I. , SCENE I
HEARSAY, SLICER, SHAPE, MEANWELL.
HEAR. We're made, my boys, we're made! methinks I am Growing into a thing that will be worshipp'd.
SLICER. I shall sleep one day in my chain and scarlet At Spital-sermon.
SHAPE. Were not my wit such, I'd put out moneys of being Mayor. But, O this brain of mine! that's it that will Bar me the city honour.
HEAR. We're cri'd up O' th' sudden for the sole tutors of the age.
SHAPE. Esteem'd discreet, sage trainers up of youth.
HEAR. Our house becomes a place of visit now.
SLICER. In my poor judgment, 'tis as good my lady Should venture to commit her eldest son To us as to the Inns-of-Court: He'll be Undone here, only with less ceremony.
HEAR. Speak for our credit, my brave man of war. What, Meanwell, why so lumpish?
MEAN. Pray you, be quiet.
HEAR. Thou look'st as if thou plott'st the calling in O' th' Declaration, or the abolishing[116] O' th' common prayers. Cheer up; say something for us.
MEAN. Pray, vex me not.
SLICER. These foolish, puling sighs Are good for nothing, but to endanger buttons. Take heart of grace, man.[117]
MEAN. Fie, y' are troublesome!
HEAR. Nay, fare you well then, sir. [Exeunt HEARSAY, SLICER, SHAPE.
MEAN. My father still Runs in my mind, meets all my thoughts, and doth Mingle himself in all my cogitations. Thus to see eager villains drag along Him unto whom they crouch'd! to see him hal'd, That ne'er knew what compulsion was, but when His virtues did incite him to good deeds, And keep my sword dry! O unequal nature! Why was I made so patient as to view, And not so strong as to redeem? Why should I Dare to behold, and yet not dare to rescue? Had I been destitute of weapons, yet Arm'd with the only name of son, I might Have outdone wonder. Naked piety Dares more than fury well-appointed[118]; blood Being never better sacrificed, than when It flows to him that gave it. But, alas! The envy of my fortune did allow That only which she could not take away-- Compassion, that which was not in those savage And knowing beasts, those engines of the law That even killed as uncontroll'd as that. How do I grieve when I consider from What hands he suffer'd! Hands that do excuse Th' indulgent prison, shackles being here A kind of rescue. Young man, 'tis not well To see thy aged father thus confin'd. Good, good old man! alas! thou'rt dead to me, Dead to the world, and only living to That which is more than death, thy misery! The grave could be a comfort: and shall I-- O, would this soul of mine--But death's the wish Of him that fears; he's lazy that would die. I'll live and see that thing of wealth, that worm Bred out of splendid muck, that citizen, Like his own sullied wares thrown by into Some unregarded corner; and my piety Shall be as famous as his avarice. His son, whom we have in our tuition, Shall be the subject of my good revenge: I'll count myself no child, till I have done Something that's worth that name. My brain shall be Busy in his undoing; and I will Plot ruin with religion: his disgrace Shall be my zeal's contrivement; and when this Shall style me son again, I hope 'twill be Counted not wrong, but duty. When that time Shall give my actions growth, I will cast off This brood of vipers, and will show that I Do hate the poison which I meant t' apply. [Exit.
Act I, Scene II
MISTRESS POTLUCK.
POT. Now help, good heaven! 'tis such an uncouth thing To be a widow out of term-time: I Do feel such aguish qualms and dumps, and fits, And shakings still an end! I lately was A wife, I do confess; but yet I had No husband; he, alas! was dead to me, Even when he lived unto the world: I was A widow, whilst he breath'd. His death did only Make others know so much; but yet--
Enter HEARSAY.
HEAR. How now? So melancholy, sweet?
POT. How could I choose, Being thou wert not here? The time is come: Thou'lt be as good unto me as thy word?
HEAR. Nay, hang me, if I e'er recant. You'll take me Both wind and limb at th' venture, will you not?
POT. Ay, good chuck, every inch of thee; she were no true woman that would not.
HEAR. I must tell you one thing--and yet I'm loth.
POT. I am thy rib, Thou must keep nothing from thy rib, good chuck: Thy yoke-fellow must know all thy secrets.
HEAR. Why then, I'll tell you, sweet. [He whispers her.
POT. Heaven defend!
HEAR. 'Tis true.
POT. Now, God forbid! and would you offer T' undo a widow-woman so? I had As lief the old vintner were alive again.
HEAR. I was born[119] with it, I confess; but lying In Turkey for intelligence, the Great Turk, Somewhat suspicious of me, lest I might Entice some o' th' seraglio, did command I should be forthwith cut.
POT. A heathen deed It was! none but an infidel could have The heart to do it.
HEAR. Now you know the worst That you must trust to. Come, let's to the church.
POT. Good Master Hearsay, nature ne'er intended One woman should be joined to another: The holy blessing of all wedlock was T' increase and multiply, as Master Christopher Did well observe last Sabbath. I'll not do Anything 'gainst God's word. I do release you Of all your promises; and that it may not Be said you lost by loving me, take this. Perhaps I may get you a contribution O' th' women of the parish, as I did The broken-bellied man the other day.
HEAR. Seeing you needs will cast me off, let me Entreat this one thing of you: that you would not Make me your table-talk at the next gossiping. [Exit.
POT. Indeed I pity thee, poor thing; or rather I pity thee, poor nothing!
Enter SLICER.
Good lieutenant, How dost thou? Thou art mindful of thy promise.
SLICER. What else, my jolly wench?
POT. Good sweet lieutenant, Give me but leave to ask one question of you: Art thou entire and sound in all thy limbs?
SLICER. To tell the very truth, ere now I've had A spice o' the pox or so; but now I am sound As any bell--hem! was't not shrill, my girl? ha!
POT. I do not ask thee about these diseases: My question is, whether thou'st all thy parts?
SLICER. Faith, I have lost a joint or two; as none Of our profession, come off whole, unless The general and some sneaks.
POT. My meaning is, Whether that something is not wanting that Should write thee husband?
SLICER. Ne'er fear that, my wench: Dost think the king would send me to the wars Without I had my weapons? Eunuchs are not Men of employment in these days. His majesty Hath newly put me on a piece of service; And if I e'er come off (which I do fear I sha'n't, the danger is so great) brave widow, We'll to't, and get commanders.
POT. If you can Leave me, I can leave you. There are other men That won't refuse a fortune when 'tis proffer'd.
SLICER. Well, I must to his majesty: think on't: So fare thee well. Thine, to his very death, That is, a month or two, perhaps, D. Slicer. [Exit.
Enter SHAPE.
POT. Kind Master Shape, you are exceeding welcome. Here hath been Master Hearsay and Lieutenant Slicer: you may guess at their business, but I hope you think me faithful.
SHAPE. I believe The memory of your husband's ashes, which Scarce yet are cold, extinguisheth all flames That tend to kindling any love fire. 'Tis A virtue in you which I must admire, That only you, amongst so many, should Be the sole turtle of the age.
POT. I do Bear him in memory, I confess; but when I do remember what your promise was When he lay sick, it doth take something from The bitterness of sorrow. Woman was Not made to be alone still.
SHAPE. Tender things At seventeen may use that plea; but you Are now arriv'd at matron. These young sparks Are rak'd up, I presume, in sager embers.
POT. Nay, don't abuse her that must be your wife. You might have pity, and not come with your nicknames, And call me turtle. Have I deserved this?
SHAPE. If that you once hold merits, I have done. I'm glad I know what's your religion.
POT. What's my religion? 'Tis well known there hath Been no religion in my house, e'er since My husband died.
Enter SLICER, HEARSAY.
HEAR. How now, sweet Shape'! So close alone Wi' your widow!
SHAPE. Sirs, dare you believe it? This thing, whose prayer it hath been these ten Years that she may obtain the second tooth And the third hair, now doats on me; on me, That do refuse all that are past sixteen.
SLICER. Why, faith, this was her suit to me just now.
HEAR. I had the first on't, then. A coachman or A groom, were fitter far for her.
SLICER. You do Honour her too much to think she deserves A thing that can lust moderately: give her The sorrel stallion in my lord's long stable.
SHAPE. Or the same-colour'd brother, which is worse.
POT. Why, gentlemen----
HEAR. Foh, foh! She hath let fly.
POT. D'you think I have no more manners than so?
SHAPE. Nay, faith, I can excuse her for that; but I must confess she spoke, which is all one.
SLICER. Her breath would rout an army sooner than That of a cannon.
HEAR. It would lay a devil Sooner than all Trithemius' charms.[120]
SHAPE. Hark how It blusters in her nostrils, like a wind In a foul chimney!
POT. Out, you base companions, You stinking swabbers!
HEAR. For her gait, that's such As if her nose did strive t' outrun her heels.
SHAPE. She's just six yards behind when that appears. It saves an usher, madam.
POT. You are all Most foul-mouth'd knaves to use a woman thus.
SLICER. Your plaster'd face doth drop against moist weather.
SHAPE. Fie, how you writhe it! Now it looks just like A ruffled boot.
SLICER. Or an oil'd paper-lantern.
HEAR. Her nose the candle in the midst of it.
SHAPE. How bright it flames! Put out your nose, good lady; You burn daylight.[121]
POT. Come up, you lousy rascals.
HEAR. Not upon you for a kingdom, good Joan. The Great Turk, Joan, the Great Turk!
SLICER. Kiss him, chuck; Kiss him, chuck, open-mouth'd, and be reveng'd.
POT. Hang you, base cheating varlet!
SLICER. Don't you see December in her face?
SHAPE. Sure, the surveyor Of the highways will have to do with her For not keeping her countenance passable.
HEAR. There lies a hoar-frost on her head, and yet A constant thaw in her nose.
SHAPE. She's like a piece Of firewood, dropping at one end, and yet Burning i' th' midst.
SLICER. O that endeavouring face! When will your costiveness have done, good madam?
HEAR. Do you not hear her guts already squeak Like kit-strings?
SLICER. They must come to that within
This two or three years: by that time she'll be True perfect cat. They practise beforehand.
POT. I can endure no longer, though I should Throw off my womanhood.
HEAR. No need, that's done Already: nothing left thee that may style thee Woman, but lust and tongue: no flesh but what The vices of the sex exact, to keep them In heart.
SHAPE. Thou art so lean and out of case, That 'twere absurd to call thee devil incarnate.
SLICER. Th' art a dry devil, troubled with the lust Of that thou hast not, flesh.
POT. Rogue, rascal, villain! I'll show your cheating tricks, i' faith: all shall Be now laid open. Have I suffer'd you Thus long i' my house, and ne'er demanded yet One penny rent for this? I'll have it all: By this good blessed light, I will!
HEAR. You may, If that you please undo yourself; you may: I will not strive to hinder you. There is Something contriving for you, which may be Perhaps yet brought about: a match or so; A proper fellow: 'tis a trifle, that; A thing you care not for, I know. Have I Plotted to take you off from these, to match you In better sort, and am us'd thus? As for The rent you ask, here take it; take your money; Fill, choke your gaping throat: but if as yet You are not deaf to counsel, let me tell you, It had been better that you ne'er had took it; It may stop some proceedings.
POT. Master Hearsay, You know you may have even my heart out of My belly (as they say), if you'll but take The pains to reach it out. I am sometimes Peevish, I do confess. Here, take your money.
HEAR. No.
POT. Good sir.
HEAR. No, keep it and hoard it up; My purse is no safe place for it.
POT. Let me Request you that you would be pleas'd to take it.
HEAR. Alas! 'twould only trouble me: I can As willingly go light as be your treasurer.
POT. Good Master Slicer, speak to him to take it. Sweet Master Shape, join with him.[122]
SLICER. Nay, be once O'errul'd by a woman.
SHAPE. Come, come; you shall take it.
POT. Nay, faith you shall. Here, put it up, good sir.
HEAR. Upon entreaty, I'm content for once; But make no custom of't. You do presume Upon my easy foolishness: 'tis that Makes you so bold. Were it another man, He ne'er would have to do with you. But mark me-- If e'er I find you in this mood again, I'll dash your hopes of marriage for ever.
[Exeunt all but HEARSAY.
Act I, Scene III
To him MEANWELL, ANDREW.
AND. God save you, tutors both!
MEAN. Fie, Andrew, fie! What, kiss your hand! You smell not compliment.
HEAR. Besides you come too near, when you salute. Your breath may be discover'd; and you give Advantage unto him you thus accost To shake you by the hand: which often doth Endanger the whole arm. Your gallant's, like The crystal glass, brittle; rude handling cracks him. To be saluted so were to be wounded: His parts would fall asunder like unto Spill'd quicksilver. An ear, an eye, a nose, Would drop, like summer fruit from shaken trees.
MEAN. For the same reason, I'd not have you dance. Some courtiers, I confess, do use it; but They are the sounder sort; those foolish ones That have a care of health, which you shall not, If you'll be rul'd by me. The hazard's great: 'Tis an adventure, an exploit, no[123] piece Of service for a gentleman, to caper.
HEAR. A gallant's like a leg of mutton boil'd By a Spanish cook: take him but by the one end, And shake him, all the flesh falls from the bones, And leaves them bare immediately.
AND. I would Not be a leg of mutton here.
HEAR. I saw In France a monsieur, only in the cutting Of one cross caper, rise a man, and come Down, to th' amazement of the standers-by, A true extemporary skeleton; And was straight read on.[124]
AND. Sure, this man, Good tutor, was quite rotten.
MEAN. See how you Betray your breeding now. Quite rotten! 'Tis Rottenness, perhaps, in footmen or in yeomen:
'Tis tenderness in gentlemen; they are A little over-boil'd, or so.
HEAR. He is A churl, a hind, that's wholesome; some raw thing That never was at London: one in whom The clown is too predominant. Refin'd People feel Naples in their bodies; and An ache i' th' bones at sixteen passeth now For high descent: it argues a great birth. Low bloods are never worthy such infection.
AND. Ay, but my father bid me I should live Honest, and say my prayers; that he did.
HEAR. If that you cannot sleep at any time, we do Allow you to begin your pray'rs, that so A slumber may seize on you.
MEAN. But as for Your living honest, 'twere to take away A trade i' th' commonwealth! the surgeons' Benefit would go down. You may go on In foolish chastity, eat only salads, Walk an unskilful thing, and be to learn Something the first night of your wife; but that's To marry out of fashion.
AND. Here's no proofs, No doctrines, nor no uses. Tutor, I Would fain learn some religion.
HEAR. Religion! Yes, to become a martyr, and be pictur'd With a long label out o' your mouth, like those In Fox's book;[125] just like a juggler drawing Riband out of his throat.
AND. I must be gone.
MEAN. Obedience is the first step unto science: Stay, and be wise.
AND. Indeed, I dare not stay; The clyster works you sent to purge gross humours. [Exit.
MEAN. Being you will not take your lecture out, Good-morrow to y', good Andrew. This soft fool Must swim in's father's wealth! It is a curse That fortune justly makes the city's lot; The young fool spends whate'er the old knave got. [Exit MEANWELL.
Act I, Scene IV
To HEARSAY enter SLICER and CREDULOUS.
HEAR. Sir, let me tell you, this is not the least Of things wherein your wisdom shows itself, In that you've plac'd your son in this good sort.
CRE. Nay, nay, let me alone to give him breeding: I did not hold the university Fit for the training up of such a spirit.
SLICER. The university! 'T had been the only way T' have took him off his courage and his mettle: He had return'd, as slaves do from the galleys: A naked shorn thing, with a thin-dock'd top, Learnedly cut into a logic mode.
HEAR. A private oath given him at first entrance, Had sworn him pilgrim unto conventicles; Engag'd him to the hate of all, but what Pleaseth the stubborn, froward elect.
SLICER. But we, Following another model, do allow Freedom and courage, cherish and maintain High noble thoughts----
HEAR. Set nature free, and are Chemists of manners----
SLICER. Do instruct of states----
HEAR. And wars. There's one, look on him----
SLICER. Do but view That searching head----
HEAR. The very soul of battle: True steel.
SLICER. H' hath been an agent some few years (A score or so) for princes, and as yet Doth not write forty.
HEAR. I confess I can Discover th' entrails of a state perhaps. Lay open a kingdom's paunches, show the bowels And inwards of a signiory or two; But for your deeds of valour, there is one, Although I speak it to his face, that can Write a geography by his own conquests: H' hath fought o'er Strabo,[126] Ptolemy,[127] and Stafford;[128] Travell'd as far in arms as Lithgow[129] naked; Borne weapons whither Coriat[130] durst not Carry a shirt or shoes. Jack Mandevile[131] Ne'er sail'd so far as he hath steer'd by land, Using his colours both for mast and sail.
CRE. I'd thought h' had been lieutenant.
HEAR. That's all one.
SLICER. I've worn some leather out abroad, let out A heathen soul or two, fed this good sword With, the black blood of pagan Christians, Converted a few infidels with it; But let that pass. That man of peace there hath Been trusted with kings' breasts--
HEAR. His name is heard Like thunder, and that mere word Slicer hath Sufficed unto victory.
SLICER. He's close, Reserv'd, lock'd up. The secrets of the King Of Tartary, of China, and some other Counsels of moment, have been so long kept In's body without vent, that every morning, Before he covers them with some warm thing Or other, you may smell 'em very strongly; Distinguish each of them by several scents--
HEAR. A grove of pikes are rushes to him: hail More frights you than a shower of bullets him--
SLICER. The Dutch come up like broken beer;[132] the Irish Savour of usquebaugh; the Spanish they Smell like unto perfume at first, but then After a while end in a fatal steam--
HEAR. One drum's his table, the other is his music: His sword's his knife; his colours are his napkins; Carves nourishing horse, as he is us'd to do The hostile paynim,[133] or we venison; eats Gunpowder with his meat instead of pepper, Then drinks o'er all his bandoleers, and fights--
SLICER. Secrets are rank'd and order'd in his belly, Just like tobacco-leaves laid in a sweat. Here lies a row of Indian secrets, then Something of's own on them; on that, another Of China counsels, cover'd with a lid Of Newfoundland discoveries: next, a bed Of Russia policies; on them, a lay Of Prester-Johnian whispers--
HEAR. Slights a tempest; Counts lightning but a giving fire, and thunder The loud report when heaven hath discharg'd. H' hath with his breath[134] suppli'd a breach: When he's once fix'd, no engine can remove him.
SLICER. 'Twould be a policy worth hatching to Have him dissected, if 'twere not too cruel. All states would lie as open as his bowels: Turkey in's bloody liver; Italy Be found in's reins; Spain busy in his stomach; Venice would float in's bladder; Holland sail Up and down all his veins; Bavaria lie Close in some little gut, and ragioni Di Stato[135] generally reek in all.
CRE. I see my son's too happy: he is born To be some man of action; some engine For th' overthrow of kingdoms.
HEAR. Troth, he may Divert the torrent of the Turkish rule Into some other track: dam up the stream Of that vast headlong monarchy, if that He want not means to compass his intents.
CRE. The Turkish monarchy's a thing too big For him to manage: he may make perhaps The governor of some new little island, And there plant faith and zeal; but for the present, M' ambition's only to contrive a match Between Sir Thomas Bitefig's only daughter And (if I may so call him now) my son: 'Twill raise his fortunes somewhat.
SLICER. We have got One that will do more good with's tongue that way Than that uxorious show'r that came from heaven: But you must oil it first.
CRE. I understand you: Grease him i' th' fist, you mean? There's just ten pieces; 'Tis but an earnest: if he bring 't about, I'll make those ten a hundred.
HEAR. Think it done.
[Exit CREDULOUS, and enter SHAPE and MEANWELL.
Act I, Scene V
HEARSAY, SLICER, MEANWELL, SHAPE.
HEAR. Our life, methinks, is but the same with others: To cosen and be cosen'd makes the age. The prey and feeder are that civil thing That sager heads call body politic. Here is the only difference: others cheat By statute, but we do't upon no grounds. The fraud's the same in both; there only wants Allowance to our way. The commonwealth Hath not declar'd herself as yet for us; Wherefore our policy must be our charter.
MEAN. Well-manag'd knav'ry is but one degree Below plain honesty.
SLICER. Give me villany, That's circumspect and well-advis'd, that doth Colour at least for goodness. If the cloak And mantle were pull'd off from things, 'twould be As hard to meet an honest action as A liberal alderman or a court-nun.
HEAR. Knowing, then, how we must direct our steps, Let us chalk out our paths: you, Shape, know yours.
SHAPE. Where'er I light on fortune, my commission Will hold to take her up: I'll ease my silken Friends of that idle luggage we call money.
HEAR. For my good toothless countess, let us try To win that old eremite thing that, like An image in a German clock,[136] doth move, Not walk--I mean, that rotten antiquary.
MEAN. He'll surely love her, 'cause she looks like some Old ruin'd piece, that was five ages backward.
HEAR. To the great vestry-wit, the livery-brain, My common-council pate, that doth determine A city-business with his gloves on's head, We must apply good hope of wealth and means.
SLICER. That griping knight Sir Thomas must be call'd With the same lure: he knows t' a crumb how much Loss is in twenty dozen of bread, between That which is broke by th' hand and that is cut. Which way best keep his candles, bran or straw: What tallow's lost in putting of 'em out By spittle, what by foot, what by the puff, What by the holding downwards, and what by The extinguisher; which wick will longest be In lighting, which spend fastest. He must hear Nothing but moieties, and lives, and farms, Copies, and tenures; he is deaf to th' rest.
MEAN. I'll speak the language of the wealthy to him; My mouth shall swill with bags, revenues, fees, Estates, reversions, incomes, and assurance[s]. He's in the gin already; for his daughter, She'll be an easy purchase.[137]
HEAR. I do hope We shall grow famous; have all sorts repair As duly to us, as the barren wives Of aged citizens do to St Antholin's. Come, let us take our quarters; we may come To be some great officers in time, And with a reverend magisterial frown Pass sentence on those faults that are our own. [Exeunt omnes.
FOOTNOTES:
[116] The Declaration concerning "The Book of Sports," set forth some time before. This was a matter very disgusting to the Puritans, who had an equal dislike to the Book of Common Prayer.
[117] This phrase signifies take courage, or summon up resolution. It is at present always written in this manner; formerly it used, [very erroneously,] to be, take heart at grass; as in "Euphues," p. 18: "Rise, therefore, Euphues, and take heart at grasse, younger thou shalt never bee: plucke up thy stomacke, if love have stong thee, it shall not stifle thee."
Again, in Tarlton's "Newes out of Purgatory," p. 4: "Therefore taking heart at grasse, drawing more neere him," &c.
And Ibid., p. 24: "Seeing she would take no warning: on a day tooke heart at grasse, and belabour'd her well with a cudgel."
[118] Well-appointed is completely accoutred. So in "The Miseries of Queen Margaret," by Drayton--
"Ten thousand valiant well-appointed men;"
and in the "Second Part of Henry IV." act iv. sc. 1--
"What well-appointed leader fronts us here?"
--Mr Steevens's note on the last passage.
[119] [Old copy, not born.]
[120] See Wolfii "Opera," 1672, ii. 592.
Johannes Trithemius, abbè of the order of St Benedict, and one of the most learned men of the fifteenth century, was born at Tritenheim, in the diocese of Treves, the 1st of February 1462. After having studied for some time, he became a Benedictine friar, and abbot of Spanheim, in the diocese of Mayence, in 1483. He governed the abbey until the year 1506, when he joined the abbey of St James, at Wurtzburgh. He was learned in all sciences, divine and human, and died the 13th of December 1516.
Thevet calls him a subtle philosopher, an ingenious mathematician, a famous poet, an accomplished historian, a very eloquent orator, and eminent divine. Naudius says that those who would make him a magician ground their right on a little book of three or four sheets, printed in 1612, entitled, "Veterum Sophorum sigilla et imagines magicæ, sive sculptura lapidum aut gemmarum ex nomine Tetragrammaton cum signatura planetarum authoribus Zoroastre, Salomone Raphaele, Chaele Hermete Thelete, ex Joan Kithemii manuscripto erutæ." Secondly, his speaking so pertinently of magic, and giving himself the title of magician in some of his epistles. Thirdly, his writing the book of Steganography, a treatise stuffed with the names of devils, and full of invocations, and as very pernicious condemned by Boville as worse than Agrippa. To these Naudius answers that the pamphlet of making images and characters upon stones, under certain constellations, is a pure imposture and cheat of booksellers, it being printed above 120 years before by Camillus Lienard, as the third book of his "Mirror of Precious Stones, De Unguento Armario." From a letter then to a Carmelite of Gaunt, Arnoldus Bostius, the suspicion of his being a magician must be collected, wherein he specified many miraculous and extraordinary effects performed in his treatise of Steganography. This, however, is defended by several writers only as the means to decipher.--Naudius's "History of Magick," translated by Davies, p. 237, &c.
[121] See note on the "Spanish Tragedy," [v. 115]
[122] "Join with me," would suit the sense better, as she is asking Shape to unite his solicitations with hers. The old copy reads as it is reprinted.--Collier.
[123] [Old copy, a.]
[124] [A lecture, probably, was delivered on the phenomenon.]
[125] [The "Book of the Acts and Monuments," &c., 1563, &c. The woodcuts have the dying words of the martyrs printed on labels out of their mouths, in the way mentioned in the text.]
[126] Strabo, a philosopher of Crete and a geographer in the time of Augustus.
[127] Born at Pelusium, flourished about the year 140, and died 162, aged 78.
[128] Robert Stafford, born at Dublin, was of Exeter College, Oxford, and published "A Geographical and Anthological description of all the Empires and Kingdoms, both of Continent and Islands, in this terrestial Globe," &c., 1607. Wood says it was reported that John Prideaux, who was Stafford's tutor, had the chief hand in this work.
[129] [Naked, i.e., unarmed.] William Lithgow, a Scotsman, whose sufferings by imprisonment and torture at Malaga, and whose travels on foot over Europe, Asia, and Africa, seem to raise him almost to the rank of a martyr and a hero, published an account of his peregrinations and adventures, 1614; reprinted in 1616, &c., with additions. At the conclusion of this work he says, "Here is the just relation of nineteene yeares travells, perfited in three deare bought voyages: the generall computation of which dimmensions spaces in my goings, traversings, and returnings through kingdomes, continents, and ilands, which my payneful feet traced over (besides my passages of seas and rivers) amounteth to thirty-six thousand and odde miles; which draweth neare to twice the circumference of the whole earth." [A list of his other works may be found in Hazlitt's "Handbook," 1867, in v.]
[130] The celebrated Thomas Coriat who, except Lithgow, is supposed to have travelled more miles on foot than any person of his times, or indeed in any period since. From his writings, and many parts of his conduct, he cannot be supposed to have been in his perfect senses. He was, notwithstanding, a man of considerable learning, and rendered himself ridiculous, chiefly by dwelling with too much attention on the trifling accidents which happened to him during his journey. In the year 1608 he left England and went to Venice and back again; a journey performed on foot in five months. On his return, he published an account of it in a large quarto volume, 1611, containing 655 pages, besides more than 100 filled with commendatory verses by Ben Jonson and other wits of the age, who both laughed at and flattered him at the same time. He afterwards travelled into Persia, and from thence into the East Indies (still on foot), and died at Surat in the year 1617.
[131] Sir John Mandevile, Knight, born at St Albans. He was a traveller for the space of thirty-four years, visiting in that time Scythia, Armenia the Greater and Less, Egypt, both Libyas, Arabia, Syria, Media, Mesopotamia, Persia, Chaldæa, Greece, Illyrium, Tartary, and divers other kingdoms. He died at Liege, November 17, 1371. An edition of his travels was printed in 8o, 1725, from a MS. in the Cotton Library.
[132] ["The leavings of what has been drawn for others"--Gifford (edit. of Ben Jonson, vii. 433).] So in Jonson's "Masque of Augurs:" "The poor cattle yonder are passing away the time with a cheat loaf and a bumbard of broken beer."
Again, in the "Masque of Gypsies:" "He were very carefully carried at his mother's back, rocked in a cradle of Welsh cheese, like a maggot, and there fed with broken beer and blown wine of the best daily."
And in Scot's "Belgicke Pismire," 1622, p. 76: "Having before fed themselves full with the sweat of other mens browes, even to gluttonie, drunkenesse, and surfetting, may releeve with their scraps, crummes, bones and broken beere, the necessities of such as they or their predecessors have before undone and made beggers."
[133] [Old copy, paguim.]
[134] Qy. breadth, i.e., stopped a breach by his person.--Collier.
[135] [Reasons or policies of state.]
[136] German clocks were about this time much in use. They are frequently mentioned by Ben Jonson and other writers.--See "Epicæne," act iv. sc. 2.
II. , SCENE I
HAVE-AT-ALL, SLICER, HEARSAY having rescued him in a quarrel.
HAVE. 'Tis destin'd; I'll be valiant: I am sure I shall be beaten with more credit then Than now I do escape. Lieutenant, has't Bethought thyself as yet? Has't any way To make my sword fetch blood?
SLICER. You never yet Did kill your man, then?
HAVE. No.
HEAR. Nor get your wench With child, I warrant?
HAVE. O sir!
SLICER. You're not quite Free of the gentry, till y' have marr'd one man And made another. When one fury hath Cried quit with t'other, and your lust repair'd What anger hath destroy'd, the title's yours; Till then you do but stand for't.
HAVE. Pox! who'd be That vile, scorn'd name, that stuffs all court-gate bills? Lieutenant, thou may'st teach me valour yet.
SLICER. Teach thee! I will inspire thee; man, I'll make Thy name become a terror; and to say That Have-at-all is coming shall make room, As when the bears are in procession. Hark hither, Frank--[They consult.
HEAR. That's good, but--
SLICER. How think'st now?
HEAR. Nay, he will pay you large--ly. [Aloud.
HAVE. Pay, what else?
HEAR. Make him believe the citizen's his guest; The citizen, that he is his.
SLICER. Concluded. Would you fight fair, or conquer by a spell?
HAVE. I do not care for witchcraft; I would have My strength rely merely upon itself.
SLICER. There is a way, though I ne'er show'd it yet But to one Spaniard, and 'twas wondrous happy.
HAVE. Think me a second Spaniard, worthy sir.
SLICER. Then listen. The design is by a dinner-- An easy way, you'll say: I'll say, a true. Hunger may break stone walls, it ne'er hurts men: Your cleanly feeder is your man of valour. What makes the peasant grovel in his muck, Humbling his crooked soul, but that he eats Bread just in colour like it? Courage ne'er Vouchsaf'd to dwell a minute where a sullen Pair of brown loaves darken'd the dirty table; Shadows of bread, not bread. You never knew A solemn son of bag-pudding and pottage Make a commander, or a tripe-eater Become a tyrant. He's the kingdom's arm That can feed large and choicely.
HAVE. If that be The way, I'll eat myself into courage, And will devour valour enough quickly.
SLICER. 'Tis not the casual eating of those meats That doth procure those spirits, but the order And manner of the meal--the ranking of The dishes, that does all; else he that hath The greatest range, would be the hardiest man. Those goodly juments of the guard would fight (As they eat beef) after six stone a day; The spit would nourish great attempts: my lord Would lead a troop, as well as now a masque; And force the enemy's sword with as much ease As his mistress's bodkin: gallants would Owe valour to their ordinaries, and fight After a crown meal.
HAVE. I do conceive The art is all in all. If that you'll give A bill of your directions, I'll account Myself oblig'd unto you for my safety.
SLICER. Take it then thus. All must be soldier-like; No dish but must present artillery; Some military instrument in each. Imprimis, six or seven yards of tripe Display'd instead o' th' ensign.
HAVE. Why, you said Tripe-eaters ne'er made tyrants.
SLICER. Peace, sir: learners Must be attentive, and believe. Do y' think We'll eat this? 'Tis but for formality. Item, a collar of good large fat brawn Serv'd for a drum, waited upon by two Fair long black-puddings, lying by for drumsticks. Item, a well-grown lamprey for a fife; Next some good curious march-panes[138] made into The form of trumpets. Then in order shall Follow the officers: the captain first Shall be presented in a warlike cock, Swimming in white broth, as he's wont in blood: The serjeant-major he may bustle in The shape of some large turkey: for myself, Who am lieutenant, I'm content there be A buzzard only. Let the corporal Come sweating in a breast of mutton, stuff'd[139] With pudding, or strut in some aged carp: Either doth serve, I think. As for perdues,[140] Some choice sous'd fish brought couchant in a dish Among some fennel or some other grass, Shows how they lie i' th' field. The soldier then May be thus rank'd: the common one, chicken, Duck, rabbit, pigeon; for the more genteel, Snipe, woodcock, partridge, pheasant, quail, will serve.
HEAR. Bravely contriv'd!
SLICER. That weapons be not wanting, We'll have a dozen of bones well-charg'd with marrow For ordnance, muskets, petronels, petards; Twelve yards of sausage by, instead of match; And caveary[141] then prepar'd for wild-fire.
HEAR. Rare rogue! how I do love him now, methinks!
SLICER. Next we'll have true fat eatable old pikes, Then a fresh turbot brought in for a buckler, With a long spitchcock for the sword adjoin'd. We'll bring the ancient weapons into play.
HAVE. Most rare, by heaven!
SLICER. Peaches, apricocks, And malecotoons,[142] with other choicer plums, Will serve for large-sized bullets; then a dish Or two of peas for small ones. I could now Tell you of pepper in the stead of powder, But that 'tis not in fashion 'mongst us gallants. If this might all stand upon drum-heads, 'twould Work somewhat better.
HAVE. Will't so? Then we'll have 'em From every ward i' th' city.
SLICER. No, I'm loth To put you to such charge. For once a long Table shall serve the turn; 'tis no great matter. The main thing's still behind. We must have there Some fort to scale; a venison-pasty doth it. You may have other pies instead of outworks: Some sconces would not be amiss, I think. When this is all prepar'd, and when we see The table look like a pitch'd battle, then We'll give the word, fall to, slash, kill and spoil: Destruction, rapine, violence! spare none.
HEAR. Thou hast forgotten wine, lieutenant--wine.
SLICER. Then to avoid the gross absurdity Of a dry battle, 'cause there must some blood Be spill'd (on th' enemies' side, I mean) you may Have there a rundlet of brisk claret, and As much of alicant; the same quantity Of tent would not be wanting--'tis a wine Most like to blood. Some shall bleed fainter colours, As sack and white wine. Some that have the itch (As there are tailors still in every army), Shall run with Rhenish that hath brimstone in't. When this is done, fight boldly: write yourself The tenth or 'leventh worthy--which you please: Your choice is free.
HAVE. I'll be the gaming worthy; My word shall be twice twelve. I think the dice Ne'er mounted any upon horseback yet.
SLICER. We'll bring your friends and ours to this large dinner: It works the better, eaten before witness. Beware you say 'tis yours; confession is One step to weakness; private conscience is A theatre to valour. Let's be close: Old Credulous and his son, and Master Caster, Shall all be there.
HAVE. But then they will grow valiant All at my charge.
SLICER. Ne'er fear't: the unknowing man Eats only flesh, the understanding, valour: His ignorance i' th' mystery keeps him coward. To him 'tis but a meal; to you 'tis virtue. It shall be kept here.
HAVE. No fitter place. There is An old rich clutch-fist knight, Sir Thomas Bitefig, Invite him too; perhaps I may have luck, And break his purse yet open for one hundred. A usurer is somewhat exorable, When he is full; he ne'er lends money empty.
SLICER. Discreet, and wisely done: I was about T' have prompted it.
HEAR. Stout Master Have-at-all, Let's be sworn brothers.
HAVE. Pox! thou fear'st I'll beat thee, After I've eaten. Dost thou think I'll offer't? By my next meal, I won't; nay, I do love My friends howe'er. I do but think how I Shall bastinado o'er the ordinaries. Arm'd with my sword, battoon and foot, I'll walk To give each rank its due. No one shall 'scape, But he I win of.
HEAR. You shall have at least Some twenty warrants sign'd upon you straight: The trunk-hose justices will try all means To bind you to the peace, but that your strength Shall not be bound by any.
SLICER. Surgeons will Pray for your health and happiness: you may Bring them to be your tributaries, if You but deny to fight awhile.
HAVE. My teeth Are on an edge till I do eat. Now will I cosen all men without opposition: I feel my strength increase with very thought on't. Sword, sword, thou shalt grow fat; and thou, battoon, Hold out, I prythee: when my labour's done, I'll plant thee in the Tower-yard, and there, Water'd with wine, thou shalt revive, and spring In spite of nature with fresh succulent boughs, Which shall supply the commonwealth with cudgels. Thou I first meet after this meal I do Pronounce unhappy shadow--happy yet In that thou'lt fall by me. Some men I will Speak into carcase; some I'll look to death; Others I'll breathe to dust: none shall hold back This fatal arm. The Templars shall not dare T' attempt a rescue; no mild words shall bury My splitted, spitchcock'd----
SLICER. Oliv'd,[143] hash'd----
HEAR. Dri'd, powder'd----
HAVE. Roasted fury. [Exeunt.
Act II, Scene II
MEANWELL, MOTH.
MEAN. If what I speak prove false, then stigmatise me.
MOTH.[144] I was not what you mean; depardieu,[145] You snyb[146] mine old years, sans fail I wene[147] you bin A jangler[148] and a golierdis.[149]
MEAN. I swear By those two Janus' heads you had of us, And your own too, as reverend as those, There is one loves you that you think not on.
MOTH. Nad be, none pleasaunce is to me ylaft,[150] This white top writeeth much my years, i-wis, My fire yreken is in ashen cold.[151] I can no whit of dalliance: if I kissen, These thick stark bristles of mine beard will pricken Ylike the skin of hound-fish. Sikerly[152] What wends against the grain is lytherly.[153]
MEAN. Methinks y' are strong enough and very lusty, Fit to get heirs: among your other pieces Of age and time let one young face be seen May call you father.
MOTH. Wholesome counsel! But The world is now full tickle[154] sykerly; 'Tis hard to find a damosel unwenned;[155] They being all coltish and full of ragery,[156] And full of gergon[157] as is a flecken[158] pie. Whoso with them maketh that bond anon, Which men do clyppen[159] spousail or wedlock, Saint Idiot is his lord, i-wis.
MEAN. This is No tender and wanton thing; she is a staid And settled widow, one who'll be a nurse Unto you in your latter days.
MOTH. A norice[160] Some dele ystept in age! So mote[161] I gone, This goeth aright: how highteth[162] she, say you?
MEAN. Mistress Joan Potluck, vintner Potluck's widow.
MOTH. Joan Potluck, spinster? Lore me o' thing mere Alouten: what time 'gan she brendle thus?
MEAN. On Thursday morning last.
MOTH. Y' blessed Thursday, Ycleped so from Thor the Saxon's god.
Ah, benedicite! I might soothly sayn, Mine mouth hath itched all this livelong day; All night me met[163] eke, that I was at kirk; My heart gan quapp[164] full oft. Dan Cupido Sure sent thylke sweven[165] to mine head.
MEAN. You shall Know more, if you'll walk in. [Exit MEANWELL.
MOTH. Wend you beforne; Kembeth[166] thyself, and pyketh[167] now thyself; Sleeketh thyself; make cheer much digne,[168] good Robert: I do arret thou shalt acquainted bin With nymphs and fauns, and hamadryades: And yeke the sisterne nine Pierides That were transmued into birds, nemp'd[169] pyes Metamorphoseos wot well what I mean: I is as jollie now as fish in Seine. [Exeunt.
Act II, Scene III
HEARSAY, CASTER, SHAPE.
HEAR. Can I lie hid nowhere securely from The throng and press of men? Must every place Become a theatre, where I seek shelter, And solitudes become markets, 'cause I'm there? Good sir, I know your tricks; you would entrap: This is your snare, not your request.
SHAPE. Take heed; He's nois'd about for a deep-searching head. I'll pawn my life 'tis a trick.
HEAR. Leave off these gins, You do not do it handsomely. You think Y' have met with fools, I warrant.
SHAPE. On my life, a spy, a mere informer.
CAS. As I hope For fortunes, my intentions are most fair.
SHAPE. A gamester's oath! he hath some reservation.
HEAR. Yet did I think you true----
CAS. By all that's good, You do me wrong, to think that I'd wrong you.
HEAR. When I lay agent last in New Atlantis, I met with, what you now desire, a strange New way of winning, but yet very sure. Were not the danger great, I'd----
CAS. Do you think I will betray myself or you, whom I Esteem above myself? I have as yet One hundred left, some part of which----
SHAPE. Faith, sir, These times require advice: if it should come Unto the council's ear once, he might be Sent into other kingdoms, to win up Money for the relief o' th' state, and so Be as it were an honest kind of exile.
CAS. If I do e'er discover, may I want Money to pay my ordinary: may I At my last stake (when there is nothing else To lose the game) throw ames-ace[170] thrice together! I'll give you forty pound in hand----
HEAR. I may Show you the virtue of't, though not the thing: I love my country very well. Your high And low men are but trifles;[171] your pois'd dye, That's ballasted with quicksilver or gold, Is gross to this----
SHAPE. Proffer him more, I say. [Aside.
CAS. Here's fifty----
HEAR. For the bristle dye, it is Not worth that hand that guides it: toys fit only For clerks to win poor costermongers' ware with.
SHAPE. You do not come on well. [Aside.
CAS. Here's threescore----
HEAR. Then Your hollowed thumb join'd with your wriggled box-- The slur and suchlike are not to be talk'd of; They're open to the eye. For cards, you may Without the help of any secret word Or a false hand, without the cut or shuffle, Or the pack'd trick, have what you will yourself; There's none to contradict you.
CAS. If you please But to instruct me, here is fourscore pound.
HEAR. Do you think 'tis money I esteem? I can Command each term by art as much as will Furnish a navy. Had you but five pound Left you in all the world, I'd undertake Within one fortnight you should see five thousand. Not that I covet any of your dross, But that the power of this art may be More demonstrably evident, leave in My hands all but some smaller sum to set, Something to stake at first.
SHAPE. He'll tell you all, If you but seem to trust him. [Aside.
CAS. Here I'll lay Down in your hands all but this little portion, Which I reserve for a foundation.
HEAR. Being y' are confident of me, and I Presume your lips are sealed up to silence, Take that, which I did never yet discover: So help you fortune, me philosophy. (I must intreat your absence, Master Shape.) [Exit SHAPE. I do presume you know the strength and power That lies in fancy.
CAS. Strange things are done by it.
HEAR. It works upon that which is not as yet: The little Ethiop infant would have been Black in his cradle,[172] had he not been first White in the mother's strong imagination. 'Tis thought the hairy child, that's shown about, Came by the mother's thinking on the picture Of Saint John Baptist in his camel's coat. See we not beasts conceive, as they do fancy The present colours plac'd before their eyes? We owe pied colts unto the varied horse-cloth, And the white partridge to the neighbouring snow. Fancy can save or kill: it hath clos'd up Wounds,[173] when the balsam could not; and without The aid of salves, to think hath been a cure. For witchcraft then, that's all done by the force Of mere imagination. That which can Alter the course of nature, I presume, You'll grant shall bear more rule in petty hazards.
CAS. It must, it must, good sir. I pray, go on.
HEAR. Now the strongest fancies still are found to dwell In the most simple; they being easiest won To the most firm belief, who understand not Why[174] 'tis they do believe. If they think 'twill Be so, it will be so: they do command And check the course of fortune: they may stop Thunder, and make it stand, as if arrested In its mid-journey. If that such a one Shall think you'll win, you must win: 'tis a due, That nature pays those men in recompense Of her deficiency that, whate'er they think, Shall come to pass. But now the hardest will be To find out one that's capable of thinking.
CAS. I know you can produce an instrument To work this your design by: let me owe you The whole and entire courtesy.
HEAR. I've one
Committed to my custody but lately, The powerfull'st that way I e'er found yet: He will but think he shall be abus'd in such A company, and he's abus'd: he will Imagine only that he shall be cheated, And he is cheated: all still comes to pass. He's but one pin above a natural: but----
CAS. We'll purchase him; I'll take up for't. Old Simon Shall have my farm outright now. What's a piece Of dirty earth to me? a clod! a turf!
HEAR. Because I see your freer nature's such As doth deserve supplies, I'll do my best To win him o'er awhile into your service.
CAS. If I should strive to pay you thanks, I should But undervalue this great courtesy. Sir, give me leave to think and worship. Stay: First, will I beggar all the gentlemen That do keep terms; then build with what I win. Next, I'll undo all gaming citizens, And purchase upon that. The foreman shall Want of his wonted opportunities; Old Thomas shall keep home, I warrant him. I will ascend to the groom-porters next, Fly higher games, and make my mincing knights Walk musing in their knotty freeze abroad; For they shall have no home. There shall not be That pleasure but I'll balk: I'll run o'er Nature; And when I've ransack'd her, I'll weary art: My means, I'm sure, will reach it. Let me see, 'Twill yearly be--by heaven, I know not what----
HEAR. Ne'er think to sum it, 'tis impossible: You shall ne'er know what angels, pieces, pounds, Those names of want and beggary, mean: your tongue Shall utter nought but millions; you shall measure, Not count your moneys; your revenues shall Be proud and insolent, and unruly; They shall increase above your conquer'd spendings, In spite of their excess. Your care shall be Only to tame your riches, and to make them Grow sober and obedient to your use.
CAS. I'll send some forty thousand unto Paul's; Build a cathedral next in Banbury;[175] Give organs to each parish in the kingdom; And so root out th' unmusical elect. I'll pay all soldiers, whom their captains won't; Raise a new hospital for those maim'd people That have been hurt in gaming: then build up All colleges that ruin hath demolish'd, Or interruption left unperfect.
HEAR. 'Twill Never be done, I think, unless you do it. Provide the wealthiest gamesters: there's but one That can do us wrong--discovery. You have no enemy but frailty.
CAS. Night And silence are loud names compar'd with me.
HEAR. I see the tide of fortune rolling in Without resistance. Go, be close and happy. [Exeunt.
Act II, Scene IV
ANDREW, MEANWELL.
AND. Upon my conscience, now he cheated me; I could have never lost it else so strangely.
MEAN. What is a paltry cloak to a man of worth?
It barr'd men only o' th' sight of your body; Your handsomeness will now appear the better.
AND. He was as like our Master Shape as could be; But that he had a patch upon his cheek And a black beard, I should have sworn 'twere he: It was somebody in his clothes, I'm sure.
MEAN. Some cunning cheater, upon my life, won His cloak and suit too!
AND. There it is for certain, Pyes take him! doth he play for cloaks still? Surely He hath a fly only to win good clothes.
Enter SHAPE.
SHAPE. The pox and plague take all ill-fortune! this The second time that he hath cheated me; My very best suit that I had!
AND. How now! What, lost your cloak and suit? A jest, I vow; I vow, a pretty jest. 'Odsnigs, I guess'd so; I saw him have it on: it made him look as like you, As like you--'tis a rogue, a mere decoy. [Aside.
SHAPE. A rogue, a mere decoy! and yet like me?
AND. Nay, hold, I mean he is a rogue, when that He hath his own clothes on. D' y' think that I Would call him so when he is in your suit?
SHAPE. No more of that, good Andrew, as you love me; Keep in your wit.
AND. Speak, tutor, do I use To quarrel? Speak, good tutor.
MEAN. That wit, Andrew, Of yours will be th' undoing of you, if You use't no better.
AND. Faith, I thought I might Have broke a witty jest upon him, being I've lost my cloak.
MEAN. True; but he has lost his too, And then you know that is not lawful wit.
Enter HEARSAY.
HEAR. Here's Master Credulous and old Sir Thomas; They have some business with you.
MEAN. Bring 'em in.
SHAPE. My business lies not here, sirs, fare you well.
[Exit SHAPE.
AND. For God's sake, don't you tell old Sim on't, now.
Act II, Scene V
To them SIR THOMAS BITEFIG, CREDULOUS.
MEAN. God save you, good Sir Thomas.
SIR T. Save you, sir.
MEAN. Your welcome, Master Credulous.
CRE. Come hither: Whither do you steal now? What! Where's your cloak?
AND. Going to foils e'en now, I put it off.
MEAN. To tell you truth, he hath lost it at doublets.
CRE. With what a lie you'd flap me in the mouth! Thou hast the readiest invention To put off anything: thou hadst it from Thy mother, I'll be sworn: 't ne'er came from me.
MEAN. Peace, as you love yourself: if that the knight Should once perceive that he were given to gaming, 'Twould make him break the match off presently.
CRE. Sir Thomas, here's my son; he may be yours, If you please to accept him.
AND. Father, don't Give me away for this: try me once more.
SIR T. I like his person well enough, if that You'll make him an estate convenient.
MEAN. He hath more in him, sir, than he can show. He hath one fault: he's something covetous.
SIR T. Marry, a very commendable fault.
CRE. He is descended of no great high blood: He hath a house, although he came of none. His grandfather was a good livery-man, Paid scot and lot, old Timothy Credulous My father--though I say it, that should not.
SIR T. I don't regard this thing that you call blood; 'Tis a mere name, a sound.
MEAN. Your worship speaks Just like yourself: methinks he's noble That's truly rich. Men may talk much of lines, Of arms, of blood, of race, of pedigree: Houses, descents and families; they are But empty noise, God knows; the idle breath Of that puff nothing, honour; formal words, Fit for the tongues of men that ne'er knew yet What stem, what gentry, nay, what virtue lies In great revenues.
SIR T. Well and pithy said! You may work on my daughter, and prevail For that young stripling. 'Tis a foolish wench, An unexperienc'd girl; she'd like to have been Caught by Sir Robert Littleworth's son, if that I had not banish'd him my house; a youth Honest enough, I think, but that he's poor; Born to more name than fortune.
CRE. He is safe For ever wooing. I have laid his father Out of harm's way; there's picking meat for him, And God knows where he's gone: he hath not been Seen this long while; he's, sure, turn'd vagabond; No sight of him since the arrest of his father. Andrew, address yourself to good Sir Thomas.
AND. 'Slid, father, you're the strangest man--I won't.
CRE. As God shall mend me, thou'rt the proudest thing---- Thou can'st not compliment, but in caparisons.
AND. What's that to you? I'd fain say something yet, But that I can't, my losses do so vex me.
CRE. Come, think not on't, my boy; I'll furnish thee.
AND. Sir, though----
CRE. Nay, to't, I say: help him, sir, help him.
AND. Sir, though without my cloak at this time-- To-morrow I shall have one--give me leave Barely to say I am your servant, sir---- In hose and doublet.
CRE. I'll do what you told me.
HEAR. Take heed: if that you do't, he'll guess you're given To idle spendings, and so cross the match. I will invite him as to myself.
CRE. Do so.
HEAR. Sir Thomas, if you'll please so far to grace us, As be a guest to-morrow here, we shall Study hereafter to deserve the favour.
SIR T. Although I do not use to eat at ordinaries; Yet to accept your courtesy, good friends, I'll break my wonted custom.
HEAR. You shall have it With a free heart.
SIR T. If I thought otherwise, I do assure you, I'd not venture hither. [Exeunt.
FOOTNOTES:
[137] i.e., Prize [or acquisition.]--Collier.
[138] March-pane was a confection made of pistachio nuts, almonds, sugar, &c., formerly in high esteem, and a constant article in the deserts of our ancestors. See the notes of Dr Gray, Mr Hawkins, and Mr Steevens, to "Romeo and Juliet," act i. sc. 5.
[139] This is called a St Stephen's pudding: it used formerly to be provided at St John's College, Cambridge, uniformly on St Stephen's day.--Pegge.
[140] See [Suckling's Works, by Hazlitt, ii. 33.]
[141] Or, caveare. Giles Fletcher, in his "Russe Commonwealth," 1591, p. 11, says: "In Russia they have divers kinds of fish, very good and delicate: as the Bellouga or Bellougina, of four or five elnes long; the Ostrina or Sturgeon, but not so thicke nor long. These four kinds of fish breed in the Volgha, and are catched in great plenty, and served thence into the whole realme for a great food. Of the roes of these foure kinds, they make very great store of Icary, or caveary."
The introduction of these foreign delicacies is ridiculed by several writers of the times; as Ben Jonson's "Cynthia's Revels," act iii. sc. 1: "Come; let us go and taste some light dinner, a dish of sliced caviare, or so."
And in Marston's "What you Will," act ii. sc. 1--
"A man can scarce put on a tuckt-up cap, A button'd frizado sute; scarce eate good meate, Anchovies, caviare, but hee's satired, And term'd phantasticall."
[142] The malacoton is one of the late peaches. So in Ben Jonson's "Bartholomew Fair"--
"A soft velvet head like a mellicotton."
--Steevens.
[143] Olived is a term of cookery. In Murrell's "New Book of Cookery," [1630,] is a receipt to make an olive-pie to be eaten hot. Olives are collops of any meat.--Steevens.
[144] Cartwright has fetched most of his antiquated terms from Chaucer. I have therefore given the explanation of them from Mr Tyrwhitt's excellent glossary on that author.
[145] [For God's sake.]
[146] Snub, reprove.--T.
[147] Think, suppose.--T.
[148] A prater.--T.
[149] Fr. Goliardus, or Goliardensis, Lat. "This jovial sect seems to have been so called from Golias, the [representative] name of a man of wit, toward the end of the 12th century, [under which pass] "Apocalypsis Goliæ" and other pieces, in burlesque Latin rhymes, some of which have been falsely attributed to Walter Mapes. In several authors of the 13th century, quoted by Du Cange, the Goliardi are classed with the joculatores or buffones."--T. [See "Poems of Walter Mapes," edit. Wright, p. ix. et seq.]
[150] Left.--T.
[151] So in Chaucer's "Reve's Prologue," v. 3880--
"Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken." --Steevens.
On this last line Mr Tyrwhitt observes: "There is so great a resemblance between this line and the following in 'Gray's Elegy,' [edit. Mitford, i. 106]--
"Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires,"
that I should certainly have considered the latter as an imitation, if Mr Gray himself had not referred us to the 169 (170) sonnet of Petrarch, as his original 'Ch'i veggio nel pensier,' &c.
[152] Surely.--T.
[153] Very ill.--T.
[154] Uncertain.--T.
[155] Unspotted.--T.
[156] Wantonness.--T.
[157] Jargon, chattering.--T.
[158] Spotted.--T.
[159] Call, name.--T.
[160] A nurse.--T.
[161] [Might.]
[162] Is she called.--T.
[163] Dreamed.--T.
[164] Tremble or quake.--T.
[165] Dream.--T.
[166] Combeth.--T.
[167] Pick as a hawk does his feathers.--T.
[168] Worthy.--T.
[169] Named.--T.
[170] ["Both aces, the lowest throw upon the dice."--Dyce's "Shakespeare Glossary," 1868.]
[171] High men and low men are false dice. See Florio's "Dictionary," 1598, v. Pise. These terms so very oft occur in our ancient dramatic writers, that to quote examples would be endless.
[172] The epithet black does not agree with Sir Kenelm Digby's "Discourse touching the Cure of Wounds by the Power of Sympathy," 4th edition, 1664, p. 104: "I told her sundry stories upon this subject; as that of the Queen of Ethiopia, who was delivered of a white boy; which was attributed to a picture of the Blessed Virgin, which she had always near the tester of her bed, whereunto she bore great devotion. I urged another, of a woman who was brought to bed of a child all hairy, because of a portrait of St John the Baptist in the wilderness, where he wore a coat of camel's hair."
Perhaps the original reading is the true one, and the corruption lies in the former line. I would read--
"It works upon that which is not as yet: The little Ethiop infant would have been Black in his cradle, had he not been first White in the mother's strong imagination."
The compositor's eye might have caught had not from the following line--a very common accident. Without this emendation we have too much of not and had not in the course of three verses.--Steevens's note (altered.) [Cartwright and Digby probably derived the story of the Ethiop mother and her white offspring from a common source; but Digby's work was not published till several years after Cartwright's death.]
[173] See Sir Kenelm Digby's "Discourse," p. 6.
[174] [Old copy, who. Mr Collier's correction.]
[175] From Bishop Corbet's "Iter Boreale," this town appears to have been inhabited chiefly by Puritans. Mr Dodd, mentioned in act iv. sc. 3, was minister there.
III. , SCENE I
MOTH. Harrow,[176] alas! I swelt[177] here as I go; Brenning[178] in fire of little Cupido. I no where hoart yfeel but on mine head. Huh, huh, huh, so; ycapred very wele. I am thine leek, thou Chaucer eloquent; Mine head is white, but, O, mine taile is green. This is the palyes, where mine lady wendeth. Saint Francis[179] and Saint Benedight, Blesse this house from wicked wight; From the night-mare and the goblin, That is hight Good-fellow Robin; Keep it from all evil spirits, Fairies, weazels, rats, and ferrets: From curfew-time To the next prime. Come forth, mine duck, mine bride, mine honeycomb; Come forth, mine cinnamon.
Enter MISTRESS POTLUCK.
POT. Who is't that calls?
MOTH. A knight most gent.
POT. What is your pleasure, sir?
MOTH. Thou art mine pleasure, by dame Venus brent; So fresh thou art, and therewith so lycand.[180]
POT. Alas! I am not any flickering thing: I cannot boast of that slight-fading gift You men call beauty; all my handsomeness Is my good-breeding and my honesty. I could plant red where you now yellow see; But painting shows an harlot.
MOTH. Harlot! so Called from one Harlotha, concubine To deignous[181] Wilhelm, hight the Conqueror.
POT. Were he ten Williams and ten conquerors, I'd have him know't, I scorn to be his harlot. I never yet did take press-money to Serve under any one.
MOTH. Then take it now. Werme kiss! Thine lips ytaste like marrow-milk; Me-thinketh that fresh butter runneth on them. I grant well now, I do enduren woe, As sharp as doth the Tityus in hell, Whose stomach fowls do tyren[182] ever more, That highten vultures, as do tellen clerks.
POT. You've spoke my meaning, though I do not know What 'tis you said. Now see the fortune on't; We do know one another's souls already; The other must needs follow. Where's your dwelling?
MOTH. Yclose by Aldersgate there dwelleth one Wights clepen Robert Moth; now Aldersgate[183] Is hoten so from one that Aldrich hight; Or else of elders, that is, ancient men; Or else of aldern-trees, which growden there; Or else, as heralds say, from Aluredus: But whencesoe'er this yate[184] ycalled is, There dwelleth Robert Moth, thine paramour.
POT. Can you be constant unto me, as I Can be to you?
MOTH. By Woden, god of Saxons, From whence comes We'nsday, that is, Woden'sday, Truth is a thing that ever I will keep, Unto thylke day in which I creep into My sepulchre; I'll be as faithful to thee, As Chaunticleer to Madam Partelot.[185]
POT. Here then I give away my heart to you; As true a heart as ever widow gave.
MOTH. I Robert Moth, this tenth [year] of our king,[186] Give to thee, Joan Potluck, my bigg'st cramp-ring:[187]
And with it my carcase entire I bequeathen Under my foot to hell, above my head to heaven; And to witnesse[188] that this is sooth, I bite thy red lip with my tooth.
POT. Though for a while our bodies now must part, I hope they will be join'd hereafter.
MOTH. O! And must we part? Alas! and must we so? Sin it may be no bet,[189] now gang in peace.
[Exit POTLUCK.
Though soft into my bed I gin to sink To sleep long as I'm wont to done,[190] yet all Will be for nought; I may well lig and wink, But sleep shall there none in this heart ysink. [Exit.
Act III, Scene II
CREDULOUS, and SHAPE dogging him.
CRE. So now the mortgage is mine own outright; I swear by the faith of my body now, It is a pretty thing--o' my corporal oath, A very pretty thing. Besides the house, Orchards, and gardens, some two hundred acres Of land, that beareth as good country corn, For country corn, as may be.
SHAPE. As I'd have it.
CRE. How now, good friend? Where dost thou live? Dost thou know Caster's farm?
SHAPE. Yes, sir; I fear 'tis gone: Sure, Caster's farm is cast away!
CRE. A jest! Good troth, a good one of a country one; I see there's wit there too. Then thou dost know it?
SHAPE. I am afraid I shall not know it long; I shall lose my acquaintance.
CRE. 'Snigs, another! A very perilous head! a dangerous brain!
SHAPE. God bless my master, and the devil take Somebody else.
CRE. Um! that's not quite so good As th' other two; that somebody else is me: Now you shall see how he'll abuse me here To mine own face. [Aside.] Why somebody else, good brother?
SHAPE. The rich gout rot his bones! An hungry, old, Hard-griping citizen, that only feeds On heirs' and orphans' goods, they say must have it: One that ne'er had the wisdom to be honest, And's therefore knave, 'cause 'tis the easier art. I know he hath not given half the worth on't: 'Tis a mere cheat.
CRE. 'Slid, brother, thou hast paid him To th' utmost, though he hath not paid thy master. Now is my wit up too. This land, I see, Will make men thrive i' th' brain. [Aside.
SHAPE. Would he were here, Whoe'er he be, I'd give him somewhat more Into the bargain: a base, thin-jaw'd sneaksbill, Thus to work gallants out of all! It grieves me, That my poor tenement too goes into th' sale.
CRE. What have I done? Now, wit, deliver me! If he know I am he, he'll cut my throat; I never shall enjoy it. [Aside.] Sure, it was Your master's seeking, friend; he would ne'er else Have had to do with it: he that bought it is A very honest man, and if you please him, Will deal with you. I may speak a word In your behalf; 'twon't be the worse for you.
SHAPE. I'm going, sir, unto him; do you know Where I may find him?
CRE. What if I am he?
SHAPE. I am afraid he is not half so honest As you do seem.
CRE. Faith, I'm the same. I tried What metal thou wast made of: I perceive Thou wilt not flinch for th' wetting;[191] thou may'st be My bailiff there, perhaps.
SHAPE. An't please your worship! [Aside.
CRE. So now the case is alter'd.
SHAPE. I do know It was my master's seeking; you would ne'er Have had to do with't else. He sent me to you For the last hundred pound by the same token That you invited him to th' eating-house.
CRE. O, this simplicity! He does not know Yet what an ordinary means. [Aside.] I was now coming To have paid it in.
SHAPE. I'll save your worship that Labour, an't please you. Let me now begin My bailiffship.
CRE. 'Snigs, wiser yet than so. Where is thy master?
SHAPE. Sir, my master's here, I thank my stars; but Master Caster is At an horse-race some ten miles off.
CRE. Why, then, I'll stay till he returns: 'twill be by dinner.
SHAPE. Your best way's now to send it: if by chance The race go on his side, your worship may Fail of your purchase.
CRE. 'Snigs, and that's considerable. Here, here, make haste with it; but, ere thou goest, Tell me, is it a pretty thing?
SHAPE. O' my corporal oath, A very pretty thing. Besides the house, Orchards, and gardens, some two hundred acres Of land that beareth as good country corn-- God give you luck on't!
CRE. Right, as I did say, Ev'n word by word. But prythee, stay a little; What meadow-ground's there? Pasture in proportion?
SHAPE. As you would wish, sir, I'm in haste.
CRE. Nay, bailiff, But one word more, and I have done: what place Is there to dry wet linen in?
SHAPE. O, twenty, To hang up clothes or anything you please; Your worship cannot want line-room. God be wi' you!
CRE. But this once, and--
SHAPE. I must be gone--The race! [Exit SHAPE.
CRE. Little think'st thee, how diligent thou art To little purpose. 'Snigs, I pity him: What haste he makes to cheat himself, poor fool! Now I am safe, the wretch must pardon me For his poor tenement; all's mine. I'll sow One ground or other every month with pease; And so I will have green ones all the year. These yeomen have no policy i' th' world. [Exit.
Act III, Scene III
PRISCILLA, MEANWELL.
PRIS. Pray y', entertain yourself awhile, until I give my mistress notice of your presence. I'd leave a book with you, but that I see You are a gentleman: perhaps you'll find Some pretty stories in the hangings there.
MEAN. Thank you, sweetheart.
PRIS. A very proper man! [Aside. If't lie in me to do you any pleasure, Pray you, sir, use me; you shall find me ready.
[Exit PRISCILLA.
MEAN. I make no doubt of that. These implements, These chamber-properties are such ripe things, They'll fall with the least touch: from twelve to twenty They think that others are to sue to them; When once they've pass'd these limits, they make bold-- I cannot say to woo, that's something modest-- But ask downright themselves.
Enter MISTRESS JANE.
JANE. Leave us, Priscilla, And wait without awhile.
MEAN. Fair mistress, pardon The boldness of a stranger, who uncivilly Thus interrupts your better thoughts.
JANE. May I Demand your business?
MEAN. Under favour thus: Not to use farther circumstance, fair virgin (And yet less fair, 'cause virgin), you are one That are the thought, the care, the aim, the strife-- I should not err, if I should say the madness-- Of all young men: all sighs, all folded arms, All o'ercast looks, all broken sleeps are ow'd Only to you.
JANE. I'm sorry I should be A trouble unto any: if I could Afford the remedy as well as now I do your grief, assure yourself that cure Shall be the birth of my next action.
MEAN. That cure is my request. If that this were Mine own suit, I had us'd no circumstance. Young Master Credulous, a proper man-- For sure he shall be rich--one whom the whole List of our city virgins doat on--you Conceive the rest, I know.
JANE. Alas! what ails him? I'll not be slack to do him any good.
MEAN. 'Tis in your power. He is very much, If you will know't--but, sure, you will not grant If I should tell you.
JANE. If you thus presume That I am hard, you only ask denial; Your expectation's cross'd, except you fail.
MEAN. If you will know it, then, he is in love.
JANE. I pity him indeed, poor heart. With whom?
MEAN. Even with your beauteous self.
JANE. 'Tis not well done To scoff one ne'er did injure you.
MEAN. I vow By all that's good, by your fair self, I am As tender of you as that bless'd one is, Whoe'er he be, that loves you most. If I In any case abuse you, let me be More miserable than Littleworth.
JANE. Is he become expression?[192] Is his fate The period of ill-wishes? Sure, he never Deserv'd so ill from you!
MEAN. I don't reflect Upon his ruin'd fortunes, but your coldness; And, sure, I may call him unhappy whom You do neglect.
JANE. That man, where'er he be,
Is happier than yourself; and were he here, You should see him receiv'd, and yourself scorn'd.
MEAN. I do not think so, lady; sure, you would Make more of me than so. I'll bring the man, And so confute you.
JANE. It may be I might Love you the better something for that office, If he might enter here.
MEAN. Nay, I could tell Y' had cast him off: alas! you need not hide it: I have it from himself.
JANE. Doth he think so? Could I but see him----
MEAN. If his sight can bring But the least joy unto you--as perhaps You'll take some pleasure in his misery-- You shall enjoy it.
JANE. I do fear you promise Only to raise my hopes awhile, and then To triumph in their ruin.
MEAN. That you may See how my breast and tongue agree, I'll leave This ring with you, till I return again.
JANE. My Littleworth! Fool that I was, could I Not all this while perceive 'twas thee? Why didst thou Defer my joy thus long by suffering me To stand i' th' cloud?
MEAN. Alas! I guess'd I'd been Infectious to thee now; that thou wouldst look On a disease more mildly than on me; For poverty is counted a contagion.
JANE. I call this kiss to witness--which I wish, If I prove false, may be the last to me Which friends pay dying friends--I ne'er will be Other's than thine.
MEAN. I like the vow so well, That the same way I'll seal my promise too. If I prove not as thou (that is, most constant), May this kiss be--that I may wish it worse, Than that which is due to departing souls-- The last that I shall take from thee. I am Sent here, but yet unknown to them that send me, To be another's spokesman: the man is That foolish son of Master Credulous. Thou must pretend some liking. 'Twas thy father Granted me this access to win thee for him: Be thou no way averse; 't shall be my care So to bring things about that thou shalt be Mine by consent in spite of misery.
JANE. Be secret, and love prosper thy design!
[Exit JANE.
MEAN. Happy that man that meets such faithfulness! I did not think it had been in the sex. I know not now what's misery. Peace! my fair [Music. Is hallowing the lute with her bless'd touch.
A Song within.
1. Come, O, come, I brook no stay: He doth not love that can delay. See how the stealing night Hath blotted out the light, And tapers do supply the day.
2. To be chaste is to be old; And that foolish girl that's cold Is fourscore at fifteen: Desires do write us green, And looser flames our youth unfold.
MEAN. 'T cannot be her, her voice was ne'er profan'd With such immodest numbers.
3. See, the first taper's almost gone; Thy flame like that will straight be none, And I as it expire, Not able to hold fire: She loseth time that lies alone.
MEAN. 'Tis the breath Of something troubled with virginity.
4. O, let us cherish then these powers, Whiles we yet may call them ours: Then we best spend our time, When no dull zealous chime, But sprightful kisses strike the hours.
Enter PRISCILLA.
MEAN. What dost thou mean?
PRIS. Only to please you, sir.
MEAN. Sweetest of things, was't thou? I' faith, I guess'd 'T could be no other's melody but yours. There have been many of your sex much given Unto this kind of music.
PRIS. Sappho was Excellent at it; but Amphion he-- He was the man that outdid all: 'tis said Of him that he could draw stones with the sound Of his sweet strings. I'd willingly arrive At some perfection in the quality.
MEAN. I do acknowledge your desires most prone. This for your trouble.
PRIS. I am not mercenary; Your acceptation is reward enough.
MEAN. You have it, then.
PRIS. Beauty go with you, sir. [Exeunt several ways.
Act III, Scene IV
CREDULOUS, HEARSAY, SLICER; to them SIR THOMAS BITEFIG, HAVE-AT-ALL, CASTER, as to the Ordinary.
CRE. You're welcome, friends, as I may say----
HEAR. You do forget----
CRE. That am a guest as well as you.
SLICER. Most noble sons of fortune and of valour, You grace us with your presence: you must pardon Our small provision.
HEAR. No variety here, But you, most noble guests, whose gracious looks Must make a dish or two become a feast.
HAVE. I'll be as free as 'twere mine own.
CAS. Who thinks On anything that borders upon sadness, May he ne'er know what's mirth, but when others Laugh at his sullen wrinkles.
HAVE. We will raise A noise enough to wake an alderman, Or a cast captain when the reck'ning is About to pay.
CRE. Hang thinking; 'snigs, I'll be As merry as a pismire. Come, let's in.
SLICER. Let's march in order military, sirs.
HAVE. That's well remember'd, most complete lieutenant.
[Exeunt as to the Ordinary.
Act III, Scene V
RHYMEWELL, BAGSHOT, VICAR CATCHMEY, SIR CHRISTOPHER.
RHYME. Come, my most noble order of the club, 'Cause none will else, let's make much of ourselves: His letter may procure a dinner yet.
BAG. Cheer up, Sir Kit, thou look'st too spiritually: I see too much of the tithepig in thee.
CHRIS. I'm not so happy: Kit's as hungry now As a besieged city, and as dry As a Dutch commentator. This vile world Ne'er thinks of qualities: good truth, I think 'T hath much to answer for. Thy poetry, Rhymewell, and thy voice, Vicar Catchmey, and Thy law too, Bagshot, is contemn'd: 'tis pity Professions should be slighted thus. The day Will come perhaps, when that the commonwealth May need such men as we. There was a time When cobblers were made churchmen; and those black'd Smutch'd creatures thrust into white surplices, Look'd like so many magpies, and did speak Just as they [did], by rote. But now the land Surfeits forsooth: poor labourers in divinity Can't earn their groat a day, unless it be Reading of the Christian burial for the dead; When they, ev'n for that reason, truly thank God for thus taking this their brother to him.
CATCH. Something profane, Sir Christopher!
CHRIS. When I Level my larger thoughts unto the basis Of thy deep shallowness, am I profane? Henceforth I'll speak, or rather not speak, for I will speak darkly.
CATCH. There's one comfort then: You will be brief!
CHRIS. My briefness is prolix. Thy mind is bodily, thy soul corporeal, And all thy subtle faculties are not subtle: Thy subtlety is dulness. I am strong; I will not be conceiv'd by such mechanics.
RHYME. I do conceive you, though, Sir Christopher; My muse doth sometimes take the selfsame flight.
CHRIS. Pauci, pauci quos æquus amavit. But quadragesimal wits[193] and fancies, lean As ember weeks (which therefore I call lean, Because they're fat), these I do doom unto A knowing ignorance: he that's conceiv'd By such is not conceiv'd; sense is non-sense, If understood by them. I'm strong again.
RHYME. You err most orthodoxly, sweet Sir Kit.
CHRIS. I love that, though I hate it; and I have A kind of disagreeing consent to't. I'm strong, I'm strong again. Let's keep these two In desperate hope of understanding us: Riddles and clouds are very lights of speech. I'll veil my careless anxious thoughts, as 'twere In a perspicuous cloud, that I may Whisper in a loud voice, and ev'n be silent, When I do utter words. Words did I call them? My words shall be no words, my voice no voice, My noise no noise, my very language silence. I'm strong, I'm strong. Good sir, you understand not!
BAG. Nor do desire: 'tis merely froth and barm, The yeast that makes your thin small sermons work.
CHRIS. Thou hold'st thy peace most vocally. Again!
CATCH. I hate this bilk.
CHRIS. Thou lov'st, 'cause thou dost hate: Thy injuries are courtesies. Strong again!
CATCH. Good Samson, use not this your ass's jaw-bone.
CHRIS. Thou'st got my love by losing it: that earnest Jest hath regain'd my soul. Samson was strong; He killed a thousand with an ass's jaw-bone,
Enter a SERVANT, as passing by.
And so will I. 'St! 'st!--good friend, d' y' hear? Here is a letter, friend, to Master Meanwell.
BAG. Any reversions yet? Nothing transmiss'd?
RHYME. No gleanings, James? No trencher-analects?[194]
SER. Parley a little with your stomachs, sirs.
CATCH. There's nothing so ridiculous as the hungry: A fasting man is a good jest at any time.
SER. There is a gentleman without, that will'd me To ask if you'll admit of him among you: He can't endure to be in good company.
CATCH. You're merry, James. Yes, by all means, good James. Admit, quoth he! What else? Pray, send him in. [Exit SERVANT. Let's be resolv'd to fall out now; then he Shall have the glory to compose the quarrel By a good dozen of pacifical beer.
RHYME. BAG. Agreed, agreed.
CHRIS. My coat allows no quarrel.
RHYME. The colour bears't, if you'll venture the stuff. The tenderness of it, I do confess, Somewhat denies a grappling.
CHRIS. I will try: Perhaps my spirit will suggest some anger.
Enter ANDREW.
AND. Save you, boon sparks! Will't please you to admit me?
CHRIS. Your worship graceth us in condescending To level thus your presence, noble[195] sir.
AND. What may I call your name, most reverend sir?
BAG. His name's Sir Kit.
CHRIS. My name is not so short: 'Tis a trisyllable, an't please your worship; But vulgar tongues have made bold to profane it With the short sound of that unhallow'd idol They call a kit. Boy, learn more reverence.
BAG. Yes, to my betters.
AND. Nay, friends, do not quarrel.
CHRIS. It is the holy cause, and I must quarrel. Thou son of parchment, got between the standish And the stiff buckram-bag! thou, that may'st call The pen thy father and the ink thy mother, The sand thy brother and the wax thy sister, And the good pillory thy cousin [once] remov'd-- I say, learn reverence to thy betters.
BAG. Set up an hour-glass; he'll go on, until The last sand make his period.
CHRIS. 'Tis my custom; I do approve the calumny: the words I do acknowledge, but not the disgrace, Thou vile ingrosser of unchristian deeds.
BAG. Good Israel Inspiration, hold your tongue; It makes far better music when you nose Sternhold's or Wisdom's metre.[196]
CATCH. By your leave, You fall on me now, brother.
RHYME. 'Tis by cause You are too forward, brother Catchmey.
CATCH. I too forward!
RHYME. Yes, I say you are too forward-- By the length of your London-measure beard.
CATCH. Thou never couldst entreat that respite yet Of thy dishonesty as to get one hair To testify thy age.
BAG. I'm beardless too; I hope you think not so of me[197].
CHRIS. Yes, verily; Not one hair's difference betwixt you both.
RHYME. Thou violent cushion-thumper, hold thy tongue; The Furies dwell in it!
CATCH. Peace, good Sir Kit.
CHRIS. Sir Kit again! thou art a Lopez. When One of thy legs rots off (which will be shortly), Thou'lt bear about a quire of wicked paper, Defiled with [un]sanctified rhymes And idols in the frontispiece--that I May speak to thy capacity, thou'lt be A ballad-monger.
CATCH. I shall live to see thee Stand in a playhouse door with thy long box, Thy half-crown library, and cry small books. Buy a good godly sermon, gentlemen-- A judgment shown upon a knot of drunkards: A pill to purge out popery: The life And death of Katharine Stubbs.[198]
CHRIS. Thou wilt visit windows. Methinks I hear thee with thy begging tone, About the break of day, waking the brethren Out of their morning-revelations.
AND. Brave sport, i' faith!
RHYME. Pray y', good sir, reconcile them. If that same Justice be i' th' ordinary now, He'll bind them to the peace for troubling him.
BAG. Why should he not, good sir? It is his office.
AND. Now 'tis o' this side: O, for a pair of cudgels!
RHYME. Peace, inkhorn; there's no music in thy tongue.
CATCH. Thou and thy rhyme lie both: the tongue of man Is born to music naturally.
RHYME. Thou thing, Thy belly looks like to some strutting hill, O'ershadow'd with thy rough beard like a wood.
CHRIS. Or like a larger jug, that some men call A Bellarmine, but we a Conscience; Whereon the lewder hand of pagan workman Over the proud ambitious head hath carv'd An idol large with beard episcopal, Making the vessel look like tyrant Eglon.
CATCH. Profane again, Sir Christopher, I take it.
CHRIS. Must I be strong again? Thou human beast, Who'rt only eloquent when thou say'st nothing, And appear'st handsome while thou hid'st thyself, I'm holy, 'cause profane.
AND. Courageous rascals! Brave spirits! soldiers in their days, I warrant!
BAG. Born in the field, I do assure your worship. This quarrelling is meat and drink to them.
RHYME. Thou liest.
BAG. Nay, then I do defy thee thus.
[BAGSHOT draws his inkhorn, and RHYMEWELL catcheth off SIR CHRISTOPHER'S hat and spectacles.
RHYME. And thus I am prepar'd to answer thee.
CHRIS. For the good saint's sake, part them: I am blind, If that my spectacles should once miscarry.
RHYME. Caitiff, this holy instrument shall quail thee.
BAG. And this shall send thee to thy cousin furies.
CHRIS. I feel a film come o'er mine eyes already: I must look out an animal conductive-- I mean a dog.
AND. Pray y', beat not out his eyes in Another's hands.
CHRIS. Most strongly urg'd!
CATCH. Your words Are merely wind. James, ho! what, James, some beer. They're mastiff dogs; they wont be parted, sir, Without good store of liquor.
Enter SERVANT, with beer.
AND. I will souse them:
SER. Drink to 'em, sir, if that you'll have 'em quiet.
AND. Is that the way? Here's to you, my friends, a whole one.
BAG. Were't not for that good gentleman, thou'dst smoke for't.
RHYME. Had I not vow'd some reverence to his presence, Thou hadst been nothing.
BAG. 'Fore Mars, I was dry. This valour's thirsty: fill to my antagonist.
RHYME. No, mine own dish will serve; I'm singular. Few vessels still do well. I carry this To drink my beer, while others drink their sack. I am abstemious Rhymewell: I hate wine, Since I spake treason last i' th' cellar. Here, Give me thy hand, thou child of fervency. Didst thou mistrust thy spectacles? It was no anger, 'twas a rapture merely.
CHRIS. Drink, and excuse it after. James, your help! Come, man of voice, keep time, while that I drink. This moisture shall dry up all injuries, Which I'll remember only to forget; And so hereafter, which I'm wont to call The future now, I love thee stubbornly. Your beer is like my words, strong, stinging gear.
CATCH. Here, little lawyer, let's be friends hereafter; I love this reconcilement with my heart.
AND. 'Tis the best deed that e'er I did. O' my conscience, I shall make a good justice of the peace. There had been blood shed if I had not stickled.[199]
SER. More blood been spill'd, I warrant, than beer now.
AND. That inkhorn is a deadly dangerous weapon: It hath undone one quarter of the kingdom.
CHRIS. Men should forgive; but thou art far, yea far From it, O Bagshot: thou'rt in 'love with hate. Bless me! I see the fiend still in his looks; He is not reconcilable with drink: He'll ne'er love truly till he eat with me. The nature of his spirit asketh meat; He hath a wolf in's breast: food must appease him.
AND. Cold meat will do it, will't not?
RHYME. Anything That may employ the teeth.
AND. Go, James, provide. You are not merry yet.
CATCH. To satisfy you In that point, we'll sing a song of his.
AND. Let's ha't; I love these ballads hugeously.
The Song.
1. CATCHMEY.
Then our music is in prime, When our teeth keep triple time; Hungry notes are fit for knells. May lankness be No guest to me: The bagpipe sounds when that it swells.
CHORUS. May lankness, &c.
2. BAGSHOT.
A mooting-night[200] brings wholesome smiles, When John-a-Nokes and John-a-Styles Do grease the lawyer's satin.
A reading-day Frights French away, The benchers dare speak Latin.
CHORUS. A reading, &c.
3. RHYMEWELL.
He that's full doth verse compose; Hunger deals in sullen prose: Take notice and discard her. The empty spit Ne'er cherish'd wit; Minerva loves the larder.
CHORUS. The empty spit, &c.
4. CHRISTOPHER.
First to breakfast, then to dine, Is to conquer Bellarmine: Distinctions then are budding. Old Sutcliff's wit[201] Did never hit, But after his bag-pudding.
CHORUS. Old Sutcliffs wit, &c.
AND. Most admirable! A good eating song!
CHRIS. Let's walk in and practise it; my bowels Yearn till I'm in charity with all.
AND. A christian resolution, good Sir Christopher!
[Exeunt.
Act III, Scene VI
MEANWELL with a letter in his hand, HEARSAY, SLICER. MEANWELL reads.
Sweet sir, I am most passionately yours, To serve you all the ways I can: Priscilla. Very well penn'd of a young chambermaid. I do conceive your meaning, sweet Priscilla. You see I have the happy fortune on't; A night for nothing, and entreated, too.
SLICER. Thou dost not know how I do love thee. Let me Make use of this; thou'lt have the like occasion.
HEAR. Thou art the fawning'st fellow, Slicer! Meanwell, Hark here.
MEAN. For God's sake, be contented, sirs; I'm flesh and blood as well as you. Lieutenant, Think on your suburb beauties. Sweet intelligencer, I will by no means bar you of your lady: Your sin, I assure you, will be honourable. [Exit MEANWELL.
SLICER. Pox o' your liquorish lips! If that she don't After this sealing forty weeks, deliver Something unto thee as thy act and deed, Say I can't prophesy.
HEAR. If I don't serve him A trick he thinks not of----
SLICER. Didst mark how he Did apply himself to the knight all dinner! I am afraid he plays the cunning factor, And in another's name wooes for himself.
HEAR. Let it go on; let it work something farther: 'Tis almost ripe enough to crush. He hath not Crept high enough as yet to be sensible Of any fall.
SLICER. Now is the time, or never. This night, you know, he and his doxy meet; Let me alone to give them their good-morrow. If that we carry things but one week longer Without discovery, farewell London then: The world's our own. He ne'er deserves to thrive That doth not venture for it: wealth's then sweet, When bought with hazard. Fate this law hath set; The fool inherits, but the wise must get.
FOOTNOTES:
[176] [See Halliwell's Dictionary, v. Haro--the same word, and Littrè's French Dictionary. A case occurred a few years ago, in which the ancient Clameur de Haro was raised at Jersey, in the Presbyterian Church there. But the word is here employed as a mere ejaculation or exclamation, and, it must be added, without much propriety.]
[177] Faint.--T.
[178] Burning.--T.
[179] See notes to "Midsummer Night's Dream," act ii. sc. 1, [and "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," 1870, iii. 39 et seq.]
[180] Agreeable, pleasing.
[181] Disdainful.--T.
[182] [Tear.]
[183] See Stowe's "Survey of London," Strype's edition, 1720, vol. I. bk. ii. p. 18.
[184] Gate.
[185] The name of Chaucer's cock and hen.--Steevens.
[186] So that this play was written in 1634.--Pegge.
[187] These rings were sometimes made out of the handles of decayed coffins, and in more ancient times were consecrated at the ceremony of creeping [to] the cross, of which an account is given in a note on the "Merry Devil of Edmonton," with reference to the observations of Dr Percy on the "Northumberland Household Book," 1512.--Steevens.
Cramp-rings were formerly worn as charms for curing of the cramp. See Brookes's "Natural History," vol. i. p. 206.--Pegge.
Andrew Borde, in his "Book of the Introduction of Knowledge," 1542, says: "The kynges of Englande ... doth halowe every yere crampe rynges, the which rynges worne on ones fynger doth helpe them the whyche hath the crampe." Dr Percy, in his notes on the "Northumberland Household Book," speaking of these rings observes "that our ancient kings even in those dark times of superstition, do not seem to have affected to cure the king's evil; at least in the MSS. above quoted there is no mention or hint of any power of that sort. This miraculous gift was left to be claimed by the Stuarts: our ancient Plantagenets were humbly content to cure the cramp." I cite this passage merely to remark that the learned editor of the above curious volume has been betrayed into a mistake by the manner in which the cramp rings are mentioned in Mr Anstis's MSS. The power of curing the king's evil was certainly claimed by many of the Plantagenets. The above Dr Borde, who wrote in the time of Henry VIII., says, "The kynges of England, by the power that God hath given to them, doth make sicke men whole of a sickness called the Kynges Evyll." In Laneham's "Account of the Entertainment of Kennilworth Castle," it is said, "And also by her highness accustomed mercy and charitee, nyne cured of the paynful and dangerous diseaz called the King's Evil, for that kings and queens of this realm withoout oother medsin (save only by handling and prayer) only doo cure it." Polydore Virgil asserts the same, and William Tooker, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, [1597,] published a book on this subject. For the knowledge of this last book I am obliged to Dr Douglas's excellent treatise, called "The Criterion," p. 191, &c.
[188] Alluding to the old way of biting the wax, usually red, in sealing deeds.--Pegge.
The form usually was this--
"And to witness this is sooth, I bite the wax with my wang tooth."
See Cowell's "Interpreter," 1607.
[189] Better.--T.
[190] Do.--T.
[191] An allusion to the effects of water on cloth ill-woven.
[192] [A proverb, or bye-word.]
[193] i.e., Those who write the customary verses during the Lent season at Oxford.--Steevens.
[194] i.e., Scraps of anything; ~analegô~, colligo. Every one has heard of the collectanea and analecta poetarum.--Steevens.
[195] [The reading of the old copy is humble, which does not appear to agree at all with the context, since the parson addresses Andrew in a half-satirical strain of respect.]
[196] Robert Wisdom, a translator of the Psalms. Wood ("Athenæ Oxonienses," vol. i., "Fasti," p. 57) says he was "a good Latin and English poet of his time, and one that had been in exile in Queen Mary's reign. He was also rector of Settrington in Yorkshire, and died in 1568, having been nominated to a bishopric in Ireland in the time of Edward the 6th." His version of the Psalms is ridiculed in the "Remains of Samuel Butler," 1759, p. 41--
"Thence, with short meal and tedious grace, In a loud tone and public place, Sings Wisdom's Hymns, that trot and pace As if Goliah scann'd 'em."
Again, p. 230: "Besides, when Rouse stood forth for his trial, Robin Wisdom was found the better poet." [Further particulars of Wisdom are to be found in Warton's Poetry, by Hazlitt, iv. 131.]
[197] [Old copy, my.]
[198] [Of these books the two former are not at present known by such titles. The third, the "Life of Mistress Katherine Stubs," by her husband, the celebrated Philip Stubs, was originally published in 1591, and went through many editions.] The Author observes, in the opening of the tract: "At fifteen years of age, her father being dead, her mother bestowed her in marriage upon one Master Philip Stubbes, with whom she lived four years and almost a half, very honestly and godly."
Richard Brome, in his play of "The Antipodes," act iii. sc. 2, mentions one of them in the following manner--
"A booke of the godly life and death Of Mistress Katherine Stubs, which I have turn'd Into sweet meetre, for the vertuous youth, To woe an ancient lady widow with."
Again, Bishop Corbet in his "Iter Boreale," says--
"And in some barn hear cited many an author, Kate Stubbs, Anne Ascue, or the Ladies Daughter."
[199] i.e., Been the mediator. The stickler now is called the sidesman. So in "Troilus and Cressida," act v. sc. 8--
"And, stickler-like, our armies separates."
--Steevens.
[200] "Moot is a term used in the Inns-of-Court, and signifies the handling or arguing a case for exercise."--Blount.
For the regulations of Mooting and Reading-Days, see Dugdale's "Origines Juridiciales."
[201] This was Dr Matthew Sutcliff, Dean of Exeter, in the reign of King James I.; a person who had been one of the opponents of Parsons the Jesuit, in defence of the Reformed Religion. In the year 1616 he procured an Act of Parliament for incorporating himself and other divines to be provost and fellows of a college then founded at Chelsea, for promoting the study of polemic divinity, and vindicating the doctrines of the Reformation against all Popish writers. To carry this design into execution, he settled on the college four farms in Devonshire, of the value of £300 per annum, and the benefit of an extent on a statute, acknowledged by Sir Lewis Stukely, for £4000. By the Act of Parliament, the college was empowered to bring a stream of water from the river Lee for the use of the city of London a scheme similar to that then lately executed by Sir Hugh Middleton. This foundation, although patronised both by King James and his sons, Prince Henry and Charles I., yet fell to decay. One range of building only, scarce an eighth of the intended edifice, was erected by Dr Sutcliff, at the expense of £3000. After lingering some time, suits were commenced about the title to the very ground on which the college stood, and by a decree of the Court of Chancery, in the time of Lord Coventry, three of the four farms were returned to Dr Sutcliff's heir. See "The Glory of Chelsey Colledge Revived," by John Darly, 4o, 1662. Sutcliff's wit seems almost to have been proverbial. Beaumont, in his letter to Ben Jonson, says--
"'Tis liquor that will find out Sutcliff's wit, Lie where he will, and make him write worse yet."
IV. , SCENE I
CREDULOUS, HEARSAY, SLICER.
CRE. My name's not Tribulation, Nor holy Ananias: I was baptiz'd in fashion, Our vicar did hold bias.
HEAR. What! how now, Master Credulous? so merry?
CRE. Come, let's be mad: by yea and nay, my son Shall have the Turkish monarchy; he shall Have it directly. The twelve companies Shall be his kickshaws.
HEAR. Bashaws, sir, you mean.
CRE. Well, sir, what if I do? Andrew the Great Turk? I would I were a pepper-corn,[202] if that It sounds not well. Does't not?
SLICER. Yes, very well.
CRE. I'll make it else great Andrew Mahomet, Imperious Andrew Mahomet Credulous-- Tell me which name sounds best.
HEAR. That's as you speak 'em.
CRE. Oatmealman Andrew! Andrew Oatmealman.
HEAR. Ottoman, sir, you mean.
CRE. Yes, Ottoman. Then, Mistress Jane, Sir Thomas Bitefig's daughter, That may be the She-Great-Turk, if she please me.
SLICER. The sign o' th' half-moon, that hangs at your door Is not for nought.
CRE. That's the Turk's arms, they say; The empire's destin'd to our house directly. Hang shop-books; give us some wine! Hey for a noise[203] Of fiddlers now!
HEAR. The Great Turk loves no music.
CRE. Does he not so? Nor I. I'll light tobacco With my sum-totals; my debt-books shall sole[204] Pies at young Andrew's wedding; cry you mercy, I would say, gentlemen, the Great Turk's wedding. My deeds shall be slic'd out in tailors' measures; They all employed in making Mistress Mahomet New gowns against the time. Hang dirty wealth!
SLICER. What should the Great Turk's father do with wealth?
CRE. 'Snigs, I would fain now hear some fighting news.
Enter CASTER.
SLICER. There's one will furnish you, I warrant you.
CAS. Pox! plague! hell! death! damn'd luck! This 'tis! The devil take all fortunes! Never man Came off so: quite and clean defunct, by heaven! Not a piece left.
CRE. What, all your ordnance lost?
CAS. But one to bear and lose it! All the world Was, sure, against me.
CRE. 'Snigs, how many fell?
CAS. He threw twice twelve.
CRE. By'r Lady, a shrewd many!
CAS. The devil, sure, was in his hand, I think.
CRE. Nay, if the devil was against you, then----
CAS. But one for to be hit in all the time, And that, too, safe enough, to any one's thinking: 'T stood on eleven.
CRE. 'Slid, a mighty slaughter; But did he stand upon eleven at once?
CAS. The plague take all impertinences. Peace!
CRE. These soldiers are so choleric, there is No dealing with 'em. Then they've lost the day?
CAS. 'Twas ten to one, by heaven, all the while.
CRE. And yet all kill'd at last! Hard fortune, faith! What news from Brussels or the Hague? D' y' hear Ought of the Turk's designs?
CAS. I'll make thee news for the Coranti, dotard.
CRE. Ay, the Coranti; what doth that say?
CAS. O hell! Thou foolish thing, Keep in that tongue of thine; or----
SLICER. Good now, peace: He's very furious when he's mov'd.
HEAR. This 'twas. You must be venturing without your fancy-man.
CRE. What officer's that fancy-man, lieutenant? Some great commander, sure.
CAS. Pox! let it go; I'll win't again: 'twas but the relics of An idle hundred.
CRE. 'Snigs, and well-remember'd. You did receive the hundred that I sent you To th' race this morning by your man, my bailiff?
CAS. Take him away, his wine speaks in him now.
CRE. Godsnigs! the farm is mine, and must be so.
SLICER. Debate these things another time, good friends.
Enter HAVE-AT-ALL.
Come, come, have patience. Od's my life, away! There's Master Have-at-all is mad; he'll spit you If he but know you are a usurer.
CRE. A plot, a plot, to take away my life and farm!
[Exit.
HAVE. Fight, as I live, with any one. Lieutenant, Do not come near me now, nor yet thou, Caster: It works, 'fore Mars, it works; I'll take my walk, And if I do find any one, by Jove----
[Exit HAVE-AT-ALL.[205]
CAS. What, 's he fox'd too? Some drunken planet reigns, And works upon the world. Provide my fancy, Good noble patron; I'll win soberly, I itch till I have beggar'd all the city. [Exit CASTER.
HEAR. Till that you have undone yourself, you mean.
Enter MOTH.
MOTH. Ey save you both; for dern love sayen soothly Where is thylk amebly franklin, cleped Meanwell?
HEAR. He's gone abroad.
MOTH. Lere me whylk way he wended.
SLICER. He is gone o'er the fields.
HEAR. To the knight's house.
MOTH. Why laugh you every dele? So mote I gone, This goeth not aright; I dread some covin. [Exit MOTH.
SLICER. Now will he meet with Have-at-all; there'll be A combat worthy chronicle. Let's go, And see how this grave motion[206] will bestir him. [Exeunt.
Act IV, Scene II
HAVE-AT-ALL: after a while, MOTH; SLICER and HEARSAY watching.
HAVE. What, no man yet march by? Whoe'er comes next, I'll give him one rap more for making me Stay here so long.
So, so, here he is; how shall I do to know whe'r he be a gentleman, Or yeoman, or servingman. I think I'd best suppose him all, and beat him through Every degree; and so I shall not wrong him. What? Who goes there?
MOTH. Waes-heal,[207] thou gentle knight.
HAVE. Waes-heal, thou gentle knight? Speak, what art thou? Speak quickly do. Villain, know'st thou not me?
MOTH. Now, by my troth, I know not your name; Whider I shall call you my Lord Dan John, Or Dan Thomas, or Dan Robert, or Dan Albon. I vow to God thou hast a full fair chine. Upon my faith, art some officer.
HAVE. Have you the pox, sir? speak.
MOTH. No.
HAVE. No, nor yet An ache in your bones?
MOTH. No.
HAVE. No! why then you are No gentleman; Lieutenant Slicer says so. This cudgel then serves turn.
MOTH. You will not foin,[208]
HAVE. I will not foin, but I will beat you, sir.
MOTH. Why intermete[209] of what thou hast to done;[210] So leteth me alone, 't shall be thy best.
HAVE. I fanci'd you a beating; you must have it. You shall not say but I will show you favour: Choose whether you will be hacked with my sword, Or bruis'd by my battoon.
MOTH. Dre not thy true And poynant[211] morglay[212] out of shete. Lo, thus Eftsoons, sir knight, I greet thee lowting low.
HAVE. Down lower yet.
MOTH. Reuth[213] on my grey haires.
HAVE. Yet lower. So, then, thus I do bestride thee.
MOTH. Tubal the sonne of Lamech did yfind Music by knocking hammers upon anviles. Let go thine blows; thylke art is no compleat.[214]
HAVE. Dost thou make me a smith, thou rogue? a Tubal?
MOTH. Harrow[215] alas! Flet, Englond, flet, Englond! Dead is Edmond.
HAVE. Take that for history. O brave lieutenant, now thy dinner works!
MOTH. I nis not Edmond Ironside, God wot.
HAVE. More provocation yet? I'll seal thy lips.
MOTH. A twenty-devil way! So did the Saxon[216] Upon thylke plain of Sarum done to death By treachery the lords of merry Englond, Nem esur Saxes.
HAVE. Villain, dost abuse me In unbaptized language? Do not answer: [MOTH entreats by signs. If that thou dost, by Jove, I'll strangle thee. Do you make mouths, you rascal, thus at me? You're at dumb-service now. Why, this is more Unsufferable than your old patch'd gibberish: This silence is abuse. I'll send thee to The place of it, where thou shalt meet with Oswald, Vortigern, Harold, Hengist, Horsa, Knute, Alured, Edgar, and Cunobeline. [SLICER, HEARSAY step in. Thus, thus I sheathe my sword.
SLICER. Redoubted knight Enough: it is thy foe doth vanquish'd lie Now at thy mercy. Mercy not withstand; For he is one the truest knight alive, Though conquer'd now he lie on lowly ground.
HAVE. Thou ow'st thy life to my lieutenant, caitiff: Breathe and be thankful.
MOTH. I rech[217] not thine yeft;[218] Maugre[219] thine head; algate[220] I suffer none. I am thine lefe, thine deere, mine Potluck Joan.
Act IV, Scene III
ANDREW, PRISCILLA.
AND. Fairest of things, tralucent creature--Hang me, If I do know what's next.
PRIS. This meant to me?
AND. Fairest of things, tralucent creature, rather, Obscured deity--'Tis gone again. Lady, will you eat a piece of gingerbread?
PRIS. You might have better manners, than to scoff One of my breeding.
AND. Hark! Indeed I love you.
PRIS. Alas!
AND. I vow, I burn in love, as doth A penny fagot.
PRIS. Heigho!
AND. And I shall Blaze out, sir reverence, if ye do not quench me.
PRIS. Indeed now?
AND. Though I say't that should not say't, I am affected towards you strangely.
PRIS. Now, Who'd have thought it?
AND. There's a thing each night Comes to my bed's head, and cries, Matrimony, Matrimony, Andrew.
PRIS. God forbid!
AND. It is Some spirit that would join us.
PRIS. Goodly, goodly.
AND. Then do I shake all over.
PRIS. Doth it so?
AND. Then shake again.
PRIS. I pray you now.
AND. Then cry, Fairest of things, tralucent creature, rather, Obscured deity, sweet Mistress Jane, I come, I come.
PRIS. Sweet sir, you are deceiv'd; I'm but her woman. Here she comes herself.
Enter MISTRESS JANE.
AND. Now, as my father saith, I would I were A cucumber, if I know what to do.
JANE. Why, how now, Pris.? Who's that that useth you So lovingly?
AND. Fairest of things--'tis one Tralucent creature--'tis--ay, that it is, One----
PRIS. That would willingly run out of doors, If that he had but law enough.
AND. I say----
JANE. Nay, ben't afraid; here's none shall do you harm.
AND. 'Tis one that brought his pigs to the wrong market. You keep your woman here so fine, that I Had like t' have made a proper business on't, Before I was aware. If anything Do prove amiss, indeed, la, you shall be The father on't. But know, tralucent creature, I am come off entire, and now am yours, Whole Andrew Credulous, your servant's servant.
JANE. Methinks you contradict yourself: how can you Be wholly mine, and yet my servant's servant?
AND. I do but compliment in that (I see Downright's the best way here); if thou canst love, I can love too. La, thee there, now! I'm rich.
JANE. I use not to look after riches; 'tis The person that I aim at.
AND. That is me: I'm proper, handsome, fair, clean-limb'd--I'm rich.
JANE. I must have one that can direct and guide me: A guardian rather than a husband; for I'm foolish yet.
AND. Now see the luck on't, lady; So am I too, i' faith.
JANE. And whoe'er hath me, Will find me to be one of those things, which His care must first reform.
AND. Do not doubt that; I have a head for reformation: This noddle here shall do it. I am rich.
JANE. Riches create no love: I fear you mean To take me for formality only; As some staid piece of household stuff, perhaps, Fit to be seen 'mongst other ornaments: Or, at the best, I shall be counted but A name of dignity; not entertain'd For love, but state; one of your train; a thing Took to wipe off suspicion from some fairer, To whom you have vow'd homage.
AND. Do not think I've any plots or projects in my head. I will do anything for thee, that thou Canst name or think on.
PRIS. Pray you try him, mistress. By my virginity, I think he'll flinch.
AND. By my virginity (which is as good As yours, I'm sure)--by my virginity, If that we men have any such thing (as We men have such a thing), I do believe I will not flinch. Alas! you don't know Andrew.
JANE. Can you obtain but so much respite from Your other sovereign's service, as to keep Your eye from gazing on her for awhile?
AND. If I do look on any woman--nay, If I do cast a sheep's eye upon any But your sweet self, may I lose one of mine! Marry, I'll keep the other howsoe'er.
JANE. I know not how I may believe you: you'll Swear you ne'er cast a glance on any, when Your eye hath baited at each face you met.
AND. Blind me, good, now: being you mistrust, I will Be blinded with this handkerchief; you shall See that I love you now. So, let me have But any reasonable thing to lead me home, I do not care, though't be a dog, so that He knows the way, or hath the wit t' inquire it.
JANE. That care, sir, shall be mine. [Exeunt JANE and PRISCILLA.
AND. I doubt not but I shall be in the Chronicle for this, Or in a ballad else. This handkerchief Shall be hung up i' th' parish church, instead Of a great silken flag to fan my grave: With my arms in't, portray'd in good blue thread, With this word underneath--This, this was he That shut his eyes because he would not see. Hold, who comes there?
Enter MEANWELL, SHAPE.
MEAN. One, sir, to lead you home.
AND. Who? tutor Meanwell?
[SHAPE counterfeits MISTRESS JANE'S voice.
SHAPE. Yes, I do commit you Unto your trusty friend: if you perform This vow, we may----
AND. I'll say your sentence out-- Be man and wife.
SHAPE. If you'll do something else That I'll propose.
AND. Pray make your own conditions.
SHAPE. You'll promise me you'll not be jealous of me?
AND. Do what you will, I'll trust you.
SHAPE. Never hire Any to tempt me?
AND. By this light (I would say, By this darkness), I never will.
SHAPE. Nor mark On whom I laugh?
AND. No.
SHAPE. Nor suspect my smiles, My nods, my winks?
AND. No, no.
SHAPE. Nor yet keep count From any gallant's visit?
AND. I'll ne'er reckon: You shall do what you will.
SHAPE. You'll never set Great chests and forms against my chamber-door; Nor pin my smock unto your shirt a-nights, For fear I should slip from you ere you wake?
AND. As I do hope for day, I will not.
SHAPE. Give me Some small pledge from you to assure your love; If that you yet prove false, I may have something To witness your inconstancy. I'll take This little ruby--this small blushing stone From your fair finger.
AND. Take it, sweet. There is A diamond in my band-string; if you have A mind to that, I pray, make use of't too.
SHAPE. In troth, a stone of lustre. I assure you, It darts a pretty light, a veget spark,[221] It seems an eye upon your breast.
AND. Nay, take it, For love's sake, take it then: leave nothing that Looks like an eye about me.
SHAPE. My good Andrew, 'Cause of thy resolution, I'll perform This office for thee. Take my word for't, this Shall ne'er betray thee. [Exit SHAPE.
AND. Farewell, honest Jany; I cannot see to thank thee, my sweet Jany. Tutor, your hand; good tutor, lead me wisely.
MEAN. Take comfort, man; I have good news for thee: Thine eyes shall be thine own before next morning. [Exeunt.
Act IV, Scene IV
SHAPE, CHIRURGEON, MERCER.
SHAPE. He's a good friend of mine, and I presume Upon your secrecy.
CHIR. O sir, the deed By which it came was not more close. D' y' think I would undo myself by twitting? 'Twere To bring the gallants all about mine ears, And make me mine own patient. I'm faithful And secret, though a barber.
SHAPE. Nay, but hear me; He's very modest: 'twas his first attempt Procur'd him this infirmity. He will Be bashful, I am sure, and won't be known Of any such thing at the first. You must Be sure to put him to't.
CHIR. Let me alone: He knows not yet the world, I do perceive. It is as common now with gentlemen, As 'tis to follow fashion: only here Lieth the difference, that they keep in this A little longer. I shall have so much Upon your word, sir?
SHAPE. If you do perform The cure by that time, twenty pieces, sir: You are content?
MER. Yes, sir.
CHIR. It shall be done [Exit SHAPE. According to your own prescription. Sit down, I pray you, sir: this gentleman Is a good friend of yours.
MER. Indeed he is a very honest man, As any one can wish to deal with, verily.
CHIR. Believe't, he loves you very well.
MER. I am most ready To do him any service truly. Pray you, Good brother, don't delay me: I'm in haste.
CHIR. Indeed-and truly-verily-good brother! How could these milksop words e'er get him company That could procure the pox? [Aside.] Where do you feel You[r] grief most trouble you?
MER. I'm very well: what mean you, brother?
CHIR. Nay, be not so modest: 'Tis no such heinous fault, as that you should Seek thus to hide it; mere ill-fortune only--
MER. Surely you do forget yourself.
CHIR. Come, come, He told me you'd be shamefac'd: you must be Wary hereafter.
MER. I do perceive He is a little mad indeed: the gentleman Told me so much just as I came along. [Aside. Yes, yes, I will be wary; I'll take heed. Come, pray y', despatch me.
CHIR. So, I like you now. It is the custom of most gentlemen Not to confess until they feel their bones Begin t' admonish 'em.
MER. You are i' th' right. Good friend, make haste; I've very urgent business.
CHIR. Not rashly neither. Is your gristle sound? Methinks 'tis very firm as yet to the touch. You fear no danger there as yet, sir, do you?
MER. No, I'll assure you. He must have his humour: I see he is not to be cross'd. [Aside.
CHIR. When did you Feel the first grudging on't? 'Tis not broke out In any place?
MER. No, no: I pray y', despatch me.
CHIR. These things desire deliberation; Care is requir'd.
MER. Good brother, go t' your chest.
CHIR. How can I know what med'cines to apply, If that you tell me not where lies your grief?
MER. Nay, good, now let me go.
CHIR. I must not, sir, Nor will not, truly. Trust me, you will wish You had confess'd, and suffer'd me in time, When you shall come to dry-burnt racks of mutton, The syringe, and the tub.[222]
MER. So: now enough. Pray fetch me what you promis'd.
CHIR. Are you wild Or mad? I do protest, I ne'er did meet A gentleman of such perverseness yet. I find you just as I was told I should.
MER. I lose the taking, by my swear, of[223] As much, whiles that I am receiving this.
CHIR. I will not hinder you, if that you do Prefer your gain before your health.
MER. Well then, I pray you tell it out: we tradesmen are not Masters of our own time.
CHIR. What would you have?
MER. What would I have? as if you did not know! Come, come, leave jesting now at last, good brother.
CHIR. I am in earnest, sir.
MER. Why, I would have My money, sir; the twenty pieces that The gentleman did give you order now To pay me for the velvet that he bought This morning of me.
CHIR. O, the gentleman----
MER. You should not make a laughingstock, good brother, Of one that wrongs you not; I do profess I wont be fubb'd, ensure yourself.
CHIR. The gentleman! O, O, the gentleman! Is this the cure I should perform? Truly I dare not venture Upon such desperate maladies.
MER. You are but merrily dispos'd?
CHIR. Indeed, they are Too high for my small quality. Verily Perhaps, good brother, you might perish under Mine hands truly. I do profess, I am not Any of your bold mountebanks in this.
MER. You're still dispos'd----
CHIR. To laugh at you, good brother. Gull'd, by my swear: by my swear, gull'd! he told me You had a small infirmity upon you, A grief of youth or two: and that I should Have twenty pieces for the cure. He ask'd you, If that you were content? you answered, yes. I was in hope I had gain'd a patient more. Your best way is to make haste after him.
MER. Now could I beat myself for a wise fool That I was, thus to trust him. [Exit.
CHIR. B' w' y', brother. 'Fore God, a good one. O, the gentleman! [Exit laughing.
Act IV, Scene V
RHYMEWELL, BAGSHOT, CATCHMEY, SIR CHRISTOPHER: a song at a window, congratulating (as they think) MASTER MEANWELL'S marriage.
1. Whiles early light springs from the skies A fairer from your bride doth rue; A brighter day doth thence appear, And makes a second morning there. Her blush doth shed All o'er the bed Clean shamefac'd beams, That spread in streams, And purple round the modest air.
2. I will not tell what shrieks and cries, What angry pishes, and what fies, What pretty oaths then newly born, The list'ning taper heard there sworn: Whiles froward she Most peevishly Did yielding fight To keep o'er night, What she'd have proffer'd you ere morn.
3. Fair, we know, maids do refuse To grant what they do come to lose. Intend a conquest, you that wed; They would be chastely ravished. Not any kiss From Mistress Pris, If that you do, Persuade and woo: Know pleasure's by extorting fed.
4. O, may her arms wax black and blue Only by hard encircling you: May she round about you twine, Like the easy-twisting vine; And whiles you sip From her full lip Pleasures as new As morning dew, Let those soft ties your hearts combine.
SINGER. God give you joy, Master Meanwell! God give your worship good morrow!
RHYME. Come, let's be going.
CHRIS. Hold, a blow I'll have, One jerk at th' times, wrapp'd in a benediction O' th' spouse's teeming, and I'll go with you.
A Song.
Now thou, our future brother, That shalt make this spouse a mother, Spring up, and Dod's blessing on't.[224] Show thy little sorrel pate, And prove regenerate, Before thou be brought to the font.
May the parish surplice be Cut in pieces quite for thee, To wrap thy soft body about; So 'twill better service do, Reformed thus into The state of an orthodox clout.
When thou shalt leave the cradle, And shalt begin to waddle, And trudge in thy little apron; May'st thou conceive a grace Of half an hour's space, And rejoice in thy Friday capon.
For an error that's the flock's, Name Master Paul, but urge St Knox;[225] And at every reform'd dinner, Let cheese come in, and preaching, And by that third course teaching Confirm an unsatisfi'd sinner.
Thence grow up to hate a ring, And defy an offering; And learn to sing what others say. Let Christ-tide be thy fast, And Lent thy good repast; And regard not an holy-day.
Enter CONSTABLE and Assistants.
CON. Lay hold on them! lay hold on them, I say! I'll hamper them.
CATCH. Hell take your headlong zeal! You must be jerking at the times, forsooth. I am afraid the times will 'scape, and we, The men of them, shall suffer now the scourge.
CON. Let none escape.
CHRIS. 'Twas godliness, verily: It was a hymn I warbled.
CON. Thou dost lie, It was no hymn, it was a song. Is this Your filthy rendezvous? you shall be taught Another tune.
CHRIS. I do beseech you, show Merciful cruelty, and as 'twere a kind Of pitiful hard-heartedness. I'm strong.
[They bring in ANDREW and PRISCILLA.
CON. I'm glad you told me so, I will provide Your ward accordingly. Drag 'em out both.
AND. Let me but send to th' ordinary.
CON. You shall not; The ord'nary hath sent to you. No bail: I will take none. I'll suffer no such sneaks As you to offend this way: it doth belong T'your betters, sir.
AND. Here's a sufficient man, I do assure you; take my word for that.
CON. This staff was made to knock down sin. I'll look There shall be no advoutry[226] in my ward, But what is honest. I'll see justice done As long as I'm in office. Come along. [Exeunt.
FOOTNOTES:
[202] So Falstaff says ("First Part Henry IV.," act iii. sc. 3): "An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse."
[203] A noise of fiddlers is a company or concert of them; as in Ben Jonson's "Epicæne," act iii. sc. 3: "The smell of the venison, going through the street, will invite one noise of fiddlers or other."
So in "Bartholomew Fair," act iii. sc. 6: "Cry you mercy, sir; will you buy a fiddle to fill up your noise?"
In Marmyon's "Fine Companion," act iv. sc. 1: "He come but with a troope of wenches, and a noyse of fidlers; and play thee backe like Orpheus."
Again, in Dekker's "Belman of London," 1608, sig. G 2: "To bee up more earely then a noyse of shrugging fidlers."
And in "Miscellaneous State Papers from 1501 to 1726," vol. i. p. 87: "After the which they had a very notable banquet; the heavenly noise that was there, as well with strange instruments of music as otherwise, I cannot declare."
See also the examples in Mr Steevens's note on "Henry IV., Part II.," act ii. sc. 4.
[204] i.e., Be placed at the bottom of them, and act as the sole to the shoe.--Steevens.
[205] The old copy has it, Enter Have-at-all; but it is an obvious error of the press.--Collier.
[206] See note to "The Antiquary" [act i., sc. 1, vol. 13].
[207] A term anciently used in salutation, or rather in drinking. See Selden's notes on the ninth song of Drayton's "Polyolbion," and [Steevens's] notes on "Macbeth," act i. sc. 7, for a particular account of the origin of this phrase.--Steevens.
[208] [A term in fencing.]
[209] [Cartwright's adoption of the English of a period of which he was evidently very ignorant, has made his character of "The Antiquary" a very tedious and troublesome one. By intermete we are here to understand intermit; but there is no such word in early English. Intermit occurs in Coleridge's "Glossary," 1859.]
[210] To do.
[211] [Old copy, paynant.]
[212] Morglay was the sword of Bevis of Southampton. It afterwards became a cant word for a sword in general. See "Every Man in his Humour," Act iii. so. 1; also "Every Woman in her Humour," 1609, sig. D 4--
"Had I been accompanied with my toledo or morglay."
[213] Pity.
[214] Now complete. The passage requires this explanation, or poor Moth's argument seems to want force, his present hopes being founded on a supposition that all possible discoveries to be made by beating have been already made.
[215] Moth here seems to allude to the following circumstance in the English History: "But uppon the morne followynge, both hostes joyned agayne, and fought egerly: contynuyng whych fyghte, Edrycus espying Edmunde to be at advauntage of wynnyng of the feld, sodaynly pyght a dead mannes hed upon a speare head, and cryed to the host of Englyshmen, fle, fle, ye Englyshmen, and save youre selfes, lo here is the heade of Edmunde your kinge."--Fabyan's "Chronicle."
[216] Verstegan, in his "Restitution of Decayed Intelligence," 1634, p. 130, gives the following account of this transaction:--"King Hingistus prepared them a feast; and after the Brittains were well whitled with wine, he fell to taunting and girning at them; whereupon blowes ensued; and the Brittish nobility there present, being in all three hundreth, were all of them slaine; as William of Malmesbury reporteth: though others make the number more, and say that the Saxons had each of them a seax (a kind of crooked knife) closely in his pocket, and that at the watch-word, Nem cowr seaxes, which is, take your seaxes, they suddainely, and at unwares, slew the Brittaines."
[217] Care not.
[218] Gift.
[219] In spite of.
[220] Always.
[221] A lively spark.
[222] [Old copy, syren.] So in "Timon of Athens," act iv. sc. 3--
"The tub-fast and the diet."
See a note on that passage, Shakespeare, viii. 409, edit. 1778.--Steevens.
[223] [Old copy repeats taking after of, as it appears, erroneously, since it spoils the sense, and is not essential to the metre, such metre as it is! By my swear, by my oath: it is an unusual phrase, but occurs again just below.]
[224] John Dod, a learned and pious divine, born in Cheshire, educated at Jesus College, Cambridge, and afterwards successively minister of Hanwell, Oxfordshire, Fenny Drayton, Leicestershire, Canons Ashby and Fawsley in Northamptonshire, though for a time silenced in each of them. He is commonly called the Decalogist, having with Robert Cleaver, another Puritan, written "An Exposition on the Ten Commandments." He died at Fawsley in 1645, aged about ninety years. [For whatever the preceding account may be worth it is retained; but Dod's blessing seems to be merely a whimsical corruption of God's blessing.]
[225] This was John Knox, the celebrated reformer in Scotland. See his character in Robertson's "History of Scotland," i. 130.
V. , SCENE I
SIR THOMAS BITEFIG as sick, JANE.
SIR T. Now that I have made even, girl, with heaven, Though I am past the worst, and I perceive My dinner only griev'd me; yet 'cause life's Frail and uncertain, let me counsel thee-- 'Tis good to be beforehand still. First, then, I charge thee, lend no money; next, serve God; If ever thou hast children, teach them thrift; They'll learn religion fast enough themselves. Nay, do not weep, but hearken. When heaven shall Please to call in this weary soul of mine; Ben't idle in expense about my burial: Buy me a shroud--any old sheet will serve To clothe corruption; I can rot without Fine linen; 'tis but to enrich the grave, And adorn stench--no reverence to the dead, To make them crumble more luxuriously. One torch will be sufficient to direct The footsteps of my bearers. If there be Any so kind as to accompany My body to the earth, let them not want For entertainment: prythee, see they have A sprig of rosemary dipp'd in common water, To smell to, as they walk along the streets. Eatings and drinkings are no obsequies. Raise no oppressing pile to load my ashes; But if thou'lt needs b' at charges of a tomb, Five or six foot of common stone, engraved With a good hopeful word, or else a couple Of capital letters filled up with pitch, Such as I set upon my sheep, will serve: State is not meet for those that dwell in dust. Mourn as thou pleasest for me; plainness shows True grief. I give thee leave to do it for Two or three years, if that thou shalt think fit; 'Twill save expense in clothes. And so now be My blessing on thee, and my means hereafter.
JANE. I hope heaven will not deal so rigidly With me, as to preserve me to th' unwelcome Performance of these sad injunctions.
Act V, Scene II
To them MEANWELL.
MEAN. Good health unto you, sir.
SIR T. I have the more By reason of the care you took in sending A confessor unto me.
MEAN. I? a confessor? Sure, there is some design, some trick or other Put on you by those men, who never sleep, Unless they've cheated on that day.
SIR T. I hope You do mean your partners my good friends?
MEAN. They ne'er deserve the name of friends; they do Covet, not love. If any came from them, It was some vulture in a holy habit, Who did intend your carcase, not your safety. Indeed I know not of't; I've all this while Appear'd another to you than I am. [Discloseth himself. Perhaps you know me now, I'm he whom you Pleas'd to forbid your house--whom Master Credulous Takes leave to style lost man and vagabond.
SIR T. That I forbad you my house, was only In care to my daughter, not in hate to you.
MEAN. That I frequented it without your leave, Was both in love to you and to your daughter: That I have all this while liv'd thus disguis'd, Was only to avert the snare from you, Not to entrap you: that you might not be Blinded by those who, like to venomous beasts, Have only sight to poison; that you might not Ruin your daughter in a compliment.
SIR T. This may b' your plot, and this discovery Feign'd only to secure your own designs; For't cannot sink into me, that they durst Make mirth of my repentance, and abuse My last devotion with a scene of laughter.
MEAN. They dare beyond your thought. When parted this Your confessor?
SIR T. You could not choose but meet him: He is scarce yet at home.
MEAN. If that you dare But venture with me home, I'll almost promise I'll make it plain they've put a trick upon you.
SIR T. Though every step were so much toward my grave, I'd tread them o'er with comfort, that I might Discover this religious villany. [Exeunt.
Act V, Scene III
HEARSAY, SLICER, and SHAPE in his Confessor's habit.
HEAR. Come, my good vulture, speak; what prey? what mirth?
SLICER. What income, my dear holiness? what sport?
SHAPE. Give me the chair: imagine me the knight (When I sit down), and (when I stand) the confessor.
[As he is thus acting, MEANWELL and SIR THOMAS discover themselves above.
Thus I come in peace to thy soul, good son. 'Tis you must give it, father: I am ill, I'm very ill; fit only now for heaven. My soul would fain be flying, were't not for A sin or two that clogs her. But for a sin Or two that clogs her? Take heed; don't, so near Your last deliverance, play the sophister With heaven. A sin or two! why, I've heard say You're wont to screw your wretched tenants up To th' utmost farthing, and then stand upon The third rent-capon. Then he answers me In the small doleful tune of a country wench Examin'd by th' official for the mischance Of a great belly caught at a Whitson-ale:[227] I could not help it. Then it is your custom, When you invite, to think your meat laid out, You write your beef disburs'd, are wont to call For the return of't just as for a debt; True. That two chimneys ne'er yet smok'd at once In all your buildings. All most true. That you Are wont to keep an untouch'd capon, till Corruption makes it able to walk out And visit the barn-door again. I could Say much more, but I had rather have you Come so much nearer pardon, as t' accuse Yourself by your own mouth.
SLICER. How grave the rogue was!
SHAPE. I'll do't as strictly as mine enemy.
SIR T. I cannot hold: I'll break in as I am, And take my vengeance whilst my fury's hot. [Above.
MEAN. Repress it, sir, awhile; h' hath but begun.
[Above.
SHAPE. Then thus he drawls it out, I do confess I've been addicted to frugality. Son, do not mince: pray, call it covetousness. Imprimis, It hath ever been my custom To ride beyond an inn to save my horse-meat. Item, When once I had done so, and found No entertainment, I beguil'd the children Of their parch'd peas: my man being left to that We make the emblem of mortality. What? Grass, you mean? Or sweet hay, which you please.
HEAR. Methinks this is truly coming to a reckoning. He doth account for's sins with Item so.
SHAPE. Item, I've often bought a Cheapside custard, And so refresh'd my soul under my cloak, As I did walk the streets. Cloaking of sins, Although they be but eating sins, I do Pronounce most dangerous. I find this so, I'd almost lost mine eyes by't, being justled.
SLICER. O thou rich soul of roguery!
SHAPE. Moreover, I once sung Psalms with servants, where I lodg'd, And took part with 'em in their lovely reliques; Truly my soul did lust, they were temptations. What! sing that you might eat? It is the sin O' th' brethren, son; but that their reliques are Whole widows' houses.
HEAR. O thou preaching devil!
SHAPE. Item, I entered into a chandler's shop, And eat my bread in secret, whilst my man Fed on the wholesome steam of candle-suet, Item, which grieves me most, I did make bold With the black puddings of my needy tailor: Satan was strong; they did provoke me much.
SIR T. Wretch that I was, to trust my bosom to One so exactly bad that, if the book Of all men's lives lay open to his view, Would meet no sin unpractis'd by himself. I will rush in. [Above.
MEAN. Good sir, keep close awhile. [Above.
SHAPE. I see no tears, no penitential tears. Alas! I cannot weep, mine eyes are pumice: But alms I hope may yet redeem. Alms given In a large manner, son. Won't fifty pounds Wipe off my score? If doubled, 't may do something. Can I be sav'd no cheaper? Take this, then, And pray for me. With that I thus dismiss'd him. Bless'd son, for now I dare pronounce thee bless'd, Being thou'st pour'd thus out thy soul.--The wolf! The wolf! 'Sfoot, peace, we're in the noose; We are betray'd; yon's Meanwell and the knight! Truly he is as good a man as any I ever yet confess'd--don't look that way-- A very honest, charitable man, Full of sincerity and true devotion.
SIR T. Patience itself would now turn furious. Let's for some officers.
[Exeunt SIR THOMAS and MEANWELL.
SHAPE. Discover'd all! Religion is unlucky to me.
HEAR. Man, Perfidious man! there is no trust in thee!
SLICER. I never lik'd this Meanwell; I did always See treachery writ in's forehead. I well hop'd H' had been in prison with his wench.
SHAPE. Leave railing. Along with me. There is left one way more; The cat may yet perhaps light on all four.[228] [Exeunt.