Specimens of the Elizabethan drama from Lyly to Shirley, A.D. 1580-A.D. 1642, With introductions and notes

Front matter

CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

ENGLISH COLLECTION

THE GIFT OF

Preface

In selecting these specimens of the Elizabethan Drama the editor has been guided, as far as possible, by the following principles. He has endeavoured to choose typical and representative scenes, illustrating the various kinds of work done by each dramatist, such scenes being complete in themselves, containing as many as possible of the chief characters, and forming episodes of the main plot. It seemed unnecessary to include Shakespeare or extracts contained in Lamb's Specimens. With these limitations the pieces have been chosen for their literary merit, and if in any case the editor seems to have failed in this respect, he can only plead the difficulty of gleaning after Lamb, and the impossibility of pleasing all tastes. His aim has been to convey to the reader who, for one reason or another, is unable to study the collected works of the Elizabethan dramatists, a fair general impression of their average style and spirit. In the short appreciations prefixed to each section, while carefully considering and giving full weight to the opinions of recognized critics, he has tried to form an independent and moderate judgement of his own. The notes, without pretending to be exhaustive, will, it is hoped, be found to provide a satisfactory explanation of the difficulties. The New English Dictionary has been used as far as it is available; elsewhere definitions have frequently been taken from Bailey's Dictionary in preference to more modern works, as giving more precisely the exact shade of meaning which the words connoted to contemporary readers.

iv PREFACE

Among many standard books of reference found useful, the editor desires to acknowledge an especial obligation to Dr. A. W. Ward's English Dramatic Literature. The chronological arrangement of authors adopted by Dr. Ward has been followed in the present edition.

W. H. W.

The University,

HOBART.

Mr. Percy Simpson, joint editor of the edition of Ben Jonson now in active preparation for the Clarendon Press, has, in the editor's absence from England, revised the text. The scenes selected from Lyly and Kyd have been taken directly from the Clarendon Press editions by Mr. Warwick Bond and Professor F. S. Boas. In all other cases the original Quartos and Folios have been used. Mr. Simpson has also contributed additional notes.

Contents

Preface

I. John Lyly

A. Campaspe, Act IV, Sc. ii and iv .

II 17 19 21

27 29

37 38 41 43

50 55 59 65

69 70

77 78

VI

CONTENTS

VIII. Henry Chettle

Patient Grissil, Act IV, Sc. ii . . .

IX. Anthony Munday

A. Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntington, Act III

Sc. ii

B. Death of Robert Earl of Huntington, Act V,

A. Every Man in his Humour, Act III, Sc. ii

B. Sejanus, Act III, Sc. ii and iii

C. Volpone ; or, the Fox, Act V, Sc. i

D. Epicoene; or, the Silent Woman, Act I, Sc.

E. The Alchemist, Act III, Sc. ii

„ Act IV, Sc. iv . .

F. Barthol'mew Fair, Act III, Sc. i .

G. The Sad Shepherd, Act I, Sc. ii .

XI. George Chapman

A. All Fools, Act IV, Sc. i .

B. Monsieur d'Olive, Act II, Sc. ii

C. Bussy d'Ambois, Act V, Sc. i

D. Byron's Conspiracy, Act III, Sc. i

XII. Thomas Dekker

A. The Shoemaker's Holiday, Act III, Sc. iv

B. Old Fortunatus, Act II, Sc. ii

C. Satiromastix, Act I, Sc. ii . . .

D. The Sun's Darling, Act II .

XIII. John Marston

A. The First Part of Antonio and Mellida, Act IV,

B. Antonio's Revenge, Act I, Sc. i .

C. The Dutch Courtezan, Act III, Sc. ii and iii

D. Parasitaster, or The Fawn, Act HI, Sc. i

XIV. Thomas Middleton

A. Blurt, Master-Constable, Act III, Sc. i

B. Michaelmas Term, Act II, Sc. iii

C. The Changeling, Act ll, Sc. i and ii

D. Women Beware Women, Act I, Sc. i .

E. A Game at Chess, Act IV, Sc. ii .

XV. William Rowley

A. A New Wonder, a Woman never Vext, Act V,

B. A Match at Midnight, Act I, Sc. i

Sc. ii

,Sc.

Sc. i page S3 84

88 93

125 128

131 132

138 144 148

IS4

ISS 160

163 170

180 184 187 192

201 206 216 223 228

233 237

CONTENTS

Vll

XVI. Thomas Heywood ....

A. Edward the Fourth (A), Act III, Sc. ii

B. Edward the Fourth (B), Act IV, Sc. iii

C. If you know not me, &c. (B), Act II, Sc. ii

D. A Woman Killed with Kindness, Act II, Sc,

E. The Rape of Lucrece, Act IV, Sc. vi

XVII. John Day ....

A. The Parliament of Bees, Char. 8 .

B. Humour out of Breath, Act II, Sc. ii

C. Law Tricks, Act IV, Sc. i and ii .

XVIII. Beaumont and Fletcher A. The Maid's Tragedy, Act V, Sc. iv

B. Philaster, Act III, Sc. ii

C. The Knight of the Burning Pestle, Act I, Sc. iii

and iv

D. Thierry and Theodoret, Act V, Sc. ii

E. The Faithful Shepherdess, Act IV, Sc.

F. The Humorous Lieutenant, Act III, Sc.

G. The Spanish Curate, Act IV, Sc. v H. The Beggars' Bush, Act II, Sc. i .

IV

vi

XIX. Philip Massinger

A. The Virgin Martyr, Act IV, Sc. iii

B. The Duke of Milan, Act I, Sc. iii .

C. The Bondman, Act II, Sc. i .

D. The Maid of Honour, Act III, Sc. iii

E. A New Way to pay Old Debts, Act

and iii

F. The City Madam, Act I, Sc. i

XX. Nathaniel Field .

A. A Woman is a Weathercock, Act III,

B. Amends for Ladies, Act I, Sc. i

XXI. John Webster ....

A. The White Devil, Act I, Sc. ii „ „ Act V, Sc. i

The Duchess of Malfi, Act III, Sc. v The Devil's Law-Case, Act V, Sc. iv Appius and Virginia, Act II, Sc. iii

B.

C.

D.

XXII. Cyril Tourneur

A. The Atheist's Tragedy, Act V, Sc. ii

B. The Revenger's Tragedy, Act III, Sc. i-iv

III,

Sc. ii

Sc. ii

PAGE 240

242 246 252 256 261

265 268 272

280 284

287 294 300 306 310 316

323 329 333 337

343 352

358 362

369 373 376 380 382

387 392 viii CONTENTS

PACK

XXIII. John Ford 397

A. The Lover's Melancholy, Act IV, Sc. iii • 39^

B. The Broken Heart, Act IV, Sc. ii . . • • 402

C. Perkin Warbeck, Act III, Sc. ii . . . ■ ^°S

D. The Lady's Trial, Act II, Sc. i . . 41°

XXIV. James Shirley 4i6

A. The Brothers, Act IV, Sc. v 419

B. The Traitor, Act IV, Sc. i . . . • 424

C. Hyde Park, Act IV, Sc. iii 428

D. The Lady of Pleasure, Act II, Sc. i . ■ 436

E. The Cardinal, Act V, Sc. iii 44'

Index to the Notes 565

I

1553(4)— 1606.

John Lyly was bom in the Weald of Kent in 1553 or 1SS4) entered Magdalen College, Oxford, in 1569, matriculated in 1571, and graduated as B.A. in 1573 and as M.A. in 1575. In 1574 he had applied in vain to Lord Burleigh for letters of recommendation from the Queen to a fellowship. In 1579 he was incorporated M.A. of the University of Cambridge, but there is no proof of his residence. In 1577, or before, he had been living in the Savoy, where he became acquainted with Gabriel Harvey. Euphues: the Anatomy of Wyt was published at the end of 1578, and was rapidly followed by three new editions in the course of the next two years. Euphues and his England appeared in 1 580, dedicated to the Earl of Oxford, to whom he was acting as private secretary. In 1582 he wrote a letter to the author, prefixed to Thomas Watson's ''E.Ka.ro\ma6\a or Passionate Centurie of Loue. In the same year Campaspe and Sapho and Phao were probably performed at court, though not published till 1584. Gallathea was entered on the Stationers' Register in 1585, in which year he was probably appointed vice-master of the choir-boys of St. Paul's. Endimion, published in 1591, was performed in 1586, the first draught of Love's Metamorphosis being probably performed about the same time. From 1588 to 1601 he appears to have been elected four times as member of Parliament. In 1589 he began to take part with Nash in the Martin Marprelate controversy on the side of the bishops against the Martinists, Pappe with an I/aichett uppeaxing in that year. Midas and Mother Bombie were probably performed in 1590, the former being published in 1592, the latter in 1594. The Woman in the Moone was entered on the Stationers' Register in 1595, and published in 1597. Lyly was buried November 30, 1606, at the church of St, Bartholomew the Less.

The first decisive appearance of that great wave of dramatic enthusiasm, popularly called the Elizabethan drama, which, rising with Lyly, reached its glorious height in Shakespeare, and exhausted itself in Shirley, may fairly be associated with the production of Campaspe in the year 1580, Single plays there had been before that time, serving to break the monotony of the

Moralities and to indicate the current of tendency, but no dramatist had arisen strong enough to establish a type or found a school. Nicholas Udall in 1552 had made the successful experiment of combining semi-allegorical types from the Moralities with the more highly individualized characters of the Interludes, and constructing a simple plot on the lines of Latin comedy ; but Ralph Roister Doister apparently produced no immediate effect on the development of the drama. Gammer Gurton's Needle (printed IS7S), was merely the farcical presentation of a single episode, without plot or characterization, showing no marked advance on John Heywood's interludes. Gorboduc, the first English tragedy (acted 1562), was an imitation of the Senecan drama, consisting of 'dissertations, reflective diatribes, and lengthy choruses.' — (Symonds.)

The Damon and Pithias of Richard Edwardes, a ' tragical comedy' (licensed 1566), partially anticipates Lyly's court comedies, but is ' one of the clumsiest of our early plays, in both action and language, and above all in the management of the metre.' — ( Ward.)

Of Lyly's undoubted plays, there are comedies of court life, allegorizing under mythological names contemporary personages and incidents ; three are pastoral comedies, approximating rather to masques ; while Campaspe has been called ' the first English historical play,' and Mother Bombie ' the first pure farce.'

One of the most important services rendered by Lyly to the Elizabethan drama was the determination of prose as the proper form of expression in comedy. Before him the usual medium had been rhyming couplets of varying accent and irregular length, though prose was gradually finding its way into the comic passages of the Moralities. But to the formless prose of the Moralities he imparted such balance, point, and finish, he used it in his plays with such persistence and success, that it became henceforth the recognized vehicle for comic expression. Nor should it be forgotten that in The Woman in the Moone he used blank verse of considerable merit.

Lyly's comedies, though in many respects offending the taste of the modern reader, were skilfully adapted to please the audience for whom they were originally intended. They were essentially Court Comedies. Their euphuistic style, with its classical learning, its fanciful science, its rhetorical tricks ; its conventionalities, platitudes, and truisms, embellished with antithesis and alliteration, and enforced by imaginary analogies with the physical universe; its wit, ingenuity, and elaborate compliments, would directly appeal to the queen, who prided herself on being able to read Latin and Greek, to speak French and Italian fluently, and to appreciate the graces of literature, ancient and modern. The philandering, the sentimentalities, the toying and trifling with the tender passion, the absence of all deep feeling, were in perfect keeping with the gay circle of courtiers and maids of honour, too young, light-hearted, and frivolous to appreciate any profounder philosophy of life.

Lyl/s plots, like his language, are euphuistic in construction. The arrangement of the incidents is symmetrical, balanced, and antithetical ; the distribution of the characters mathematically regular. His characterization is better in the case of types than of individuals. The latter lack idiosyncrasy and distinctness. Many of his satirical transcripts from contemporary manners anticipate Ben Jonson. His lyrics are dainty and musical. His influence on the early comedies of Shakespeare is no less marked than that of Marlowe on the tragedies.

The text of the following extracts is taken from the Clarendon Pjess edition by Mr. R. Warwick Bond (1902), modernized.

A. CAMPASPE

Act IV, Sc. 11.

Alexander homing commissioned Apelles to faint Campaspe, of whom he is enamoured, Apelles and Campaspe fall in love with one another.

Campaspe sola. Campaspe, it is hard to judge whether thy choice be more unwise, or the chance unfortunate. Dost thou prefer — but stay, utter not that in words, which maketh thine ears to glow with thoughts. Tush ! better thy tongue wag, than thy heart break ! Hath a painter crept further into 5 thy mind than a prince ? Apelles than Alexander ? Fond wench ! the baseness of thy mind bewrays the meanness of thy birth. But alas ! affection is a fire which kindleth as well in the bramble as in the oak, and catcheth hold where it first lighteth, not where it may best burn. Larks that mount aloft 10 in the air, build their nests below in the earth ; and women that cast their eyes upon kings, may place their hearts upon vassals. A needle will become thy fingers better than a lute, and a distaff is fitter for thy hand than a sceptre. Ants live safely till they have gotten wings, and juniper is not blown '5 up till it hath gotten an high top. The mean estate is without care, as long as it continueth without pride. But here cometh Apelles, in whom I would thpre were the like affection.

Enter Apelles.

Apel. Gentlewoman, the misfortune I had with your picture, will put you to some pains to sit again to be 20 painted.

B 2

Camp. It is small pains for me to sit still, but infinite for you to draw still.

Apel. No, madam, to paint Venus was a pleasure, but to 25 shadow the sweet face of Campaspe it is a heaven !

Camp. If your tongue were made of the same flesh that

your heart is, your words would be as your thoughts are:

but such a common thing it is amongst you to commend,

that oftentimes for fashion sake you call them beautiful whom

30 you know black.

Apel. What might men do to be believed ? Camp. Whet their tongues on their hearts. Apel. So they do, and speak as they think. Camp. I would they did ! 35 Apel. I would they did not !

Camp. Why, would you have them dissemble ? Apel. Not in love, but their love. But will you give me leave to ask you a question without offence ?

Camp. So that you will answer me another without excuse. 40 Apel. Whom do you love best in the world ? Camp. He that made me last in the world. Apel. That was a god.

Camp. I had thought it had been a man. But whom do you honour most, Apelles ? 45 Apel. The thing that is likest you, Campaspe. Camp. My picture ?

Apel. I dare not venture upon your person. But come, let us go in : for Alexander will think it long till we return.

Act IV, Sc. IV.

Apel. I have now, Campaspe, almost made an end. 50 Camp. You told me, Apelles, you would never end.

Apel. Never end my love : for it shall be eternal.

Camp. That is, neither to have beginning nor ending.

Apel. You are disposed to mistake, I hope you do not mistrust. 55 Camp. What will you say if Alexander perceive your love ?

Apel. I will say it is no treason to love.

Camp. But how if he will not suffer thee to see my person ?

Apel. Then will I gaze continually on thy picture. 60 Camp. That will not feed thy heart.

CAMPASPE 5

Apel. Yet shall it fill mine eye : besides the sweet thoughts, the sure hopes, thy protested faith, will cause me to embrace thy shadow continually in mine arms, of the which by strong imagination I will make a substance.

Camp. Well, I must be gone ; but this assure yourself, 65 that I had rather be in thy shop grinding colours, than in Alexander's court, following higher fortunes.

Campaspe alone.

Foolish wench, what hast thou done ? that, alas 1 which cannot be undone, and therefore I fear me undone. But content is such a life, I care not for abundance. O Apelles, 7° thy love coiiieth from the heart, but Alexander's from the mouth. The love of kings is like the blowing of winds, which whistle sometimes gently among the leaves, and straightways turn the trees up by the roots ; or fire, which warmeth afar oflF, and bumeth near-hand ; or the sea, which maketh 75 men hoise their sails in a flattering calm, and to cut their masts in a rough storm. They place affection by times, by policy, by appointment ; if they frown, who dares call them unconstant ? if bewray secrets, who will term them untrue ? if fall to other loves, who trembles not, if he call them un- 80 faithful ? In kings there can be no love, but to queens : for as near must they meet in majesty, as they do in affection. It is requisite to stand aloof from kings' love, Jove, and lightning. [^j;?'/.]

B. GALLATHEA

Act IV, Sc. II.

Cupid, having been caught wounding the nymphs of Diana with the arrows of love, has been delivered to them by the goddess for punishment.

Cupid; Telusa, Eurota, Larissa, singing ; Ramia.

Tel. O yes, O yes, if any maid, Whom leering Cupid has betrayed To frowns of spite, to eyes of scorn.

And would in madness now see torn The boy in pieces, —

All three. Let her come 6

Hither, and lay on him her doom.

Eur. O yes, O yes, has any lost A heart, which many a sigh hath cost; Is any cozened of a tear, 10 Which, as a pearl, disdain does wear ?

All three. Here stands the thief, let her but come Hither, and lay on him her doom.

Lar. Is any one undone by fire.

And turned to ashes through desire? '5 Did ever any lady weep.

Being cheated of her golden sleep, Stol'n by sick thoughts?

All three. The pirate's found.

And in her tears he shall be drowned.

Read his indictment, let him hear 2o What he 's to trust to. Boy, give ear I

Tel. Come, Cupid, to your task. First you must undo all these lovers' knots, because you tied them.

Cup. If they be true love knots, 'tis unpossible to unknit them ; if false, I never tied them. 25 Eur. Make no excuse, but to it.

Cup. Love knots are tied with eyes, and cannot be undone with hands ; made fast with thoughts, and cannot be unloosed with fingers : had Diana no task to set Cupid to but things impossible? (They threaten him.^ I will to it. 30 Ram. Why how now ? you tie the knots faster.

Cup. I cannot choose; it goeth against my mind to make them loose.

Eur. Let me see, now 'tis unpossible to be undone. 35 Cup. It is the true love knot of a woman's heart, therefore cannot be undone.

Ram. That falls in sunder of itself.

Cup. It was made of a man's thought, which will never hang together. 40 Lar. You have undone that well.

Cup. Ay, because it was never tied well. Tel. To the rest,, for she will give you no rest. These two knots are finely untied.

Cup. It was because I never tied them ; the one was knit 45 by Pluto, not Cupid, by money, not love ; the other by force, not faith, by appointment, not affection. Ram. Why do you lay that knot aside ?

Cup. For death.

GALLA.THEA 7

Tel. Why?

Cup. Because the knot was knit by faith, and must only 50 be unknit of death.

Eur. Why laugh you ?

Cup. Because it is the fairest and the falsest, done with greatest art and least truth, with best colours and worst conceits. 55

Tel. Who tied it?

Cup. A man's tongue.

Lar. Why do you put that in my bosom ?

Cup. Because it is only for a woman's bosom.

Lar. Why, what is it ? %

Cup. A woman's heart.

Tel. Come, let us go in and tell that Cupid hath done his task ; stay you behind, Larissa, and see he sleep not, for Love will be idle ; and take heed you surfeit not, for Love will be wanton. [Exeunt Telusa, Ramia, Eurota.] 65

Lar. Let me alone, I will find him somewhat to do.

Cup. Lady, can you for pity see Cupid thus punished ?

Lar. Why did Cupid punish us without pity ?

Cup. Is love a punishment ?

Lar. It is no pastime. 70

Cup. O Venus, if thou sawest Cupid as a captive, bound to obey, that was wont to command, fearing ladies' threats, that once pierced their hearts, I cannot tell whether thou wouldest revenge it for despite, or laugh at it for disport. The time may come, Diana, and the time shall come, that 75 thou that settest Cupid to undo knots shalt entreat Cupid to tie knots, and you ladies, that with solace have beheld my pains, shall with sighs entreat my pity.

He offereth to sleep.

Lar. How now, Cupid, begin you to nod ?

Re-enter Ramia and Telusa.

Ram. Come, Cupid, Diana hath devised new labours for 80 you that are god of loves : you shall weave samplers all night, and lackey after Diana all day. You shall shortly shoot at beasts for men, because you have made beasts of men, and wait on ladies' trains, because thou entrappest ladies by trains. All the stories that are in Diana's arras, 85 which are of love, you must pick out with your needle, and in that place sew Vesta with her nuns, and Diana with her nymphs. How like you this, Cupid ?

Cup. I say I will prick as well with my needle, as ever 90 I did with mine arrows.

Tel. Diana cannot yield, she conquers affection. Cup. Diana shall yield, she cannot conquer destiny. Lar. Come, Cupid, you must to your business. Cup. You shall find me so busy in your heads, that you 96 shall wish I had been idle with your hearts, [Exeunt?^

C. MIDAS Act III, Sc. II.

Petulus and Lido are pages, the former of whom is suffering I from tooth-ache, which he attributes to having cheated Motto, the barber, of Mida^ golden beard. Dello is the barber's boy.

Mot. Dello, thou knowest Midas touched his beard, and 'twas gold.

Del. Well.

Mot. That the pages cozened me of it. 5 Del. No lie.

Mot. That I must be revenged.

Del. In good time.

Mot. Thou knowest I have taught thee the knacking of the hands, the tickling on a man's hairs, like the tuning of 10 a cittern.

Del. True.

Mot. Besides, I instructed thee in the phrases of our eloquent occupation, as ' How, sir, will you be trimmed ? will you have your beard like a spade, or a bodkin ? a penthouse 15 on your upper lip, or an alley on your chin ? a low curl on your head like a bull, or dangling lock like a spaniel ? your mustachoes sharp at the ends, like shoemakers' awls, or hanging down to your mouth, like goats' flakes ? your love-locks wreathed with a silken twist, or shaggy to fall on your 20 shoulders ? '

Del. I confess you have taught me Tullie de oratore, the very art of trimming.

Mot. Well, for all this I desire no more at thy hands, than to keep secret the revenge I have prepared for the 35 pages.

MIDAS 9

Bel. O sir, you know I am a barber, and cannot tittle-tattle ; I am one of those whose tongues are swelled with silence.

Mol. Indeed thou shouldst be no blab, because a barber ; therefore be secret. — Was it not a good cure, Dello, to ease 30 the tooth-ache, and never touch the tooth ?

Bel. O master, he that is your patient for the tooth-ache, I warrant is patient of all aches.

Mot. I did but rub his gums, and presently the rheum evaporated. 35

Lie. Beus bone, is that word come into the barber's bason ?

Bel. Ay, sir, and why not ? My master is a barber and a surgeon.

Lie. In good time. 40

Pet. O Motto, I am almost dead with the tooth-ache, all my gums are swollen, and my teeth stand in my head like thorns.

Mot. It may be that it is only the breeding of a beard, and being the first beard, you shall have a hard travail.

Pet. Old fool, dost thou think hairs will breed in my 45 teeth ?

Mot. As likely, sir, for anything I know, as on your chin.

Pet. O teeth I O torments 1—0 torments 1 O teeth !

Mot. [aside.] May I but touch them, Dello, I'll teach his tongue to tell a tale, what villainy it is to cozen one of a 50 beard. But stand not thou nigh, for it is odds, when he spits, but that all his teeth fly in thy face.

Lie. Good Motto, give some ease, for at thy coming in I overheard of a cure thou hadst done.

Pet. My teeth ! I will not have this pain, that 's certain ! 55

Mot. Ay, so did you overhear me, when you cozened me of a beard : but I forget all.

Bel. My master is mild and merciful ; and merciful, because a barber : for when he hath the throat at command, you know he taketh revenge but on a silly hair. 60

Mot. How now, Petulus, do they still ache ?

Pet. Ay, Motto.

Mot. Let me rub your gums with this leaf.

Pet. Do, Motto, and for thy labour I will requite thee. — Out, rascal ! what hast thou done ? all my nether teeth are 65 loose, and wag like the keys of a pair of virginals.

Bel. O sir, if you will, I will sing to them, your mouth being the instrument.

Pet. Do, Dello. 70 Del. Out, villain! thou bitest. I cannot tune these virginal keys.

Pet. They were the jacks above : the keys beneath were easy.

Del. A bots on your jacks and jaws too ! 75 Lie. They were virginals of your master's making.

Pet. O my teeth I good Motto, what will ease my pain? Mot. Nothing in the world, but to let me lay a golden beard to your chin.

Pet. It is at pawn. 80 Mot. You are like to fetch it out with your teeth, or go without your teeth.

Pet. Motto, withdraw thyself; it may be thou shalt draw my teeth : attend my resolution. — A doubtful dispute, whether I were best to lose my golden beard, or my bone tooth 1 85 Help me, Licio, to determine.

Lie. Your teeth ache, Petulus, your beard doth not. Pet. Ay but, Licio, if I part from my beard, my heart will ache.

Lie. If your tooth be hollow, it must be stopped, or pulled 90 out ; and stop it the barber will not, without the beard.

Pet. My heart is hollow too, and nothing can stop it but gold.

Lie. Thou canst not eat meat without teeth. Pet. Nor buy it without money. 95 Lie. Thou mayst get more gold ; if thou lose these, more teeth thou canst not.

Pet. Ay but the golden beard will last me ten years in porridge, and then to what use are teeth ?

Lie. If thou want teeth, thy tongue will catch cold. 100 Pet. 'Tis true ; and if I lack money my whole body may go naked. But, Licio, let the barber have his beard : I will have a device, by thy help, to get it again, and a cozenage beyond that, maugre his beard.

Lie. That 's the best way, both to ease thy pains, and try 105 our wits.

Pet. Barber, eleven of my teeth have gone on a jury, to try whether the beard be thine ; they have chosen my tongue for the foreman, which crieth. Guilty.

Mot. Gilded ? nay, boy, all my beard was gold. It was no not gilt, I will not be so overmatched.

Del. You cannot pose my master in a beard. Come to

MIDAS II

his house, you shall sit upon twenty ; all his cushions are stuffed with beards.

Lie. Let him go home with thee; ease him, and thou shall have thy beard. 115

Mot. I am content ; but I will have the beard in my hand to be sure.

Pet. And I thy finger in my mouth to be sure of ease.

Mot. Agreed.

D. MOTHER BOMBIE

Act II, Sc. V

Memphio, an avaricious old man, has a (supposed) son, and Stellio, a wealthy husbandman, a (supposed) daughter, both mentally deficient. Each parent is ignorant of the failing in the other's child, and secretly schemes to make a match for his own. Another pair, Prisius and Sperantus, wish to prevent the marriage of their children, Livia and Candius, Prisius by marrying Livia to Memphio's son, and Sperantus by securing Stellio'' s daughter for Candius. Each of the four takes his page into his counsel; but the four pages conspire to outwit their masters, and have just had a carouse together at a tavern.