when presently, +Task'd by yourself, you are not, like a thief, +Astonied, being accus'd, but scorch'd with grief. + +SCAR. I, I, I. + +DOC. Here stand your wife's tears. + +SCAR. Where? + +DOC. And you fry for them: here lie your children's wants. + +SCAR. Here? + +DOC. For which you pine, in conscience burn, +And wish you had been better, or ne'er born. + +SCAR. Does all this happen to a wretch like me? + +DOC. Both this and worse; your soul eternally +Shall live in torment, though the body die. + +SCAR. I shall have need of drink then: Butler! + +DOC. Nay, all your sins are on your children laid, +For the offences that the father made. + +SCAR. Are they, sir? + +DOC. Be sure they are. + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +SCAR. Butler! + +BUT. Sir. + +SCAR. Go fetch my wife and children hither. + +BUT. I will, sir. + +SCAR. I'll read a lecture[437] to the doctor too, +He's a divine? ay, he's a divine. [_Aside_.] + +BUT. I see his mind is troubled, and have made bold with duty to read a +letter tending to his good; have made his brothers friends: both which +I will conceal till better temper. He sends me for his wife and children; +shall I fetch them? [_Aside_. + +SCAR. He's a divine, and this divine did marry me: +That's good, that's good. [_Aside_. + +DOC. Master Scarborow. + +SCAR. I'll be with you straight, sir. + +BUT. I will obey him, +If anything doth happen that is ill, +Heaven bear me record, 'tis 'gainst my will. [_Exit_. + +SCAR. And this divine did marry me, +Whose tongue should be the key to open truth, +As God's ambassador. Deliver, deliver, deliver. [_Aside_. + +DOC. Master Scarborow. + +SCAR. I'll be with you straight, sir: +Salvation to afflicted consciences, +And not give torment to contented minds, +Who should be lamps to comfort out our way, +And not like firedrakes[438] to lead men astray, +Ay, I'll be with you straight, sir. + + _Enter_ BUTLER, [_with Wife and Children_]. + +BUT. Here's your wife and children, sir. + +SCAR. Give way, then, +I have my lesson perfect; leave us here. + +BUT. Yes, I will go, but I will be so near, +To hinder the mishap, the which I fear. + [_Exit_ BUTLER. + +SCAR. Now, sir, you know this gentlewoman? + +DOC. Kind Mistress Scarborow. + +SCAR. Nay, pray you keep your seat, for you shall hear +The same affliction you have taught me fear, +Due to yourself. + +DOC. To me, sir? + +SCAR. To you, sir. +You match'd me to this gentlewoman? + +DOC. I know I did, sir. + +SCAR. And you will say she is my wife then. + +DOC. I have reason, sir, because I married you. + +SCAR. O, that such tongues should have the time to lie, +Who teach men how to live, and how to die; +Did not you know my soul had given my faith, +In contract to another? and yet you +Would join this loom unto unlawful twists. + +DOC. Sir? + +SCAR. But, sir, +You that can see a mote within my eye, +And with a cassock blind your own defects, +I'll teach you this: 'tis better to do ill, +That's never known to us, than of self-will. +Stand these[439], all these, in thy seducing eye, +As scorning life, make them be glad to die. + +DOC. Master Scarborow-- + +SCAR. Here will I write that they, which marry wives, +Unlawful live with strumpets all their lives. +Here will I seal the children that are born, +From wombs unconsecrate, even when their soul +Has her infusion, it registers they are foul, +And shrinks to dwell with them, and in my close +I'll show the world, that such abortive men +Knit hands without free tongues, look red like them +Stand you and you to acts most tragical: +Heaven has dry eyes, when sin makes sinners fall. + +DOC. Help, Master Scarborow. + +CHIL. Father. + +KATH. Husband. + +SCAR. These for thy act should die, she for my Clare, +Whose wounds stare thus upon me for revenge. +These to be rid from misery, this from sin, +And thou thyself shalt have a push amongst them, +That made heaven's word a pack-horse to thy tongue, +Quot'st Scripture to make evil shine like good! +And as I send you thus with worms to dwell, +Angels applaud it as a deed done well. + + _Enter_ BUTLER. + +DOC. Stay him, stay him. + +BUT. What will you do, sir? + +SCAR. Make fat worms of stinking carcases. +What hast thou to do with it? + + _Enter_ ILFORD _and his Wife, the two Brothers, + and_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW. + +BUT. Look, who are here, sir? + +SCAR. Injurious villain! that prevent'st me still. + +BUT. They are your brothers and alliance, sir. + +SCAR. They are like full ordnance then who, once discharg'd, +Afar off give a warning to my soul, +That I have done them wrong. + +SIR WIL. Kinsman. + +BRO. AND SIS. Brother. + +KATH. Husband. + +CHIL. Father. + +SCAR. Hark, how their words like bullets shoot me thorough, +And tell me I have undone them: this side might say, +We are in want, and you are the cause of it; +This points at me, y'are shame unto your house: +This tongue says nothing, but her looks do tell +She's married, but as those that live in hell: +Whereby all eyes are but misfortune's pipe, +Fill'd full of woe by me: this feels the stripe. + +BUT. Yet look, sir, +Here's your brothers hand in hand, whom I have knit so. + +SIS. And look, sir, here's my husband's hand in mine, +And I rejoice in him, and he in me. + +SIR WIL. I say, cos, what is pass'd is the way to bliss, +For they know best to mend, that know amiss. + +KATH. We kneel: forget, and say if you but love us, +You gave us grief for future happiness. + +SCAR. What's all this to my conscience? + +BUT. Ease, promise of succeeding joy to you; +Read but this letter. + +SIR WIL. Which tells you that your lord and guardian's dead. + +BUT. Which tells you that he knew he did you wrong, +Was griev'd for't, and for satisfaction +Hath given you double of the wealth you had. + +BRO. Increas'd our portions. + +WIFE. Given me a dowry too. + +BUT. And that he knew, +Your sin was his, the punishment his due. + +SCAR. All this is here: +Is heaven so gracious to sinners then? + +BUT. Heaven is, and has his gracious eyes, +To give men life, not life-entrapping spies. + +SCAR. Your hand--yours--yours--to my soul: to you a kiss; +In troth I am sorry I have stray'd amiss; +To whom shall I be thankful? all silent? +None speak? whist! why then to God, +That gives men comfort as he gives his rod; +Your portions I'll see paid, and I will love you, +You three I'll live withal, my soul shall love you! +You are an honest servant, sooth you are; +To whom? I, these, and all must pay amends; +But you I will admonish in cool terms, +Let not promotion's hope be as a string, +To tie your tongue, or let it loose to sting. + +DOC. From hence it shall not, sir. + +SCAR. Then husbands thus shall nourish with their wives. + [_Kiss_. + +ILF. As thou and I will, wench. + +SCAR. Brothers in brotherly love thus link together + [_Embrace_. +Children and servants pay their duty thus. + [_Bow and kneel_. +And are all pleas'd? + +ALL. We are. + +SCAR. Then, if all these be so, +I am new-wed, so ends all marriage woe; +And, in your eyes so lovingly being wed, +We hope your hands will bring us to our bed. + + +FINIS. + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + + +[1] Baldwin's "Old English Drama," 2 vols. 12mo. + +[2] From the similarity of the names, it seems the author originally +intended to make Young Lusam the son of Old Lusam and brother of +Mistress Arthur, but afterwards changed his intention: in page 13 the +latter calls him a stranger to her, although he is the intimate friend +of her husband. + +[3] [Old copy, _walk_.] + +[4] Busk-point, the lace with its tag which secured the end of the busk, +a piece of wood or whalebone worn by women in front of the stays to keep +them straight. + +[5] [Old copies, _Study_.] + +[6] [Old copy, _watch_.] + +[7] [Old copies, _dream_.] + +[8] [All Fuller's speeches must be supposed to be _Asides_.] + +[9] [Old copies give this line to Fuller.] + +[10] Old copies, _she_. + +[11] Old copies, _bene_; but the schoolmaster is made to blunder, so +that _bene_ may, after all, be what the author wrote. + +[12] The rod, made of a willow-wand. + +[13] Old copy, _how_. + +[14] [Old copies, _laid_.] + +[15] [A quotation.] + +[16] _Christ-cross_, the alphabet. + +[17] [The sense appears to be, for this not being perfect poison, as his +(the pedant's) meaning is to poison himself, some covetous slave will +sell him real poison.] + +[18] [Old copies, _seem'd_.] + +[19] [Old copies, _First_.] + +[20] [Massinger, in his "City Madam," 1658, uses this word in the sense +of _above the law_. Perhaps Young Arthur may intend to distinguish +between a civil and religious contract.] + +[21] [See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 90.] + +[22] [i.e., The _hoar_-frost.] + +[23] [Old copy, _flies upon_.] + +[24] [This line has been seriously corrupted, and it might be impossible +to restore the true reading. The old copies have: _Ask, he knew me, a +means_, &c.] + +[25] [Having, however, been written and acted some years before it was +printed in 1606.] + +[26] _Sloughing hotcockles_ is a sport still retained among children. +The diversion is of long standing, having been in use with the ancients. +See Pollux, lib. ix. In the copy it is spelt _slauging_. + +[27] Old copy, _which_. + +[28] [So in Wybarne's "New Age of Old Names," 1609, p. 12: "But stay, my +friend: Let it be first manifest that my Father left Land, and then we +will rather agree at home, then suffer the Butler's Boxe to winne all." +The phrase occurs again in "Ram Alley," 1611.] + +[29] [So the old copy, and rightly. Forne is a contracted form of +_beforne_, a good old English word. Hawkins printed _fore_.] + +[30] Query, if this be not a fling at Shakespeare? See "Cymbeline." +--_Hawkins_. [Scarcely, for there are two sons recovered in that play, +and the incident of finding a long-lost child is not an uncommon one +in the drama. We have a daughter thus found in Pericles.--_Ebsworth_.] + +[31] [Some of the old copies read _make_.] + +[32] Old copy, _furens_. + +[33] Old copy, _lanching_. + +[34] [Old copies, _is_.] + +[35] [It is probably well known that on the early stage vinegar was used +where there was a necessity for representing bloodshed. Compare the +passage in Preston's "Cambyses," iv. 217.] + +[36] Old copy, _utensilies_. + +[37] Old copy, _sly_. + +[38] Old copy, _soure_. + +[39] [Old copy, _clear the vsuall_, &c.] + +[40] "Belvidere; or, The Garden of the Muses," 8vo, 1600, in which are +quoted sentences out of Spenser, Constable, and the rest, digested under +a commonplace. [Another edition in 1610. It is a book of no value or +interest.] + +[41] [Left blank in the old copy. The ostensible editor of "Belvidere" +was John Bodenham, but he is evidently not the person referred to here.] + +[42] [Alluding to the device on the title of the volume.] + +[43] [Two of the old copies read _swifter_.] + +[44] [Some copies read _S.D_.] + +[45] As the works of some of the poets here cited are become obscure, it +may not be unacceptable to the reader to see a few specimens of their +several abilities. Constable was esteemed the first sonneteer of his +time, and the following sonnet, prefixed to King James I.'s "Poetical +Exercises" was the most admired-- + + TO THE KING OF SCOTLAND. + + "When others hooded with blind love do fly + Low on the ground with buzzard Cupid's wings, + A heavenly love from love of love thee brings, + And makes thy Muse to mount above the sky: + Young Muses be not wont to fly so high, + Age school'd by time such sober ditties sings, + But thy love flies from love of youthful things, + And so the wings of time doth overfly. + Thus thou disdain'st all worldly wings as slow, + Because thy Muse with angels' wings doth leave + Time's wings behind, and Cupid's wings below; + But take thou heed, lest Fame's wings thee deceive, + With all thy speed from fame thou canst not flee,-- + But more thou flees, the more it follows thee." + +[46] Lodge was a physician as well as a poet; he was the author of two +plays, and eminent, in his day, for writing elegant odes, pastoral +songs, sonnets, and madrigals. His "Euphues' Golden Legacy" was printed +4to, 1590, from which some suppose Shakespeare took his "As You Like +It." Description of spring by Lodge-- + + "The earth late choak'd with showers, + Is now array'd in green, + Her bosom springs with flowers, + The air dissolves her teen; + The woods are deck'd with leaves, + And trees are clothed gay, + And Flora, crown'd with sheaves, + With oaken boughs doth play; + The birds upon the trees + Do sing with pleasant voices, + And chant, in their degrees, + Their loves and lucky choices." + +[47] Watson was contemporary with, and imitator of, Sir Philip Sydney, +with Daniel, Lodge, Constable, and others, in the pastoral strain of +sonnets, &c. Watson thus describes a beautiful woman-- + + "Her yellow locks exceed the beaten gold, + Her sparkling eyes in heav'n a place deserve. + Her forehead high and fair, of comely mould; + Her words are music all, of silver sound. + Her wit so sharp, as like can scarce be found: + Each eyebrow hangs, like Iris in the skies, + Her eagle's nose is straight, of stately frame, + On either cheek a rose and lily lies, + Her breath is sweet perfume or holy flame; + Her lips more red than any coral stone, + Her neck more white than aged swans that moan: + Her breast transparent is, like crystal rock, + Her fingers long, fit for Apollo's lute, + Her slipper such, as Momus dare not mock; + Her virtues are so great as make me mute: + What other parts she hath I need not say, + Whose face alone is cause of my decay." + +[48] [This passage is a rather important piece of evidence in favour of +the identity of the poet with the physician.] + +[49] [Sir] John Davis [author of "Nosce Teipsum," &c.] + +[50] Old copy, _sooping_. + +[51] Lock and Hudson were the Bavius and Maevius of that time. The +latter gives us this description of fear-- + + "Fear lendeth wings to aged folk to fly, + And made them mount to places that were high; + Fear made the woful child to wail and weep, + For want of speed on foot and hands to creep." + +[Hudson, however, enjoyed some repute in his time, and is known as the +translator from Du Bartas of the "History of Judith," 8vo, 1584. Lock +published in 1597 a volume containing an English version of +"Ecclesiastes" and a series of sonnets.] + +[52] John Marston, a bold and nervous writer in Elizabeth's reign: the +work here censured was, no doubt, his "Scourge of Villanie, 3 Books of +Satyrs," 1598. + +[53] Marlowe's character is well marked in these lines: he was an +excellent poet, but of abandoned morals, and of the most impious +principles; a complete libertine and an avowed atheist. He lost his life +in a riotous fray; for, detecting his servant with his mistress, he +rushed into the room with a dagger in order to stab him, but the man +warded off the blow by seizing Marlowe's wrist, and turned the dagger +into his own head: he languished some time of the wound he received, and +then died, [in] the year 1593.--_A. Wood_. + +[54] [Omitted in some copies.] + +[55] [Omitted in some copies.] + +[56] Churchyard wrote Jane Shore's Elegy in "Mirror for Magistrates," +4to, [1574. It is reprinted, with additions, in his "Challenge," 1593.] + +[57] Isaac Walton, in his "Life of Hooker," calls Nash a man of a sharp +wit, and the master of a scoffing, satirical, merry pen. His satirical +vein was chiefly exerted in prose; and he is said to have more +effectually discouraged and nonplussed Penry, the most notorious +anti-prelate, Richard Harvey the astrologer, and their adherents, than +all serious writers who attacked them. That he was no mean poet will +appear from the following description of a beautiful woman-- + + "Stars fall to fetch fresh light from her rich eyes, + Her bright brow drives the sun to clouds beneath, + Her hairs' reflex with red streaks paint the skies, + Sweet morn and evening dew falls from her breath." + +[58] Ital. _stocco_, or long rapier. + +[59] A tusk. + +[60] [Some copies read _turne_.] + +[61] [John Danter, the printer. Nash, it will be remembered, was called +by Harvey _Danter's man_, because some of his books came from that +press. See the next scene.] + +[62] [A few corrections have been ventured upon in the French and Latin +scraps, as the speaker does not appear to have been intended to blunder.] + +[63] [Old copies, _procures_.] + +[64] [Old copies, _thanked_.] + +[65] [Old copies, _Fly--revengings_.] + +[66] [Old copy, _gale_.] + +[67] [Old copy, _gracis_.] + +[68] [Old copy, _filthy_.] + +[69] [Old copies, _seat_.] + +[70] [In the old copy the dialogue is as usual given so as to make utter +nonsense, which was apparently not intended.] + +[71] [Furor Poeticus apostrophises Apollo, the Muses, &c., who are not +present.] + +[72] [Old copy, _Den_.] + +[73] [Alluding to the blindness of puppies.] + +[74] [Man.] + +[75] [Old copy, _skibbered_.] + +[76] [i.e., my very mate.] + +[77] [In old copy this line is given to Phantasma.] + +[78] [i.e., _face_. Old copy, _race_.] + +[79] [Rent or distracted. A play is intended on the double meaning of +the word.] + +[80] [So in the old copy, being an abbreviation, _rhythmi causa_, of +Philomusus.] + +[81] [Old copy, _Mossy_; but in the margin is printed _Most like_, as if +it was an afterthought, and the correction had been stamped in.] + +[82] [Old copy, _playing_.] + +[83] _No_ omitted. + +[84] [This is the old mythological tradition inverted.] + +[85] The bishop's examining chaplain, so called from apposer. In a will +of James I.'s reign, the curate of a parish is to appose the children of +a charity-school. The term _poser_ is still retained in the schools at +[St Paul's,] Winchester and Eton. Two Fellows are annually deputed by +the Society of New College in Oxford and King's College in Cambridge to +appose or try the abilities of the boys who are to be sped to the +fellowships that shall become vacant in the ensuing year. + +[86] [The old copy gives this to the next act and scene; but Amoretto +seems to offer the remark in immediate allusion to what has just passed. +After all, the alteration is not very vital, as, although a new act and +scene are marked, Academico and Amoretto probably remain on the stage.] + +[87] Good. + +[88] [Old copy, _caches_. A _rache_ is a dog that hunts by scent wild +beasts, birds, and even fishes; the female is called a _brache_.] + +[89] [See Halliwell's "Dictionary," i. 115.] + +[90] [He refers to Amoretto himself.] + +[91] [Halliwell, in his "Dictionary," _v. rheum (s.)_, defines it to +mean _spleen, caprice_. He does not cite it as a verb. I suppose the +sense here to be _ruminating_.] + +[92] Old copy, _ravished_. + +[93] [A play on _personage_ and _parsonage_, which were formerly +interchangeable terms, as both had originally one signification.] + +[94] [Queen Elizabeth was born September 7, 1533; not her birthday, +therefore, but her accession (17th November 1558), at the death of her +sister Mary, is referred to by Immerito and Sir Raderic. Elizabeth died +March 24, 1602-3. Inasmuch as there is this special reference in "The +Return from Parnassus" to the Queen's day, and not to King James's day, +we have a certain evidence that the play was written by or before the +end of 1602-3. See also what may be drawn from the reference to the +siege of Ostend, 1601-4, at the close of act iii. sc. 3 _post_ +--additional evidence for 1602.--_Ebsworth_.] + +[95] [Old copy, _I tooke of_, which seems nonsense.] + +[96] [So old copy. Hawkins altered the word unnecessarily to +_thatched_.] + +[97] [Bespeaketh. Old copies, _rellish_.] + +[98] Old copy, _bites a lip_. + +[99] [So in old copy, but should we not read _London?--Ebsworth_.] + +[100] [There are three references to Ostend in this play. The town bore +a siege from 1601 to 1604, when it surrendered by capitulation. The +besieged lost 50,000 men, and the Spaniards still more. The expression, +"He is as glad as if he had taken Ostend," surely proves that this play +was written after the beginning of 1601 and the commencement of the +siege. It does not prove it to have been written after 1604, but, I +think, strongly indicates the contrary.--_Ebsworth_. Is it not possible +that the passage was introduced into the play when printed, and was not +in the original MS.?] + +[101] [So the old copies. Hawkins altered it to _delicacies_.] + +[102] [Poor must be pronounced as a dissyllable.] + +[103] [From _marry_ to _terms_ is omitted in one of the Oxford copies +and in Dr Ingleby's.] + +[104] [Old copy, _puppet_.] + +[105] [One of the copies at Oxford, and Dr Ingleby's, read _nimphs_. Two +others misprint _mips_.] + +[106] [Old copy, _wail_.] + +[107] Old copy, _and_. + +[108] [Both the Oxford copies read _teate_.] + +[109] [Both the Oxford copies have _beare_.] + +[110] [Some of the copies, _break_.] + +[111] To _moot_ is to plead a mock cause; to state a point of law by way +of exercise, a common practice in the inns of court. + +[112] Old copy, _facility_. + +[113] [Old copy, _high_.] + +[114] [A slight departure from Ovid.] + +[115] To _come off_ is equivalent to the modern expression to _come +down_, to pay sauce, to pay dearly, &c. In this sense Shakespeare uses +the phrase in "Merry Wives of Windsor," act iv. sc. 6. The host says, +"They [the Germans] shall have my horses, but I'll make them pay, I'll +sauce them. They have had my house a week at command; I have turned away +my other guests. They must come off; I'll sauce them." An eminent critic +says to _come off_ is to go scot-free; and this not suiting the context, +he bids us read, they must _compt off_, i.e., clear their reckoning. + +[116] Old copy, _Craboun_. + +[117] [Talons.] + +[118] _Gramercy_: great thanks, _grand merci_; or I thank ye, _Je vous +remercie_. In this sense it is constantly used by our first writers. A +very great critic pronounces it an obsolete expression of surprise, +contracted from _grant me mercy_; and cites a passage in "Titus +Andronicus" to illustrate his sense of it; but, it is presumed, that +passage, when properly pointed, confirms the original acceptation-- + + CHIRON. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius, + He hath some message to deliver us. + + AARON. Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather. + + BOY. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, + I greet your honours from Andronicus-- + And pray the Roman gods confound you both. [_Aside_. + + DEMETRIUS. _Gramercy_, lovely Lucius; what's the news? + + BOY. That you are both decipher'd (that's the news) + For villains mark'd with rape. [_Aside_] May it please you, + My grandsire, well advis'd, hath sent by me + The goodliest weapon of his armoury, + To gratify your honourable youth, + The hope of Rome: for so he bid me say; + And so I do, and with his gifts present + Your lordships, that whenever you have need, + You may be armed and appointed well. + And so I leave you both--like bloody villains. [_Aside_. + +--Hanmer's 2d edit., act iv. sc. 2. [The text is the same in Dyce's 2d +edit., vi. 326-7.] + +[119] "Poetaster," act v. sc. 3. [Gifford's edit. ii. 524-5, and the +note.] + +[120] [So in the old copy Kemp is made, perhaps intentionally, to call +Studioso. See also _infra_, p. 198.] + +[121] [See Kemp's "Nine Daies Wonder," edit. Dyce, ix.] + +[122] _Sellenger's round_, corrupted from St Leger, a favourite dance +with the common people. + +[123] Old copy reads-- + + "As you part in _kne_ + + KEMP. You are at Cambridge still with _sice kne_," &c. + +The genuine reading, it is presumed, is restored to the text-- + + "As your part in _cue_. + + KEMP. You are at Cambridge still with _size cue_," &c. + +A pun upon the word _cue_, which is a hint to the actor to proceed in +his part, and has the same sound with the letter _q_, the mark of a +farthing in college buttery-books. To _size_ means to _battle_, or to be +charged in the college accounts for provisions. [A _q_ is so called +because it is the initial letter of _quadrans_, the fourth part of a +penny.] + +[124] This seems to be quoted from the first imperfect edition of "The +Spanish Tragedy;" in the later (corrected) impression it runs thus-- + + "What outcries pluck me from my naked bed, + And chill," &c. + +--[v. 54.] + +[125] [Old copy points this sentence falsely, and repeats _thing_.] + +[126] Old copy, _woe_. + +[127] [Old copy, _birds_. Perhaps, however, the poet may have meant +_swans_.] + +[128] Old copy, _sooping_. + +[129] [I think this is much more likely to be an allusion to +Shakespeare, than the passage in the prologue to which Hawkins +refers.--_Ebsworth_.] + +[130] [Old copy, _some_.] + +[131] [There were several Greek _literati_ of this name. Amoretto's +page, personating his master, is so nicknamed by the other, who +personates Sir Raderic--unless the passage is corrupt.] + +[132] [Old copy, _Irenias_.] + +[133] [Old copy, _Nor_.] + +[134] [Old copy, _we have_.] + +[135] [Old copy, _run_. Mr Ebsworth's correction.] + +[136] Old copy, _cluttish_. + +[137] Old copy, _trus_. + +[138] One of the old copies reads _repay'st_. + +[139] Old copy, _seeling_. + +[140] This play is not divided into acts. + +[141] [Cadiz.] + +[142] [Shear-penny.] + +[143] [Extortion.] + +[144] [Old copies, _waves_.] + +[145] [Old copy, _fates to friend_.] + +[146] [Old copy, _springold_.] + +[147] [Old copy, as before, _springold_.] + +[148] [Old copy, _doff off_.] + +[149] [Old copy, _wat'ry_.] + +[150] [Resound.] + +[151] Edit. 1606 has: _Mi Fortunate, ter fortunate Venus_. The 4to of +1623 reads: _Mi Fortunatus, Fortunate Venter_. + +[152] [Intend.] + +[153] She means to say eloquence, and so it stands in the edition of +1623. + +[154] [Robin Goodfellow.] + +[155] [See p. 286.] + +[156] [This must allude to some real circumstance and person.] + +[157] [Attend.] + +[158] [Bergen-op-Zoom.] + +[159] [Old copy, _our_.] + +[160] [Lap, long. See Nares, edit. 1859, _v. Lave-eared_.] + +[161] [Old copy, _seas_.] + +[162] [Orcus.] + +[163] [Worried.] + +[164] [An answer to a summons or writ. Old copy, _retourner_.] + +[165] [This most rare edition was very kindly lent to me by the Rev. +J.W. Ebsworth, Moldash Vicarage, near Ashford.] + +[166] [Cromwell did not die till September 3, 1658, a sufficient reason +for the absence of the allusion which Reed thought singular.] + +[167] [i.e., The human body and mind. _Microcosmus_ had been used by +Davies of Hereford in the same sense in the title of a tract printed in +1603, as it was afterwards by Heylin in his "Microcosmus," 1621, and by +Earle in his "Microcosmography," 1628.] + +[168] _Skene_ or _skane: gladius, Ensis brevior.--Skinner_. Dekker's +"Belman's Night Walk," sig. F 2: "The bloody Tragedies of all these are +onely acted by the women, who, carrying long knives or _skeanes_ under +their mantles, doe thus play their parts." Again in Warner's "Albion's +England," 1602, p. 129-- + + "And Ganimaedes we are," quoth one, "and thou a prophet trew: + And hidden _skeines_ from underneath their forged garments drew, + Wherewith the tyrant and his bawds with safe escape they slew." + +--See the notes of Mr Steevens and Mr Nichols on "Romeo and Juliet," act +ii. sc. 4. + +[169] The edition of 1657 reads, _red buskins drawn with white ribband. +--Collier_. + +[170] Musical terms. See notes on "Midsummer's Night's Dream," vol. iii. +p. 63, and "King Richard III." vol. vii. p. 6, edit. 1778.--_Steevens_. + +[171] A metaphor drawn from music, more particularly that kind of +composition called a _Ground_, with its _Divisions_. Instead of +_relish_, I would propose to read _flourish_.--_S.P_. + +[172] Mr Steevens supposes this to be a musical term. See note on +"Richard II." act ii. sc. 1-- + + "The setting sun and music at the close." + +[173] Fr. for whistlings.--_Steevens_. + +[174] i.e., Petitionary.--_Steevens_. + +[175] [Altered by Mr Collier to _girls_; but _gulls_ is the reading of +1607.] + +[176] _Like an ordinary page, gloves, hamper_--so the first edition; but +as the two last words seem only the prompter's memoranda, they are +omitted. They are also found in the last edition.--_Collier_. + +[177] Ready. + +[178] Graceful. See Mr Malone's note on "Coriolanus," act ii. sc. 1. + +[179] [Edits., _blasting_.] I would propose to read the _blushing +childhood_, alluding to the ruddiness of Aurora, the _rosy morn_, as in +act iii. sc. 6-- + + "Light, the fair grandchild to the glorious sun, + Opening the casements of the _rosy morn_," &c. + +--_S. Pegge_. + +[180] So in "Hamlet," act i. sc. 1-- + + "But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, + _Walks_ o'er the dew of _yon high eastern hill_." + +[181] A _fool's bauble_, in its _literal_ meaning, is the carved +truncheon which the licensed fools or jesters anciently carried in their +hands. See notes on "All's Well that Ends Well," act iv. sc. 5. +--_Steevens_. + +[182] Winstanley has asserted that Oliver Cromwell performed the part of +Tactus at Cambridge: and some who have written the life of that great +man have fixed upon this speech as what first gave him ideas of +sovereignty. The notion is too vague to be depended upon, and too +ridiculous either to establish or refute. It may, however, not be +unnecessary to mention that Cromwell was born in 1599, and the first +edition of this play [was printed in 1607, and the play itself written +much earlier]. If, therefore, the Protector ever did represent this +character, it is more probable to have been at Huntingdon School. + +[183] [Old copies, _scarve_, and so the edit. of 1780. Mr Collier +substituted _change_ as the reading of the old copies, which it is not. +See Mr Brae's paper read before the Royal Society of Literature, Jan. +1871, 8vo edit. 1873, p. 23, et seq.] + +[184] Edits., _deeds_. Pegge thought that by _deeds_ was intended Tactus +himself; but it is hard to say how this could be made out, as Tactus +cannot be translated _deeds_, though Auditus might be rendered by +metonymy _ears_. + +[185] [Edit., _fear'd_.] + +[186] In Surphlet's "Discourses on the Diseases of Melancholy," 4to, +1599, p. 102, the case alluded to is set down: "There was also of late a +great lord, _which thought himselfe to be a glasse_, and had not his +imagination troubled, otherwise then in this onely thing, for he could +speake mervailouslie well of any other thing: he used commonly to sit, +and tooke great delight that his friends should come and see him, but so +as that he would desire them, that they would not come neere unto him." + +[187] Hitherto misprinted _conclaves_.--_Collier_. [First 4to, +correctly, _concaves_.] + +[188] See Surphlet, p. 102. + +[189] [An allusion to the myth of the werewolf.] + +[190] [This proverb is cited by Heywood. See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, +p. 392.] + +[191] [All the editions except 1657, _bidden_, and all have _arms_ for +_harms_.] + +[192] Presently, forthwith. + +[193] [Edits., _wax_.] + +[194] Some of the old copies [including that of 1607] read-- + + "Here lies the sense that _lying_ gull'd them all." + +--_Collier_. + +[195] Auditus is here called _Ears_, as Tactus is before called +_Deed_.--_Pegge_. [But see note at p. 349.] + +[196] Circles. So in Milton-- + + "Throws his steep flight in many an airy wheel." + +--_Steevens_. + +[197] [It is _Mendacio_ who speaks.] + +[198] Old copies, _Egyptian knights_. Dr Pegge's correction. + +[199] [Edits., _I_.] + +[200] [Edits., _safe_.] + +[201] A pun; for he means _Male aeger_.--_Pegge_. + +[202] The [first edit.] gives the passage thus: _brandish no swords but +sweards of bacon_, which is intended for a pun, and though bad enough, +need not be lost.--_Collier_. + +[203] _Glaves_ are swords, and sometimes partisans.--_Steevens_. + +[204] Lat. for phalanxes.--_Steevens_. + +[205] [Edits., _dept_.] + +[206] Mars. + +[207] See Note 2 to the "First Part of Jeronimo," [v. 349]. + +[208] [Edits., _kist_. The word _hist_ may be supposed to represent the +whistling sound produced by a sword passing rapidly through the air.] + +[209] i.e., Exceeds bounds or belief. See a note on "The Merry Wives +of Windsor," act iv. sc. 2.--_Steevens_. + +[210] "_Graecia mendax_ + Audet in historia."--_Steevens_. + +[211] [His "History," which is divided into nine books, under the names +of the nine Muses.] + +[212] i.e., Whispered him. See note to "The Spanish Tragedy," [vi. 10.] + +[213] [Peter Martyr's "Decades."] + +[214] A luncheon before dinner. The farmers in Essex still use the +word.--_Steevens_. + +So in the "Woman-hater," by Beaumont and Fletcher, act i. sc. 3, Count +Valore, describing Lazarillo, says-- + + "He is none of these + Same Ordinary Eaters, that'll devour + Three breakfasts, as many dinners, and without any + Prejudice to their _Beavers_, drinkings, suppers; + But he hath a more courtly kind of hunger. + And doth hunt more after novelty than plenty." + +Baret, in his "Alvearic," 1580, explains _a boever_, a drinking betweene +dinner and supper; and _a boier_, meate eaten after noone, a collation, +a noone meale. + +[215] See Note 19 to "The Ordinary." + +[216] [In 1576 Ulpian Fulwell published "The First Part of the Eighth +Liberal Science, Entituled Ars Adulandi."] + +[217] This word, which occurs in Ben Jonson and some other writers, +seems to have the same meaning as our _numps_. I am ignorant of its +etymology.--_Steevens_. [Compare Nares, 1859, in _v_.] + +[218] i.e., Other requisites towards the fitting out of a character. +See a note on "Love's Labour Lost," vol. ii. p. 385, edit. 1778. +--_Steevens_. + +[219] A busk-point was, I believe, the lace of a lady's stays. Minsheu +explains a _buske_ to be a part of dress "made of wood or whalebone, a +plated or quilted thing to keepe the body straight." The word, I am +informed, is still in common use, particularly in the country among the +farmers' daughters and servants, for a piece of wood to preserve the +stays from being bent. _Points_ or laces were worn by both sexes, and +are frequently mentioned in our ancient dramatic writers. + +[220] [Edits., _hu, hu_.] + +[221] [i.e., Our modern _pet_, darling, a term of endearment.] Dr +Johnson says that it is a word of endearment from _petit_, little. See +notes on "The Taming of the Shrew," act i. sc. 1. + +Again, in "The City Madam," by Massinger, act ii. sc. 2-- + + "You are _pretty peats_, and your great portions + Add much unto your handsomeness." + +[222] Shirley, in his "Sisters," ridicules these hyperbolical +compliments in a similar but a better strain-- + + "Were it not fine + If you should see your mistress without hair, + Drest only with those glittering beams you talk of? + Two suns instead of eyes, and they not melt + The forehead made of snow! No cheeks, but two + Roses inoculated on a lily, + Between a pendant alabaster nose: + Her lips cut out of coral, and no teeth + But strings of pearl: her tongue a nightingale's! + Would not this strange chimera fright yourself?" + +--_Collier_. + +[223] [i.e., Doff it in salutation.] + +[224] Alluding to the office of sheriff. + +[225] "_Cassock_," says Mr Steevens, "signifies a horseman's loose coat, +and is used in that sense by the writers of the age of Shakespeare. It +likewise appears to have been part of the dress of rusticks." See note +to "All's Well that Ends Well," act iv. sc. 3. + +[226] "A _gimmal_ or _gimbal ring_, Fr. _gemeau_, utr. a Lat. Gemellus, +q.d. Annulus Gemellus, quoniam, sc. duobus aut pluribus orbibus +constat."--_Skinner_. + +_Gimmal rings_ are often mentioned in ancient writers. + +[227] "Quis nescit primam esse Historiae legem, ne quid falsi dicere +audeat; deinde, ne quid veri non audeat."--Cicero "De Orat." lib. ii. 15. + +[228] This was called "The Clouds," in which piece Socrates was +represented hanging up in a basket in the air, uttering numberless +chimerical absurdities, and blaspheming, as it was then reputed, the +gods of his country. At the performance of this piece Socrates was +present himself; and "notwithstanding," says his biographer, "the gross +abuse that was offered to his character, he did not show the least signs +of resentment or anger; nay, such was the unparalleled good nature of +this godlike man, that some strangers there, being desirous to see the +original of this scenic picture, he rose up in the middle of the +performance, stood all the rest of the time, and showed himself to the +people; by which well-placed confidence in his own merit and innocence, +reminding them of those virtues and wisdom so opposite to the sophist in +the play, his pretended likeness, he detected the false circumstances, +which were obtruded into his character, and obviated the malicious +designs of the poet who, having brought his play a second time upon the +stage, met with the contempt he justly merited for such a composition." +--Cooper's "Life of Socrates," p. 55. + +[229] [Old copies, _page's tongue_; but Mendacio, Lingua's page, is +intended. Perhaps we should read _Tongueship's page_.] + +[230] [This is marked in the editions as the opening of a new scene, but +wrongly, as it should seem, as the same persons remain on the stage, and +the conversation is a sequel to what has gone before.] + +[231] These were the names of several species of hawks. See an account +of them in the "Treatises on Falconry," particularly those of Turbervile +and Latham. + +[232] i.e., Hedgehogs. See a note on Shakespeare's "Tempest," i. 28, +edit. 1778.--_Steevens_. + +Again, in Erasmus's "Praise of Folie," 1549, sig. Q 2: "That the soule +of Duns woulde a litle leve Sorbone College, and enter into my breast, +be he never so thornie, and fuller of pricles than is any _urcheon_." + +[233] Perhaps, instead of _the masks are made so strong_, we ought to +read, _the mesh is made so strong_. It clearly means the _mesh of the +net_, from what is said afterwards.--_Collier_. [But _mask_, in +Halliwell's "Dictionary," is said to be used for _mesh_. What is +intended above is not a _net_, but a network ladder.] + +[234] [_Hazard_, the plot of a tennis-court.--Halliwell's "Dictionary."] + +[235] This is one of the many phrases in these volumes which, being not +understood, was altered without any authority from the ancient copies. +The former editions read _odd mouthing_; the text, however, is right; +for old, as Mr Steevens observes, was formerly a common augmentative in +colloquial language, and as such is often used by Shakespeare and +others. See notes on the "Second Part of Henry IV." act ii. sc. 4, and +"The Taming of the Shrew," act iii. sc. 2. + +Again, in Tarlton's "Newes out of Purgatory," 1630, p. 34: "On Sunday at +Masse there was _old ringing of bells_, and old and yong came to church +to see the new roode." + +[236] A sneer at the Utopian Treatises on Government.--_Steevens_. + +[237] The latest of the old copies, [and the first edition, have] _wine_ +instead of _swine_, which is clearly a misprint, as the _hogs_ of +Olfactus are subsequently again mentioned.--_Collier_. + +[238] [Old copies, _he_.] + +[239] [A flogging.] + +[240] [i.e., A blockhead, a fool.--_Steevens_.] + +[241] _Nor I out of Memory's mouth_ is the correct reading, although the +pronoun has been always omitted. Anamnestes is comparing his situation +with that of Mendacio.--_Collier_. + +[242] [See "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," ii. 296.] + +[243] [Another name of Jupiter.] + +[244] [Edits., _belly_.] + +[245] Chess. + +[246] A favourite game formerly, and apparently one of the oldest in +use. The manner in which it was played will appear from the following +epigram of Sir John Harington, the translator of Ariosto-- + + _The Story of Marcus's Life at Primero_. + + "Fond Marcus ever at _Primero_ playes, + Long winter nights, and as long summer dayes: + And I heard once to idle talke attending + The story of his times and coins mis-spending + At first, he thought himselfe halfe way to heaven, + If in his hand he had but got a sev'n. + His father's death set him so high on flote, + All rests went up upon a sev'n and coate. + But while he drawes from these grey coats and gownes, + The gamesters from his purse drew all his crownes. + And he ne'er ceast to venter all in prime, + Till of his age, quite was consum'd the prime. + Then he more warily his rest regards, + And sets with certainties upon the cards, + On sixe and thirtie, or on sev'n and nine, + If any set his rest, and saith, and mine: + But seed with this, he either gaines or saves, + For either Faustus prime is with three knaves, + Or Marcus never can encounter right, + Yet drew two Ases, and for further spight + Had colour for it with a hopeful draught + But not encountred, it avail'd him naught. + Well, sith encountring, he so faire doth misse, + He sets not, till he nine and fortie is. + And thinking now his rest would sure be doubled, + He lost it by the hand, with which sore troubled, + He joynes now all his stocke unto his stake, + That of his fortune he full proofe may make. + At last both eldest hand and five and fifty, + He thinketh now or never (thrive unthrifty.) + Now for the greatest rest he hath the push: + But Crassus stopt a club, and so was flush: + And thus what with the stop, and with the packe, + Poore Marcus and his rest goes still to wracke. + Now must he seek new spoile to rest his rest, + For here his seeds turne weeds, his rest, unrest. + His land, his plate he pawnes, he sels his leases, + To patch, to borrow, and shift he never ceases. + Till at the last two catch-poles him encounter, + And by arrest, they beare him to the Counter. + Now Marcus may set up all rests securely: + For now he's sure to be encountred surely." + +Minsheu thus explains _Primero_:--"_Primero and Primavista_, two games +at cards. Primum et primum visum, that is, first and first seene, +because he that can show such an order of cards first, winnes the game." +[See Dyce's "Shakespeare Glossary," in _v_.] + +[247] See Note 30 to "The Dumb Knight." + +[248] [See "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," ii. 318-19.] So in +Dekker's "Belman's Nights-walke," it is alluded to:--"The set at _Maw_ +being plaid out." + +Henslowe in his Diary mentions a play under the title of "The Maw," +which probably had reference to the game at cards so called. It was +acted on the 14th December 1594. He also names a play entitled "The +Macke," under date of Feb. 21, 1594-5; but it is doubtful if they were +not the same.--_Collier_. + +[249] In the old editions this is given as a part of what is said by +Anamnestes.--_Collier_. + +[250] [See Dyce's "Middleton," iii. 106. _There's no ho_, there are no +bounds or restraints with them.--_Reed_. They are not to be restrained +by a call or ho. The expression is common.--_Dyce_.] + +[251] Rather Ptolemy.--_Pegge_. + +[252] _Latten_, as explained by Dr Johnson, is "Brass; a mixture of +Copper and Caliminaris stone." Mr Theobald, from Monsieur Dacier, says, +"C'est une espece de cuivre de montagne, comme son nom mesme le +temoigne; c'est ce que nous appellons au jourd'huy du _leton_. It is a +sort of mountain copper, as its very name imports, and which we at this +time of day call _latten_." See Mr Theobald's note on "The Merry Wives +of Windsor," act i. sc. 1. + +Among the Harleian MSS. is a tract, No. 6395, entitled "Merry Passages +and Jeasts," written in the seventeenth century, [printed by Thoms in +"Anecdotes and Traditions," 1839,] in which is the following story of +Shakespeare, which seems entitled to as much credit as any of the +anecdotes which now pass current about him: "Shake-speare was god-father +to one of Ben Jonson's children, and after the christning, being in a +deepe study, Jonson came to cheere him up, and ask't him why he was so +melancholy? No, faith, Ben (sayes he) not I, but I have been considering +a great while, what should be the fittest gift for me to bestow upon my +god-child, and I have resolv'd at last; I pr'y thee what, says he? I +faith, Ben, Ile e'en give him a douzen good _Lattin_ spoones, and thou +shall translate them." + +[253] _Deft_ is handy, dexterous. So in "Macbeth," act iv. sc. 1-- + + "Thyself and office _deftly_ show." + +See note on "Macbeth," edit. 1778.--_Steevens_. + +[254] [Concert.] + +[255] [Summoners, officers of the old ecclesiastical court.] + +[256] [Ignorant of arts.] + +[257] A _jangler_, says Baret, is "a jangling fellowe, a babbling +attornie. _Rabula, ae_, mas. gen. [Greek: Dikologos]_ Vn pledoieur +criard, une plaidereau_." + +[258] This speech is in six-line stanzas, and _beforn_ should rhyme to +_morn_, as it does in the old copies, which were here abandoned. +--_Collier_. + +[259] i.e., "Going. _Gate_, in the Northern Dialect, signifies a way; +so that _agate_ is at or upon the way."--Hay's "Collection of Local +Words," p. 13, edit. 1740. + +[260] Here again, as in the passage at p. 354, we have _arms_ for +_harms_. In the old copies this speech of the Herald is printed as +prose.--_Collier_. + +[261] A monster feigned to have the head of a lion, the belly of a goat, +and the tail of a dragon. + +[262] "If at any time in Rolls and Alphabets of Arms you meet with this +term, you must not apprehend it to be that fowl which in barbarous +Latine they call _Bernicla_, and more properly (from the Greek) +_Chenalopex_--a creature well known in Scotland, yet rarely used in +arms; but an instrument used by farriers to curb and command an unruly +horse, and termed Pastomides."--Gibbons's "Introductio ad Latinam +Blasoniam," 1682, p. 1. + +[The allusion here is to the barnacle of popular folk-lore and +superstition, which, from a shell-fish, was transformed into a +goose.--See "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," iii. 309.] + +[263] [A reference to the belief in prodigies reported from Africa. +"Africa semper aliquid oportet novi."--S. Gosson's "School of Abuse," +1579. See also Rich's "My Ladies Looking-glass," 1616, sig. B 3.] + +[264] [Edits. give this speech to the Herald.] + +[265] [The head.] + +[266] A celebrated puppet-show often mentioned by writers of the times +by the name of the Motion of Nineveh. See Ben Jonson's "Bartholomew +Fair," act v. sc. 1; "Wit at Several Weapons," act i.; "Every Woman in +her Humour," 1609, sig. H, and "The Cutter of Coleman Street," act v. +sc. 9. + +[267] So in "Twelfth Night," act i. sc. 1. + + "That strain again; it had a dying _fall_."--_Steevens_. + +[268] [Edits., _bitter_.] + +[269] [See Dyce's "Beaumont and Fletcher," ii. 225, note.] Theobald +observes in his edition of "Beaumont and Fletcher," that this ballad is +mentioned again in "The Knight of the Burning Pestle," and likewise in a +comedy by John Tatham, 1660, called "The Rump, or Mirrour of the Times," +wherein a Frenchman is introduced at the bonfires made for the burning +of the Rump, and catching hold of Priscilla, will oblige her to dance, +and orders the music to play _Fortune my foe_. Again, in "Tom Essence," +1677, p. 37. + +[270] A dance. Sir John Davies, in his poem called "Orchestra," 1596, +stanza 70, thus describes it-- + + "Yet is there one, the most delightfull kind, + A loftie jumping, or a leaping round, + Where arme and arme two dauncers are entwind, + And whirle themselues with strict embracements bound, + And still their feet an _anapest_ do sound: + An _anapest_ is all their musicks song, + Whose first two feet are short, and third is long." + + 71. + + "As the victorious twinnes of Laeda and Ioue, + That taught the Spartans dauncing on the sands, + Of swift Eurotas, daunce in heauen aboue, + Knit and vnited with eternall hands, + Among the starres their double image stands, + Where both are carried with an equall pace, + Together iumping in their turning race." + +[271] "Or, as it is oftener called, _passa mezzo_, from _passer_ to walk, +and _mezzo_ the middle or half; a slow dance, little differing from the +action of walking. As a Galliard consists of five paces or bars in the +first strain, and is therefore called a Cinque pace; the _passa mezzo_, +which is a diminutive of the Galliard, is just half that number, and +from that peculiarity takes its name."--Sir John Hawkins's "History of +Music," iv. 386. [Compare Dyce's second edition of Shakespeare, iii. +412.] + +[272] i.e., St Leger's round. "Sellinger's round was an old country +dance, and was not quite out of knowledge in the last century. Morley +mentions it in his Introduction, p. 118, and Taylor the Water Poet, in +his tract, entitled, 'The World runs on Wheels;' and it is printed in a +'Collection of Country Dances,' published by John Playford in +1679."--Sir John Hawkins's "History of Music," iii. 288, where the notes +are engraved. + +[273] See Plinii "Nat. Hist.," lib. v. c. 9. + +[274] The author certainly in writing this beautiful passage had Spenser +("Faerie Queene," b. ii. c. 12) in his mind. + + "The joyous birds shrouded in cheerful shade," &c. + +--_Collier_. + +[275] Alluding to the fish called the _Sole_, and the musical note +_Sol_.--_Pegge_. + +[276] See note [235]. + +[277] Mixed metal, from the French word _mesler_, to mingle, mix. + +[278] [Lightning-bolt.] + +[279] [Camphored.] + +[280] Plin. "Nat. Hist." lib. xxxvi. c. 16. "Sideritin ob hoc alio +nomine appellant quidam Heracleon: Magnes appellatus est ab inventore +(ut auctor est Nicander) in Ida repertus."--_Pegge_. + +[281] So in "The Merchant of Venice," act i. sc. 1-- + + "With mirth and _laughter_ let old _wrinkles_ come." + +See also the notes of Bishop Warburton and Dr Farmer on "Love's Labour's +Lost," act v. sc. 4.--_Steevens_. + +[282] This quotation from Plautus, and that which follows from Terence, +were assigned by Mr Reed to Communis Sensus, when, in fact, they belong +to Comedus. The initials _Com_. in the old copies led to the +error.--_Collier_. + +[283] The first lines of the prologue to Plautus's "Menechmi." + +[284] See Terence's "Eunuch," act i. sc. 1. + +[285] At the universities, where degrees are conferred. + +[286] i.e., A porch which has as many spiral windings in it as the +shell of the _periwinkle_, or sea-snail.--_Steevens_. + +[287] i.e., Bottles to cast or scatter liquid odours.--_Steevens_. + +[288] The custom of censing or dispersing fragrant scents seems formerly +to have been not uncommon. See Ben Jonson's "Every Man out of his +Humour," act ii. sc. 4. + +[289] _Pomanders_ were balls of perfume formerly worn by the higher +ranks of people. Dr Gray, in his "Notes on Shakespeare," vol. i. p. 269, +says "that a _pomander_ was a little ball made of perfumes, and worn in +the pocket, or about the neck, to prevent infection in times of plague." +From the above receipt, it appears they were moulded in different +shapes, and not wholly confined to that of balls; and the like direction +is given in another receipt for making _pomanders_ printed in Markham's +"English Housewife," p. 151, edit. 1631. + +[290] _Non bene olet, qui semper bene olet_. + +[291] Probably some character notorious in the University of Cambridge +at the time when this play was written or represented.--_Steevens_. + +[292] Turquois. + +[293] [Sharpen.] + +[294] [Edits., _musing_.] + +[295] [Primary.] + +[296] [The wine so called.] + +[297] Finer, more gaudily dressed. So in "Wily Beguiled"-- + + "Come, nurse, gather: + A crown of roses shall adorn my head, + I'll _prank_ myself with flowers of the prime; + And thus I'll spend away my primrose time." + +And in Middleton's "Chast Mayd in Cheapside," 1630 [Dyces "Middleton," +iv. 59]-- + + "I hope to see thee, wench, within these few yeeres + Circled with children, _pranking_ up a girl, + And putting jewels in their little eares, + Fine sport, i'faith." + +[298] i.e., Whisper, or become silent. As in Nash's "Pierce Penilesse, +his Supplication to the Divell," 1592, p. 15: "But _whist_, these are +the workes of darknesse, and may not be talkt of in the daytime." [The +word is perfectly common.] + +[299] While he is speaking, Crapula, from the effects of over-eating, +is continually coughing, which is expressed in the old copies by the +words _tiff toff, tiff toff_, within brackets. Though it might not +be necessary to insert them, their omission ought to be mentioned. +--_Collier_. + +[300] i.e., Glutton; one whose paunch is distended by food. See a note +on "King Henry IV., Part I," v. 304, edit. 1778.--_Steevens_. + +[301] i.e., Whisper. + +[302] [Visus fancies himself Polyphemus searching for Outis--i.e., +Ulysses, who had blinded him.] + +[303] [Edits., _Both_.] + +[304] [Row.] + +[305] [Nearest.] + +[306] [Edits., _ambrosian_.] + +[307 [Fiddle.] + +[308] A voiding knife was a long one used by our indelicate ancestors to +sweep bones, &c., from the table into the _voider_ or basket, in which +broken meat was carried from the table.--_Steevens_. + +[309] Reward. + +[310] [Edits., _him_.] + +[311] [Edits., _sprites_.] + +[312] The edition of 1657 reads-- + + "A greater soldier than the god of _Mars_." + +--_Collier_. [The edition of 1607 also has _Mars_.] + +[313] i.e., Hamstring him.--_Steevens_. + +[314] "_Gulchin, q.d_. a _Gulckin_, i.e., parvus Gulo; _kin_ enim +minuit. Alludit It. _Guccio_, Stultus, hoc autem procul dubio a Teut. +_Geck_, Stultus, ortum ducit."--_Skinner_. Florio explains _Guccio_, a +gull, a sot, a ninnie, a meacock. Ben Jonson uses the word in "The +Poetaster," act iii. sc. 4: "Come, we must have you turn fiddler again, +slave; get a base violin at your back, and march in a tawny coat, with +one sleeve, to Goose-fair; then you'll know us, you'll see us then, you +will _gulch_, you will." + +[315] _Bawsin_, in some counties, signifies a _badger_. I think I have +heard the vulgar Irish use it to express bulkiness. Mr Chatterton, in +the "Poems of the Pseudo-Rowley," has it more than once in this sense. +As, _bawsyn olyphantes_, i.e., bulky elephants.--_Steevens_. + +[316] [Edits., _weary_. I wish that I could be more confident that +_weird_ is the true word. _Weary_ appears to be wrong, at any rate.] + +[317] [Edits., _bedewy_.] + +[318] [This and Chanter are the names of dogs. Auditus fancies himself +a huntsman.] + +[319] _Counter_ is a term belonging to the chase. [Gascoigne,] in his +"Book of Hunting," 1575, p. 243, says, "When a hounde hunteth backwardes +the same way that the chase is come, then we say he hunteth _counter_. +And if he hunt any other chase than that which he first undertooke, we +say he hunteth _change_." So in "Hamlet," act iv. sc. 5-- + + "How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! + O, this is _counter_, you false Danish dogs." + +See Dr Johnson's note on this passage. + +[320] [The author may have had in his mind an anecdote related of Queen +Elizabeth and Sir Edward Dyer. See the "New London Jest Book," p. 346.] + +[321] [Flatulent.] + +[322] [_Rett_ and _Cater_ appear to be the names of dogs. Edits. print +_ware wing cater_.] + +[323] [See note at p. 367.] + +[324] Idle, lazy, slothful. Minsheu derives it from the French _lasche_, +desidiosus. + +[325] [See a review of, and extracts from, this very curious play in +Fry's "Bibliographical Memoranda," 1816, pp. 345-50.] + +[326] Catalogue of the library of John Hutton. Sold at Essex House, +1764, p. 121. The whole title of the tract, which Mr Reed does not +appear to have seen, as he quotes it only from a sale catalogue, is as +follows:--"Three Miseries of Barbary: Plague, Famine, Ciuill warre. With +a relation of the death of Mahamet the late Emperour: and a briefe +report of the now present Wars betweene the three Brothers. Printed by +W.I. for Henry Gosson, and are to be sold in Pater noster rowe, at the +signe of the Sunne." It is without date, and the name of the author, +George Wilkins, is subscribed to a dedication, "To the right worshipfull +the whole Company of Barbary Merchants." The tract is written in an +ambitious style, and the descriptions are often striking; but there is +nothing but the similarity of name to connect it with "The Miseries of +Enforced Marriage."--_Collier_. + +[327] [Hazlitt's "Handbook," 1867, p. 656.] + +[328] [Not in the old copies.] + +[329] "This comedy (as Langbaine improperly calls it) has been a great +part of it revived by Mrs Behn, under the title of 'The Town Fop, or Sir +Timothy Tawdry.'" + +[330] These were among the articles of extravagance in which the youth +of the times used to indulge themselves. They are mentioned by Fennor, +in "The Compters Commonwealth," 1617, p. 32: "Thinkes himselfe much +graced (as to be much beholding to them) as to be entertained among +gallants, that were wrapt up in sattin suites, cloakes lined with +velvet, that scorned to weare any other then beaver hats and gold bands, +rich swords and scarfes, silke stockings and gold fringed garters, or +russett bootes and _gilt spurres_; and so compleate cape ape, that he +almost dares take his corporal oath the worst of them is worth (at +least) a thousand a yeare, when heaven knows the best of them all for a +month, nay, sometimes a yeare together, have their pockets worse +furnished then Chandelors boxes, that have nothing but twopences, pence, +halfe pence, and leaden tokens in them." + +[331] The following quotation from the "Perfuming of Tobacco, and the +great abuse committed in it," 1611, shows, in opposition to Mr +Gilchrist's conjecture, that _drinking_ tobacco did not mean extracting +the juice by chewing it, but refers to drawing and drinking the smoke of +it. "The smoke of tobacco (the which Dodoneus called rightly Henbane of +Peru) _drunke_ and _drawen_, by a pipe, filleth the membranes +(_meninges_) of the braine, and astonisheth and filleth many persons +with such joy and pleasure, and sweet losse of senses, that they can by +no means be without it." In fact, to _drink_ tobacco was only another +term for smoking it.--_Collier_. + +[332] Alluding to the colour of the habits of servants. + +[333] i.e., Owns. See note to "Cornelia" [v. 232]. + +[334] The omission of this stage direction, which is found in the old +copies, rendered what follows it unintelligible. Perhaps _Who list to +have a lubberly load_ is a line in some old ballad.--_Collier_. + +[335] [Anthony Munday.] + +[336] A custom still observed at weddings. + +[337] _Himself_, omitted by Mr Reed, and restored now from the old copy +of 1611.--_Collier_. + +[338] [Edits., _pugges_.] + +[339] [Edits, read-- + + "They are _sovereigns_, cordials that preserve our lives." + +[340] See Mr Steevens's note on "Othello," act ii. sc. 1. [But compare +Middleton's "Blurt, Master Constable," 1602 ("Works," by Dyce, i. 280).] + +[341] [Edits., _his_. Even the passage is now obscure and +unsatisfactory.] + +[342] [Separate.] This is obviously quoted from the marriage ceremony: +as Mr Todd has shown, the Dissenters in 1661 did not understand _depart_ +in the sense of _separate_, which led to the alteration of the Liturgy, +"till death us _do part_." In the "Salisbury Manual" of 1555 it stands +thus: "I, N, take thee, M, to my wedded wyf, to have and to holde fro +this day forwarde, for better for wors, for richer for poorer, in +sicknesse and in hele, tyl deth us _departe_."--_Collier_. + +So in "Every Woman in her Humour," 1609: "And the little God of love, he +shall be her captain: sheele sewe under him _'till death us depart_, and +thereto I plight thee my troth." And Heywood, in his "Wise Woman of +Hogsdon," iii., makes Chastley also quote from the marriage ceremony: +"If every new moone a man might have a new wife, that's every year a +dozen; but this _'till death us depart_ is tedious." + +[343] [Edits., _two sentinels_.] + +[344] Edits., _them one_. + +[345] [Edits., _lives_.] + +[346] [Remind.] + +[347] [Edits., _know him great_, which could only be made sense by +supposing it to mean, _knowing him rich_, and not a person to be +offended. Scarborow afterwards repudiates the idea of being +_ungrateful_.] + +[348] By a misprint the three following lines have been till now given +to Harcop.--_Collier_. + +[349] [Edits., _your presence_.] + +[350] First edit., _even_. + +[351] [Edits., _is_.] + +[352] [Edits., _what_.] + +[353] That is, acquainted, or informed him. So in "Every Man in his +Humour," act i. sc. 5, Bobadil says, "_Possess_ no gentleman of our +acquaintance with notice of my lodging." And again, in Beaumont and +Fletcher's "Honest Man's Fortune," act ii. sc. 1-- + + "Sir, I am very well _possess'd_ of it." + +[354] Edits. 1629 [and 1637], _honoured_. + +[355] First edit., _how_. + +[356] [Edits., _they_.] + +[357] The word _sir_ was inserted here as if only to spoil the measure. +--_Collier_. + +[358] i.e., Amerce.--_Steevens_. + +[359] [i.e., the bond.] + +[360] [Edits., _pergest_, which Steevens in a note explained _goeth on_, +from Lat. _pergo_; and Nares cites the present passage for the word. I +do not believe that it was ever employed in English, though Shakespeare +uses the original Latin once. _Purgest_ is surely preferable, since +Ilford has been just giving a list of those he has undone.] + +[361] [Apparently a play on the double meaning of _talent_ is intended.] + +[362] [Bonds.] + +[363] In a similar vein of humour, but much more exquisite, Addison, +speaking of Sir Roger de Coverley, says, "He told me some time since +that, upon his courting the perverse widow, he had disposed of an +hundred acres in a diamond ring, which he would have presented her with, +had she thought fit to accept it; and that upon her wedding-day she +should have carried on her head fifty of the tallest oaks upon his +estate. He further informed me that he would have given her a coalpit to +keep her in clean linen; that he would have allowed her the profits of a +windmill for her fans, and have presented her once in three years with +the shearing of his sheep for her under-petticoats."--_Spectator_, No. +295. + +In Wilson's "Discourse uppon Usurye," 1572, the subsequent passage +occurs:--"Thus master merchant, when he hath robbed the poore gentleman +and furnisht him in this manner to get a little apparel upon his back, +girdeth him with this pompe in the tail: Lo, sayethe hee, yonder goeth a +very strong stowt gentleman, for _he cariethe upon his backe a faire +manour, land and all_, and may therefore well be standard-bearer to any +prince Christian or heathen." + +[364] [Chicken.] + +[365] The place most commonly used for exposing the heads of traitors. + +[366] [Edits.-- + + "O! but what shall I write? + Mine own excuse." + +[367] [Edits., _large, full_.] + +[368] [Edits., _appearance, and so as they are, I hope we shall be, more +indeer'd, intirely, better, and more feelingly acquainted_.] + +[369] [Either whets their appetite, or prostrates them. The speaker +alludes probably to the early forenoon meal then in vogue.] + +[370] The line was formerly mispointed, and misprinted thus-- + + "Then live a strumpet. Better be unborn." + +Clare means, that it were better never to have been born than to live a +strumpet.--_Collier_. + +[371] Edit. 1611, _would_; and in the next line, _did_. + +[372] [Edits., _That_.] + +[373] [Edits., _writes_.] + +[374] Pitiless, without pity. + +[375] [Edits., _her_.] + +[376] [This line is assuredly corrupt, but the true reading is a matter +of question.] + +[377] [Edits., _and_.] + +[378] Their exit is not marked, but as their re-entrance is noticed +afterwards, it is to be presumed that they followed, the old man out. + +[379] Perhaps misprinted for _haven_.--_Collier_. + +[380] _Example by, &c_.--second and third edits. + +[381] [Edits.], _stare_-wearer, which means no doubt _stair_-wearer, or +wearer of the stairs by going up and down them so frequently at call. +--_Collier_. + +[382] [Edit. 1607, _ha't for you_.] + +[383] "_Red lattice_ at the doors and windows were formerly the external +denotements of an alehouse; hence the present _chequers_." Mr Steevens +observes (note to "Merry Wives of Windsor," act ii. sc. 2) that "perhaps +the reader will express some surprise when he is told that shops with +the sign of the _chequers_, were common among the Romans. See a view of +the left-hand street of Pompeii (No. 9) presented by Sir William +Hamilton (together with several others equally curious) to the Antiquary +Society." [Compare "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," ii. 277-8.] +Marston, in the "First Part of Antonio and Mellida," act v., makes +Balurdo say: "No, I am not Sir Jeffrey Balurdo: I am not as well known +by my wit as an _alehouse_ by a _red lattice_." + +[384] i.e., Defiles. See note on "Macbeth," edit. 1778, iv. 524. +--_Steevens_. + +[385] [See note at p. 470.] + +[386] The first edit, reads, _and any man else and he_. + +[387] Three different departments of a prison, in which debtors were +confined according to their ability or incapacity to pay for their +accommodations: all three are pretty accurately described by Fennor in +"The Compter's Commonwealth," 1617. + +[388] [Edits., _importance_.] + +[389] _Sack_ with _sugar_ was formerly a favourite liquor. Although it +is mentioned very often in contemporary writers, it is difficult to +collect from any circumstances what the kind of wine then called _sack_ +was understood to be. In the Second Part of "Henry IV.," act iv. sc. 3, +Falstaff speaks of _sherris sack_; and Dr Johnson supposes the fat +knight's admired potation was what we now call _sherry_, which he says +is drunk with sugar. This last assertion is contradicted by Mr Steevens, +who with more truth asserts that _sherry_ is at this time never drunk +with _sugar_, whereas _Rhenish_ frequently is. Dr Warburton seems to be +of opinion that the sweet wine still denominated _sack_ was that so +often mentioned by Falstaff, and the great fondness of the English +nation for _sugar_ rather countenances that idea. Hentzner, p. 88, edit. +1757, speaking of the manners of the English, says, _In potu copiosae +immittunt saccarum_--they put a great deal of sugar in their drink; and +Moryson, in his "Itinerary," 1617, p. 155, mentioning the Scots, +observes, "They drinke pure wines, not with _sugar, as the English_;" +again, p. 152, "But gentlemen garrawse onely in wine, with which many +mixe _sugar_, which I never observed in any other place or kingdome to +be used for that purpose: and because the taste of the English is thus +delighted with sweetnesse, the wines in tavernes (for I speak not of +merchants or gentlemen's cellars) are commonly mixed at the filling +thereof, to make them pleasant." _Sack and sugar_ are mentioned in "Jack +Drum's Entertainment," sig. G 3; "The Shoemaker's Holiday," sig. E; +"Everie Woman in Her Humour," sig. D 4; and "The Wonderful Yeare," 1603. +It appears, however, from the following passage in "The English +Housewife," by Gervase Markham, 1631, p. 162, that there were various +species of _sack_: "Your best _sacke_ are of Seres in Spaine, your +smaller of Galicia and Portugall: your strong _sackes_ are of the +islands of the Canaries and of Malligo, and your Muscadine and Malmseys +are of many parts of Italy, Greece, and some speciall islands." [But see +an elaborate note on sack (vin sec) in Dyce's "Shakespeare Glossary," +in _v_.] + +[390] [Edit., _courses_.] + +[391] [A room in the inn so called.] + +[392] The second edition has it, _my master hopes to ride a cockhorse by +him before he leaves him_.--_Collier_. + +[393] _Such is Master Scarborow; such are his company_--edit. 1611. +--_Collier_. + +[394] [A room so called.] + +[395] [Old copies, _time_.] + +[396] See note to "The City Nightcap," act iii. + +[397] Move, or stir. _Bouger_, Fr. + +[398] I believe an _Epythite_ signifies a beggar--[Greek: epithetaes].-- +_Steevens_. + +[399] [Alluding to a tapestry representing the story of Susanna.] + +[400] [Edits., _father's old man_.] + +[401] [Edits., _to_.] + +[402] [Booty, earnings.] + +[403] This is a corruption of the Italian _corragio_! courage! a +hortatory exclamation. So, in the Epilogue to "Albumazer," 1615-- + + Two hundred crowns? and twenty pound a year + For three good lives? _cargo_! hai, Trincalo!" + +--_Steevens_. + +[404] A Fr. G. _Cigue_, utr. a Lat. Cucuta.--_Skinner_. + +_Cigue_ f. Hemlocke, Homlocke, hearbe Bennet, Kex.--_Cotgrave_. + +[405] _Dry-meat_ is inserted from the copy of 1611.--_Collier_. + +[406] _Heir_ and _heiress_ were formerly confounded in the same way as +_prince_ was applied to both male and female. So in Cyril Tourneur's +"Atheist's Tragedy," 1612, we have-- + + This Castabella is a wealthy _heire_." + +--_Collier_. + +[407] We must here suppose that butler whispers to Ilford the place +where the lady _lies_ or _lodges_.--_Collier_. + +[408] The following extracts from Stubbes's "Anatomie of Abuses," 4to, +1595, p. 57, will show the manners of the English in some particulars +which are alluded to in the course of these volumes: "Other some +(i.e., of the women of England) spend the greatest part of the day _in +sitting at the dore_, to show their braveries, and to make knowne their +beauties, to beholde the passengers by, to view the coast, to see +fashions, and to acquaint themselves with the bravest fellows; for if +not for these causes, I see no other causes why they _should sit at +their dores_, from morning till noon (as many do), from noon to night, +thus vainly spending their golden dayes in filthy idleness and sin. +Againe, other some being weary of that exercise, take occasion (about +urgent affaires you must suppose) to walke into the towne, and least +anything might be gathered, but that they goe about serious matters +indeed, they take their baskets in their hands, or under their arms, +under which pretence pretie conceits are practized, and yet may no man +say black is their eye. + +"In the field's and suburbes of the cities they have gardens either +paled or walled round about very high, with their harbers and bowers fit +for the purpose. And least they might be espied in these open places, +they have their banquetting-houses with galleries, turrets, and what +not, therein sumptuously erected: wherein they may (and doubtless do) +many of them play the filthy persons. And for that their gardens are +locked, some of them have three or four keys a piece, whereof one they +keep for themselves, the other their paramours have to goe in before +them, least happily they might be perceived, for then were all the sport +dasht. Then to these gardens they repair, when they list, with a basket +and a boy, where they meeting their sweet harts, receive their wished +desires." + +[409] See note to "The Parson's Wedding," iii. 3. + +[410] [A woman of loose character. Such was its ordinary acceptation, +yet not its invariable one. See Lovelace's Poems, by Hazlitt, 1864, pp. +xl., xli., and 133, notes.] See note to "King Henry IV., Part II.," +edit. 1778, v. 522.--_Steevens_. + +[411] [Edits., _throw_.] + +[412] "Towards the rear of the stage there appears to have been a +balcony or upper stage, the platform of which was probably eight or nine +feet from the ground. I suppose it to have been supported by pillars. +From hence, in many of our old plays, part of the dialogue was spoken; +and in front of it curtains likewise were hung, so as occasionally to +conceal the persons in it from the view of the audience."--Malone's +"History of the Stage." See his edition of "Shakespeare" by Boswell, +iii. 79. + +[413] [The two brothers, disguised for the purpose, pretend to be their +sister's uncles, and engage in a conversation about her marriage, +intended to be overheard by Ilford and the others below.] + +[414] [Edits., _beyond discourse, she's a paragon for a prince, than a +fit implement for a gentleman; beyond my element_.] + +[415] [Edit. 1607] says, _Exit Ilford with his Sister_, but this is +obviously an error: it means with Scarborow's sister.--_Collier_. + +[416] _Indeed_, second and third editions. + +[417] [Edits., _for_.] + +[418] [Edits., _flourish_.] + +[419] [i.e., _Which make_.] + +[420] _Them_ is the reading of the quarto, 1611, and perhaps Thomas +refers to "nature and her laws," mentioned not very intelligibly, in his +preceding speech.--_Collier_. [The first edit. of 1607 reads rightly +_thee_.] + +[421] The grammar and language of this line are alike obscure and +incorrect; but the sense is tolerably clear--"Thou hast been so bad, the +best thing I can say is, &c." + +[422] [Edits., _finisht_.] + +[423] i.e. Measure it out. Hesperiam metire jacens.--_Virgil_. +--_Steevens_. + +[424] i.e., Facility; [Greek: euergos], facilis.--_Steevens_. + +[425] "Apud eosdem nasci Ctesias scribit, quam mantichoram appellat, +triplici dentium ordine pectinatim coeuntium, facie et auriculis +hominis, oculis glaucis, colore sanguineo, corpore leonis, cauda +scorpionis modo spicula infigentem: vocis ut si misceatur fistulae et +tubae concentus: velocitatis magnae, humani corporis vel praecipue +appetentem."--C. Plinii "Nat. Hist." lib. viii. c. 21. + +[426] The edit. 1611, reads-- + + "Do as the devil does, hate panther-mankind."--_Collier_. + +[427] _All--breath_, edits. 1611 and 1629. + +[428] The old copy of 1611 reads, _unto their wives_, and it has been +supposed a misprint for _wines_; but this seems doubtful taking the +whole passage together, and the subsequent reference to the _children. +--Collier_. + +[429] i.e., To defile. So in Churchyard's "Challenge," 1593, p. 251-- + + "Away foule workes, that _fil'd_ my face with blurs!" + +Again, "Macbeth," act iii. sc. 1-- + + "If it be so, + For Banquo's issue have I _fil'd_ my mind." + +See also Mr Steevens's note on the last passage. + +[430] Sorry for you. + +[431] [Edits., _or_, which is merely the old form of _ere_.] + +[432] Mischievous, unlucky. So in "All's Well that Ends Well," act i. +sc. 5-- + + "A shrewd knave and an _unhappy_." + +See also Mr Steevens's note on "Henry VIII.," act i. sc. 4. + +[433] _I_ formerly was the mode of writing, as well as pronouncing, this +word. + +[434] ["The fine effect which is produced through the foregoing scenes +by the idea of the 'Enforced Marriage' hanging on them like the German +notion of Fate, is destroyed by this happy ending."--_MS. note in one of +the former edits_.] + +[435] [Bond.] + +[436] [So in the ballad of "Auld Robin Gray"-- + + "My mother did na speak, + But she look'd me in the face," &c. + +--_MS. note in one of the former edits_.] + +[437] '51 edit. 1607, _letter_. + +[438] _Ignes fatui_, Wills o' th' Wisp. See Mr Steevens's Note on "King +Henry VIII.," act v. sc. 3. + +[439] [Edits., _And these_. The emendation is conjectured.] + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Select Collection of Old English +Plays, Vol. IX, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD ENGLISH PLAYS *** + +***** This file should be named 10550.txt or 10550.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/5/5/10550/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Tapio Riikonen and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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