A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 13
by Robert Dodsley · English · Gutenberg #49422 · 774,938 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 13
Author: Robert Dodsley
Editor: William Carew Hazlitt
Release date: July 12, 2015 [eBook #49422]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49422
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SELECT COLLECTION OF OLD ENGLISH PLAYS, VOLUME 13 ***
A SELECT COLLECTION
OF
OLD ENGLISH PLAYS.
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.
BENJAMIN BLOM, INC.
[Illustration: New York]
A MATCH AT MIDNIGHT.
_EDITION._
_A Match at Mid-night. A Pleasant Comœdie: As it hath beene
Acted by the Children of the Revells. Written by W. R. London:
Printed by Aug. Mathewes, for William Sheares, and are to be
sold at his Shop, in Brittaines Bursse._ 1633. 4º.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+Sir Marmaduke Many-Minds.+
+Sir Janus Ambexter.+
+Captain Carvegut.+
+Lieutenant Bottom.+
+Ancient Young.+
+Bloodhound+, _a usurer_.
+Alexander Bloodhound+, } _his two sons_.
+Tim Bloodhound+, }
+Randall+, _a Welshman_.
+Ear-lack+, _a scrivener_.
+Sim+, _the clown_.
+John+, _servant to the Widow_.
+Jarvis+, _the Widow's husband, disguised like her servant_.
_A Smith._
+Busy+, _a Constable_.
_Watch._
[+Women.+]
+Widow Wag.+
+Moll+, _Bloodhound's daughter_.
+Widow's Maid.+
+Mistress Coote+, _a bawd_.
+Sue Shortheels+, _a whore_.
A MATCH AT MIDNIGHT.
ACT I., SCENE I.
_Enter, as making themselves ready, +Tim Bloodhound+,
and +Sim+ the man._
+Sim.+ Good morrow, Master Tim.
+Tim.+ Morrow, Sim; my father stirring, Sim?
+Sim.+ Not yet, I think; he heard some ill-news of your
brother Alexander last night, that will make him lie an hour
extraordinary.
+Tim.+ Hum: I'm sorry the old man should lie by the hour; but,
O, these wicked elder brothers, that swear refuse them,[1]
and drink nothing but wicked sack; when we swear nothing but
niggers-noggers, make a meal of a bloat herring, water it with
four-shillings' beer, and then swear we have dined as well as
my lord mayor.
+Sim.+ Here was goody Fin, the fishwoman, fetched home her ring
last night.
+Tim.+ You should have put her money by itself, for fear of
wronging of the whole heap.
+Sim.+ So I did, sir, and washed it first in two waters.
+Tim.+ All these petty pawns, sirrah, my father commits to my
managing, to instruct me in this craft that, when he dies, the
commonwealth may not[2] want a good member.
_Enter +Mistress Mary+._
+Sim.+ Nay, you are cursed as much as he already.
+Mis. Mary.+ O brother, 'tis well you are up.
+Tim.+ Why, why?
+Mis. Mary.+ Now you shall see the dainty widow, the sweet
widow, the delicate widow, that to-morrow morning must be our
mother-in-law.
+Tim.+ What, the widow Wag?
+Sim.+ Yes, yes; she that dwells in Blackfriars, next to the
sign of the Fool laughing at a feather.[3]
+Mis. Mary.+ She, she; good brother, make yourself handsome,
for my father will bring her hither presently.
+Tim.+ Niggers-noggers, I thought he had been sick, and had not
been up, Sim.
+Sim.+ Why, so did I too; but it seems the widow took him at a
better hand, and raised him so much the sooner.
+Tim.+ While I tie my band, prythee stroke up my foretop a
little: niggers, an' I had but dreamed of this an hour before
I waked, I would have put on my Sunday clothes. 'Snails, my
shoes are pale as the cheek of a stewed pander; a clout, a
clout, Sim.
+Sim.+ More haste the worse speed; here's ne'er a clout now.
+Tim.+ What's that lies by the hooks?
+Sim.+ This? 'tis a sumner's coat.[4]
+Tim.+ Prythee, lend's a sleeve of that; he had a noble on't
last night, and never paid me my bill-money.
_Enter +Old Bloodhound+, the +Widow+, her +Maid+,
and +Man+._[5]
+Blood.+ Look, look, up[6] and ready; all is ready, widow. He
is in some deep discourse with Sim, concerning moneys out to
one or another.
+Wid.+ Has he said his prayers, sir?
+Blood.+ Prayer before providence! When did ye know any thrive
and swell that uses it? He's a chip o' th' old block; I
exercise him in the trade of thrift, by turning him to all the
petty pawns. If they come to me, I tell them I have given over
brokering, moiling for muck and trash, and that I mean to live
a life monastic, a praying life: pull out the tale of Crœsus
from my pocket, and swear 'tis called "Charity's Looking-Glass,
or an exhortation to forsake the world."
+Maid.+ Dainty hypocrite! [_Aside._
+Wid.+ Peace!
+Blood.+ But let a fine fool that's well-feathered come,
and withal good meat, I have a friend, it may be, that may
compassionate his wants. I'll tell you an old saw[7] for't over
my chimney yonder--
_A poor man seem to him that's poor,
And prays thee for to lend;
But tell the prodigal (not quite spent)
Thou wilt procure a friend._
+Wid.+ Trust me, a thrifty saw.
+Blood.+ Many will have virtuous admonitions on their walls,
but not a piece in their coffers: give me these witty politic
saws; and indeed my house is furnished with no other.
+Wid.+ How happy shall I be to wed such wisdom!
+Blood.+ Shalt bed it, shalt bed it, wench; shalt ha't by
infusion. Look, look!
_Enter a +Smith+._
+Smith.+ Save ye, Master Tim.
+Tim.+ Who's this? goodman File, the blacksmith! I thought it
had been our old collier. Did you go to bed with that dirty
face, goodman File?
+Smith.+ And rise with it too, sir.
+Tim.+ What have you bumming out there, goodman File?
+Smith.+ A vice, sir, that I would fain be furnished with a
little money upon.
+Tim.+ Why, how will you do to work then, goodman File?
+Smith.+ This is my spare vice, not that I live by.
+Tim.+ Hum! you did not buy this spare vice of a lean courtier,
did ye?
+Smith.+ No, sir, of a fat cook, that 'strained[8] of a smith
for's rent.
+Sim.+ O hard-hearted man of grease!
+Tim.+ Nay, nay, Sim, we must do't sometimes.
+Blood.+ Ha, thrifty whoreson!
+Tim.+ And what would serve your turn, goodman File?
+Smith.+ A noble, sir.
+Tim.+ What! upon a spare vice to lend a noble?
+Sim.+ Why, sir, for ten groats you may make yourself drunk,
and so buy a vice outright for half the money.
+Tim.+ That is a noble vice, I assure you.
+Sim.+ How long would you have it?
+Smith.+ But a fortnight; 'tis to buy stuff, I protest, sir.
+Tim.+ Look you, being a neighbour, and born one for another----
+Blood.+ Ha, villain, shalt have all!
+Tim.+ There is five shillings upon't, which, at the
fortnight's end, goodman File, you must make five shillings
sixpence.
+Smith.+ How, sir?
+Tim.+ Nay, an' it were not to do you a courtesy----
+Blood.+ Ha, boy!
+Tim.+ And then I had forgot threepence for my bill; so there
is four shillings and ninepence,[9] which you are to tender
back five shillings sixpence, goodman File, at the end of the
fortnight.
+Smith.+ Well, an' it were not for earnest necessity----Ha,
boys! I come, I come, you black rascals, let the cans go round.
[_Exit +Smith+._
+Tim.+ Sim, because the man's an honest man, I pray lay up his
vice, as safe as it were our own.
+Sim.+ And if he miss his day, and forfeit, it shall be yours
and your heirs for ever.
+Blood.+ What, disbursing money, boy? Here is thy mother-in-law.
+Sim.+ Your nose drops: 'twill spoil her ruff.
+Tim.+ Pray, forsooth, what's a clock?
+Maid.+ O, fie upon him, mistress, I thought he had begun to
ask you blessing.
+Wid.+ Peace, we'll have more on't. [_Walks towards him._
+Tim.+ I wonnot kiss, indeed.
+Sim.+ An' he wonnot, here are those that will, forsooth.
+Blood.+ Get you in, you rogue. [_Exit +Sim.+_
+Wid.+ I hope you will, sir: I was bred in Ireland, where the
women begin the salutation.
+Tim.+ I wonnot kiss truly.
+Wid.+ Indeed you must.
+Tim.+ Would my girdle may break if I do.[10]
+Wid.+ I have a mind.
+Tim.+ Niggers-noggers, I wonnot.
+Blood.+ Nay, nay, now his great oath's pass'd, there's no talk on't.
I like him ne'er the worse; there's an old saw for't--
_A kiss first, next the feeling sense,
Crack say the purse-strings, out fly the pence._
But he can talk, though: whose boy are you, Tim?
+Tim.+ Your boy, forsooth, father.
+Blood.+ Can you turn and wind a penny, Tim?
+Tim.+ Better than yourself, forsooth, father.
+Blood.+ You have looked in the church-book of late; how old
are you, Tim?
+Tim.+ Two and twenty years, three months, three days, and
three quarters of an hour, forsooth, father.
+Wid.+ He has arithmetic.
+Blood.+ And grammar too: what's Latin for your head, Tim?
+Tim.+ _Caput._
+Wid.+ But what for the head of a block?
+Tim.+ _Caput_ blockhead.
+Blood.+ Do you hear; your ear?
+Tim.+ _Aura._
+Blood.+ Your eye?
+Tim.+ _Oculus._
+Blood.+ That's for one eye; what's Latin for two?
+Tim.+ _Oculus-Oculus._[11]
+Widow.+ An admirable accidental grammarian, I protest, sir.
+Blood.+ This boy shall have all: I have an elder rogue that
sucks and draws me; a tavern academian; one that protests to
whores, and shares with highway lawyers; an arrant unclarified
rogue, that drinks nothing but wicked sack.
_Enter +Sim+ and +Alexander+ drunk._
+Sim.+ Here's a gentleman would speak with you.
+Blood.+ Look, look; now he's come for more money.
+Wid.+ A very hopeful house to match into, wench; the father a
knave, one son a drunkard, and t'other a fool. [_Aside._
+Tim.+ O monster, father! Look if he be not drunk; the very
sight of him makes me long for a cup of six.[12]
+Alex.+ Pray, father, pray to God to bless me. [_To +Tim+._
+Blood.+ Look, look! takes his brother for his father!
+Sim.+ Alas, sir! when the drink's in, the wit's out? and none
but wise children know their own fathers.
+Tim.+ Why, I am none of your father, brother; I am Tim; do you
know Tim?
+Alex.+ Yes, umph--for a coxcomb.
+Wid.+ How wild he looks! Good sir, we'll take our leaves.
+Blood.+ Shalt not go, faith, widow: you cheater, rogue;
must I have my friends frighted out of my house by you? Look
he[13] steal nothing to feast his bawds. Get you out, sirrah!
there are constables, beadles, whips, and the college of
extravagants, yclept Bridewell, you rogue; you rogue, there is,
there is, mark that.
+Alex.+ Can you lend me a mark upon this ring, sir? and there
set it down in your book, and, umph--mark that.
+Blood.+ I'll have no stolen rings picked out of pockets, or
taken upon the way,[14] not I.
+Alex.+ I'll give you an old saw for't.
+Blood.+ There's a rogue mocks his father: sirrah, get you
gone. Sim, go let loose the mastiff.
+Sim.+ Alas, sir! he'll tear and pull out your son's throat.
+Blood.+ Better pull't out than halter stretch it. Away, out of
my doors! rogue, I defy thee.
+Alex.+ Must you be my mother-in-law?
+Wid.+ So your father says, sir.
+Alex.+ You see the worst of your eldest son; I abuse nobody.
+Blood.+ The rogue will fall upon her.
+Alex.+ I will tell you an old saw.
+Wid.+ Pray let's hear it.
+Alex.+
_An old man is a bedful of bones,
And who can it deny?
By whom (umph)[15] a young wench lies and groans
For better company._
+Blood.+ Did you ever hear such a rascal? Come, come, let's
leave him: I'll go buy thy wedding-ring presently. You're best
be gone, sirrah: I am going for the constable--ay, and one of
the churchwardens; and, now I think on't, he shall pay five
shillings to the poor for being drunk: twelve pence shall go
into the box, and t'other four my partner and I will share
betwixt us. There's a new path to thrift, wench; we must live,
we must live, girl.
+Wid.+ And at last die for all together.
[_Exeunt +Bloodhound+, +Widow+, +Maid+, and +Man+._
+Sim.+ 'Tis a diamond.[16] [_Aside._
+Tim.+ You'll be at the Fountain[17] after dinner?
+Alex.+ While 'twill run, boy.
+Tim.+ Here's a noble now, and I'll bring you t'other as I come
by to the tavern; but I'll make you swear I shall drink nothing
but small beer.
+Alex.+ Niggers-noggers, thou shalt not; there's thine own oath
for thee: thou shalt eat nothing, an' thou wilt, but a poached
spider, and drive it down with syrup of toads. [_Exit._
+Tim.+ Ah! prythee, Sim, bid the maid eat my breakfast herself.
[_Exit._
+Sim.+ H' has turned his stomach, for all the world like a
Puritan's at the sight of a surplice.[18] But your breakfast
shall be devoured by a stomach of a stronger constitution, I
warrant you. [_Exit._
_Enter +Captain Carvegut+ and +Lieutenant
Bottom+._[19]
+Capt.+ No game abroad this morning? This
Coxcomb park,[20] I think, be past the best: I have
known the time the bottom 'twixt those hills has
been better fledged.
+Lieut.+ Look out, Captain, there's matter of
employment at foot o' th' hill.
+Capt.+ A business?
+Lieut.+ Yes, and hopeful. There's a morning
bird, his flight, it seems, for London: he halloos
and sings sweetly: prythee, let's go and put him
out of tune.
+Capt.+ Thee and I have crotchets in our pates;
and thou knowest two crotchets make one quaver;[21]
he shall shake for't. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Randall+._
+Ran.+
_Did hur not see hur true loves,
As hur came from London?
O, if hur saw not hur fine prave loves,
Randall is quite undone._
Well, was never mortal man in Wales could have waged praver,
finers, and nimblers, than Randalls have done, to get service
in Londons: whoope, where was hur now? just upon a pridge of
stone, between the legs of a couple of pretty hills, but no
more near mountains in Wales, than Clim of the Clough's bow to
hur cozen David's harp. And now hur prattle of Davie, I think
yonder come prancing down the hills from Kingston a couple of
hur t'other cozens, Saint Nicholas' clerks;[22] the morning was
so red as an egg, and the place fery full of dangers, perils,
and bloody businesses by reports: augh! her swords was trawn;
Cod pless us! and hur cozen Hercules was not stand against
two. Which shall hur take? If they take Randalls, will rip
Randalls cuts out; and then Randalls shall see Paul's steeples
no more; therefore hur shall go directly under the pridge, here
was but standing to knees in little fine cool fair waters; and
by cat, if hur have Randalls out, hur shall come and fetch
Randalls, and hur will, were hur nineteen Nicholas' clerks.
[_Exit._
_Enter +Captain+ and +Lieutenant+._
+Lieut.+ Which way took he?
+Capt.+ On straight, I think.
+Lieut.+ Then we should see him, man; he was just in mine eye
when we were at foot o' th' hill, and, to my thinking, stood
here looking towards us upon the bridge.
+Capt.+ So thought I; but with the cloud of dust we raised
about us, with the speed our horses made, it seems we lost him.
Now I could stamp, and bite my horse's ears off.
+Lieut.+ Let's spur towards Coomb House:[23] he struck that
way; sure, he's not upon the road.
+Capt.+ 'Sfoot, if we miss him, how shall we keep our word
with Saunder Bloodhound in Fleet Street, after dinner, at the
Fountain? he's out of cash; and thou know'st, by Cutter's
law,[24] we are bound to relieve one another.
+Lieut.+ Let's scour towards Coomb House; but if we miss him?
+Capt.+ No matter; dost see yonder barn o' th' left hand?
+Lieut.+ What of that?
+Capt.+ At the west end I tore a piece of board out,
And stuff'd in close amongst the straw a bag
Of a hundred pound at least, all in round shillings,
Which I made my last night's purchase from a lawyer.
+Lieut.+ Dost know the place to fetch it again?
+Capt.+ The torn board is my landmark; if we miss this,
We make for that; and, whilst that lasts, O London,
Thou labyrinth that puzzlest strictest search,
Convenient inns-of-court for highway-lawyers,
How with rich wine, tobacco, and sweet wenches,
We'll canvas thy dark case!
+Lieut.+ Away, let's spur. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Randall+._
+Ran.+ Spur did hur call hur? have made Randalls stand without
poots in fery pitiful pickles; but hur will run as nimbles to
Londons as creyhound after rabbits. And yet, now hur remember
what hur cozens talkt, was some wiser and some, too, Randalls
heard talk of parn upon left hand, and a prave bag with hundred
pounds in round shillings, Cod pless us! And yonder was parns,
and upon left hands too: now here was questions and demands to
be made, why Randalls should not rob them would rob Randalls?
hur will go to parns, pluck away pords, pull out pags, and
show hur cozen a round pair of heels, with all hur round
shillings; mark hur now. [_Exit._
_Enter +Captain+ and +Lieutenant+._
+Lieut.+ The rogue rose[25] right, and has outstripped us. This
was staying in Kingston with our unlucky hostess, that must be
dandled, and made drunk next her heart; she made us slip the
very cream o' th' morning: if anything stand awkward, a woman's
at one end on't.
+Capt.+ Come, we've a hundred pieces good yet in the barn; they
shall last us and Sander[26] a month's mirth at least.
+Lieut.+ O these sweet hundred pieces! how I will kiss you and
hug you with the zeal a usurer does his bastard money when he
comes from church. Were't not for them, where were our hopes?
But come, they shall be sure to thunder in the taverns. I but
now, just now, see pottle-pots thrown down the stairs, just
like serjeants and yeomen, one i' th' neck of another.
+Capt.+ Delicate vision! [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Randall+._
+Ran.+ Hur have got hur pag and all by the hand, and hur had
ferily thought in conscience, had not been so many round
sillings in whole worlds, but in Wales: 'twas time to supply
hur store, hur had but thirteenpence halfpenny in all the
worlds, and that hur have left in hur little white purse, with
a rope hur found py the parn, just in the place hur had this.
Randalls will be no servingmans now; hur will buy her prave
parels, prave swords, prave taggers, and prave feathers, and go
a-wooing to prave, comely, pretty maids. Rob Randalls, becat!
and hur were ten dozen of cousins, Randalls rob hur; mark hur
now. [_Exit._
_Enter +Captain+ and +Lieutenant+._
+Lieut.+ A plague of Friday mornings! the most unfortunate day
in the whole week.
+Capt.+ Was ever the like fate? 'sfoot, when I put it in, I was
so wary, though it were midnight, that I watched till a cloud
had masked the moon, for fear she should have seen't.
+Lieut.+ O luck!
+Capt.+ A gale of wind did but creep o'er the bottom, and,
because I heard things stir, I stayed; 'twas twelve score past
me.
+Lieut.+ The pottle-pots will sleep in peace to-night.
+Capt.+ And the sweet clinks.
+Lieut.+ The clattering of pipes.
+Capt.+ The Spanish fumes.
+Lieut.+ The _More wine, boy_, the nimble _Anon, anon, sir_.[27]
+Capt.+ All to-night will be nothing; come, we must shift.
'Sfoot, what a witty rogue 'twas to leave this fair
thirteenpence halfpenny and this old halter; intimating aptly,
Had the hangman met us there, by these presages,
Here had been his work, and here his wages.[28]
+Lieut.+ Come, come, we must make friends. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Bloodhound+, +Tim+, and +Sim+._
+Blood.+ There, sirrah, there's his bond: run into the Strand,
'tis six weeks since the tallow-chandler fetched my hundred
marks I lent him to set him up, and to buy grease; this is his
day, I'll have his bones for't else, so pray tell him.
+Tim.+ But are a chandler's bones worth so much, father?
+Blood.+ Out, coxcomb!
+Sim.+ Worth so much! I know my master will make dice of
them; then 'tis but letting Master Alexander carry them next
Christmas to the Temple,[29] he'll make a hundred marks a night
of them.
+Tim.+ Mass, that's true.
+Blood.+ And run to Master Ear-lack's the informer, in Thieving
Lane, and ask him what he has done in my business. He gets
abundance; and if he carry my cause with one false oath, he
shall have Moll; he will take her with a little. Are you gone,
sir?
+Tim.+ No, forsooth.
+Blood.+ As you come by Temple Bar, make a step to th' Devil.
+Tim.+ To the Devil, father?
+Sim.+ My master means the sign of the Devil;[30] and he cannot
hurt you, fool; there's a saint holds him by the nose.
+Tim.+ Sniggers! what does the devil and a saint both in a sign?
+Sim.+ What a question's that? what does my master and his
prayer-book o' Sunday both in a pew?
+Blood.+[31] Well, well, ye gipsy, what do we both in a pew?
+Sim.+ Why, make a fair show; and the devil and the saint does
no more.
+Blood.+ You're witty, you're witty. Call to the man o' th'
house, bid him send in the bottles of wine to-night; they will
be at hand i' th' morning. Will you run, sir?
+Tim.+ To the devil, as fast as I can, sir; the world shall
know whose son I am. [_Exit._
+Blood.+ Let me see now for a poesy for the ring: never an end
of an old saw? 'Tis a quick widow, Sim, and would have a witty
poesy.
+Sim.+ If she be quick, she's with child; whosoever got it, you
must father it; so that
_You come o' th' nick,
For the widow's quick._
There's a witty poesy for your quick widow.
+Blood.+ No, no; I'll have one shall savour of a saw.
+Sim.+ Why then, 'twill smell of the painted cloth.[32]
+Blood.+ Let me see, _a widow witty_----
+Sim.+ _Is pastime pretty_:--put in that for the sport's sake.
+Blood.+ No, no, I can make the sport. Then, _an old man_----
+Sim.+ Then will she answer, _If you cannot, a younger
can._[33] And look, look, sir, now I talk of the younger,
yonder's Ancient Young come over again, that mortgaged sixty
pound _per annum_ before he went; I'm deceived if he come not a
day after the fair.
+Blood.+ Mine almanac!
+Sim.+ A prayer-book, sir?
+Blood.+ A prayer-book; for devout beggars I hate; look, I
beseech thee. Fortune, now befriend me, and I will call the
plaguy whore in. Let me see, six months.
_Enter +Ancient Young+._
+Anc.+ Yes, 'tis he, certain: this is a business must not be
slackened, sir.
+Sim.+ Look, I beseech thee; we shall have oatmeal in our
pottage six weeks after.
+Blood.+ Four days too late, Sim; four days too late, Sim.
+Sim.+ Plumbs in our pudding a Sunday, plumbs in our pudding.
+Anc.+ Master Bloodhound, as I take it.
+Blood.+ You're a stranger, sir. [_Aside._] You shall be
witness, I shall be railed at else, they will call me devil. I
pray you, how many months from the first of May to the sixth of
November following?
+Anc.+ Six months and four days, just.
+Blood.+ I ask, because the first of May last, a noble
gentleman, one Ancient Young----
+Anc.+ I am the man, sir.
+Blood.+ My spectacles, Sim: look, Sim, is this Ancient Young?
+Sim.+ 'Twas Ancient Young, sir.
+Blood.+ And is't not Ancient Young?
+Sim.+ No, sir, you have made him a young ancient.
+Blood.+ O Sim, a chair. I know him now, but I shall not live
to tell him.
+Anc.+ How fare you, sir?
+Sim.+ The better for you; he thanks you, sir.
+Blood.+ Sick, sick, exceeding sick.
+Anc.+ O' th' sudden? Strange!
+Sim.+ A qualm of threescore years come over his stomach,
nothing else.[34] [_Aside._
+Blood.+ That you, beloved you, who, of all men i' th' world,
my poor heart doated on, whom I loved better than father,
mother, brother, sister, uncles, aunts--what would you have?
that you should stay four days too late!
+Anc.+ I have your money ready;
And, sir, I hope your old love to my father----
+Blood.+ Nay, nay, I am noble, fellow, very noble, a very rock
of friendship; but--but I had a house and barn burnt down to
the ground since you were here.
+Anc.+ How?
+Blood.+ How? burned--ask Sim.
+Sim.+ By fire, sir, by fire.
+Blood.+ To build up which, for I am a poor man--a poor man, I
was forced by course of law to enter upon your land, and so,
for less money than you had of me, I was fain to sell it to
another. That, by four days' stay, a man should lose his blood!
our livings! our blood! O my heart! O my head!
+Anc.+ Pray, take it not so heinous, we'll go to him: I'll buy
it again of him, he won't be too cruel.
+Blood.+ A dog, a very dog; there's more mercy in a pair of
unbribed bailiffs. To shun all such solicitings, he's rid to
York. A very cut-throat rogue! But I'll send to him.
+Anc.+ An honest old man, how it moves him! [_Aside._] This was
my negligence. Good Sim, convey him into some warmer room; and
I pray, however Fortune--she that gives ever with the dexterity
she takes--shall please to fashion out my sufferings, yet for
his sake, my deceased father, the long friend of your heart, in
your health keep me happy.
+Blood.+ O right honest young man! Sim.
+Sim.+ Sir.
+Blood.+ Have I done't well?
+Sim.+ The devil himself could not have done't better.
+Blood.+ I tell thee an old saw, sirrah--
_He that dissembles in wealth shall not want;
They say doomsday's coming, but think you not on't._
This will make the pot seethe, Sim.
+Anc.+[35] Good sir, talk no more, my mouth runs over. [_Exeunt
+Bloodhound+ and +Sim+._] Sleep, wake, worthy beggar, worthy
indeed to be one, and am one worthily. How fine it is to
wanton without affliction! I must look out for fortunes over
again: no, I have money here, and 'tis the curse of merit not
to work when she has money. There was a handsome widow, whose
wild-mad-jealous husband died at sea; let me see, I am near
Blackfriars, I'll have one start at her, or else----
_Enter +Bloodhound's+ daughter +Moll+, with a bowl
of beer._
+Moll.+ By my troth, 'tis he! Captain Young's son. I have loved
him even with languishings, ever since I was a girl; but should
he know it, I should run mad, sure. What handsome gentlemen
travel and manners make! my father begun to you, sir, in a cup
of small beer.
+Anc.+ How does he, pray?
+Moll.+ Pretty well now, sir.
+Anc.+ Mass, 'tis small indeed. [_Aside._] You'll pledge me?
+Moll.+ Yes, sir.
+Anc.+ Pray, will you tell me one thing?
+Moll.+ What is't?
+Anc.+ Which is smaller, this beer or your maidenhead?
+Moll.+ The beer a great deal, sir.
+Anc.+ Ay, in quality.
+Moll.+ But not in quantity?
+Anc.+ No.
+Moll.+ Why?
+Anc.+ Let me try, and I'll tell you.
+Moll.+ Will you tell me one thing before you try?
+Anc.+ Yes.
+Moll.+ Which is smaller, this beer or your wit?
+Anc.+ O the beer, the beer.
+Moll.+ In quality?
+Anc.+ Yes, and in the quantity.
+Moll.+ Why, then, I pray, keep the quantity of your wit from
the quality of my maidenhead, and you shall find my maidenhead
more than your wit.
+Anc.+ A witty maidenhead, by this hand. [_Exeunt severally._
FOOTNOTES:
[1] _Refuse me_, or _God refuse me_, appears to have been among the
fashionable modes of swearing in our author's time. So in "The White
Devil," act i. sc. 1, Flamineo says, _God refuse me._ Again, in "A
Dogge of Warre," by Taylor the Water-poet, Works, 1630, p. 229--
"Some like Dominicall Letters goe,
In scarlet from the top to toe,
Whose valours talke and smoake all;
Who make (God sink 'em) their discourse
_Refuse_, Renounce, or Dam that's worse:
I wish a halter choake all."
Again, in "The Gamester," by Shirley, Wilding says, "_Refuse me_, if I
did."
[2] _Not_ is omitted in the 4º.--_Collier._
[3] See [Randolph's Works, by Hazlitt, p. 179.]
[4] See note to "_The Heir_," [vol. xi. 535.]
[5] Standing unseen for the present.--_Collier._
[6] The 4º reads _Look, look upon, and ready_, &c.--_Collier._
[7] A proverb or wise saying. So in "The Wife of Bath's Prologue," l.
6240--
"But all for nought, I sette not an hawe
Of his Proverbes, ne of his _olde sawe_."
[8] Distrained. So in "Thomas, Lord Cromwell," 1602--
"His furniture fully worth half so much,
Which being all _strain'd_ for the king,
He frankly gave it to the Antwerp merchants."
[9] The 4º reads _four pence and ninepence_. This play, in the former
editions, is very incorrectly printed.
[10] So in Massinger's "Maid of Honour," act iv. sc. 5, Sylli says,
"The King ... _break girdle, break_!" Again, Falstaff says, in the
"First Part of King Henry IV."--
"Dost thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father?
Nay, an' if I do, let _my girdle break_."
To explain the phrase "_may my girdle break_," it should be remembered
that the purse was anciently worn hanging at the girdle. Hence the
propriety of Trincalo's complaint, that while Ronca embraced him his
"purse shook dangerously." See "Albumazar," act iii. sc. 7 [xi. 368].
[11] The 4º reads _Oculies, Oculies_.--_Collier._
[12] [Six-shilling beer, a stronger kind than that previously described
as four-shilling.]
[13] _Look, he'll steal nothing to feast his bawds_, is the reading of
the old copy.--_Collier._
[14] Highway.
[15] These interjections probably mean to express that Alexander
hiccups in the course of what he says.--_Collier._
[16] [In allusion to Alexander.]
[17] [A tavern so called.]
[18] The aversion of the _Puritans_ to a _surplice_ is alluded to in
many of the old comedies. See several instances in Mr Steevens's note
to "All's Well that Ends Well," act i. sc. 3.
[19] [Two footpads, who seem to have frequented the purlieus of Coomb
Park. Sham military men were as common at that time as now.]
[20] The park belonging to Coomb House.
[21] But two quavers make one crotchet: this seems to be false wit,
having no foundation in truth.--_Pegge._
[22] Highwaymen or robbers were formerly called _Saint Nicholas'
clerks_. See notes by Bishop Warburton and Mr Steevens on the "First
Part of King Henry IV.," act ii. sc. 1.
So in Dekker's "Belman of London," 1616: "The theefe that commits the
robery, and is chiefe _clarke to Saint Nicholas_, is called the high
lawyer."
And in "Looke on me London," 1613, sig. C: "Here closely lie _Saint
Nicholas Clearkes_, that, with a good northerne gelding, will gaine
more by a halter, than an honest yeoman with a teame of good horses."
[23] This ancient fabric, which is now destroyed, was the seat
of the Nevils, Earls of Warwick. It stood about a mile from
Kingston-upon-Thames, near Wolsey's Aqueducts, which convey water to
Hampton Court.--_Steevens._
[24] A cutter was, about the beginning of the last century, a cant word
for a swaggering fellow. This appears in the old black-letter play
entitled "The Faire Maid of Bristow," sig. A iij., where Sir Godfrey
says of Challener--
"He was _a cutter_ and a swaggerer."
He is elsewhere (sig. A 4) called a swaggering fellow.--_MS. note in
Oldys's Langbaine._
[25] [Old copy, _rise_. The meaning seems to be that Randall had got up
betimes.]
[26] _i.e._, Alexander Bloodhound.--_Pegge._
[27] _i.e._, The reply of drawers when they are called.
[28] [See "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," ii. 247-8.]
[29] It was formerly usual to celebrate Christmas, at the several inns
of court, with extraordinary festivity. Sometimes plays or masques were
performed; and when these were omitted, a greater degree of licence
appears to have been allowed to the students than at other times. In
societies where so many young men, possessed of high spirits, and
abounding with superfluous sums of money, were assembled, it will not
seem wonderful to find the liberty granted at this season should be
productive of many irregularities. Among others, gaming, in the reign
of James I., when this play was probably written, had been carried to
such an extravagant height as to demand the interposition of the heads
of some of the societies to prevent the evil consequences attending it.
In the 12th of James I. orders for reformation and better government of
the inns of court and Chancery were made by the readers and benchers
of the four houses of court; among which is the following:--"For that
disorders in the _Christmas_-time, may both infect the minds, and
prejudice the estates and fortunes, of the young gentlemen in the same
societies: it is therefore ordered, that there shall be commons of the
house kept, in every house of court, during the _Christmas_; and that
none shall play in their several halls at the dice, except he be a
gentleman of the same society, and in commons; and the benefits of the
boxes to go to the butlers of every house respectively."--Dugdale's
"Orig. Jurid.," p. 318. In the 4th of Car. I. (Nov. 17) the society of
Gray's Inn direct, "that all playing at dice, cards, or otherwise, in
the hall, buttry, or butler's chamber, should be thenceforth barred and
forbidden, at all times of the year, the twenty days in _Christmas_
only excepted."--_Ibid._ p. 286. And in the 7th of Car. I. (7th Nov.)
the society of the _Inner Temple_ made several regulations for keeping
good rule in _Christmas-time_, two of which will show how much gaming
had been practised there before that time. "8. That there shall not be
any knocking with boxes, or calling aloud for gamesters. 9. That no
play be continued within the house upon any Saturday night, or upon
Christmas-eve at night, after twelve of the clock."
Sir Simon D'Ewes also, in the MS. life of himself in the British
Museum, takes notice of the Christmas irregularities about this period
(p. 52, Dec. 1620)--"At the saied Temple was a lieutenant chosen,
and much gaming, and other excesses increased during these festivall
dayes, by his residing and keeping a standing table ther; and, when
sometimes I turned in thither to behold ther sportes, and saw the many
oaths, execrations, and quarrels, that accompanied ther dicing, I began
seriously to loath it, though at the time I conceived the sporte of
itselfe to bee lawfull."--["Life of D'Ewes," edit. 1845, i. 161.] "The
first day of Januarie [_i.e._, 1622-23] at night, I came into commons
at the Temple, wheere ther was a lieftenant choosen, and all manner of
gaming and vanitie practiced, as if the church had not at all groaned
under those heavie desolations which it did. Wherefore I was verie
gladd, when, on the Tuesday following, being the seventh day of the
same moneth, the howse broake upp ther Christmas, and added an end to
those excesses."--[Life, _ut supr._, i. 223.]
To what excess gaming was carried on in the inns-of-court at this
period may be judged from the following circumstance, that in taking
up the floor of one of the Temple halls about 1764, near one hundred
pair of dice were found, which had dropt at times through the chinks or
joints of the boards. They were very small, scarce more than two-thirds
as large as our modern ones. The hall was built in the reign of Queen
Elizabeth. [See on this subject "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain,"
i., where copious collections will be found upon this subject.]
[30] This tavern, with the same sign as above described, [existed till
1787. See Gifford's Ben Jonson, 1816, ix. 84-5.]
[31] This question is improperly given to Sim in the 4º.--_Collier._
[32] [See Dyce's Middleton, iii. 97, and v. 208.]
[33] [A line of an old song altered.]
[34] This is the reading of the quarto, but Mr Reed, without necessity
or notice, changed it thus--
"A qualm of threescore _pounds a year_ came over his stomach."
Sim refers to the age and infirmity of Bloodhound.--_Collier._
[35] All that follows, to the entrance of Moll, in the 4º is made a
continuation of what is said by Bloodhound.--_Collier._
ACT II., SCENE I.
_A table set out. Enter two servants, +Jarvis+ and
+John+, as to cover it for dinner._
+John.+ Is my mistress ready for dinner?
+Jar.+ Yes, if dinner be ready for my mistress.
+John.+ Half an hour ago, man.
+Jar.+ But, prythee, sir, is't for certain? for yet it cannot
sink into my head that she is to be married to-morrow.
+John.+ Troth, she makes little preparation; but it may be, she
would be wedded, as she would be bedded, privately.
+Jar.+ Bedded, call you it? and she be bedded no better than
he'll bed her, she may lie tantalised, and eat wishes.
+John.+ Pox on him! they say he's the arrantest miser: we shall
never live a good day with him.
+Jar.+ Well, and she be snipped by threescore and ten, may
she live six score and eleven, and repent twelve times a
day--that's once an hour. [_Exit._
_Enter +Widow+._
+Wid.+ Set meat o' th' board.
+John.+ Yes.
+Wid.+ Why does your fellow grumble so?
+John.+ I do not know. They say you're to marry one that will
feed us with horse-plums instead of beef and cabbage.
+Wid.+ And are you grieved at that?
+John.+ No, but my friends are.
+Wid.+ What friends are grieved?
+John.+ My guts.
+Wid.+ So, it seems, you begun clown----
+John.+ Yes, and shall conclude coxcomb, and I be fed with
herring-bones. 'Sfoot, I say no more; but if we do want as much
bread of our daily allowance as would dine a sparrow, or as
much drink as would fox a fly,[36] I know what I know.
+Wid.+ And what do you know, sir?
+John.+ Why, that there goes but a pair of shears[37] between
a promoter and a knave; if you know more, take your choice of
either.
+Wid.+ 'Tis well; set on dinner.
_Enter +Jarvis+ with a rabbit in one hand and a dish
of eggs in another, and the +Maid+._
+Jar.+ O mistress, yonder's the mad gallant, Master Alexander
Bloodhound, entered into the hall.
+Wid.+ You should have kept him out.
+Maid.+ Alas! ne'er a wench in town could do't, he's so nimble:
I had no sooner opened the door, but he thrust in ere I was
aware.
_Enter +Alexander+._
+Alex.+ And how does my little, handsome, dainty, delicate,
well-favoured, straight and comely, delicious, bewitching widow?
+Jar.+ 'Sfoot, here's one runs division before the fiddlers.
+Wid.+ Sir, this is no seasonable time of visit.
+Alex.+ 'Tis pudding-time, wench, pudding-time; and a dainty
time, dinner-time, my nimble-eyed, witty one. Woot be married
to-morrow, sirrah? [_Sits to table._
+Jar.+ She'll be mad to-morrow, sirrah.
+Alex.+ What, art thou a fortune-teller?
+Jar.+ A chip of the same block--a fool, sir.
+Alex.+ Good fool, give me a cup of cool beer.
+Jar.+ Fill your master a cup of cool beer.
+Alex.+ Pish! I spoke to the fool.
+Jar.+ I thought you'd brought the fool with you, sir.
+Alex.+ Fool, 'tis my man: shalt sit, i' faith, wench.
+Wid.+ For once I'll be as merry as you are mad, and learn
fashions. I am set, you see, sir; but you must pardon, sir,
our rudeness--Friday's fare for myself, a dish of eggs and a
rabbit; I looked for no strange faces.
+Alex.+ Strange: mine's a good face, i' faith; prythee, buss.
+Jar.+ Why, here's one comes to the business now.
+Alex.+ Sirrah, woot have the old fellow?
+Wid.+ Your father? Yes.
+Alex.+ I tell thee thou shalt not; no, no; I have such [a rare
one][38]--this rabbit's raw too.
+Jar.+ There's but one raw bit, sir.
+Alex.+ Thy jester, sure, shall have a coat.[39]
+Wid.+ Let it be of your own cut, sir.
+Alex.+ Nay, nay, nay; two to one is extremity--but, as I was
telling thee, I have such a husband for thee: so knowing, so
discreet, so sprightly--fill a cup of claret--so admirable in
desires, so excellently deserving, that an old man--fie, fie,
prythee. Here's to thee.
+Wid.+ The man's mad, sure.
+Jar.+ Mad! by this hand, a witty gallant.
+John.+ Prythee, peace, shalt hear a song.
_Enter +Ancient Young+._
+Wid.+ What cope's-mate's[40] this, trow? who let him in?
+Jar.+ By this light, a fellow of an excellent breeding.
He came unbidden, and brought his stool with him.
+John.+ Look, mistress, how they stare one at another.
+Jar.+ Yes, and swell like a couple of gibbed cats[41] met
both by chance i' th' dark in an old garret.
+Wid.+ Look, look; now there's no fear of the wild beasts:
they have forgot their spleens, and look prettily; they fall
to their pasture. I thought they had been angry, and they are
hungry.
+Jar.+ Are they none of Duke Humphrey's[42] furies? Do you
think that they devised this plot in Paul's to get a dinner?
+Wid.+ Time may produce as strange a truth. Let's note them.
_Enter +Randall+._
+Ran.+ Hur loved hur once: hur loved hur no more,
Saint Tavie, so well as hur loved hur then.
+Wid.+ Another burr! this is the cookmaid's leaving ope the
door; and this is the daintiest dish she has sent in--a widgeon
in Welsh sauce! Pray, let's make a merry day on't.
+Ran.+ What! do hur keep open house? Had heard hur was widows
that dwelt here: are you widows, good womans?
+Wid.+ I want a husband, sir.[43]
+Ran.+ Augh, Randalls comes in very good times: you keep
ordinaries, hur think. What, have you set a cat before gallants
there?
+Jar.+ They will eat him for the second course. [_Aside._]
These are suitors to my mistress sure--things that she slights.
Set your feet boldly in; widows are not caught as maids
kiss--faintly, but as mastiffs fight--valiantly.
+Ran.+ Is hur so: I pray pid hur mistress observe Randalls for
valours and prave adventures?
+Anc.+ Some beer.
+Wid.+ Let them want nothing.
+Anc.+ Here, widow.
+Wid.+ I thank you, sir.
+Alex.+ Some wine.
+Jar.+ Here is wine for you, sir.
+Ran.+ Randalls will not be outpraved, I warrant hur.
+Alex.+ Here, widow.
+Wid.+ I thank you too, sir.
+Ran.+ Sounds, some metheglins here.
+Wid.+ What does he call for?
+Jar.+ Here are some eggs for you, sir.
+Ran.+ Eggs, man! some metheglins, the wine of Wales.
+Jar.+ Troth, sir, here's none i' th' house: pray, make a
virtue of necessity, and drink to her in this glass of claret.
+Ran.+ Well, because hur will make a great deals of
necessities of virtues, mark, with what a grace Randalls will
drink to hur mistress.
+Maid.+ He makes at you, forsooth.
+Wid.+ Let him come, I have ever an English virtue to put by a
Welsh.
+Ran.+ O noble widows, hur heart was full of woes.
+Alex.+ No, noble Welshman, hur heart was in hur hose.
[_Takes away his cup._
+Ran.+ Sounds, was that hur manners, to take away Randall's
cups?
+Anc.+ No, it showed scurvy.
+Alex.+ Take't you at worst, then.
+Anc.+ Whelp of the devil, thou shalt see thy sire[44] for't.
+John+, +Jar.+ Gentlemen, what mean you?
+Ran.+ Let hur come, let hur come; Randalls will redeem
reputations, hur warrant hur.
+Wid.+ Redeem your wit, sir. First for you, sir, you are a
stranger; but you--fie, Master Bloodhound!
+Anc.+ Ha! Bloodhound! good sir, let me speak with you.
+Ran.+ Sounds, what does Randalls amongst ploodhounds? Good
widows, lend hur an ear.
+Alex.+ Ancient Young! how false our memories have played
through long discontinuance![45] But why met here, man? Is Mars
so bad a paymaster that our ancients fight under Cupid's banner?
+Anc.+ Faith, this was but a sudden start, begotten from
distraction of some fortunes: I pursue this widow but for want
of wiser work.
+Jar.+ The Welshman labours at it. [_Aside._
+Ran.+ A pair of a hundred of seeps, thirty prave cows, and
twelve dozen of runts.
+Wid.+ Twelve dozen of goose!
+Ran.+ Give hur but another hark!
+Alex.+ He has the mortgage still, and I have a handsome
sister: do but meet at the Fountain in Fleet Street after
dinner; O, I will read thee a history of happiness, and thou
shalt thank me.
+Anc.+ Ay, read, all's well or weapons.
+Alex.+ A word, Jarvis. [_Whispers him._
+Ran.+ O prave widows, hur will meet hur there, hur knows
hur times and hur seasons, hur warrant hur. Randalls will
make these prave gallants hang hurselfs in those garters of
willow-garlands apout hur pates; mark hur now, and remember.
[_Exit._
+Anc.+ Adieu, sweet widow; for my ordinary---- [_Kisses her._
+Wid.+ 'Twas not so much worth, sir.
+Anc.+ You mean, 'twas worth more then; and that's another
handsomely begged. [_Kisses her again._
+Wid.+ You conclude women cunning beggars, then.
+Anc.+ Yes, and men good benefactors. My best wishes wait on so
sweet a mistress. Will you walk? [_Exit +Ancient+._
+Alex.+ I'll follow you. Woot think on't soon at night, or not
at all? [_Aside to +Jarvis+._
+Jar.+ I would not have my wishes wronged; if I should bring it
about handsomely, you can be honest. [_Aside._
+Alex.+ Can [I]? dost conclude me a satin cheat? [_Aside._
+Jar.+ No, a smooth gallant, sir. Do not you fail to be here
soon at nine, still provided you will be honest: if I convey
you not under her bed, throw me a top o' th' tester, and lay me
out o' th' way like a rusty bilbo. [_Aside._
+Alex.+ Enough; drink that. [_Aside, giving him money._]
Farewell, widow; Fate, the Destinies, and the three
ill-favoured Sisters have concluded the means, and when I am
thy husband----
+Wid.+ I shall be your wife.
+Alex.+ Do but remember these cross capers then, ye
bitter-sweet one.[46] [_Exit._
+Wid.+ Till then adieu, you bitter-sweet one. [_Exit._
+Jar.+ This dinner would have showed better in bed-lane; and
she at the other side holdeth her whole nest of suitors [at]
play. What art decks the dark labyrinth of a woman's heart!
[_Exit._
_Enter +Mary Bloodhound+ and +Sim+._
+Moll.+ Marry old Ear-lack! is my father mad?
+Sim.+ They're both a-concluding on't yonder; to-morrow's the
day; one wedding-dinner must serve both marriages.
+Moll.+ O Sim! the Ancient, the delicate Ancient; there's a
man, and thou talk'st of a man; a good face, a sparkling eye, a
straight body, a delicate hand, a clean leg and foot. Ah, sweet
Sim! there's a man worth a maidenhead.
_Enter +Bloodhound+ and +Ear-lack+._
+Sim.+ But I say, Master Ear-lack, the old man! a foot like a
bear, a leg like a bed-staff, a hand like a hatchet, an eye
like a pig, and a face like a winter peony;[47] there's a man
for a maidenhead.
+Moll.+ O look, look! O, alas! what shall I do with him?
+Sim.+ What? why, what shall fifteen do with sixty and twelve?
make a screen of him; stand next the fire, whilst you sit
behind him and keep a friend's lips warm. Many a wench would be
glad of such a fortune.
+Blood.+ Your oath struck it dead then, o' my side?
+Ear.+ Five hundred deep of your side, i' faith, father.
+Blood.+ Moll, come hither, Moll; I hope Sim has discovered the
project.
+Ear.+ And to-morrow must be the day, Moll; both of a day: one
dinner shall serve. We may have store of little ones; we must
save for our family.
+Moll.+ Good sir, what rashness was parent to this madness?
marry an old man--Ear-lack the informer!
+Blood.+ Madness! You're a whore.
+Ear.+ Is she a whore, Sim?
+Sim.+ She must be your wife, I tell-----
+Blood.+ An arrant whore, to refuse Master Innocent Ear-lack of
Rogue-land!--that for his dwelling: next, that he doth inform
now and then against enormities, and hath been blanketed--it
may be, pumped in's time; yet the world knows he does it not
out of need: he's of mighty means, but takes delight now and
then to trot up and down to avoid idleness, you whore.
+Sim.+ Good sir!
+Ear.+ Pray, father!
+Moll.+ This wound wants oil. Good sir, in all my paths
I will make you my guide; I was only startled
With the suddenness of the marriage,
In that I knew that this deserving gentleman
And I had never so much conference,
Whereby this coal of Paphos--by the rhetoric
Of his love-stealing, heart-captivating language--
Might be blown into a flame.
+Ear.+ Does she take tobacco, father?
+Blood.+ No, no, man; these are out of ballads; she has all the
Garland of Good-will[48] by heart.
+Ear.+ Snails, she may sing me asleep o' nights then, Sim.
+Sim.+ Why, right, sir; and then 'tis but tickling you o' th'
forehead with her heels, you are awake again, and ne'er the
worse man.
+Moll.+ Is he but five years older than yourself, sir?
+Ear.+ Nay, I want a week and three days of that too.
+Blood.+ I'll tell thee an old saw for't, girl--
_Old say he be, old blades are best,
Young hearts are never old._
+Ear.+ Ha, ha!
+Blood.+
_Gold is great glee, gold begets rest,
What fault is found in gold?_
+Sim.+ I will answer presently, sir, with another saw.
+Blood.+ Let's ha't, let's ha't.
+Ear.+ Mark, Moll.
+Sim.+
_Young? say she be young, young mutton's sweet,
Content is above gold;
If, like an old cock, he with young mutton meet,
He feeds like a cuckold._
+Blood.+ A very pretty pithy one, I protest; look, an' Moll do
not laugh: shalt have a pair of gloves for that. What leather
dost love?
+Sim.+ Calf, sir; sheep's too simple for me.
+Blood.+ Nay, 'tis a witty notable knave; he should never serve
me else.
_Enter +John+ with a letter._
+John.+ My mistress remembers her love, and requests you would
inure her so much to your patience as to read that.
+Blood.+ Love-letters, love-lies: dost mark, Sim; these women
are violent, Sim. Whilst I read the lie,[49] do you rail to him
upon the brewer: swear he has deceived us, and save a cup of
beer by't.
+Sim.+ I will not save you a cup at that rate, sir.
+Ear.+ I can make thee a hundred a year jointure, wench. At the
first, indeed, I began with petty businesses, wench; and here
I picked, and there I picked; but now I run through none but
things of value.
+Moll.+ Sir, many thoughts trouble me; and your words carry
such weight, that I will choose a time, when I have nothing
else to do, to think on 'em.
+Ear.+ By my troth, she talks the wittiliest, an' I would
understand her.
+Blood.+ O nimble, nimble widow! I am sorry we have no better
friends; [_To +John+_] but pray, commend me, though in a blunt,
dry commendation; at the time and place appointed I wonnot
fail. I know she has a nest of suitors, and would carry it
close, because she fears surprisal. [_Exit +John+._
+Ear.+ What news, father?
+Blood.+ Shalt lie there all night, son.
+Ear.+ Was that the first news I heard on't?
+Blood.+ I must meet a friend i' th' dark soon: let me see, we
lovers are all a little mad; do you and Moll take a turn or
two i' th' garden, whilst Sim and I go up into the garret and
devise till the guests come. [_Exit._
+Sim.+ He's a little mad. I had best hang him upon the
cross-beam in the garret. [_Exit._
+Ear.+ Come, Moll, come, Malkin:[50] we'll even to the camomile
bed, and talk of household stuff; and be sure thou rememberest
a trade.
+Moll.+ Please you go before, sir.
+Ear.+ Nay, an old ape has an old eye; I shall go before, an'
thou woot show me a love-trick, and lock me into the garden. I
will come discreetly behind, Moll.
+Moll.+ Out upon him, what a suitor have I got! I am sorry
you're so bad an archer, sir.
+Ear.+ Why, bird, why, bird?
+Moll.+ Why, to shoot at butts, when you should use
prick-shafts: short shooting will lose you the game, I assure
you, sir.
+Ear.+ Her mind runs, sure, upon a fletcher[51] or a bowyer:
howsoever, I'll inform against both; the fletcher, for taking
whole money for pierced arrows: the bowyer, for horning
the headmen of his parish, and taking money for his pains.
[_Exeunt._
_Enter in the tavern, +Alexander+, the +Captain+,
+Lieutenant+, +Sue Shortheels+, and +Mistress
Coote+, a bawd._
+Alex.+ Some rich canary, boy.
+Drawer.+ Anon, anon, sir.
+Alex.+ [Is't] possible? Thus cheated of a hundred
Pieces? A handsome halter, and the hangman's
Wages popp'd in the place! What an acute wit
We have in wickedness!
+Capt.+ 'Tis done, and handsomely.
_Enter +Drawer+._
+Drawer.+ Here's a pottle of rich canary and a quart of neat
claret, gentlemen; and there's a gentleman below, he says he is
your brother, Master Bloodhound: he appointed to meet you here.
+Capt.+ The expected thing, that bought the Bristow stone.
+Alex.+ Send him up, prythee. Remember how it must be carried.
+Mis. Coote.+ I am her grandmother; forget not that, by any
means.
+Alex.+ And pray remember that you do not mump, as if you were
chewing bacon, and spoil all.
+Mis. Coote.+ I warrant you.
_Enter +Ancient Young+._
+Alex.+ And hark.
+Drawer.+ Are these the company, sir?
+Anc.+ Yes, but those I like not; these are not they: I'll stay
i' th' next room till my company come.
+Drawer.+ Where you please, sir; pray follow me. [_Exeunt._
+Capt.+ I hear him coming up gingerly.
+Alex.+ O, he tramples upon the bosom of a tavern with that
dexterity, as your lawyers' clerks do to Westminster Hall upon
a dirty day with a pair of white silk stockings.
_Enter +Tim+._
Brother Tim, why, now you're a man of your word, I see.
+Tim.+ Nay, I love to be as good as my say. See, brother, look,
there's the rest of your money upon the ring. I cannot spend a
penny, for I have ne'er a penny left. What are these? what are
these?
+Alex.+ Gallants of note and quality; he that sits taking
tobacco is a captain, Captain Carvegut.
+Tim.+ He will not make a capon of me, will he?
+Alex.+ Are you not my brother? He that pours out the sparkling
sprightly claret is a lieutenant under him, Lieutenant Bottom.
He was a serjeant first.
+Tim.+ Of the Poultry or of Wood Street?
+Alex.+ Of the Poultry?[52] of a woodcock! A serjeant in the
field, a man of blood.
+Tim.+ I'll take my leave, brother, I am in great haste.
+Alex.+ That delicate, sweet young gentlewoman----
+Tim.+ Foh! this tobacco!
+Alex.+ That bears the blush of morning on her cheeks,
Whose eyes are like a pair of talking twins.
+Tim.+ She looks just upon me.
+Alex.+ I think you are in haste.
+Tim.+ No, no, no, pray.
+Alex.+ Whose lips are beds of roses, betwixt which
There steals a breath sweeter than Indian spices.
+Tim.+ Sweeter than ginger!
+Alex.+ But then to touch those lips you stay too long, sure?
+Tim.+ Pish, I tell you I do not; I know my time. Pray, what's
her name?
+Alex.+ But 'tis descended from the ancient stem,
[O'] the great Trebatio,[53] Lindabride's her name;
That ancient matron is her reverend grannum.
+Tim.+ Niggers, I have read of her in the Mirror of
Knighthood.[54]
+Alex.+ Come, they shall know you.
+Tim.+ Nay, brother.
+Alex.+ I say they shall.
+Tim.+ Let me go down and wash my face first.
+Alex.+ Your face is a fine face. My brother, gentlemen.
+Capt.+ Sir, you're victoriously welcome.
+Tim.+ That word has e'en conquered me.
+Lieut.+ I desire to kiss your hand, sir.
+Tim.+ Indeed, but you shall not, sir: I went out early, and
forgot to wash them.
+Mis. Coote.+ Precious dotterel! [_Aside._
+Capt.+ Sir, I shall call it a courtesy if you shall please to
vouchsafe to pledge me.
+Tim.+ What is't, brother? Four or six?[55]
+Capt.+ Four or six! 'tis rich Canary: it came from beyond the
seas.
+Tim.+ I will do no courtesy at this time, sir; yet for one cup
I care not, because it comes from beyond the seas. I think 'tis
outlandish wine.
+Sue.+ Look how it glides!
+Mis. Coote.+ Now, truly, the gentleman drinks as like one
Master Widgeon, a kinsman of mine----
+Lieut.+ Pox on you! heildom![56]
+Tim.+ I ha' heard of that Widgeon, I ha' been taken for
him; and now I think on't, a cup of this is better than our
four-shilling beer at home.
+Lieut.+ You must drink another, sir: you drank to nobody.
+Tim.+ Is it the law that, if a man drinks to nobody, he must
drink again?
+Omnes.+ Ay, ay, ay. Fill his glass.
+Tim.+ Why, then, I will drink to nobody once more, because I
will drink again.
+Alex.+ Did not I tell you? More wine there, drawer.
+Sue.+ This pageant's worth the seeing, by this hand.
+Tim.+ Methinks this glass was better that t'other, gentlemen.
+Capt.+ O sir, the deeper the sweeter ever.
+Tim.+ Do you think so?
+Lieut.+ Ever that when ye drink to nobody.
+Tim.+ Why, then, I pray give me t'other cup, that I may drink
to somebody.
+Mis. Coote.+ I have not drunk yet, sir.
+Alex.+ Again, ye witch! Drink to the young gentlewoman.
+Tim.+ Mistress Lindabrides.
+Sue.+ Thanks, most ingenious sir.
+Tim.+ She's a little shame-faced. The deeper the sweeter,
forsooth.
+Alex.+ Pox on you for a coxcomb!
_Enter +Ancient Young+ [standing aside]._
+Anc.+ I' th' next room I have seen and heard all. O noble
soldiers!
+Tim.+ Here, boys, give us some more wine. There's a hundred
marks, gallants; 'tis your own, an' do but let me bear an
office amongst ye. I know as great a matter has been done for
as small a sum. Pray let me follow the fashion.
+Capt.+ Well, for once take up the money. Give me a cup of
sack, and give me your hand, sir; and, because our Flemish
corporal was lately choked at Delft with a flap-dragon,[57]
bear you his name and place, and be henceforth called Corporal
Cods-head. Let the health go round!
+Tim.+ Round! An' this go not round!--Some wine there, tapster.
Is there ne'er a tapster i' th' house? [_+Ancient+ shows himself._
+Alex.+ My worthy friend, thou'rt master of thy word.
Gentlemen, 'tis Ancient Young; you're soldiers; come, come,
save cap: compliment in cup. Prythee, sit down.
+Anc.+ Are you a captain, sir?
+Capt.+ Yes.
+Anc.+ And you a lieutenant?
+Lieut.+ Yes.
+Anc.+ I pray, where served you last?
+Capt.+ Why, at the battle of Prague.[58]
+Anc.+ Under what colonel? In what regiment?
+Capt.+ Why, let me see--but come, in company? Let's sit,
sir. True soldiers scorn unnecessary discourse, especially in
taverns.
+Anc.+ 'Tis true, true soldiers do: but you are tavern-rats.
+Capt.+ How?
+Alex.+ Prythee!
+Anc.+ Foul food, that lies all day undigested
Upon the queasy stomach of some tavern,
And are spew'd out at midnight.
+Tim.+ Corporal Cods-head's health, sir.
+Anc.+ In thy face, fool. [_+Tim+ retires._
+Alex.+ This is cruel, Ancient.
+Anc.+ You are but
The worms of worth, the sons of shame and baseness,
That in a tavern dare outsit the sun,
And, rather than a whore shall part unpledg'd,
You'll pawn your souls for a superfluous cup,
Though ye cast it into the reckoning.
The true soldier, who is all o'er, a history of man,
Noble and valiant; wisdom is the mould
In which he casts his actions. Such a discreet temperance
Doth daily deck his doings, that by his modesty
He's guess'd the son of merit, and by his mildness
Is believed valiant. Go, and build no more
These airy castles of hatched fame, which fools
Only admire and fear you for: the wise man
Derides and jeers you as puffs. [Be] really of[59]
Virtue and valour, those fair twins,
That are born, breathe, and die together: then
You'll no more be called butterflies, but men:
Think on't, and pay your reckoning. [_Exit._
+Capt.+ Shall we suffer this, Saunder?
+Alex.+ I must go after him.
+Sue.+ Kill him, an' there be no more men in Christendom.
+Alex.+ I know my sister loves him, and he swears he loves her;
and, by this hand, it shall go hard if he have her not, smock
and all. Brave, excellent man! With what a strength of zeal we
admire that goodness in another which we cannot call our own!
[_Exit._
+Lieut.+ He's a dead man, I warrant him.
+Capt.+ But where's our corporal? Corporal, corporal!
+Tim.+ Well, here's your corporal, an' you can be quiet.
[_Looks out._[60]
+Sue.+ Look, an' he have not ensconced[61] himself in a wooden
castle.
+Tim.+ Is he gone that called us butterflies?
+Mis. Coote.+ Yes, yes; h' has taken wing; and your brother's
gone after him, to fight with him.
+Tim.+ That's well; he cannot in conscience but do us the
courtesy to kill him for us. Come, gallants, what shall we
do? I'll never go home to go to bed with my guts full of
four-shillings beer, when I may replenish them with sack. Ha!
now am I as lusty! Methinks we two have blue beards. Is there
ne'er a wench to be had? Drawer, bring us up impossibilities,
an honest whore and a conscionable reckoning.
+Lieut.+ Why, here's all fire-wit, whe'r[62] he will or no.
+Sue.+ A whore! O tempting, handsome sir! think of a rich wife
rather.
+Tim.+ Tempting, handsome sir! She's not married, is she,
gentlemen?
+Capt.+ A woodcock springed! Let us but keep him in this
bacchanalian mist till morning, and 'tis done. [_Aside._
+Tim.+ Tempting, handsome sir! I've known a woman of handsome,
tempting fortunes throw herself away upon a handsome, tempting
sir.
+Lieut.+ Hark you, sir: if she had, and could be tempted to't,
have you a mind to marry? Would you marry her?
+Tim.+ O, and a man were so worthy, tempting sir.
+Lieut.+ Give me but a piece from you.
+Tim.+ And when will you give it me again?
+Lieut.+ Pray, give me but a piece from you. I'll pay this
reckoning into the bargain; and if I have not a trick to make
it your own, I'll give you ten for't--here's my witness.
+Tim.+ There 'tis; send thee good luck with't, and go drunk to
bed.
+Lieut.+ Do not you be too rash, for she observes you, and is
infinitely affected to good breeding.
+Tim.+ I wonnot speak, I tell you, till you hold up your finger
or fall a-whistling.
+Capt.+ Come, we'll pay at bar, and to the Mitre in Bread
Street;[63] we'll make a mad night on't. Please you, sweet
ladies, but to walk into Bread Street; this gentleman has
[had] a foolish slight supper, and he most ingeniously
professes it would appear to him the meridian altitude of his
desired happiness but to have the table decked with a pair of
perfections so exquisitely refulgent.
+Tim.+ He talks all sack, and he will drink no small beer.
+Mis. Coote.+ Pray lead, and we[64] shall follow.
+Sue.+ Bless mine eyes! my heart is full of changes. [_Exit._
+Tim.+ O, is it so? I have heard there may be more changes
in a woman's heart in an hour than can be rung upon six bells
in seven days. Well, go thy ways: little dost thou think how
thou shalt be betrayed. Within this four-and-twenty hours thou
shalt be mine own wife, flesh and blood, by father and mother,
O tempting, handsome sir! [_Exeunt._
FOOTNOTES:
[36] _i.e._, Intoxicate a fly.
[37] The 4º reads a _pair of sheets_, but evidently wrong. See
Marston's "Malcontent," iv. 5.
[38] [These words seem to have dropped out of the old copy, as
Alexander immediately after puns on the word _rare_ (pronounced
sometimes like _raw_).]
[39] _i.e._, A fool's coat, such as the jesters or fools anciently
wore. See notes to "Tempest," act iii. sc. 2, by Dr Johnson and Mr
Steevens.
[40] _Copesmate_ Dr Johnson conjectures to be the same as _copsmate_,
a companion in drinking, or one that dwells under the same _cope_, or
house. I find the word used in "The Curtain-Drawer of the World," 1612,
p. 31, but not according to either of the above explanations. "Hee that
trusts a tradesman on his word, a usurer with his bond, a phisitian
with his body, and the divell with his soule, needes not care who he
trusts afterwards, nor what _copesmate_ encounters him next."
_Copesmate_, I believe, means only _companion_, a word which was used
both in a bad and good sense by our ancestors. To _cope_ is to meet
with, to encounter. Thus Hamlet--
"As e'er my conversation _cop'd_ withall."
_--Steevens._
Again, in Wither's "Abuses Stript and Whipt," 1613, bk. ii. s. 1--
"Nay be advised (quoth his _copesmate_) harke,
Lets stay all night, for it grows pest'lence darke."
[41] See note to "Gammer Gurton's Needle," [iii. 178], and also the
notes of Dr Percy, Mr Steevens, and Mr Tollet, to the "First Part of
King Henry IV.," act i. sc. 2.
[42] [A constant allusion in our old plays.]
[43] This reply, and the preceding question of Randall, were omitted by
Dodsley and Reed.
[44] [It is still a common expression, that a person will "see his
_grandmother_" after taking so and so.]
[45] Mr Reed allowed it to stand _continuance_ instead of
_discontinuance_, which made nonsense of the passage.--_Collier._
[46] See note to "Romeo and Juliet," act ii. sc. 3, vol. x. edit.
1778.--_Steevens._
[47] [Old copy and former editions, _pigme_. The peony is very apt
to be nipped by the frost, and so to be pinched up; hence Sim's
similitude.]
[48] One of the miscellaneous collections of songs and poems, formerly
published, called "Garlands." The names of a great number of these,
and, amongst the rest, "The Garland of Good-will," by T. D., [1604,]
are enumerated in [Hazlitt's "Handbook," 1867, art. Garlands, Deloney,
&c.]
[49] [A play on the similarity between _lye_ and _lie_, the former
being the dregs or lees of beer.]
[50] [_Moll_ and _Malkin_ are the same, of course. Ear-lack, just
after, plays on the meanings of the words _bed_ and _stuff_.]
[51] _Flechier_, Fr., a maker of arrows. We have still the Fletchers'
Company in the city of London.
[52] [The Poultry in Wood Street is meant.]
[53] [Former edits., _Tributie_.]
[54] [The "Mirror of Knighthood," better known as the "Knight of the
Sun," a romance in nine parts, translated into English by Margaret
Tyler and others, between 1579 and 1601. Complete sets are of the
greatest rarity. The bibliography of the work may be seen in Hazlitt
_v._ Knight of the Sun.]
It appears that Thomas Este, the printer, [originally] undertook the
publication of this work, which is executed by different translators,
and dedicated to different patrons. Margaret Tyler (_thine to use_,
as she says at the conclusion of her address to the reader) having no
concern with any part but the first.--_Steevens._
[55] Tim means to ask, is it _four_ or _six shilling beer_, supposing
that such was the beverage, to which the Captain replies scornfully,
_Four or six! 'Tis rich Canary_, &c. This was omitted by Mr
Reed.--_Collier._
[56] [Former edits., _Pox on you heilding. Heildom_ is a _health_, and
the lieutenant means to say that Tim should propose one.]
[57] [See Dyce's Middleton, i. 66.]
[58] This battle was fought at Weisenberg, near Prague, 18th November
1620, and was fatally decisive against the Elector Palatine who, in
consequence of it, not only lost his new kingdom of Bohemia, but also
was deprived by the Emperor of his hereditary dominions.
[59] [In the former edits, this passage stands, "_jeers ye puffs really
of_."]
[60] Tim, who has hidden or _ensconced_ himself, looks out, and
not the Captain, as Mr Reed made it, by misplacing the stage
direction.--_Collier._
[61] A _sconce_ is a petty fortification. The verb _to ensconce_
occurs more than once in Shakespeare. See note on "The Merry Wives of
Windsor," act ii. sc. 2.--_Steevens._ [This note amounts to nothing,
as the word _ensconce_ is very common, and all that is here intended
is that Tim, frightened at the Ancient, had hidden himself behind a
chest of drawers (a very petty fortification!) or some other article of
furniture.]
[62] _i.e._, Whether. It is frequently so [spelled] in ancient writers.
See Ben Jonson's "New Inn," act v. sc. 2., and Mr Whalley's note,
[Gifford's edit., v. 428.]
[63] From a passage in "Ram Alley," [x. 313], it has already appeared
there were two taverns at this time with the same sign.
[64] [Former edits., _he_.]
ACT III., SCENE I.
_Enter +John+ and the +Maid+._
+John.+ But, sirrah, canst tell what my mistress means to do
with her suitors?
+Maid.+ Nay, nay, I know not; but there is one of them, I am
sure, worth looking after.
+John.+ Which is he, I prythee?
+Maid.+ O John, Master Randall, John.
+John.+ The Welshman?
+Maid.+ The witty man, the pretty man, the singing-man. He has
the daintiest ditty, so full of pith, so full of spirit, as
they say.
+John.+ Ditties! they are the old ends of ballads.[65]
+Maid.+ Old ends! I am sure they are new beginnings with me.
+John.+ Here comes my mistress.
_Enter +Widow+ and +Jarvis+._
+Wid.+ Who was that knocked at the gate?
+Jar.+ Why, your Welsh wooer.
+Maid.+ Alas! the sight on's eyes is enough to singe my little
maidenhead. I shall never be able to endure him. [_Exit +Maid+._
_Enter +Randall+._
+Ran.+
_When high King Henry rul'd this land,[66]
The couple of her name,
Besides hur queen was tearly lov'd,
A fair and princely--widows._
Hark you, widows; Randalls was disturbed in cogitations about
lands, ploughs, and cheesepresses in Wales; and, by cat, hur
have forgot where hur and hur meet soon at pright dark evenings.
+Wid.+ Why, on the 'Change, in the Dutch walks.
+Ran.+ O haw, have hur? but Randalls was talk no Dutch; pray
meet her in the Welsh walk. Was no Welsh walk there?
+Wid.+ Fie, no! There are no Welsh merchants there?
+Ran.+ Mass, was fery true, was all shentlemen in Wales. Hur
never saw hur shambermaid; pray, where was her shambermaid?
+Jar.+ Taken up i' th' kitchen, sir.
+Ran.+ Can hur make wedding-ped pravely for Randalls and widows?
+Wid.+ Pray tell him, Jarvis, whe'r[67] she can or no.
+Jar.+ Sir, not to delay, but to debilitate the strength of
your active apprehension of my mistress's favour----
+Ran.+ Was fery good words.
+Jar.+ Hark in your ear: she will have her nest feathered with
no British breed.
+Ran.+ Sounds, was not British so good as English?
+Jar.+ Yes, where there's wisdom, wit, and valour; but, as
amongst our English, we may have one fool, a knave, a coxcomb,
and a coward, she bid me tell you, she has seen such wonders
come out of Wales. In one word,[68] you're an ass, and she'll
have none of you.
+Ran.+ Augh, Saint Tavie, Owen, Morgan, and all hur cousins!
was widow herself say so?
+Wid.+ Good sir, let every circumstance make up one answer,
take it with you.
+Jar.+ And the Roman answer is, the English goose, sir.[69]
+Ran.+ Sounds! hur was kill now! Gog and Gogmagog! a whole
dozen of shiants. Make fool of Randalls! Randalls was wisht to
as prave match as widows; was know one Mary Bloodhound, was
ha' all, when her father kick up heels; and, by cat, though
hur never saw hur, hur will send hur love-letters presently,
get hur good-wills, and go to shurch and marry, and hur were
eight-and-thirty, two hundred and nine and fifty widows. Mark
hur now. [_Exit +Randall+._
+Jar.+ He pelts as he goes pitifully.
+Wid.+ Where's Mary?
+John.+ Mary!
_Enter +Maid+._
+Wid.+ Pray go to Aldgate, to my sempstress, for my ruff; I
must use it, say, to-morrow. Did ye bid her hollow it just in
the French fashion cut?
+Maid.+ Yes, forsooth.
+Wid.+ 'Twas well; we have no other proof in use that we are
English, if we do not zany them. Let John go with you.
+Maid.+ Yes, forsooth. [_Exit._
+Jar.+ But pray, forsooth, how do you mean to dispose of your
suitors?
+Wid.+ Shall I tell thee? For this, thou hast given him his
cure, and he is past care; for old Bloodhound the sawmonger,
I writ to him to meet me soon, at ten in the dark, upon the
'Change; and if I come not by ten, he should stay till twelve:
intimating something mystically that, to avoid surprisals of
other rivals, I mean to go from thence with him to lie at his
house all night, and go to church with him i' th' morning; when
my meaning is only knavery, to make myself merry, and let him
cool his heels[70] there till morning.
+Jar.+ And now have I a whimsy, newly jumped into the coll of
ingenious apprehension, to sauce him daintily; that for that.
What think you of the gentleman that brought a stool with him
out of the hall, and sat down at dinner with you in the parlour?
+Wid.+ They say he's an ancient, but I affect not his colours.
+Jar.+ But what say you to the mad, victorious Alexander?
+Wid.+ A wild, mad roarer, a trouble not worth minding.
+Jar.+ He will mind you ere morning, troth, mistress.
[_Aside._] There waits a gentleman i' th' next room that hath a
long time loved you, and has watched for such an hour, when all
was out of doors, to tell you so; and, none being within but
you and I, he desires you would hear him speak, and there's an
end on't.
+Wid.+ What is he?
+Jar.+ An honest man.
+Wid.+ How know you?
+Jar.+ Why, he told me so.
+Wid.+ And why were you such a fool to take his own word.
+Jar.+ Because all the wit I had could get nobody's else.
+Wid.+ A knave will ever tell you he's an honest man.
+Jar.+ But an honest man will never tell you he's a knave.
+Wid.+ Well, sir, your mistress dares look upon the honest man.
+Jar.+ And the honest man dares look upon my mistress. [_Exit._
+Wid.+ 'Tis the roughest, bluntest fellow. Yet, when I take
young Bloodhound to a retired collection of scattered judgment,
which often lies disjointed with the confused distraction of so
many, methinks he dwells in my opinion a right ingenious[71]
spirit, veiled merely with the vanity of youth and wildness.
He looks, methinks, like one that could retract himself from
his mad starts, and, when he pleased, turn tame. His handsome
wildness, methinks, becomes him, could he keep it bounded in
thrift and temperance. But down, these thoughts; my resolve
rests here in private.
But from a fool, a miser, and a man too jealous for a little
sweetness [in] love, Cupid defend me!
_Enter +Jarvis+ like a gentleman, very brave, with his
former clothes in his hand._[72]
+Jar.+ And to a widow wise, nobly liberal and discreetly
credulous, Cupid hath sent me.
+Wid.+ Pray prove you, as you appear, a gentleman.
Why, Jarvis?
+Jar.+ Look you, here's Jarvis hangs by geometry [_Hangs up his
livery_]; and here's the gentleman--for less I am not--that
afar off, taken with the fainted praises of your wealthy
beauty, your person, wisdom, modesty, and all that can make
woman gracious, in this habit sought and obtained your service.
+Wid.+ For heaven's sake whats your intent?
+Jar.+ I love you.
+Wid.+ Pray, keep off.
+Jar.+ I would keep from you. Had my desires bodies,
How I could beat them into better fashion,
And teach them temperance. For I rid to find you;
And, at a meeting amongst many dames,
I saw you first. O, how your talking eyes,
Those active, sparkling sweet, discoursing[73] twins,
In their strong captivating motion told me
The story of your heart! A thousand Cupids,
Methought, sat playing on that pair of crystals,[74]
Carrying, to the swiftness of covetous fancy,
The very letters we spell love with.
+Wid.+ Fie, fie!
+Jar.+ I have struck her to the heart, though my face
Apparelled with this shield of gravity, [bear][75]
The neglected roughness of a soldier's dart.
These diamond-pointed eyes but hither throw,
And you will see a young spring on't; but question
Time's fair ones, they'll confess, though with a blush.
They have often found good wine at an old bush.
My blood is young, and full of amorous heats,
Which but branch'd out into these lusty veins,
Would play and dally, and in wanton turnings
Would teach you strange constructions, [madam.]
Let time and place then, with love's old friend,
Opportunity, instruct you to be wise.
+Wid.+ Alas, sir!
Where learned you to catch occasions thus?
+Jar.+ Of a lawyer's clerk, wench, that, with six such catches,
leaped in five years from his desk to his coach, drawn with
four horses.
+Wid.+ Do you mean marriage?
+Jar.+ Marriage is a cloying meat; marry who thou woot to make
a show to shroud thee from the storms round-headed opinion,
that sways all the world, may let fall on thee. Me cousin thou
shalt call. Once in a month or so, I'll read false letters from
a far-distant uncle, insert his commendations to thee, hug thy
believing husband into a pair of handsome horns; look upon him
with one eye, and wink upon thee with the other. Wouldst have
any more?
+Wid.+ The return of servants, or some friendly visit, will
intercept us now: re-assume your habit, and be but Jarvis till
to-morrow morning, and, by the potent truth of friendship, I
will give you plenty of cause to confess I love you truly and
strongly.
+Jar.+ You're in earnest?
+Wid.+ On my life, serious; let this kiss seal it.
+Jar.+ The softest wax ever sealed bawdy business! Now for old
Bloodhound: I'll meet you upon the 'Change, sir, with a blind
bargain, and then help your son to a good pennyworth; this
night shall be all mirth, a mistress of delight. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Bloodhound+_,[76] +Sim+, _and +Moll+._
+Blood.+ Nay, nay, nay, mark what follows; I must bring her
home i' th' dark, turn her up to bed, and here she goes to
church. My cloak, sirrah.
+Sim.+ 'Tis a very dark night, sir; you'll not have a cloak for
the rain.[77]
+Blood.+ I'm going to steal the widow from I know not how many.
+Sim.+ Nay, then I'll let your cloak for the rain alone, and
fetch you a cloak for your knavery.
+Blood.+ To bed, to bed, good Sim. What, Moll, I say!
+Moll.+ Sir.
+Blood.+ I charge you, let not one be up i' th' house but
yourself after the clock strikes ten, nor a light be stirring.
Moll, trick up the green bed-chamber very daintily.
+Moll.+ I shall, sir.
+Blood.+ And--well-remembered, Moll--the keys of my
compting-house are in the left pocket of my hose[78] above i'
th' wicker chair; look to them, and have a care of the black
box there I have often told thee of: look to that as to thy
maidenhead.
+Moll.+ I shall, sir.
+Blood.+ Pray for me, all; pray for me, all.
+Sim.+ Have you left out anything for supper?
+Blood.+ Out, rogue! shall not I be at infinite expense
to-morrow? fast to-night, and pray for me.
+Sim.+ An old devil in a greasy satin doublet keep you company!
[_Aside._
+Blood.+ Ha, what's that?
+Sim.+ I say, the satin doublet you will wear to-morrow will be
the best in the company, sir.
+Blood.+ That's true, that's true. I come, widow, I come,
wench. [_Exit +Bloodhound+._
+Moll.+ O sweet Sim, what shall I do to-morrow? To-morrow must
be the day, the doleful day, the dismal day! Alas, Sim! what
dost thou think in thy conscience I shall do with an old man?
+Sim.+ Nay, you're well enough served; you know how your
brother, not an hour ago, lay at you to have the Ancient, one
that your teeth e'en water at; and yet you cry, I cannot love
him, I wonnot have him.
+Moll.+ I could willingly marry him, if I might do nothing but
look on him all day, where he might not see me; but to lie with
him--alas! I shall be undone the first night.
+Sim.+ That's true: how will you go to bed else? But, remember,
he is a man of war, an ancient, you are his colours: now, when
he has nimbly displayed you, and handsomely folded you up
against the next fight, then we shall have you cry, O sweet
Sim, I had been undone, if I had not been undone.[79]
+Moll.+ Nay, and then the old fellow would mumble me to bed.
+Sim.+ Abed! a bawd with two teeth would not mumble bacon so:
then he is so sparing, you shall wear nothing but from the
broker's at second-hand; when, being an ancient's wife, you
shall be sure to flourish.
+Moll.+ Prythee, go in and busy the old man with a piece of
Reynard the Fox,[80] that he may not disturb us; for at this
hour I expect Ancient Young and my brother.
+Sim.+ Well, I leave you to the managing of Ancient Young,
while I go in and flap the old man i' th' mouth with a
fox-tail. [_Exit._
_Enter +Alexander+ and +Ancient+._
+Moll.+ Look, look, an' he have not brought him just upon the
minute. O sweet, silken Ancient, my mind gives me thee and I
shall dance the shaking of the sheets[81] together.
+Alex.+ Now, you Mistress Figtail, is the wind come about yet?
I ha' brought the gentleman: do not you tell him now, you
had rather have his room than his company, and so show your
breeding.
+Moll.+ Now, fie upon you; by this light you're the wickedest
fellow! My brother but abuses you: pray, sir, go over again,
you've a handsome spying wit, you may send more truth over in
one of your well-penned pamphlets, than all the weekly news we
buy for our penny.
+Anc.+ Pox on't! I'll stay no longer.
+Alex.+ 'Sfoot, thou shalt stay longer; we'll stay her
heart--her guts out.
+Moll.+ Ha, ha! how will you do for a sister then?
+Alex.+ Prythee, Moll, do but look upon him.
+Moll.+ Yes, when I ha' no better object.
+Alex.+ What canst thou see in him, thou unhandsome hideous
thing, that merits not above thee?
+Moll.+ What would I give to kiss him! [_Aside._
+Alex.+ Has he not a handsome body, straight legs,[82] a good
face?
+Moll.+ Yes, but his lips look as if they were as hard as his
heart.
+Anc.+ 'Sfoot, shalt try that presently.
+Moll.+ You're basely, sir, conditioned. Pah!
+Alex.+ Why do you spit?
+Moll.+ You may go. By this light, he kisses sweetly. [_Aside._
+Alex.+ Do but stay a little, Moll: prythee, Moll, thou knowest
my father has wronged him; make him amends, and marry him.
+Moll.+ Sweet Master Spendall, spare your busy breath; I must
have a wise man, or else none.
+Alex.+ And is not he a wise man?
+Moll.+ No.
+Alex.+ Why?
+Moll.+ Because he keeps a fool company.
+Alex.+ Why, you are now in's company.
+Moll.+ But birds of a feather will fly together; and you and
he are seldom asunder.
+Alex.+ Why, you young witch, call your elder brother fool!
But go thy ways, and keep thy maidenhead till it grow
more deservedly despised than are the old base boots of a
half-stewed pander: lead a Welsh morris with the apes in hell
amongst the little devils; or, when thou shalt lie sighing by
the side of some rich fool, remember, thou thing of thread and
needles, not worth threepence halfpenny.
+Moll.+ Too late, I fear; I ha' been too coy. [_Aside._] You
are to be married then, sir?
+Anc.+ I am indeed, sweet mistress, to a maid Of excellent
parentage, breeding, and beauty.
+Alex.+ I ha' thought of such musicians for thee!
+Anc.+ But let it not be any way distasteful unto you, that
thus I tried you; for your brother persuaded me to pretend
to love you, that he might perceive how your mind stood to
marriage, in that, as I guess, he has a husband kept in store
for you.
+Alex.+ Ay, I have provided a husband for thee, Moll.
+Moll.+ But I'll have no husband of your providing; for, alas!
now I shall have the old man, whether I will or no.
+Alex.+ I have such a stripling for thee, he wants one eye, and
is crooked-legged; but that was broke at football.
+Anc.+ Alas! we cannot mould men, you know.
+Alex.+ He's rich, he's rich, Moll.
+Moll.+ I hate him and his riches. Good sir, are you to be
married in earnest?
+Alex.+ In earnest! Why, do you think men marry, as fencers
sometimes fight, in jest? Shall I show her Mistress Elizabeth's
letter I snatched from thee? [_To +Ancient+._
+Anc.+ Not, and thou lovest me.
+Moll.+ Good brother, let me see it; sweet brother, dainty
brother, honey brother.
+Alex.+ No indeed, you shall not see it, sweet sister, dainty
sister, honey sister.
+Moll.+ O good sir, since so long time I have loved you, let me
not die for your sake.
+Alex.+ The tide turns. [_Aside._
+Anc.+ Long time loved me!
+Moll.+ Long ere you went to sea, I did.
I have lov'd you very long with all my heart.
+Alex.+ Think of Bess, think of Bess; 'tis the better match.
+Moll.+ You wicked brother! Indeed I love you better than all
the Besses in the world; and if to-night I shift not into
better fortunes, to-morrow I am made the miserablest wife
marriage and misery can produce.
+Alex.+ Is't possible?
+Moll.+ Alas, sir! I am to marry an old man--a very old man,
trust me. I was strange[83] in the nice timorous temper of a
maid: I know 'tis against our sex to say we love; but rather
than match with sixty and ten, threescore and ten times I would
tell you so, and tell them ten times over, too. Truth loves not
virtue with more of virtuous truth than I do you; and wonnot
you love me then? [_Weeps._
+Anc.+ And lie with thee too, by this hand, wench. Come, let
us have fair weather; thou art mine, and I am thine; there's
an end o' th' business. This was but a trick, there's the
projector.
+Moll.+ O, you're a sweet brother!
+Alex.+ And now thou'rt my sweet sister. I know the old man's
gone to meet with an old wench that will meet with him,[84]
or Jarvis has no juice in his brains; and while I, i' th'
meantime, set another wheel agoing at the widow's, do thou
soon--about ten, for 'tis to be very conveniently dark--meet
this gentleman at the Nag's Head corner, just against
Leadenhall. We lie in Lime Street; thither he shall carry thee,
accommodate thee daintily all night with Mistress Dorothy, and
marry i' th' morning very methodically.
+Moll.+ But I have the charge of my father's keys, where all
his writings lie.
+Anc.+ How all things jump in a just equivalency,
To keep thee from the thing of threescore and ten!
Didst thou not see my mortgage lately there?
+Moll.+ Stay, stay.
+Alex.+ A white devil with a red fox-tail in a black box.
[_Aside._
+Moll.+ But yesterday my father showed it me, and swears, if I
pleased him well, it should serve to jump[85] out my portion.
+Anc.+ Prove thine old dad a prophet; bring it with thee, wench.
+Moll.+ But now, at's parting, he charged me to have a care to
that as to my maidenhead.
+Alex.+ Why, if he have thy maidenhead and that into the
bargain, thy charge is performed. Away, get thee in, forget
not the hour; and you had better fight under Ancient Young's
colours than the old man's standard of sixty and ten.
+Anc.+[86] Remember this, mad-brain! [_Exeunt._
FOOTNOTES:
[65] [Old copy, _ends of old ballets_.]
[66] A stanza, with some alterations, of the old ballad of "Fair
Rosamond," [printed in Deloney's "Garland of Good-Will."] See Percy's
"Reliques," vol. ii.
[67] See note on p. 47.
[68] The 4º reads _in one shirt_.--_Collier._
[69] A pun on the Latin word _anser_, which signifies a _goose_.
[70] To _cool his heels_ is a very common expression, which for some
reason, or perhaps no reason, was altered in the edition of 1780, to
_cool himself_.--_Collier._
[71] _Ingenious_ and _ingenuous_ were formerly used indiscriminately
for each other. [The truth seems to be that ingenuous was merely
understood formerly in the sense in which we use it now, and that
_ingenious_, on the contrary, had a larger meaning, standing generally
for the gifts of the mind or intellect. Old-fashioned people only
would say of such an one, "He's an ingenious man," meaning a person of
intellectual culture.]
[72] The stage direction in the old copy is not very intelligible:
_Enter like a gentleman very brave, with Jarvis cloaths in's
hand._--_Collier._
[73] The 4º reads _sweet discovered twins_.--_Collier._
[74] A common expression to signify the eyes. See several instances in
Mr Steevens's note on "King Henry V.," act ii. sc. 3.
[75] [The text has been changed here, with what degree of success the
reader has to determine. In the former editions it stood thus--
"Through my face
Apparelled with this field of gravity,
The neglected roughness of a soldier's dart."
Perhaps this passage was intended as an _aside_.]
[76] The 4º has _Enter Bloodhound, Ear-lack with letters, Sim, and
Moll._ But as there is no business nor speech for Ear-lack during the
whole scene, I have expunged his name.
[77] [An allusion to the proverb, "He has a cloak for every
rain"--_i.e._, an expedient for every turn of fortune.]
[78] Mr Reed altered _hose_ to _coat_ without any warrant
whatever.--_Collier._
[79] A parody of that Latin saying, _Periissem nisi
periissem_.--_Pegge._
[80] _i.e._, The story-book with that name, [first printed in 1481.
The abridged and modernised version was probably the one with which
Moll was familiar. The earliest edition of this yet discovered is dated
1620.]--_Steevens._
[81] [A play on the name of] a dance, [which is constantly mentioned in
old plays.]
[82] [Old copy, _legg'd_.]
[83] _i.e._, Shy, coy. See note to "Cymbeline," act i. sc. 7, edit.
1778.--_Steevens._
[84] _i.e._, Be even with him. The phrase occurs in Shakespeare's "Much
Ado about Nothing," act i. sc. 1. See note thereon.--_Stevens._
[85] _Jump_ is the word in the 4º, though altered in the edit. of 1780
without notice to _eke_. Moll only repeats the term used by the Ancient
just before--
"How all things jump in a just equivalency."
--_Collier._
[86] [Old copy gives this speech to Moll.]
ACT IV., SCENE I.
_Enter +Sue+, +Tim+, +Captain+, and +Mistress Coote+._
+Tim.+ Ha, ha, ha, grandmother! I'll tell thee the best jest.
+Sue.+ Prythee, chick.
+Mis. Coote.+ Jest, quotha'! Here will be jesting of all sides,
I think, if Jarvis keep his word.
+Tim.+ Sirrah, whilst thou wert sent for into the next room,
up came our second course; amongst others, in a dish of
blackbirds, there lay one that I swore was a woodcock: you were
at table, captain?
+Capt.+ That I was, and our brave mad crew, which for my sake
you are pleased to make welcome.
+Tim.+ Pish, we'll have as many more to-morrow night; but
still I swore 'twas a woodcock: she swore 'twas a blackbird;
now who shall we be tried by but Serjeant Sliceman, Captain
Carvegut's cousin here? a trifling wager, a matter of the
reckoning was laid; the serjeant swore 'twas a blackbird. I
presently paid the reckoning, and she clapped o' the breast
presently, and swore 'twas a woodcock, as if any other would
pass after the reckoning was paid.
+Mis. Coote.+ This was a pretty one, I protest.
+Tim.+ Made sure before such a mad crew of witnesses, sirrah.
Grannum, all's agreed, Sue's----
+Sue.+ Ay, you may see how you men can betray poor maids.
_Enter +Lieutenant+._
+Lieut.+ Do you hear, corporal? yonder's Serjeant Sliceman, and
the brave crew that supped with us, have called for three or
four gallons of wine, and are offering money.
+Tim.+ How! prythee, grannum, look to Dab: do you two but hold
them in talk, whilst I steal down and pay the reckoning.
+Lieut.+ Do't daintily: they'll stay all night.
+Tim.+ That's it I would have, man: we'll make them all drunk;
they'll never leave us else, and still as it comes to a crown,
I'll steal down and pay it in spite of their teeth. Remember,
therefore, that ye make them all drunk; but be sure you keep me
sober to pay the reckonings.
+Omnes.+ Agreed, agreed.
+Mis. Coote.+ O Jarvis, Jarvis, how I long till I see thee!
[_Exeunt._
_Enter +Moll Bloodhound+, and +Sim+ with a letter._
+Moll.+ There we must meet soon, and be married to-morrow
morning, Sim: is't not a mad brother?
+Sim.+ Yes, and I can tell you news of a mad lover.
+Moll.+ What is he, in the name of Cupid?
+Sim.+ Why, one Master Randalls, a Welshman: I have had such
a fit with him; he says he was wished[87] to a very wealthy
widow; but of you he has heard such histories, that he will
marry you, though he never saw you; and that the parboiled Ætna
of his bosom might be quenched by the consequent pastime in the
Prittish flames of his Prittish plood, he salutes you with that
love-letter.
+Moll.+ This is a mad lover, indeed; prythee, read it.
+Sim.+ Mass, h' has writ it in the Welsh-English; we had
been spoiled else for want of an interpreter. But thus he
begins:--_Mistress Maries_--
+Moll.+ He makes two Maries serve one mistress.
+Sim.+ Ever while you live, 'tis your first rule in Welsh
grammars--[88]
_That hur forsake widows, and take maids, was no great wonder,
for sentlemen ever love the first cut._
+Moll.+ But not o' th' coxcomb; he should have put in that.
+Sim.+ The coxcomb follows by consequence, mark else.
_I Randall Crack, of Carmarden, do love thee Mary Ploodhounds,
of Houndsditch, dwelling near Aldgate, and Pishop's-gate, just
as between hawk and buzzard._
+Moll.+ He makes an indifferent wooing.
+Sim.+ _And that hur loves Maries so monstrous, yet never
saw her, was because hur hear hur in all societies so fery
fillanously commended, but specially before one Master Pusy,
constables of hur parish, who made hurself half foxed by
swearing by the wines, that Maries would be monstrous good
marriages for Randalls._
+Moll.+ Master Busy, it seems, was not idle.
+Sim.+ _If Maries can love a Pritain of the plood of
Cadwallader, which Cadwallader was Prut's great grandfather,
Randalls was come in proper persons, pring round sillings in
hur pockets, get father's goodwill, and go to shurch a Sunday
with a whole dozen of Welsh harps before hur. So hur rest hur
constant lovers_,
_Randall William ap Thomas, ap Tavy, ap Robert, ap
Rice, ap Sheffery, Crack._
+Moll.+ Fie! what shall I do with all them?
+Sim.+ Why, he said these all rest your constant lovers,
whereof, for manners'-sake, he puts himself in the first place.
He will call here presently; will you answer him by letter or
word of mouth?
+Moll.+ Troth, neither of either, so let him understand.
+Sim.+ Will ye not answer the love-sick gentleman?
+Moll.+ If he be sick with the love of me, prythee, tell him
I cannot endure him: let him make a virtue of necessity, and
apply my hate for's health. [_Exit._
+Sim.+ Ay, but I'll have more care of the gentleman, I warrant
you: if I do not make myself merry, and startle your midnight
meeting, say Sim has no more wit than his godfathers, and they
were both head-men of his parish.
_Enter +Randall+._
+Ran.+
_Farewell widows prave, her sall no Randalls have.
Widows was very full of wiles;
Mary Ploodhounds now, Randalls make a vow,
Was run for Moll a couple of miles._
Honest Simkins, what said Maries to Randall's letters?
+Sim.+ You're a madman.
+Ran.+ Augh, hur was very glad hur was mad.
+Sim.+ The old man has money enough for her; and if you marry
her, as, if her project take, you may, she'll make you more
than a man.
+Ran.+ More than mans! what's that?
+Sim.+ Troth, cannot you tell that? this is the truth on't; she
would be married to-morrow to one Ancient Young, a fellow she
cannot endure: now, she says, if you could meet her privately
to-night, between ten and eleven, just at the great cross-way
by the Nag's Head tavern at Leadenhall.
+Ran.+ Was high-high pump, there, as her turn in Graces Street?
+Sim.+ There's the very place. Now, because you come the
welcomest man in the world to hinder the match against her mind
with the Ancient, there she will meet you, go with you to your
lodging, lie there all night, and be married to you i' th'
morning at the Tower, as soon as you shall please.
+Ran.+ By cat, hur will go and prepare priests presently. Look
you, Simkins, there is a great deal of round sillings for hur,
hur was very lucky sillings, for came to Randalls shust for all
the world as fortune was come to fool: tell Maries hur will
meet hur, hur warrant hur; make many puppy fools of Ancients,
and love her very monstrously. [_Exit._
+Sim.+ Ha, ha, ha! so, so; this midnight match shall be mine;
she told me she was to meet the Ancient there. I'll be sure the
Ancient shall meet him there; so I shall lie abed and laugh, to
think, if he meet her there, how she will be startled; and if
the Ancient meet him there, how he will be cudgelled. Beware
your ribs, Master Randall. [_Exit._
_Enter +Old Bloodhound+._
+Blood.+ I wonder where this young rogue spends the day. I hear
he has received my hundred marks and my advantage with it; and,
it may be, he went home since I went out. Jarvis was with me
but even now, and bid me watch, and narrowly, for fear of some
of my rival spies, for I know she has many wealthy suitors. All
love money. This Jarvis is most neat in a love business, and,
when we are married (because many mouths, much meat), I will
requite his courtesy, and turn him away: the widow's all I look
for. Nay, let her fling to see I have her possessions; there's
a saw for't--
_There's thriving in wiving: for when we bury
Wives by half-dozens, the money makes merry._
O money, money, money! I will build thee
An altar on my heart, and offer thee
My morning longings and my evening wishes,
And, hadst thou life, kill thee with covetous kisses.
_Enter +John+ and +Jarvis+._
+John.+ But now, and she speak, she spoils all; or if he call
her by my mistress's name, hast thou not tricks to enjoin them
both to silence, till they come sure?
+Jar.+ Phaw! that's a stale one: she shall speak to him in her
own accent; he shall call her by her own name, leaving out the
bawd, yet she shall violently believe he loves her, and he
shall confidently believe the same which he requires, and she
but presents. Fall off; she comes.
_Enter +Mistress Coote+._
+Mis. Coote.+ Jarvis!
+Jar.+ Here I have discovered him; 'tis he, by his coughs.
Remember your instructions, and use few words; say, though
till night you knew it not, you will be married early in the
morning, to prevent a vintner's widow that lays claim to him.
+Blood.+ Jarvis!
+Jar.+ Good old man, I know him by his tongue.
+Blood.+ Is she come? Is she come, Jarvis?
+Jar.+ Ask her if she would live, sir. She walks aloof yonder.
+Blood.+ We shall cosen all her wooers.
+Jar.+ Nay, amongst all of you, we'll cosen one great one,
that had laid a pernicious plot this night, with a cluster of
his roaring friends, to surprise her, carry her down to the
waterside, pop her in at Puddle-dock,[89] and carry her to
Gravesend in a pair of oars.
+Blood.+ What, what is his name, I prythee?
+Jar.+ He's a knight abounding in deeds of charity; his name
Sir Nicholas Nemo.
+Blood.+ And would he pop her in at Puddle-dock?
+Jar.+ And he could but get her down there.
+Blood.+ By my troth, we shall pop him fairly. Where is she?
where is she?
+Jar.+ Ha! do you not perceive a fellow walk up and down
muffled yonder?
+Blood.+ There is something walks.
+Jar.+ That fellow has dogged us all the way, and I fear all is
frustrate.
+Blood.+ Not, I hope, man.
+Mis. Coote.+ This it is to be in love; if I do not dwindle----
+Jar.+ I know him now.
+Blood.+ 'Tis none of Sir Nicholas' spies, is't?
+Jar.+ He serves him.
+Blood.+ He wonnot murder me, will he?
+Jar.+ He shall not touch you: only, I remember, this afternoon
this fellow, by what he had gathered by eavesdropping, or by
frequent observation, asked me privately if there were no
meeting betwixt you and my mistress to-night in this place, for
a widow, he said, he knew you were to meet.
+Blood.+ Good.
+Jar.+ Now I handsomely threw dust in's eyes, and yet kept the
plot swift afoot too. I told him you were here to meet a widow
too, whom you long loved, but would not let her know't till
this afternoon, naming to him one of my aunts[90], a widow
by Fleet-ditch. Her name is Mistress Gray, and keeps divers
gentlewomen lodgers.
+Blood.+ Good again.
+Jar.+ To turn the scent then, and to cheat inquisition the
more ingeniously----
+Blood.+ And to bob Sir Nicholas most neatly.
+Jar.+ Be sure, all this night, in the hearing of any that you
shall but suspect to be within hearing, to call her nothing but
Mistress Coote.
+Blood.+ Or Widow Coote.
+Jar.+ Yes, you may put her in so; but be sure you cohere
in every particle with the precedent fallacy, as that you
have loved her long, though till this day--and so as I did
demonstrate.
+Blood.+ But how an' she should say she is not Widow Coote, and
that she knows no such woman, and so spoil all?
+Jar.+ Trust that with her wit and my instructions. We
suspected a spy, and therefore she will change her voice.
+Blood.+ Thou hast a delicate mistress of her.
+Jar.+ One thing more, and you meet presently. Mine aunt has
had nine husbands; tell her you'll hazard a limb, and make the
tenth.
+Blood.+ Prythee, let me alone; and Sir Nicholas were here
himself, he should swear 'twere thine aunt.
+Jar.+ [_To +Mistress Coote+._] Go forwards towards him; be not
too full of prattle, but make use of your instructions.
+Blood.+ Who's there? Widow Coote?
+Mis. Coote.+ Master Bloodhound, as I take it.
+Blood.+ She changes her voice bravely. I must tell thee,
true widow, I have loved thee a long time (look how the rogue
looks!), but had never the wit to let thee know it till to-day.
+Mis. Coote.+ So I was given to understand, sir.
+Jar.+ Is't not a fool finely? [_Aside._
+John.+ Handsome, by this hand.
+Blood.+ I like thy dwelling well upon the Fleet-ditch.
+Mis. Coote.+ A pretty wholesome air, sir, in the summer-time.
+Blood.+ Who would think 'twere she, Jarvis? [_Aside._
+Jar.+ I told ye she was tutored. [_Aside._
+Blood.+ I'll home with her presently; some stays up in the
dark.
+Jar.+ Fool! and he have any private discourse with her, they
discover themselves one to another, and so spoil the plot.
No trick! no, by no means, sir, hazard your person with her;
the bold rogue may come up close, so discover her to be my
mistress, and recover her with much danger to you.
+Blood.+ He has got a dagger.
+Jar.+ And a sword six foot in length. I'll carry her home for
you, therefore [let] not a light be stirring. For I know your
rivals will watch your house. Sim shall show us the chamber,
we'll conduct her up i' th' dark, shut the door to her above,
and presently come down and let you in below.
+Blood.+ There was never such a Jarvis heard of. Bid Sim to be
careful; by the same token, I told him he should feed to-morrow
for all the week after. Good night, Widow Coote; my man stayeth
up; we will bob Sir Nicholas bravely. Good night, sweet Widow
Coote; I do but seem to part; we'll meet at home, wench.
[_Exit._
+Mis. Coote.+ Adieu, my sweet dear heart.
+Jar.+ Go you with me. So, so, I'll cage this cuckoo,
And then for my young madcap; if all hit right,
This morning's mirth shall crown the craft o' th' night.
Follow me warily.
+Mis. Coote.+ I warrant thee, Jarvis, let me alone to right
myself into the garb of a lady. O, strange! to see how dreams
fall by contraries; I shall be coached to-morrow, and yet last
night dreamed I was carted. Prythee, keep a little state; go,
Jarvis. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Randall+. [Midnight.]_
+Ran.+ Was fery exceeding dark, but here is high pumps, sure,
here is two couple of cross-ways, and there was the street
where Grace dwells. One hundred pound in mornings in round
shillings, and wife worth one thousand, ere hur go to bed.
Randall's fortunes comes tumbling in like lawyers' fees, huddle
upon huddle.
_Enter +Moll+._
+Moll.+ O sweet Ancient, keep thy word and win my heart. They
say a moonshine night is good to run away with another man's
wife; but I am sure a dark night is best to steal away my
father's daughter.
+Ran.+ Mary.
+Moll.+ O, are you come, sir? there's a box of land and
livings, I know not what you call it.
+Ran.+ Lands and livings?
+Moll.+ Nay, nay; and we talk, we are undone. Do you not see
the watch coming up Gracious Street yonder? This cross-way was
the worst place we could have met at; but that is yours, and I
am yours; but, good sir, do not blame me, that I so suddenly
yielded to your love; alas! you know what a match on't I should
have to-morrow else.
+Ran.+ Hur means the scurvy Ancient. [_Aside._
+Moll.+ I' th' morning we shall be man and wife, and
then--Alas, I am undone! the watch are hard upon us: go
you back through Cornhill, I'll run round about the 'Change
by the Church Corner, down Cateaton Street, and meet you at
Bartholomew Lane end. [_Exit._
+Ran.+ Cat's Street was call hur? sure, Randalls was wrapped
in['s][91] mother's smock.
_Enter +Constable+ and +Watch+._
+Con.+ Keep straight towards Bishopsgate: I'm deceived if I
heard not somebody run that way.
_Enter +Maid+ with a bandbox._[92]
+Watch.+ Stay, sir; her's somebody come from Aldgate Ward?
+Maid.+ Alas! I shall be hanged for staying so long for this
cuff.
+Watch.+ Come before the constable here.
+Maid.+ Let the constable come before me, and he please.
+Con.+ How now! where ha' you been, pray, dame, ha!
+Maid.+ For my mistress's ruff at her sempstress', sir; she
must needs use it to-morrow, and that made me stay till it was
done.
+Con.+ Pray, who's your mistress? where dwell you?
+Maid.+ With one Mistress Wag, in Blackfriars, next to the sign
of the Feathers and the Fool, sir.
+Con.+ O, I know her very well; make haste home; 'tis late.
Come, come, let's back to Gracechurch; all's well, all's well.
[_Exeunt._
_Enter severally, +Ancient+ and +Moll+._
+Anc.+ I 'scaped the watch at Bishopsgate with ease: there is
somebody turning down the church corner towards the Exchange;
it may be Mistress Mary.
+Moll.+ Ancient!
+Anc.+ Yes.
+Moll.+ Are you here again? you have nimbly followed me: what
said the watch to you?
+Anc.+ I passed them easily; the gates are but now shut in.
+Moll.+ As we go, I'll tell thee such a tale of a Welsh wooer
and a lamentable love-letter.
+Anc.+ Yes, Sim told me of such a rat, and where he lodges: I
thought I should have met him here.
+Moll.+ Here? out upon him! But the watches walk their station,
and in few words is safety. I hope you will play fair, and
lodge me with the maid you told me of.
+Anc.+ She stays up for us, wench: in the word of a gentleman,
all shall be fair and civil.
+Moll.+ I believe you. [_Exeunt._
_Enter at several doors, +Randall+ and +Maid+._
+Ran.+ Sounds, was another fire-drake[93] walk in shange, we'll
run pack; was Maries have saved her labours, and was come after
Randalls. Maries, was Randall, that loves hur mightily Maries.
+Maid.+ Master Randall.
+Ran.+ How did watch let her go to Grace's Street?
+Maid.+ They knew me, and let me pass.
+Ran.+ Well now hur understands Maries loves Randalls so mighty
deal.
+Maid.+ If John have not told him, I'll be hanged. [_Aside._
+Ran.+ Maries shall go with Randalls to lodgings, and that hur
father work no divorcements, he will lie with her all to-night,
and marry her betimes next morning: meantime, hur will make
lands and livings fast.
+Maid.+ How? father! this is a mistake sure; and, to fashion it
fit for mine own following, I will both question and answer in
ambiguities that if he snap me one way, I may make myself good
i' th' other; and as he shall discover himself, I'll pursue the
conceit accordingly. [_Aside._] But will ye not deceive me?
maids[94] are many men's almanacs; the dates of your desires
out, we serve for nothing but to light tobacco.
+Ran.+
_If Randall false to Maries prove,
Then let not Maries Randalls love:
For Randalls was so true as Jove,
And Maries was hur joy.
If Randalls was not Pritain born,
Let Maries Randalls prow adorn,
And let her give a foul great horn
To Randalls._
Hur will love hur creat deal of much, hur warrant hur.
+Maid.+ And 'tis but venturing a maidenhead; if the worst come
to the worst, it may come back with advantage. [_Exeunt._
_Enter in her night-clothes, as going to bed, +Widow+
and +Maid+._
+Wid.+ Is not Mary come home yet?
+Maid.+ No, forsooth.
+Wid.+ 'Tis a fine time of night, I shall thank her for't: 'tis
past eleven, I am sure. Fetch the prayer-book lies within upon
my bed.
+Maid.+ Yes, forsooth. [_Exit._
+Wid.+ I wonder what this gentleman should be that catched me
so like Jarvis: he said he has fitted old Bloodhound according
to his quality; but I must not let him dally too long upon my
daily company: lust is a hand-wolf, who with daily feeding, one
time or other, takes a sudden start upon his benefactor.
_Enter +Maid+._
+Maid.+ O mistress, mistress!
+Wid.+ What's the matter, wench?
+Maid.+ A man, a man under your bed, mistress.
+Wid.+ A man! what man?
+Maid.+ A neat man, a proper man, a well-favoured man, a
handsome man.
+Wid.+ Call up John: where's Jarvis?
+Maid.+ Alas! I had no power to speak; his very looks are able
to make a woman stand as still as a miller's horse, when he's
loading. O, he comes, he comes! [_Exit._
_Enter +Alexander+._
+Wid.+ How came you hither, sir? how got you in?
+Alex.+ As citizens' wives do into masques, whether I would or
no. Nay, nay, do not doubt the discretion of my constitution:
I have brought ne'er a groat in my bosom; and, by this hand, I
lay under thy bed with a heart as honest and a blood as cold as
had my sister lain at top. Will you have me yet?
+Wid.+ You're a very rude, uncivil fellow.
+Alex.+ Uncivil! and lay so tame while you set up your foot
upon the bed to untie your shoe! such another word, I will
uncivilise that injured civility which you so scurvily slander,
and reward you with an undecency proportionable to your
understandings. Will you have me? will you marry me?
+Wid.+ You! why, to-morrow morning I am to be married to your
father.
+Alex.+ What, to sixty and I know not how many? that will lie
by your side, and divide the hours with coughs, as cocks do the
night by instinct of nature.
+Wid.+ And provide for his family all day.
+Alex.+ And only wish well to a fair wife all night.
+Wid.+ And keep's credit all day in all companies.
+Alex.+ And discredit himself all night in your company.
+Wid.+ Fie, fie! pray quit my house, sir.
+Alex.+ Yours? 'tis my house.
+Wid.+ Your house! since when?
+Alex.+ Even since I was begotten; I was born to't. I must have
thee, and I will have thee; and this house is mine, and none of
thine.
_Enter +Jarvis+._
+Jar.+ O mistress, the saddest accident i' th' street yonder.
+Wid.+ What accident, prythee?
+Jar.+ You must pardon my boldness in coming into your
bed-chamber: there is a gentleman slain in a fray at the door
yonder, and the people won't be persuaded but that he that did
it took this house. There is a constable, churchwardens, and
all the head-men of the parish be now searching; and they say
they will come up hither to your bed-chamber, but they'll find
him. I'll keep them down as long as I can; I can do no more
than I can. [_Exit._
+Wid.+ Are not you the murderer, sir?
+Alex.+ I ha' been under thy bed, by this hand, this three
hours.
+Wid.+ Pray, get you down then: they will all come up, and find
you here and all, and what will the parish think then? Pray get
you down.
+Alex.+ No, no, no; I will not go down, now I think on't.
[_Makes himself unready._[95]
+Wid.+ Why, what do you mean; you will not be so uncivil to
unbrace you here?
+Alex.+ By these buckles, I will, and what will they think
on't----
+Wid.+ Alas! you will undo me.
+Alex.+ No, no, I will undo myself, look ye.
+Wid.+ Good sir.
+Alex.+ I will off with my doublet to my very shirt.
+Wid.+ Pray, sir, have more care of a woman's reputation.
+Alex.+ Have a care on't thyself, woman, and marry me then.[96]
+Wid.+ Should they come up and see this, what could they
think, but that some foul, uncivil act of shame had this night
stained my house? and as good marry him as my name lost for
ever. [_Aside._
+Alex.+ Will you have me, afore t'other sleeve goes off?
+Wid.+ Do, hang yourself; I will not have you--look, look, if
he have not pulled it off quite: why, you wonnot pull off your
boots too, will you?
+Alex.+ Breeches and all, by this flesh.
+Wid.+ What, and stand naked in a widow's chamber?
+Alex.+ As naked as Grantham steeple or the Strand May-pole, by
this spur: and what your grave parishioners will think on't?
+Jar.+ Gentlemen, pray keep down.
+Wid.+ Alas! they are at the stairs' foot; for heaven's sake,
sir!
+Alex.+ Will you have me?
+Wid.+ What shall I do? no.
+Alex.+ This is the last time of asking; they come up, and down
go my breeches. Will you have me?
+Wid.+ Ay, ay, ay, alas! and your breeches go down, I am undone
for ever.
+Alex.+ Why, then, kiss me upon't. And yet there's no cracking
your credit: Jarvis, come in, Jarvis.
_Enter +Jarvis+._
+Jar.+ I have kept my promise, sir; you've catched the old one.
+Wid.+ How, catched? is there nobody below, then?
+Jar.+ Nobody but John, forsooth, recovering a tobacco snuff,
that departed before supper.
+Wid.+ And did you promise this, sir?
+Jar.+ A woman cannot have a handsomer cloud than a
hair-brained husband: I will be your coz, he shall be my
cuckold. [_Aside._
+Wid.+ I love you for your art. [_Aside._
+Jar.+ Come, come, put on, sir; I've acquainted you both with
your father's intended marriage. I' th' morning you shall
certify him very early by letter the quality of your fortunes,
and return to your obedience; and that you and your wife, still
concealing the parties, will attend him to church. John and
I'll be there early, as commanded by my mistress, to discharge
our attendance: about goes the plot, out comes the project, and
there's a wedding-dinner dressed to your hands.
+Alex.+ As pat as a fat heir to a lean shark; we shall hunger
for't: honest Jarvis, I am thy bedfellow to-night, and
to-morrow thy master.
+Wid.+ You're a fine man to use a woman thus.
+Alex.+ Pish! come, come.
Fine men must use fine women thus, 'tis fit.
Plain truth takes maids, widows are won with wit.
+Jar.+ You shall wear horns with wisdom; that is in your
pocket. [_Exeunt._
FOOTNOTES:
[87] _i.e._, Recommended.
[88] _Ever while you live, 'tis your first rule in We'sh grammars_,
which is clearly a reply to Moll's remark, has been hitherto very
absurdly made a part of Randall's letter, which begins only at _That
hur forsake_, &c.
[89] On the banks of the river Thames, formerly used for a laystall for
the soil of the streets, and much frequented by barges and lighters for
taking the same away; also for landing corn and other goods.--"Stowe's
Survey," bk. iii., p. 229, vol. i edit 1720.
[90] [The cant meaning of aunt at that time was _procuress_. See Dyce's
Middleton, i. 444. The word in this acceptation is not unusual.]
[91] [See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 149. _To be wrapped in his
mother's smock_ is a synonym for good fortune.]
[92] In the 4º it runs _Enter Chambermaid, Hugh with a bandbox_:
probably Hugh, though he says nothing, carried the box for the maid.
Mr. Reed made the change.--_Collier._
[93] See note to "The Miseries of Enforced Marriage," [ix. 572.]
[94] [Old copy, _many minds_.]
[95] To make one's-self _unready_ was the common term for undressing.
See several instances in Mr Steevens's note on the "First Part of King
Henry VI.," act ii. sc. 1.
[96] In the old copy, the dialogue is here confused, what is said by
Alexander being given to the widow, and what is said by the widow to
Jarvis.--_Collier._
ACT V., SCENE I.
_Enter +Sim+ and +John+, passing over with a basin of
rosemary[97] and a great flagon with wine._
+Sim.+ Come, John, carry your hand steadily; the guests drop
in apace, do not let your wine drop out.[98]
+John.+ 'Tis as I told thee; Master Alexander, thy mistress'
eldest son will be here.
+Sim.+ Rose, I pray burn some pitch i' th' parlour, 'tis good
against ill airs; Master Alexander will be here. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Old Bloodhound+ and +Jarvis+._
+Blood.+ I am up before you, son Ear-lack. Will Ancient Young
be here with a rich wife too? Thy mistress is not stirring yet,
sirrah. I'll hold my life the baggage slipped to thy mistress;
there they have e'en locked the door to them, and are tricking
up one another: O these women! But this rogue Tim, he lay out
to-night too; he received my hundred mark, and (I fear) is
murdered. Truss, truss, good Jarvis.
+Jar.+ He has been a-wooing, sir, and has fetched over the
delicatest young virgin! Her father died but a week since, and
left her to her marriage five thousand pound in money and a
parcel of land worth three hundred per annum.
+Blood.+ Nay, nay, 'tis like; the boy had ever a captivating
tongue to take a woman. O excellent money, excellent money,
mistress of my devotions! My widow's estate is little less too;
and then Sander--he has got a moneyed woman too; there will be
a bulk of money. Tim is puling, I may tell thee, one that by
nature's course cannot live long: t'other a midnight surfeit
cuts off: then have I a trick to cosen both their widows, and
make all mine. O Jarvis, what a moneyed generation shall I then
get upon thy mistress?
+Jar.+ A very virtuous brood.
+Blood.+ Hast done?
+Jar.+ I have done, sir.
+Blood.+ I'll in and get some music for thy mistress, to
quicken her this morning; and then to church in earnest. When
'tis done, where is Sir Nicholas Nemo and his wards.[99]
That watch so for her? Ha, ha, ha! all's mixed with honey:
I have mirth, a sweet young widow, and her money.
O that sweet saint, call'd Money! [_Exeunt._
+Anc.+ Joy! ay, and a hundred pound a year in a black box to
the bargain, given away i' th' dark last night to we know not
who, and to be heard of, we know not when. 'Sfoot, an' this be
joy, would we had a handsome slice of sorrow to season it.
+Alex.+ By this light, 'twas strange.
+Moll.+ Believe me, sir, I thought I had given it you: he that
took it called me by my name.
+Sim.+ Did he speak Welsh or English?
+Moll.+ Alas! I know not; I enjoined him silence, seeing the
watch coming, who parted us.
+Sim.+ If this were not Master Randalls of Randall Hall, that I
told you of, I'll be flayed.
+Alex.+ Be masked, and withdraw awhile; here comes our dad.
[_Exeunt._
_Enter +Bloodhound+, +Sir Marmaduke Many-Minds+,
+Sir Janus Ambidexter+, and +Master
Busy+._
+Blood.+ Why, Master Busy, asleep as thou stand'st, man!
+Sim.+ Some horse taught him that; 'tis worth god-a-mercy.[100]
+Con.+ I watch all night, I protest, sir; the compters pray for
me: I send all in, cut and long tail.[101]
+Sir Mar.+ What, what?
+Con.+ I sent twelve gentlewomen, our own neighbours, last
night, for being so late but at a woman's labour.
+Blood.+ Alas, sir! a woman in that kind, you know, must have
help.
+Con.+ What's that to me? I am to take no notice of that: they
might have let her alone till morning, or she might have cried
out some other time.
+Sir Mar.+ Nay, nay, Master Busy knows his place, I warrant you.
_Enter +Alexander+, +Ancient Young+, +Widow+,
and +Moll+._[102]
+Blood.+ Son Alexander, welcome; and Ancient Young too: I have
heard all.
+Alex.+ You must pardon the rudeness of the gentlewomen, sir,
in not unmasking; they entreated me to inform you, there are
some i' th' house to whom they would by no means be laid open.
+Blood.+ They are witty, they are witty.
+Alex.+ But, for myself, I am now your most obedient, virtuous
Alexander.
+Blood.+ Obedience! hang Virtue, let her starve. Has she money?
has she money?
+Alex.+ Two chests of silver and two Utopian trunks[103] full
of gold and jewels.
+Blood.+ They are all Alexander's women, do you mark?
+Sim.+ Alexander was the conqueror, sir?
+Blood.+ Come, come, we'll to church presently. Prythee,
Jarvis, whilst the music plays just upon the delicious close,
usher in the brides, the widow, and my Moll. [_Exit +Jarvis+._
+Sim.+ I tell you true, gallants, I have seen neither of them
to-day. Shall I give him the lie?
+Blood.+ They are both locked up, i' faith, trimming of one
another. O these women, they are so secret in their business,
they will make very coxcombs of us men, and do 't at pleasure
too. 'Tis well said, friends; play, play. Where's Sim?
+Anc.+ How he bestirs him!
+Alex.+ Yes, he will sweat by and by.
+Sim.+ Here is the sign of Sim, sir.
+Blood.+ Have the guests rosemary without?
+Sim.+ They have _Rose_ the cookmaid without; but they say you
have Mistress _Mary_ within.
+Alex.+ Well said, rascal.
+Blood.+ Mary's above, goodman blockhead. Call my son,
Ear-lack, bid him for shame make haste.
+Sim.+ He shall make haste for shame. [_Exit._
+Blood.+ I am so busied; you must bear with me, gentlemen: they
leave it all to me here.
+Con.+ But I will go charge some of the inferior guests, in the
king's name, to fill some wine.
+Blood.+ No, no, good Master Busy; we will first usher the
brides.
_Enter +Sim+._
+Sim.+ O gentlemen, where are you? Where are you? Where are
you, gentlemen?
+Omnes.+ What's the matter?
+Blood.+ Where's Moll, Sim? the widow, Sim, the dainty widow?
+Sim.+ There's no Moll; there is no dainty young widow; but
a damnable bawd we found abed, with a face like an apple
half-roasted.
+Omnes.+ How's this?
+Blood.+ Why, gentlemen!
+Anc.+ Now it works.
+Blood.+ Jarvis, you're a rogue: a cutpurse, Jarvis. Run, Sim,
call my son Ear-lack: he shall put her into the spiritual court
for this.
+Sim.+ Nay, he has put her in there already, for we found him
abed with her.
+Omnes.+ Possible!
+Blood.+ Ha, boys! the informer and the bawd, the bawd and the
informer have got a devil betwixt them, gentlemen.
+Sim.+ Nay, sir, the jest was, that they should fall asleep
together, and forget themselves; for very lovingly we found
them together, like the Gemini, or the two winter mornings met
together. Look, look, look, where they come, sir, and Jarvis
between 'em--just like the picture of knavery betwixt fraud and
lechery.
_Enter +Jarvis+, +Ear-lack+, and +Mistress Coote+._
+Jar.+ _Tim is a puling sirrah, I may tell it thee: a midnight
surfeit too may cut off Sander; I'll cosen their wives, make
all mine own; and then, O Jarvis, what a moneyed generation
shall I get upon this Widow Coote that hath two teeth!_
+Blood.+ Did we bring you to music, with a mischief? Ear-lack,
thou'rt a goat; thou hast abused the best bed in my house; I'll
set a sumner[104] upon thee.
+Ear.+ Bloodhound, thou art a usurer, and takest forty in the
hundred; I'll inform against thee.
+Blood.+ Are you a bawd, huswife, ha?
+Mis. Coote.+ Alas, sir! I was merely conied, betrayed by
Jarvis; but as I have been bawd to the flesh, you have
been bawd to your money; so set the hare-pie against the
goose-giblets, and you and I are as daintily matched as can be,
sir.
+Blood.+ Sim, run to the Widow Wag's; tell her we are both
abused; this Jarvis is a juggler, say.
+Anc.+ I can save Sim that labour, sir. I assure you the widow
is married to your son Alexander, and, as a confirmation, she
is come herself to witness it. [_Discovers._
+Alex.+ Your fair young daughter is wife to this Ancient, who
is come likewise to witness it.
+Wid.+ The plain truth is, Master Bloodhound, I would entreat
you to keep the kennel: the younger dog, being of the better
scent, has borne the game before you.
+Alex.+ We have clapped hands on't, sir; and the priest that
should have married you to her is to marry her to me: so,
sister, talk for yourself.
+Blood.+ Ha, brave tricks and conceits! Can you dance, Master
Ear-lack?
+Ear.+ Ha, ha! the old man's a little mad. But thou art not
married, Moll?
+Moll.+ Yes, indeed, sir, and will lie with this gentleman soon
at night. Do you think I would chew ram-mutton when I might
swallow venison? That's none of Venus's documents, Monsieur
Dotterel.
+Ear.+ Pox of that Venus! she's a whore, I warrant her.
+Blood.+ And were not you the other juggler with Jarvis in
this, hey? pass and repass!
+Alex.+ Good sir, be satisfied; the widow and my sister
sung both one song, and what was't, but _Crabbed age and
youth cannot live together._[105] Now we persuaded them,
and they could not live together, they would never endure
to lie together; this consequently descended, there was the
antecedent: we clapped hands, sealed lips, and so fell unto the
relative.
+Sim.+ This was your bargain upon the exchange, sir, and
because you have ever been addicted to old proverbs and pithy
saws, pray let me seal up the mistake with one that will appear
very seasonably.
+Blood.+ And I pray let's hear it, sir.
+Sim.+ You, a new-fangled fowler, came to show your art i' th'
dark; but take this truth, you catched in truth a cuckoo for't.
_Enter +Tim+ and +Sue+._
+Blood.+ Heyday, we are cheated by the rule, i' faith. Now,
sirrah, they say you are to be married too.
+Tim.+ Yes, indeed, father, I am going to the business; and,
gentlemen all, I am come, whether you will or no, to invite
you all to my marriage to this gentlewoman who, though a good
face needs no mask, she's masked, to make a man think she has a
scurvy face, when I know she has a good face. This is sack to
them, and out of their element.
+Blood.+ But, sirrah, setting aside marriages, where's my
hundred marks you went to receive?
+Tim.+ Hum!--upon such a match of mine, talk of a hundred
marks! this is to drink ignoble four-shillings beer. A hundred
marks! why your lawyer there can clear such a trifle in a term,
and his clients ne'er the better.
+Blood.+ Such a match! I pray discover her; what is she?
+Tim.+ What is she! here's my brother knows what she is well
enough. Come hither, Dab, and be it known unto you, her name
is Lindabrides, descended from the Emperor Trebatio of Greece,
and half-niece, some six-and-fifty descents, to the most
unvanquished Clarindiana.
+Alex.+ Who's this? Pox on't! what makes that bawd yonder?
[_Unmasks her._
+Con.+ I am very much deceived if I did not send this
gentlewoman very drunk t'other night to the Compter.
+Tim.+ I tell thee, prattling constable, 'tis a lie:
Lindabrides a drunkard!
+Alex.+ Harkee, brother, where lies her living?
+Tim.+ Where? why, in Greece.
+Alex.+ In grease.
+Sim.+ She looks as if she had sold kitchen-stuff.
+Alex.+ This is a common whore, and you a cheated coxcomb. Come
hither, you rotten hospital, hung round with greasy satin; do
not you know this vermin?
+Mis. Coote.+ I winked at you, Sue, and you could have seen me:
there's one Jarvis, a rope on him, h' has juggled me into the
suds too.
+Con.+ Now I know her name too: do not you pass under the name
of Sue Shortheels, minion?
+Sue.+ Go look, Master Littlewit. Will not any woman thrust
herself upon a good fortune when it is offered her?
+Blood.+ Sir Marmaduke, you are a justice of peace; I charge
you in the king's name, you and Master Ambidexter, to assist me
with the whore and the bawd to Bridewell.
+Sir Mar.+ By my troth, we will, and we shall have an excellent
stomach by that time dinner's ready.
+Amb.+ Ay, ay, away with them, away with them!
+Mis. Coote.+ O this rogue Jarvis!
[_Exeunt +Coote+ and +Shortheels+._
+Blood.+ Now, now, you look like a melancholy dog, that had
lost his dinner; where's my hundred marks now, you coxcomb?
+Tim.+ Truly, father, I have paid some sixteen reckonings
since I saw you: I was never sober since you sent me to the
devil yesterday; and for the rest of your money, I sent it to
one Captain Carvegut. He swore to me his father was my Lord
Mayor's cook, and that by Easter next you should have the
principal and eggs for the use, indeed, sir.
+Blood.+ O rogue, rogue! I shall have eggs for my money:[106] I
must hang myself.
+Sim.+ Not before dinner, pray, sir; the pies are almost baked.
_Enter +Randall+._
+Ran.+ _And Maries now was won,
And all her pusiness done,
And Randalls now was run_;
Hur have made all sure, I warrant hur.
+Alex.+ Look, look, yonder's the conceit the mistake happened
upon last night.
+Anc.+ And the very box at's girdle.
+Ran.+ Cot pless hur father Ploothounds, Randalls have robbed
Ancients, hur warrant hur.
+Anc.+ Sir, 'tis known how you came by that box.
+Ran.+ Augh! was hur so?
_Will you hear a noble Pritain,
How her gull an English Flag?_[107]
+Anc.+ And you ought to cry.
+Ran.+ O noble Randalls, as hur meet by Nag's-head, with Maries
plood, prave.
+Blood.+ Here's another madman.
+Anc.+ Harkee in your ear, you must deliver that box to me.
+Ran.+ Harkee in hur t'other ear, hur will not deliver hur, and
hur were nine-and-forty Ancients, and five-and-fourscore Flags.
+Anc.+ Let my foe write mine epitaph if I tear not my
birthright from thy bosom? [_Draws._
+Sim.+ Gentlemen, there's Aligant[108] i' th' house, pray set
no more abroach.
+Ran.+ Nay, let hur come with hur pack of needles, Randalls can
pox and bob as well as hur, hur warrant hur.
+Blood.+ What box is that? I should know that box.
+Alex.+ I will resolve you, sir; keep them asunder.
+Anc.+ You will restore that box?
+Ran.+ Hur will not restore hur: 'twas Mary Ploodhounds gave
hur the box; Randalls have married Mary Ploodhounds, and gulled
Ancient, mark hur now.
+Wid.+ Mark him, good sir; methinks he says he has married Mary
Bloodhound.
+Anc.+ Hang him, he's mad!
+Ran.+ Souns, make tog of Randalls? come out here, Maries.
Look, here was Mary Ploodhounds.
_Enter +Maid+ and +Hugh+._
Now I pray tumble down of hur marrow-pones, and ask hur father
plessing?
+Alex.+ This! why this is your maid, widow.
+Ear.+ This is Mary the widow's maid, man.
+Alex.+ And here is Mary Bloodhound, my choleric shred of
Cadwallader, married to this gentleman, who has a hundred a
year dangling at your girdle there.
+Wid.+ I pray, mistress, are you married to this gentleman?
+Maid.+ By six i' th' morning, forsooth: he took me for Mary
Bloodhound, having, it seems, never seen either of us before,
and I being something amorously affected, as they say, to his
Welsh ditties, answered to her name, lay with him all night,
and married him this morning; so that as he took me for her, I
took him as he was, forsooth.
+Sim.+ She means for a fool; I'm fain to answer you.
+Blood.+ Ha, ha, ha! Cupid, this twenty-four hours, has done
nothing but cut cross-capers.
+Alex.+ Do ye hear, Sir Bartholomew Bayard,[109] that leap
before you look? it will handsomely become you to restore the
box to that gentleman, and the magnitude of your desires upon
this dainty, that is so amorously taken with your ditties.
+Ran.+ _Hur wail[110] in woe, her plunge in pain._
And yet, by cat, her do not neither. Randalls will prove
hurself Pritains born, and because hur understands Ancients was
prave fellows and great travellers, there is hur box for hur.
+Anc.+ I thank you.
+Ran.+ And because was no remedies, before hur all, here will
Randalls embrace Maries, and take a puss. [_Kisses._
_Enter +Jarvis+ brave._
+Jar.+ Save you, gallants, do you want any guest?
Call me thy coz, and carry it handsomely.
[_To the +Widow+._
+Blood.+ Who have we here, trow?
+Alex.+ Dost thou know the gentleman that whispered to thee?
+Wid.+ O, wondrous well! He bid me call him coz, and carry it
handsomely.
+Jar.+ Widow, would I were off again.
+Wid.+ Know, all: this gentleman has, to obtain his lust and
loose desires, served me this seven months under the shape and
name of Jarvis.
+Omnes.+ Possible!
+Wid.+ Look well; do you not know him?
+Blood.+ The very face of Jarvis.
+Tim.+ Ay truly, father, and he were anything like him, I would
swear 'twere he.
+Jar.+ I must cast my skin, and am catch'd.
Why, coz.
+Wid.+ Come, you're cosen'd,
And with a noble craft. He tempted me
In mine own house, and I bid him keep's disguise
But till this morning, and he should perceive
I loved him truly; intending here before you
To let him know't, especially i' th' presence
Of you, sir, that intend me for your wife.
+Anc.+ What should this mean?
+Alex.+ Some witty trick, I warrant thee: prythee, despatch him
presently, that we were at church!
+Wid.+ First, then, know you for truth, sir, I mean never to
marry.
+Blood.+ How, woman?
+Sim.+ She has despatched you, sir!
+Wid.+ And for a truth, sir, know you, I never mean to be your
whore.
+Blood.+ This is strange.[111]
+Wid.+ But true, as she, whose chaste, immaculate soul
Retains the noble stamp of her integrity
With an undefac'd perfection--perchance as these.
Nay, common fame hath scattered, you conceive me,
Because pale Jealousy (Cupid's angry fool)
Was frequent lodger at that sign of Folly--
My husband's soon suspicious heart--that I,
In a close-clouded looseness, should expose him
To that desperate distraction of his fortunes
That sent him to the sea, to nourish her
With your vain hope, that the fame of frequent suitors
Was but a mask of loose 'scapes: like men at lotteries,
You thought to put in for one, sir; but, believe me,
You have drawn a blank.
+Ran.+ By cat, hur look fery blank indeed.
+Wid.+ O my beloved husband!
However in thy life thy jealousy
Sent thee so far to find death, I will be
Married to nothing but thy memory!
+Jar.+ Let her alone, if her husband do not know this----
+Omnes.+ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
+Blood.+ Her husband, I told you, was a madman.
+Anc.+ Why, her husband's dead, sir.
+Jar.+ He is not dead, sir; he had it spread o' purpose; he is
in England, and in your house; and look, do you not see him?
+Wid.+ Where, where?
+Jar.+ Here, here he is that hath found rash jealousy,
Love's joys, and a wife whose discreet carriage
Can intimate to all men a fair freedom,
And to one be faithful. Such a wife I prove,
Her husband's glory, worth a wealthy love.
+Wid.+ You're welcome to my soul, sir.
+Blood.+ By my troth, Master Wag, this was a wag's trick
indeed; but I knew I knew you; I remembered you a month ago,
but that I had forgotten where I saw you.
+Sim.+ I knew you were a crafty merchant;[112] you helped my
master to such bargains upon the Exchange last night: here has
been the merriest morning after it.
+Alex.+ My pitcher's broke just at the well-head; but give me
leave to tell you, sir, that you have a noble wife, and indeed
such a one as would worthily feast the very discretion of a
wise man's desire. Her wit ingeniously waits upon her virtue,
and her virtue advisedly gives freedom to her wit; but because
my marriage shall seriously proceed, I wed myself, sir, to
obedience and filial regularity, and vow to redeem, in the duty
of a son, the affection of a father.
+Ran.+ By cat, was as well spoke as Randall hurself could talk.
+Blood.+ All's forgotten now, my best son Alexander;
And that thy wedding want no good company,
I invite you all.
+Jar.+ Come, my deserving wife,
Wisdom this day re-marries us. And, gentlemen,
From all our errors we'll extract this truth:
Who vicious ends propose,[113] they stand on wheels,
And the least turn of chance throws up their heels;
But virtuous lovers ever green do last,
Like laurel, which no lightening can blast.
FOOTNOTES:
[97] "Rosemary," as Mr Steevens observes (note to "Hamlet," act iv. sc.
5), "was anciently supposed to strengthen the memory; and was not only
carried at funerals, but worn at weddings." See the several instances
there quoted. Again, in Dekker's "Wonderful Yeare," 1603: "Heere is a
strange alteration; for the _rosemary_ that was washt in sweet water to
set out the bridall, is now wet in teares to furnish her buriall."
Again, in "The Old Law," act iv. sc. 1: "Besides, there will be charges
saved, too; the same _rosemary_ that serves for the funeral will serve
for the wedding."
And in "The Fair Quarrell," act v. sc. 1--
"+Phis.+ Your Maister is to bee married to-day.
+Trim.+ Else all this _rosemaries_ lost."
It appears also to have been customary to drink wine at church,
immediately after the marriage ceremony was performed. So in Dekker's
"Satiro-mastix:" "And, Peter, when we are at church, bring _wine_ and
cakes." At the marriage of the Elector Palatine with the Princess
Elizabeth, daughter of James the First, it is said, "In conclusion, a
joy pronounced by the king and queen, and seconded with congratulations
of the lords there present, which crowned with draughts of _Ippocras_,
out of a great golden bowle, as a health to the prosperitie of the
marriage (began by the Prince Palatine, and answered by the Princess),
after which were served up by six or seaven barons, so many bowles
filled with wafers, so much of that worke was consummate."--Finett's
"Philoxenis," 1656, fol. 11.
[98] [Old copy, _on't_.]
[99] The old copy reads _Sir Nicholas Nemo and his words_, but the
sense seems to require that it should be _Sir Nicholas Nemo and his
wards_, or watchmen or spies.--_Collier._
[100] [See "Old English Jest-Books," ii. 217-18.]
[101] [Equivalent to our modern phrase, tag, rag, and bobtail. The
original signification seems to have been descriptive of the different
kinds of horses, cuts, curtails, and longtails, and hence it came to
mean generally _all sorts and kinds_, like the modern term. Compare
Dyce's "Shakespeare Glossary," 1868, in _v._] This phrase occurs in
"The Merry Wives of Windsor," act iii. sc. 4. Steevens says the origin
of it was from Forest Laws, by which the dog of a man who had no right
to the privilege of chase, was obliged to be cut or lawed; and amongst
other modes of disabling him, one was by depriving him of his tail.
_Cut_ and _long tail_ therefore signified the dog of a clown and the
dog of a gentleman. [Reed (more correctly) remarks:] "_Cut and long
tail_, I apprehend referred originally to horses, when their tails were
either docked, or left to grow their full length; and this distinction
might formerly be made according to their qualities and values. A
horse therefore used for drudgery might have his tail cut, while the
tails of those which served for pomp or show, might be allowed their
utmost growth. A _cut_ appears to have been the term used for a bad
horse in many contemporary writers, and from thence to call a person
_cut_ became a common opprobrious word employed by the vulgar, when
they abused each other. See note to 'Gammer Gurton's Needle' [iii.
211.] In confirmation of this idea, it may be added, that Sim says in
the text, _Some horse taught him that_, which naturally introduces the
phrase _cut and long tail_ into the Constable's answer. The words _cut
and long tail_ occur also in 'The Return from Parnassus,' act iv. sc.
1: 'As long as it lasts, come _cut and long tail_, we'll spend it as
liberally for his sake.' There seems no doubt that _cut and long tail_
has reference to horses. Sir J. Vanbrugh, in his 'Æsop,' so employs the
phrase: the groom says, 'Your worship has six coach horses, _cut and
long tail_, two runners, half a dozen hunters,' &c."--_Collier._
[102] Their entrance is not mentioned in the 4º.--_Collier._
[103] _i.e._, Ideal ones, like the _Utopian_ schemes of
government.--_Steevens._
[104] See note to "The Heir," [xi. 535.]
[105] This elegant song was the production of our great poet
Shakespeare. It is printed in his collection of sonnets, entitled
"The Passionate Pilgrim." The reader may likewise see it in "Percy's
Reliques of Antient Poetry," vol. i. p. 259.
[106] The same phrase occurs in Shakespeare's "Winter's Tale," act i.
sc. 2, where Leontes says to Mamillius--
"Mine honest friend,
_Will you take eggs for money_?"
Dr Johnson says that it seems to be a proverbial expression used when
a man sees himself wronged and makes no resistance; and Mr Smith is
of opinion that it means _Will you put up affronts?_ In the present
instance it seems intended to express the speaker's fears that he shall
receive nothing in return for his money.
[107] These lines seem intended as a parody on the beginning of the old
song called "The Spanish Lady's Love." See Percy's "Reliques," vol. ii.
p. 233. An English Flag means the _Ancient_; a name which was formerly
used as synonymous to _Ensign_.
[108] _i.e._, Wine of Alicant. [But Sim means to dissuade them from
bloodshed, as there is red wine already in the house.]
[109] [See Nares, edit. 1859, in _v._ Bayard meant originally _a bay
horse_, and afterward any kind or colour.]
[110] This tune is mentioned in "Eastward Hoe," 1605. In Gascoigne's
works, 1587, fol. 278, is the following line--
"I wept for _woe_, I pin'd for deadly _paine_."
[111] Mr Reed transferred this exclamation to Alexander, but it is just
as probably what old Bloodhound says, and the old copy gives it to
him.--_Collier._
[112] [This word has been already explained more than once.]
[113] The 4º has it, _Where vicious ends prepose_, and in the next line
but one virtuous lovers are called _virtue's_ lovers. The last may be
right.--_Collier._
THE CITY NIGHTCAP.
_EDITION._
_The City Night-Cap: Or, Crede quod habes, & habes. A
Tragi-Comedy. By Robert Davenport. As it was Acted with
great Applause, by Her Majesties Servants, at the Phœnix in
Drury-Lane. London: Printed by Ja: Cottrel, for Samuel Speed,
at the Signe of the Printing-Press, in St. Paul's Church-yard._
1661. 4º.
PREFACE.
Robert Davenport is a writer (remarks Reed) of whom scarce any
particulars are known. It appears, from the office-book of Sir Henry
Herbert, that Davenport had licence for the "History of Henry the
First" on the 10th April, 1624; and this is the earliest memorandum
relating to him with which we have met. His dramatic productions are--
1. "The History of Henry the First," not printed.
2. "A Pleasant and Witty Comedy, called a New Trick to Cheat the
Devil," 1639, 4º.
3. "King John and Matilda," 1655, 4º.[114]
4. "The Pirate," not printed.[115]
5. "The Woman's Mistaken," not printed.
6. "The Fatal Brothers," not printed.
7. "The Politic Queen," not printed.
8. "The City Nightcap," 1661, 4º. Licensed Oct. 24, 1624.
He has also been credited with a piece called "The Pedlar," licensed
to Robert Allot, April 8, 1630; but this production, under the title
of "The Conceited Pedlar," is printed at the end of Allot's edition
of Randolph's "Aristippus," 4º, 1630. It is, of course, included in
Hazlitt's edition of Randolph, 12º, 1875.
Davenport, besides his plays, was the author of a considerable
collection of poems, the greater part of which were not published. In
1639, however, appeared a thin 4º volume, entitled "A Crowne for a
Conqueror; and Too late to call backe yesterday. Two Poems, the one
Divine, the other Morall. By R. D." In the Bodleian Catalogue this
little book is misdated 1623.[116] The latter piece is dedicated to
his noble friends, as he calls them, Mr Richard Robinson[117] and Mr
Michael Bowyer; and in his address to them he styles both the poems
some of the expense of his time at sea. From the address prefixed to
the play of "King John and Matilda," signed R. D., he appears to have
been alive in the year 1655, when that piece was first published.
FOOTNOTES:
[114] It was published by Andrew Pennycuicke, one of the performers,
who says that he was the last who played the character of Matilda. See
it criticised in the _Retrosp. Review_, iv. 87-100.
[115] In S. Sheppard's "Poems," 8º, 1651, is one "To Mr Davenport, on
his play called 'The Pirate.'"--_Collier._
[116] [For a notice of Davenport's unprinted poems, see Hazlitt's
"Handbook," 1867, in _v._]
[117] Both Robinson and Bowyer were players. The former is in the list
of the performers in Shakespeare's plays, and acted in the "Roman
Actor." The name of the latter is to be found amongst the performers in
"The Bondman," by Massinger, "King John and Matilda," &c.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+Duke of Verona.+
+Duke of Venice+, _brother to Abstemia_.
+Duke of Milan.+
+Antonio+, _the duke's son_.
+Lorenzo+, _husband to Abstemia_.
+Philippo+, _his friend_.
+Lodovico+, _husband to Dorothea_.
+Lords of Verona.+
+Senators of Venice.+
+Sanchio+, } _lords of Milan_.
+Sebastiano+, }
+Pandulpho.+
+Spinoso.+
+Jaspro.+
+Jovani.+
+Francisco+, _servant to Lodovico_.
+Pambo+, _a clown_.
+Morbo+, _a pander_.
_A Turk, slave to Antonio.
Two slaves to Lorenzo.
Officers and servants._
WOMEN ACTORS.[118]
+Abstemia+, _Lorenzo's wife, and sister to the Duke of Venice_.
+Dorothea+, _Lodovico's wanton lady_.
+Timpanina+, _a bawd_.
_Ladies._
FOOTNOTES:
[118] _i.e._, Actors of women's parts; though _women actors_ were
brought upon the stage about the date when this play was printed, but
not when it was first performed.
THE CITY NIGHTCAP.[119]
ACT I.[120]
_Enter +Lorenzo+ and +Philippo+._
+Lor.+ Thou shalt try her once more.
+Phil.+ Fie, fie!
+Lor.+ Thou shalt do't.
If thou be'st my friend, thou'lt do't.
+Phil.+ Try your fair wife?
You know 'tis an old point, and wondrous frequent
In most of our Italian comedies.
+Lor.+ What do I care for that? let him seek new ones,
Cannot make old ones better; and this new point
(Young sir) may produce new smooth passages,
Transcending those precedent. Pray, will ye do't?
+Phil.+ Pray, fool yourself no farther: twice you have sway'd me;
Twice have I tried her; and 'tis not yet, ye know,
Ten days since our reconciliation.
How will it show in you, so near a kinsman
To the duke? nay, having woven yourself into
The close-wrought mystery of opinion,
Where you remain a soldier, a man
Of brain and quality, to put your friend
Again on such a business, and to expose
Your fair wife to the tempest of temptation?
And, by the white, unspotted cheek of truth,
She is----
+Lor.+ A woman.
+Phil.+ A good woman.
+Lor.+ Pish!
+Phil.+ As far from your distrust, as bad ones are from truth.
She is in love with virtue: would not boast it,
But that her whole life is a well-writ story.
Where each word stands so well-plac'd, that it passes
Inquisitive detraction to correct.
She's modest, but not sullen, and loves silence;
Not that she wants apt words, for, when she speaks,
She inflames love with wonder; but because
She calls wise silence the soul's harmony.
She's truly chaste; yet such a foe to coyness,
The poorest call her courteous; and which is excellent,
Though fair and young, she shuns t' expose herself
To the opinion of strange eyes. She either seldom
Or never walks abroad but in your company;
And then with such sweet bashfulness, as if
She were venturing on crack'd ice; and takes delight
To step into the print your foot hath made,
And will follow you whole fields: so she will drive
Tediousness out of time with her sweet character.
And therefore, good my friend, forbear to try
The gold has pass'd the fire.
+Lor.+ Thou foolish friend,
Beauty, like the herb larix, is cool i' th' water,
But hot i' th' stomach. Women are smooth flatterers,
But cunning injurers.
+Phil.+ Thou wondrous yellow friend.
Temper an antidote with antimony,
And 'tis infectious: mix jealousy with marriage,
It poisons virtue: let the child feel the sting,
He'll fly the honeycomb. Has she one action
That can expose you to distrust?
+Lor.+ O, when the Alexanders-leaf looks most green,
The sap is then most bitter. An approv'd appearance
Is no authentic instance: she that is lip-holy
Is many times heart-hollow. Here she comes,
_Enter +Abstemia+._
A prayer-book in her hand! O hypocrisy!
How fell'st thou first in love with woman? wilt try again,
But this one time?
+Phil.+ Condition'd you will stand
Ear-witness to our conference; that you may take
In at your ear a virtue that will teach
Your erring soul to wonder.
+Lor.+ He would wittol me
With a consent to my own horns. I will.
I'll give thee a new occasion: there lurks
In woman's blood a vindicating spirit.
+Abs.+ I came, sir, to give you notice,
Count Lodovico, Stroimo, Spinoso, and Pandulpho,
With the rest of the consilliadory, certify
They are setting forth to meet the duke your kinsman,
Returning from Venice.
+Lor.+ O, there he has seen the duke your brother.
+Abs.+ Yes, sir, and they stay but for your company.
+Lor.+ And you're cloy'd with't----
[_Kicks her, and retires to conceal himself. She weeps._
+Phil.+ And will you still be us'd thus? O madam,
I do confess twice I have batter'd at
The fort I fain would vanquish, and I know
Ye hold out more, 'cause you would seem a soldier,
Than in hate to the assailant. I am again
Inflam'd with those sweet fountains, from whence flow
Such a pair of streams. O strong force of desire!
The quality should quench hath set on fire:
I love you in your sorrows.
+Abs.+ And I sorrow
In nothing but your love. Twice, Philippo,
Have I not beat back the impetuous storm
Of thy incessant rudeness? Wilt thou again
Darken fair honour with dishonesty?
Thou know'st my lord hath long and truly lov'd thee
In the wisdom of a friend; in a fair cause:
He wears his good sword for thee, lays his heart
A lodger in thy bosom, proclaims thee partner
In all he hath but me: O, be not counterfeit!
We all conclude, a diamond with clouds
The goldsmith casts into his dust: and a gentleman
So blemish'd in his honour, blots his name
Out of the herald's book, stands a lost man
In goodness and opinion. O Philippo,
Make me once more so happy to believe
'Tis but a painted passion.
+Lor.+ Most acute witch![121]
+Phil.+ Come, learn of your city wagtail: with one eye
Violently love your husband, and with t'other
Wink at your friend.
+Lor.+ I will not trust you, brother.
+Phil.+ He seeks: will ye not have him find? cries ye out
In his mad fits a strumpet; rails at all women,
Upon no cause, but because you are one:
He gives wound upon wound, and then pours vinegar
Into your bleeding reputation,
Poison'd with bitter calumny. Pox on him!
Pile a reciprocal reward upon him:
Let ballad-mongers crown him with their scorns:
Who buys the buck's-head well deserves the horns.
Demur not on't, but clap them on.
+Abs.+ You are, sir,
Just like the Indian hyssop, prais'd of strangers
For the sweet scent, but hated of the inhabitants
For the injurious quality. Can he love the wife,
That would betray the husband? Hast thou not seen me
Bear all his injuries, as the ocean suffers
The angry bark to plough thorough her bosom,
And yet is presently so smooth, the eye
Cannot perceive where the wide wound was made?
And cannot this inform, I love him better
In his sour follies, than you in your sweet flatteries?
If Verona hath observ'd any errors in me,
I well may call for grace to amend them,
But will never fall from grace to befriend you.
+Phil.+ With what a majesty good women thunder!
+Lor.+ H' has given her some close nod that I am here.
+Abs.+ Rip up the end of thy intent, and see,
How shame and fear do lurk where you would walk,
Like a pair of serpents in a flow'ry mead.
Lust sees with pleasure, but with fear doth tread.
+Phil.+ Very brave, woman!
+Abs.+ What is the pleasure thou pursu'st? A sin
Finish'd with infinite sorrows. Read, and find,
How barb'rous nations punish it with death:
How a minute's sin so stolen, though in the face
Sit summer calms all smooth, yet thou wilt hear,
From the eternal 'larum[122] of thy conscience,
How it sets within thy soul continual tempests,
Thunder and dismal blackness! Mark but the course
Of the holy-seeming hollow man, and see
How he that glories heaven with no honour,
Covets to glorify himself with honesty.
And, to put you past your hopes, let me leave this with you:--
Thou may'st hold an elephant with a thread, eat fire
And not be burnt, or catch birds with desire,
Quench flame with oil, cut diamonds with glass,
Pierce steel with feathers: this thou may'st bring to pass
Sooner than hope to steal the husband's right,
Whose wife is honest, and no hypocrite.[123] [_Exit._
+Phil.+ What think you now, sir?
+Lor.+ [_Coming forward._] Why now I do think it possible for the world
To have an honest woman in it. Goodbye, sir;
I must go meet the duke. Adieu.
+Phil.+ Farewell.
O jealousy! how near thou dwell'st to hell! [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Lodovico+, +Pandulpho+, +Spinoso+, +Jaspro+_,
+Jovani+, _and +Clown+._
+Lod.+ The duke not seven leagues off? my horse, rogues!
+Pan.+ Our negligence deserves just blame; and how
'Twill please his grace to construe it, we know not.
+Jas.+ But where's your fair chaste wife, my lord?
+Lod.+ Marry, with my man Francisco. O that fellow! She were
undone without him; for indeed she takes great pleasure in him:
he learns her music. To hear what counsel she will give him!
if he but screw his look sometimes with the pin, she will tell
him straight 'twas an unchristian look. I love him dearly.
+Spin.+ But can your honour never woo your lady to a more
sociable affability? She will not kiss, nor drink, nor talk,
but against new fashions.
+Lod.+ O sir, she is my crown: nor is it requisite women should
be so sociable. I have had such a coil with her, to bring her
but to look out at window! When we were first married, she
would not drink a cup of wine, unless nine parts of it were
water.
+Omnes.+ Admired temperance!
+Lod.+ Nay, and ye knew all, my lords, ye would say so. T'other
day I brought an English gentleman home with me, to try a horse
I should sell him: he (as ye know their custom, though it be
none of ours) makes at her lips the first dash.
+Clown.+ He dashed her out of countenance, I'm sure of that.
+Lod.+ She did so pout and spit, that my hot-brained gallant
could not forbear but ask the cause. Quoth she----
+Clown.+ No, sir, she spit again before _quoth she_ left her
lips.
+Lod.+ I think she did indeed: but then, quoth she, A kiss,
sir, is sin's earnest-penny. Is't not true, Pambo?
+Clown.+ Very true, sir. By the same token, quoth he to her
again, if you dislike the penny, lady, pray let me change it
into English halfpence, and so gave her two for't.
+Lod.+ But how she vexed then! Then she rattled him, and told
him roundly, though confidence made cuckolds in England, she
could no coxcombs in Italy.
+Clown.+ But did ye mark how bitterly he closed it with a
middling jest?
+Lod.+ What was that, I prythee?
+Clown.+ Why, quoth he again, Confidence makes not so many
cuckolds in England, but craft picks open more padlocks in
Italy.
+Jov.+ That was something sharp. But there she comes.
_Enter +Dorothea+ and +Francisco+._
+Lod.+ Ye shall see how I'll put ye all upon her presently.
+Clown.+ Then I shall take my turn.
+Dor.+ Francis.
+Fran.+ Madam.
+Dor.+ Have you changed the ditty you last set?
+Fran.+ I have, madam.
+Dor.+ The conceit may stand; but I hope you have clothed the
method in a more Christian-like apparel.
+Fran.+ I have, lady.
+Dor.+ Pray, let me hear it now.
+Fran.+ _She that in these days looks for truth,
Seldom or never finds in sooth._
+Dor.+ That's wondrous well.
+Clown.+ Yes, in sadness.
+Lod.+ Peace, sirrah! nay, she's built of modesty.
+Fran.+ _Even as a wicked kiss defiles the lips,
So do new fashions her that through them trips._
+Dor.+ Very modest language.
+Fran.+ _She that doth pleasure use for what 'twill bring her,
Will pluck a rose, although she prick her finger._
+Dor.+ Put in _hurt her finger_, good Francis: the phrase will
be more decent.
+Pan.+ Y' are a wondrous happy man in one so virtuous!
+Lod.+ Nay, ye shall have no Count Lorenzo of me, I warrant ye.
+Clown.+ Nor no Count Lorenzo's lady of your wife, I warrant ye.
+Lod.+ Sweet chick, I come to take leave of thee: finger in eye
already? We are all to meet the duke this afternoon, bird, who
is now come from Venice. Thou may'st walk and see the Count
Lorenzo's lady.
+Dor.+ Alas! she's too merry for my company.
+Jas.+ Too merry! I have seen her sad,
But very seldom merry.
+Dor.+ I mean, my lord,
That she can walk, tell tales, run in the garden.
+Clown.+ Why, then your ladyship may hold your tongue, say
nothing, and walk in the orchard.
+Dor.+ She can drink a cup of wine not delayed[124] with water.
+Clown.+ Why, then you may drink a cup of water without wine.
+Dor.+ Nay, if a nobleman come to see her lord,
She will let him kiss her too against our custom.
+Pan.+ Why, a modest woman may be kissed by accident, yet not
give the least touch to her reputation.
+Lod.+ Well said: touch her home.
+Dor.+ Nay, but they may not: she that will kiss, they
say,[125] will do worse, I warrant her.
+Jov.+ Why, I have seen you, madam, kissed against your will.
+Dor.+ Against my will, it may be, I have been kissed indeed.
+Clown.+ Pshaw, there's nothing against a woman's will; and I
dare be sworn, if my lady kiss but any one man, 'tis because
she cannot do with all.
+Lod.+ Nay, I know that to be true, my lords: and at this time,
because you cannot do with all, pray kiss them in order; kiss
her all over, gentlemen, and we are gone.
+Dor.+ Nay, good my lord, 'tis against our nation's custom.
+Lod.+ I care not; let naturals love nations:
My humour's my humour.
+Spin.+ I must have my turn too, then.
+Jov.+ It must go round.
+Dor.+ Fie, fie!
+Lod.+ Look how she spits now!
+Jas.+ The deeper the sweeter, lady.
+Clown.+ The nearer the bone, the sweeter the flesh, lady.
+Dor.+ How now, sauce-box!
+Clown.+ Did not my lord bid the gentlemen kiss you all over?
+Lod.+ I have sweet cause to be jealous, have I not, gentlemen?
no. _Crede quod habes, et habes_ still. He that believes he has
horns, has them. Will you go bring my horse, sir?
+Clown.+ I will bring your horse, sir, and your horse shall
bring his tail with him. [_Exit._
+Lod.+ Francis, I prythee, stay thou at home with thy lady. Get
thy instrument ready; this melancholy will spoil her: before
these lords here make her but laugh, when we are gone----
+Fran.+ Laugh before these lords when they are gone, sir!
+Lod.+ Pish! I mean, make her laugh heartily before we come
home, and, before these lords, I promise thee a lease of forty
crowns per annum.
+Fran.+ Can ye tell whether she be ticklish, sir?
+Lod.+ O, infinitely ticklish!
+Fran.+ I'll deserve your lease, then, ere you come home, I
warrant.
+Lod.+ And thou shalt ha't, i' faith, boy.
_Enter +Clown+._
+Clown.+ Your horse is ready, sir.
+Lod.+ My lords, I think we have stayed with the longest.
Farewell, Doll. _Crede quod habes, et habes_, gallants.
+Pan.+ Our horses shall fetch it up again. Farewell, sweet lady.
+Jas.+ Adieu, sweet mistress: and whensoe'er I marry,
Fortune turn up to me no worse card than you are!
+Clown.+ And whensoe'er I marry, Venus send me a card may save
Fortune the labour, and turn up herself. [_Exeunt._
+Dor.+ How now? why loiter you behind? why ride you not along
with your lord?
+Fran.+ To lie with your ladyship.
+Dor.+ How?
+Fran.+ In the bed, upon the bed, or under the bed.
+Dor.+ Why, how now, Francis!
+Fran.+ This is the plain truth on't, I would lie with ye.
+Dor.+ Why, Francis----
+Fran.+ I know too, that you will lie with me.
+Dor.+ Nay, but, Francis----
+Fran.+ Plague of Francis! I am neither Frank nor Francis,
But a gentleman of Milan, that even there
Heard of your beauty, which report there guarded
With such a chastity, the glittering'st sin
Held no artillery of power to shake it.
Upon which I resolv'd to try conclusions;
Assum'd this name and fortune, sought this service:
And I will tell ye truly what I guess you.
+Dor.+ You will not ravish me, Francis?
+Fran.+ No; but unravel ye in two lines experience writ lately--
_Extremes in virtue are but clouds to vice;
She'll do i' th' dark who is i' th' day too nice._
+Dor.+ Indeed ye do not well to belie me thus.
+Fran.+ Come, I'll lie with thee, wench, and make all well
again. Though your confident lord makes use of _Crede quod
habes, et habes_, and holds it impossible for any to be a
cuckold, [and] can believe himself none, I would have his lady
have more wit, and clap them on.
+Dor.+ And truly, Francis, some women now would do't.
+Fran.+ Who can you choose more convenient to practise with
than me, whom he doats on? where shall a man find a friend but
at home? so you break one proverb's pate, and give the other a
plaster. Is't a match, wench?
+Dor.+ Well, for once it is: but, and ye do any more, indeed
I'll tell my husband.
+Fran.+ But when shall this once be? now?
+Dor.+ Now? no indeed, Francis.
It shall be soon at night, when your lord's come home.
+Fran.+ Then! how is it possible?
+Dor.+ Possible! women can make any of these things possible,
Francis: now many casualties may cross us; but soon at night my
lord, I'm sure, will be so sleepy, what with his journey and
deep healths for the duke's return, that before he goes to bed
(as he uses still when he has been hard a-drinking) he will
sleep upon the bed in's clothes so sound, bells, would not wake
him, rung in the chamber.
+Fran.+ The cuckold slumbers; and though his wife hit him o'
th' forehead with her heel, he dreams of no such matter.
+Dor.+ Now Pambo, that makes him merry in his chamber, shall,
when the candle's out and he asleep, bring you into the chamber.
+Fran.+ But will he be secret?
+Dor.+ Will he, good soul! I am not to try him now.
+Fran.+ 'Sfoot, this is brave,
My kind lord's fool is my cunning lady's knave.
But, pray, how then?
+Dor.+ When you are in at door on right before you, you shall
feel the bed; give me but softly a touch, I'll rise, and follow
you into the next chamber: but truly, and you do not use me
kindly, I shall cry out and spoil all.
+Fran.+ Use you kindly! was lady e'er used cruelly i' th' dark?
Do you but prepare Pambo and your maid: let me alone with her
mistress. About eleven I desire to be expected.
+Dor.+ And till the clock strike twelve, I'll lie awake.
+Fran.+ Now ye dare kiss?
+Dor.+ Once with my friend, or so; yet you may take two,
Francis.
+Fran.+ My cast is ames-ace then.
+Dor.+ Deuce-ace had got the game.
+Fran.+ Why, then, you're welcome. Adieu, my dainty mistress.
+Dor.+ Farewell, kind Francis. [_Exeunt._
_Enter +Lorenzo+, as from horse._
+Lor.+ I have given them all the slip, the duke and all,
And am at home before them. I cannot rest,
Philippo and my wife run in my mind so:
I know no cause why I should trust him more
Than all the world beside. I remember
He told her that I bought the buck's-head, therefore
Deserv'd the horns: although I bid him try her,
Yet I did not bid him bid her with one eye
Love me, and with the other wink at a friend.
How we long to grow familiar with affliction;
And, as many words do aptly hold concordance
To make one sentence, just so many causes
Seem to agree, when conceit makes us cuckolds.
_Enter +Philippo+ and +Abstemia+. +Lorenzo+ aside._
And here comes proof apparent; hand in hand too!
Now their palms meet: that grasp begets a bastard!
+Phil.+ By your white hand, I swear 'twas only so.
+Lor.+ Poison of toads betwixt ye!
+Abs.+ Philippo, you have fully satisfied me.
+Lor.+ Insatiate whore! could not I satisfy ye?
I shall commit a murder if I stay:
I'll go forge thunder for ye. O, let me
Nevermore marry! what plague can transcend
A whorish wife and a perfidious friend! [_Exit._
+Phil.+ By the unblemish'd faith then of a gentleman,
And by your potent goodness (a great oath,
For you are greatly good), by truth itself;
For still I swear by you--what again hath pass'd,
Was at the first but trial of your chastity,
Far above time or story: as I speak truth,
So may I prosper.
+Abs.+ And came these trials from your breast only?
+Phil.+ Only from my breast; and by the sweet
Excellent blush of virtue, there is in you
Plenty of truth and goodness.
+Abs.+ You have nobly
Appeas'd the storm o'ertook you, and you are
Again a good man.
_Enter +Lorenzo+, +Pandulpho+, +Spinoso+, +Jaspor+,
+Jovani+._
+Lor.+ Traitor to truth and friendship!
Did not mine honour hold me, I should rip out
That blushing hypocrite thy heart, that hath broke
So strong a tie of faith: but behold
How much of man is in me! there, I cast thee[126]
From this believing heart to the iron hand
Of law, the wrong'd man's saint?
+Phil.+ What means this?
+Pan.+ My lord, here's warrant
For what's done, immediate from the duke;
By force of which you're early i' th' morning
Before his grace to answer to such injuries
The Count Lorenzo shall allege against you.
+Phil.+ Injuries! Why, friend, what injuries?
+Lor.+ Can ye spell stag, sir? 'tis four letters with two horns.
Good gentlemen, convey him from my fury,
For fear of greater mischief.
+Phil.+ Thou yellow fool!
[_Exit._
+Abs.+ I would you would instruct me, noble sir,
But how to understand all this.
+Lor.+ Do ye see her? look on her, all, and wonder:
Did ye ever see so foul guilt stand underneath
A look so innocent?
+Jov.+ I should have pawn'd
My blood upon her honour.
+Pan.+ Colours not in grain
Make as fair show, but are more apt to stain.
+Abs.+ My lord.
+Lor.+ Ye whore!
[_Kicks her. She swoons._
+Jas.+ Look to the lady.
+Lor.+ Look to her! hang her: let me send her now
To the devil, with all her sins upon her head.
+Spin.+ Bear her in gently, and see her guarded.
+Pan.+ You are too violent, my lord.
+Lor.+ That men should ever marry! that we should lay our heads,
And take our horns up out of women's laps!
+Jov.+ Be patient, good sir.
+Lor.+ Yes, and go make potguns.
+Jas.+ 'Tis late, and sleep would do you good, my lord.
+Lor.+ Sleep! why, do you think I am mad, sir?
+Jas.+ Not I, my lord.
+Lor.+ Then you do lie, my lord,
For I am mad, horn-mad: I shall be acted
In our theatres of Verona. O, what poison's
Like a false friend, and what plague more ruinous
Than a lascivious wife? they steal our joys,
And fill us with affliction: they leave our names
Hedg'd in with calumny: in their false hearts
Crocodiles breed, who make grief their disguise,
And, in betraying, tears 'stil through their eyes.
O, he that can believe he sleeps secure
In a false friend's oath, or in a bad wife's arms,
Trusts Circe's witchcraft and Calypso's charms.
+Omnes.+ 'Tis late; let's to the Court.
[_Exeunt +Omnes+._
FOOTNOTES:
[119] The plot of this play is taken partly from "Philomela, the Lady
Fitzwater's Nightingale," by Robert Greene, 1592, 4º, which resembles
the novel of the "Curious Impertinent" in "Don Quixote," and partly
from Boccaccio's "Decameron," Gior. 7, Novella 7.--_Reed._
[120] This play, in the old copy, is divided into acts, but not into
scenes. It was therefore useless to mark "Scene I." at the beginning of
each act, as Mr Reed allowed it to stand, without the noting of any of
the other scenes.--_Collier._
[121] Of course all that Lorenzo says in this scene in the presence of
Abstemia is aside, and while he stands unseen by her.--_Collier._
[122] [Old copy, _alarm_.]
[123] The 4º reads--
"Whose wife _seems_ honest, and no hypocrite."
Mr Reed altered it as it stands in the text, and although he was
probably right, the change ought to have been noticed. _Collier._
[124] [Allayed, diluted. Mr Collier altered the word to _allayed_.]
[125] [In allusion to the proverb, "After kissing comes greater
kindness."]
[126] [Old copy, _them_].
ACT II.
_A bed thrust out. +Lodvico+ sleeping in his clothes;
+Dorothea+ in bed. Enter +Clown+ leading in
+Francisco+._
+Fran.+ Softly, sweet Pambo: are we in the chamber yet?
+Clown.+ Within a yard of my lady, and ye can be quiet.
+Fran.+ Art sure my lord's asleep?
+Clown.+ I know not; I'll go and ask him.
+Fran.+ No, no, no, do not wake him; we are undone then, man.
+Clown.+ Ha, ha, ha! now do I see cuckold-making is as ticklish
a profession as coneycatching. My lord was so paid with healths
at Court, he's fast enough.
+Fran.+ But still I pursue wonder why my lady should prescribe
this strange, nay wondrous desperate, way to her desires.
+Clown.+ Is that a question to ask now? would you would grope
out the bed; for I sleep in my talk, I am sure of that.
[_+Lodvico+ coughs._
+Fran.+ We are lost for ever! did he not cough?
+Clown.+ 'Tis nothing but the last cup comes up in stewed
broth. If ever you make true whore-master, I'll be bound to
resign my place up to my lord's page; sea-sick, before you come
to th' salt water! let me go in your stead.
+Fran.+ No, I'll venture, stood a gulf between,
Belching up a tempest. O valiant lust!
How resolute thou go'st to acts unjust!
Pambo, good night.
Desire drowns fear in presuppos'd delight.
+Clown.+ Turn of your left hand, 'twill lead you to the
devil--to my lady, I should say, presently. [_Exit._
+Fran.+ Let me [see]:
Four steps on the left hand. I have the bed,
And on this side she lies. 'Sfoot, there's a beard!
But all's well yet, she lies on this side, sure.
I have her: 'tis her hand, I know the touch.
It melts me into passion. I have much ado
To contain my wild desires. As the wind strains
In caverns lock'd, so through my big-swoll'n veins
My blood cuts capers.
+Dor.+ Who's there?
+Fran.+ 'Tis I.
+Dor.+ Francis!
+Fran.+ Fortunate Francis, that was wrapped in's mother's smock.
+Dor.+ Give me your hand, Francis.
+Fran.+ There 'tis. I melt already!
+Dor.+ My lord! Count Lodovico, awake!
+Fran.+ I am lost for ever, madam.
+Dor.+ My lord! my lord!
+Fran.+ If I pull too hard, I shall pull her out o' th' bed too.
+Dor.+ My lord, will ye not wake?
+Lod.+ What's the matter? what's the matter?
+Fran.+ How I do dwindle!
+Dor.+ Pray, hear me, sir; I cannot sleep, till you
Have resolv'd me one thing.
+Lod.+ What is't, sweetheart?
+Dor.+ Of all your men, which do you love best?
+Lod.+ That's a strange question to ask at midnight! Francisco.
+Dor.+ And that same false Francisco in your absence
Most lewdly tempted me to wrong your bed.
+Fran.+ Was ever woodcock catch'd thus!
+Lod.+ O rogue, I'll go cut his throat sleeping.
+Dor.+ Nay, I have fitted him most daintily.
+Fran.+ Now, now, now, now, I am spitted.
+Dor.+ I seem'd, sweetheart, to consent to him----
+Fran.+ A plague of seemings. I were best confess,
And beg pardon.
+Dor.+ And to make him sure for your revenge, I appointed
About this hour, the door left ope on purpose----
+Fran.+ Ah!
+Dor.+ To meet me in the garden.
+Fran.+ All's well again.
+Dor.+ Now, sweetheart,
If thou wouldst but steal down thither, thou might'st
Catch him, and snap the fool very finely.
+Lod.+ O my sweet birds-nie! what a wench have I
Of thee! _Crede quod habes, et habes_ still.
And I had thought it possible to have been
Cuckolded, I had been cuckolded.
I'll take my rapier as I go, sirrah;
And the night being dark, I'll speak like thee,
As if thou hadst kept thy word. O villain!
Nothing vexes me, but that he should think
I can be a cuckold, and have such a lady.
Do thou lie still, and I'll bring thee his heart
For thy monkey's breakfast.
+Dor.+ And would you part unkindly, and not kiss me?
+Lod.+ I have no more manners than a goose. Farewell,
My chaste, delicious Doll. What may his life
Be compar'd to that meets with such a wife! [_Exit._
_Enter +Clown+._
+Fran.+ Pish, Pambo!
+Clown.+ Here, boy.
+Fran.+ Go meet him in the garden, and hark.
+Clown.+ Excellent! I'll play my lady, I warrant ye.
+Fran.+ Do't daintily.
+Clown.+ Well, I may hope for a 'squire's place; my father
was a costermonger.[127] [_Exit._
+Fran.+ Well, now I see, as he who fain would know
The real strain of goodness, may in her read it,
Who can seem chaste, but not be what she seems:
So, who would see hell's craft, in her may read it,
Who can seem too, but not be what she seems.
In brief, put him to school (would cheat the de'il of's right)
To a dainty, smooth-fac'd, female hypocrite. [_Exit._
_Enter +Lodovico+ and +Clown+._
+Lod.+ Here's a wife, Pambo!
+Clown.+ Now, _Crede quod habes, et habes_, sir.
+Lod.+ Why, right, man; let him believe he has horns, and he
has 'em.
+Clown.+ To discover upon the pinch to ye!
+Lod.+ O you kind loving husbands, like myself,
What fortunes meet ye, fall[128] but with such wives.
+Clown.+ Fortune's i' th' fashion of hay-forks.
+Lod.+ Sirrah Pambo, thou shalt seldom see a harsh fellow have
such a wife, such a fortunate wedding.
+Clown.+ He will go to hanging as soon.
+Lod.+ No, no; we loving souls have all the fortunes.
There's Count Lorenzo, for example, now;
There's a sweet coil to-morrow 'bout his wife.
He has two servants, that will take their oaths
They saw her dishonest with his friend Count Philippo;
Nay, in the very act. Now what was't brought her to't,
But his dogged usage of her?
+Clown.+ Nay, she never lived a good day with him.
+Lod.+ How she goes flaunting too! she must have a
Feather in her head and a cork in her heel.
+Clown.+ Ay, that shows her light from head to heel, sir; and
who have heavier heads than those whose wives have light heels?
that feather confounds her.
+Lod.+ I shall so laugh to hear the comical history of the
great Count Lorenzo's horns: but as I have such a wife now,
what a villain did I entertain to teach her music? H' has done
her no good since he came, that I saw.
+Clown.+ Hang him, h' has made her a little perfect in
prick-song, that's all; and it may be, she had skill in that
before you married her too.
+Lod.+ She could sing at the first sight, by this hand, Pambo.
But hark! I hear somebody.
_Enter +Francisco+._
+Clown.+ 'Tis he, sure; h' has a dreaming whoremaster's pace.
Pray, let me practise my lady's part, and counterfeit for her.
+Lod.+ Can'st thou imitate to th' life?
+Clown.+ Can I? O wicked Francis!
+Lod.+ Admirable! Thou shalt do't.
+Clown.+ Pray, be you ready with your rapier to spit him then,
and I'll watch him a good turn, I warrant ye.
+Fran.+ Here they are. If Pambo now comes off with his part
neatly, the comedy passes bravely. Who's there? madam?
+Clown.+ Francis?
+Fran.+ The same.
+Clown.+ I think this place lies too open to the air, Francis?
+Lod.+ Delicate Pambo. [_Aside._
+Clown.+ And truly there's a great dew fallen to-night;
The grass is wondrous wet.
+Lod.+ Sweet rogue! [_Aside._
+Clown.+ Come, Francis,
And let us sport ourselves in yonder rushes,
And being set, I'll smother thee with busses.
+Lod.+ O villain! [_Aside._
+Fran.+ Hear me, lady:
It is enough, my lord hath now a friend
In these dishonest days, that dares be honest.
+Lod.+ How is this?
+Clown.+ Nay, for thy lord, he's a mere coxcomb, Francis.
+Lod.+ Out, rogue!
+Fran.+ 'Tis but your bad desires that tell you so.
Can I contain a heart, or can that heart
Harbour a thought of injury 'gainst him
Under whose wing I safely stretch my pinions?
Has he not nobly entertain'd me? stand I not
Next neighbour, save yourself, unto his heart?
+Lod.+ Ay, by this hand, dost thou.
+Fran.+ And should I quit him thus? No, lady, no.
+Lod.+ Brave Frank!
+Fran.+ I am too wise to fall in love with woe,
Much less with wo-man. I but took advantage
Of my lord's absence for your trial, lady.
For fear some fellow (far hotter rein'd than I)
Might have sought [her] and sped: and I'd be loth
A lord so loving----
+Lod.+ Shalt have five leases, by these fingers.
+Fran.+ Should have a lady false.
Back, lady, to your yet unblemish'd bed:
Preserve your honour and your lord's----calf's head.
+Clown.+ Well, Francis, you had been better--if I do not tell
my lord of this!
+Lod.+ He has put him to't now.
+Fran.+ Then I am lost for ever:
You'll turn it all on me, I know; but ere
I'll live to wrong so good a lord, or stand
The mark unto your malice, I will first
Fall on my sword and perish.
+Lod.+ Hold, hold, hold, man!
+Fran.+ Ha, who are you?
+Lod.+ One that has more humanity in him, than to see a proper
fellow cast himself away, I warrant thee. 'Tis I, 'tis I, man:
I have heard all.
+Clown.+ And 'twas I played my lady to have snapped ye.
+Fran.+ Has she been then so good to tell your honour?
Now am I worse afflicted than before,
That she should thus outrun me in this race
Of honesty.
+Lod.+ Nay, sh' has bobb'd thee bravely.
Sh' has a thousand of these tricks, i' faith, man:
But howsoever, what I have found thee, I have found thee.
Hark in thine ear, shalt have five leases
And mine own nag, when th' hast a mind to ride.
+Fran.+ Let me deserve, sir, first.
+Lod.+ Shalt have them. I know what I do, I warrant thee.
+Fran.+ I joy in such a lady.
+Lod.+ Nay, there's a couple of you, for a wife and a friend.
Shalt be no more my servant. I had thought to have made thee
my steward, but thou'rt too honest for the place, that's the
truth on't.
+Clown.+ His superfluity is my necessity. Pray, let me ha't,
sir.
+Lod.+ I will talk with thee to-morrow, Pambo: thou shalt have
something too: but I'll go to bed. Honest Francis, the dearest
must part, I see. I will so hug the sweet rascal, that thinks
every hour ten, till I come yonder! Good night, Frank.
To bed, Pambo. What delight in life
Can equal such a friend and such a wife?
So, my dainty Doll, I come to thee. [_Exit._
+Clown.+ So a city nightcap go with thee! But shall I not be
thought on for my night's service?
+Fran.+ O, look ye, pray forget not ye had something.
+Clown.+ Well, and pray do you remember I had nothing.
+Fran.+ Nothing! what's that?
+Clown.+ Nothing, before I had something, I mean. So you are
well-returned from Utopia.
+Fran.+ You're very nimble, sir: good-morrow. [_Exeunt._
_A bar set out. Enter the +Duke of Verona+, +Pandulpho+,
+Spinoso+, +Jaspro+, +Jovani+, +Lorenzo+,
+Philippo+, +Abstemia+, a guard and two slaves._
+Ver.+ Call the accus'd to th' bar.
+Phil.+ We appear
With acknowledg'd reverence to the presence.
+Ver.+ We meet not
To build on circumstances, but to come plainly
To the business that here plac'd us. Cousin Lorenzo,
You have free leave to speak your griefs; but this
Desire the senate to observe, and nearly:
I come here not your kinsman; neither, madam,
Looking unto the greatness of your blood,
As you are sister to the Duke of Venice;
But as an equal judge, I come to doom,
As circumstance[129] and proof informs.
+Lor.+ Thus then,
(Great sir, grave lords, and honourable auditors
Of my dishonour) I affirm 'tis known
To th' signory of Verona, the whole city;
Nay, the great multitude without, that come
This day to hear unwilling truth, can witness,
How, since my marriage with that woman--weep'st thou?
O truth, who would not look thee in a woman's tears!
But showers that fall too late, produce dear years--
All know that, since our marriage, I have perform'd
So fairly all judicial wedlock-offices,
That malice knew not how at my whole actions
To make one blow, and to strike home. I did rather
Honour her as a saint, sir, than respect her,
As she was my wife. On pilgrimage I sent
All my endeavours to the fair-seeming shrine
Of their desires, where they did offer daily
A plenal satisfaction, which she seem'd
Reciprocally to return, paid back
As much obedience as I lent of love:
But then the serpent stings, when like a dove
Opinion feathers him: women's sweet words
As far are from their hearts, though from their breasts
They fly, as lapwings' cries are from their nests.
+Pan.+ O, you inveigh.
+Lor.+ I would appear no satire.
And for this man (how fain I would call him friend!)
I appeal to the whole state, if at the fight
Betwixt Biserta galleys and your grace,
Wherein you pleas'd to send me general there,
That he deserv'd (let me not take from him
His merit's meet confession) but I was there,
The man (the erring man) that crown'd his merit
With approbation and reward; brought him home,
Preferr'd him to those graces you heap'd on him:
Wore him a neighbour to my heart, as lovers
Wear jewels, left by their dead friends. I lock'd him
Into my heart, and double-barr'd him there
With reason and opinion: his extremities
Fasten'd me more unto him, whilst, like an arch
Well-built, by how much the more weight I bore,
I stood[130] the stronger under him; so lov'd him,
That in his absence still mine ear became
A sanctuary to his injur'd name.
+Ver.+ And what from hence infer you?
+Lor.+ That 'twas base,
Base in the depth of baseness, for this wife
So honour'd and this smooth friend so belov'd
To conspire betwixt them my dishonour.
+Ver.+ How?
+Lor.+ To stain my sheets with lust, a minute's theft;
To brand perpetually three faces: a husband's,
A wife's, and friend's.
+Abs.+ O good my lord,
Cast out this devil from you.
+Lor.+ O good my lady,
Keep not the devil within you, but confess.
+Phil.+ Hear me, great sir; I will confess, Lorenzo,
And print thee down the fool of passion.
+Spin.+ Speak, sir.
+Phil.+ 'Tis true, this boasting man did thus erect me
In his opinion, plac'd me in his love,
Grac'd me with courtesies: O the craft of jealousy!
As boys, to take the bird, about the pit
Cast wheat and chaff, contriving a neat train
To entice her to her ruin--so this friend,
Falser than city-oaths, it is not doubted,
Having so far endear'd me, when he came
To enjoy a fair wife, guess'd it impossible
For me to share with him in all things else,
And not in her; for fair wives oft, we see,
Strike the discord in sweet friendship's harmony:
And having no way to ensnare me so,
To separate our loves, he seriously
Woo'd me to try his wife.
+Lor.+ 'Tis false.
+Phil.+ 'Tis true,
By all that honest men may be believed by.
Three several times I tried her, by him urg'd to't,
Yet still my truth not started, kept so constant,
That till this hour this lady thus much knew not.
I bore her brave reproofs. O, when she spake,
The saints (sure) listen'd, and at every point
She got th' applause of angels! Now, upon this,
This jealous lord infers (and it may be
But to shun futurity) that I,
His betray'd friend, could not hold the cup,
But I must drink the poison. No, Lorenzo,
An honest man is still an unmov'd rock,
Wash'd whiter, but not shaken with the shock
Whose heart conceives no sinister device:
Fearless he plays with flames, and treads on ice.
+Ver.+ Cousin, did you, as your friend here affirms,
Counsel him to these trials?
+Lor.+ I?
+Phil.+ You did.
+Lor.+ Philippo, thou art fallen from a good man,
And hast ta'en leave of modesty. Let these my servants--
That incredulity should be induction
To my more certain shame--let these speak
And relate what they saw: they grew so public,
My servants could discover them.
+Pan.+ Speak, friends, be fearless;
And what you know, even to a syllable,
Boldly confess.
+1st Slave.+ Then know, great sir, as soon
As e'er my lord was gone to meet your grace,
Signor Philippo and my lady privately
Went up to her bed-chamber: we two, suspecting
What afterwards we found, stole softly up,
And through the key-hole (for the door was lock'd)
We saw my lady and Count Philippo there
Upon the bed, and in the very act,
As my lord before affirm'd.
+Abs.+ Canst thou hear, heaven,
And withhold thy thunder?
+Phil.+ My lords, one devil, ye know,
May possess three bodies.
+Ver.+ Will you swear this, sir?
+1st Slave.+ I will, my lord.
+Spin.+ And you?
+2d Slave.+ I will, and dare, sir.
+Lor.+ Brave rascals!
+Ver.+ Reach them the book.
+Abs.+ Ye poor deluded men, O, do not swear!
+Lor.+ Think of the chain of pearl. [_Aside._
+1st Slave.+ Give us the book:
That we affirm the truth, the whole truth,
And nothing but the truth, we swear.
+Pan.+ Believe me, I am sorry for the lady.
+Phil.+ How soon
Two souls, more precious than a pair of worlds,
Are levell'd below death!
+Abs.+ O, hark! did you not hear it?
+Omnes.+ What, lady?
+Abs.+ This hour a pair of glorious towers are fallen;
Two goodly buildings beaten with a breath
Beneath the grave. You all have seen this day,
A pair of souls both cast and kiss'd away.
+Spin.+ What censure gives your grace?
+Ver.+ In that I am a kinsman
To the accuser, that I might not appear
Partial in judgment, let it seem no wonder
If unto your gravities I leave
The following sentence: but as Lorenzo stands
A kinsman to Verona, so forget not,
Abstemia still is sister unto Venice.
+Phil.+ Misery of goodness!
+Abs.+ O Lorenzo Medico![131]
Abstemia's lover once, when he did vow
And when I did believe; then when Abstemia
Denied so many princes for Lorenzo,
Then when you swore. O maids! how men can weep,
Print protestations on their breasts and sigh,
And look so truly, and then weep again,
And then protest again, and again dissemble!
When once enjoy'd, like strange sights we grow stale,
And find our comforts, like their wonder, fail.
+Phil.+ O Lorenzo!
Look upon tears, each one of which, well-valued,
Is worth the pity of a king; but thou
Art harder far than rocks, and can'st not prize
The precious waters of truth's injur'd eyes.
+Lor.+ Please your grace, proceed to censure.
+Ver.+ Thus 'tis decreed, as these lords have set down
Against all contradiction. Signor Philippo,
In
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