Title: A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 13
Author: Robert Dodsley
Editor: William Carew Hazlitt
Release date: July 12, 2015 [eBook #49422]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Richard Tonsing, Jonathan Ingram and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
BY
W. CAREW HAZLITT.
BENJAMIN BLOM, INC.
A MATCH AT MIDNIGHT.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
ACT I., SCENE I.
ACT II., SCENE I.
ACT III., SCENE I.
ACT IV., SCENE I.
ACT V., SCENE I.
THE CITY NIGHTCAP.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
ACT I.
ACT II.
ACT III.
ACT IV.
ACT V.
THE CITY-MATCH.
THE PROLOGUE TO THE KING AND QUEEN.
THE PROLOGUE AT BLACKFRIARS.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
ACT I., SCENE I.
ACT II., SCENE I.
ACT III., SCENE I.
ACT IV., SCENE I.
ACT V., SCENE I.
THE EPILOGUE AT WHITEHALL.
THE EPILOGUE AT BLACKFRIARS.
THE QUEEN OF ARRAGON.
THE PROLOGUE AT COURT.
THE PROLOGUE AT THE FRIARS.
THE ACTOR'S NAMES.
ACT I., SCENE I.
ACT II., SCENE I.
ACT III., SCENE I.
ACT IV., SCENE I.
ACT V., SCENE I.
THE EPILOGUE AT COURT.
THE EPILOGUE AT THE FRIARS.
THE ANTIQUARY.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
ACT I., SCENE I.
ACT II., SCENE I.
ACT III., SCENE I.
ACT IV., SCENE I.
ACT V., SCENE I.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
A Match at Mid-night. A Pleasant Comœdie: As it hath beene Acted by the Children of the Revells. Written by W. R. London: Printed by Aug. Mathewes, for William Sheares, and are to be sold at his Shop, in Brittaines Bursse. 1633. 4o.
Sir Marmaduke Many-Minds. | |
Sir Janus Ambexter. | |
Captain Carvegut. | |
Lieutenant Bottom. | |
Ancient Young. | |
Bloodhound, a usurer. | |
Alexander Bloodhound, | his two sons. |
Tim Bloodhound, | |
Randall, a Welshman. | |
Ear-lack, a scrivener. | |
Sim, the clown. | |
John, servant to the Widow. | |
Jarvis, the Widow's husband, disguised like her servant. | |
A Smith. | |
Busy, a Constable. | |
Watch. | |
[Women.] | |
Widow Wag. | |
Moll, Bloodhound's daughter. | |
Widow's Maid. | |
Mistress Coote, a bawd. | |
Sue Shortheels, a whore. |
A MATCH AT MIDNIGHT.
Enter, as making themselves ready, Tim Bloodhound, and Sim the man.
Sim. Good morrow, Master Tim.
Tim. Morrow, Sim; my father stirring, Sim?
Sim. Not yet, I think; he heard some ill-news of your brother Alexander last night, that will make him lie an hour extraordinary.
Tim. Hum: I'm sorry the old man should lie by the hour; but, O, these wicked elder brothers, that swear refuse them,[1] and drink nothing but wicked sack; when we swear nothing but niggers-noggers, make a meal of a bloat herring, water it [Pg 6]with four-shillings' beer, and then swear we have dined as well as my lord mayor.
Sim. Here was goody Fin, the fishwoman, fetched home her ring last night.
Tim. You should have put her money by itself, for fear of wronging of the whole heap.
Sim. So I did, sir, and washed it first in two waters.
Tim. All these petty pawns, sirrah, my father commits to my managing, to instruct me in this craft that, when he dies, the commonwealth may not[2] want a good member.
Enter Mistress Mary.
Sim. Nay, you are cursed as much as he already.
Mis. Mary. O brother, 'tis well you are up.
Tim. Why, why?
Mis. Mary. Now you shall see the dainty widow, the sweet widow, the delicate widow, that to-morrow morning must be our mother-in-law.
Tim. What, the widow Wag?
Sim. Yes, yes; she that dwells in Blackfriars, next to the sign of the Fool laughing at a feather.[3]
Mis. Mary. She, she; good brother, make yourself handsome, for my father will bring her hither presently.
Tim. Niggers-noggers, I thought he had been sick, and had not been up, Sim.
Sim. Why, so did I too; but it seems the widow took him at a better hand, and raised him so much the sooner.
Tim. While I tie my band, prythee stroke up my foretop a little: niggers, an' I had but dreamed [Pg 7]of this an hour before I waked, I would have put on my Sunday clothes. 'Snails, my shoes are pale as the cheek of a stewed pander; a clout, a clout, Sim.
Sim. More haste the worse speed; here's ne'er a clout now.
Tim. What's that lies by the hooks?
Sim. This? 'tis a sumner's coat.[4]
Tim. Prythee, lend's a sleeve of that; he had a noble on't last night, and never paid me my bill-money.
Enter Old Bloodhound, the Widow, her Maid, and Man.[5]
Blood. Look, look, up[6] and ready; all is ready, widow. He is in some deep discourse with Sim, concerning moneys out to one or another.
Wid. Has he said his prayers, sir?
Blood. Prayer before providence! When did ye know any thrive and swell that uses it? He's a chip o' th' old block; I exercise him in the trade of thrift, by turning him to all the petty pawns. If they come to me, I tell them I have given over brokering, moiling for muck and trash, and that I mean to live a life monastic, a praying life: pull out the tale of Crœsus from my pocket, and swear 'tis called "Charity's Looking-Glass, or an exhortation to forsake the world."
Maid. Dainty hypocrite! [Aside.
Wid. Peace!
Blood. But let a fine fool that's well-feathered come, and withal good meat, I have a friend, it [Pg 8]may be, that may compassionate his wants. I'll tell you an old saw[7] for't over my chimney yonder—
Wid. Trust me, a thrifty saw.
Blood. Many will have virtuous admonitions on their walls, but not a piece in their coffers: give me these witty politic saws; and indeed my house is furnished with no other.
Wid. How happy shall I be to wed such wisdom!
Blood. Shalt bed it, shalt bed it, wench; shalt ha't by infusion. Look, look!
Enter a Smith.
Smith. Save ye, Master Tim.
Tim. Who's this? goodman File, the blacksmith! I thought it had been our old collier. Did you go to bed with that dirty face, goodman File?
Smith. And rise with it too, sir.
Tim. What have you bumming out there, goodman File?
Smith. A vice, sir, that I would fain be furnished with a little money upon.
Tim. Why, how will you do to work then, goodman File?
Smith. This is my spare vice, not that I live by.
[Pg 9]Tim. Hum! you did not buy this spare vice of a lean courtier, did ye?
Smith. No, sir, of a fat cook, that 'strained[8] of a smith for's rent.
Sim. O hard-hearted man of grease!
Tim. Nay, nay, Sim, we must do't sometimes.
Blood. Ha, thrifty whoreson!
Tim. And what would serve your turn, goodman File?
Smith. A noble, sir.
Tim. What! upon a spare vice to lend a noble?
Sim. Why, sir, for ten groats you may make yourself drunk, and so buy a vice outright for half the money.
Tim. That is a noble vice, I assure you.
Sim. How long would you have it?
Smith. But a fortnight; 'tis to buy stuff, I protest, sir.
Tim. Look you, being a neighbour, and born one for another——
Blood. Ha, villain, shalt have all!
Tim. There is five shillings upon't, which, at the fortnight's end, goodman File, you must make five shillings sixpence.
Smith. How, sir?
Tim. Nay, an' it were not to do you a courtesy——
Blood. Ha, boy!
Tim. And then I had forgot threepence for my bill; so there is four shillings and ninepence,[9] which you are to tender back five shillings sixpence, goodman File, at the end of the fortnight.
[Pg 10]Smith. Well, an' it were not for earnest necessity——Ha, boys! I come, I come, you black rascals, let the cans go round. [Exit Smith.
Tim. Sim, because the man's an honest man, I pray lay up his vice, as safe as it were our own.
Sim. And if he miss his day, and forfeit, it shall be yours and your heirs for ever.
Blood. What, disbursing money, boy? Here is thy mother-in-law.
Sim. Your nose drops: 'twill spoil her ruff.
Tim. Pray, forsooth, what's a clock?
Maid. O, fie upon him, mistress, I thought he had begun to ask you blessing.
Wid. Peace, we'll have more on't. [Walks towards him.
Tim. I wonnot kiss, indeed.
Sim. An' he wonnot, here are those that will, forsooth.
Blood. Get you in, you rogue. [Exit Sim.
Wid. I hope you will, sir: I was bred in Ireland, where the women begin the salutation.
Tim. I wonnot kiss truly.
Wid. Indeed you must.
Tim. Would my girdle may break if I do.[10]
Wid. I have a mind.
Tim. Niggers-noggers, I wonnot.
Tim. Your boy, forsooth, father.
Blood. Can you turn and wind a penny, Tim?
Tim. Better than yourself, forsooth, father.
Blood. You have looked in the church-book of late; how old are you, Tim?
Tim. Two and twenty years, three months, three days, and three quarters of an hour, forsooth, father.
Wid. He has arithmetic.
Blood. And grammar too: what's Latin for your head, Tim?
Tim. Caput.
Wid. But what for the head of a block?
Tim. Caput blockhead.
Blood. Do you hear; your ear?
Tim. Aura.
Blood. Your eye?
Tim. Oculus.
Blood. That's for one eye; what's Latin for two?
Tim. Oculus-Oculus.[11]
Widow. An admirable accidental grammarian, I protest, sir.
Blood. This boy shall have all: I have an elder rogue that sucks and draws me; a tavern academian; one that protests to whores, and shares with highway lawyers; an arrant unclarified rogue, that drinks nothing but wicked sack.
Enter Sim and Alexander drunk.
Sim. Here's a gentleman would speak with you.
[Pg 12]Blood. Look, look; now he's come for more money.
Wid. A very hopeful house to match into, wench; the father a knave, one son a drunkard, and t'other a fool. [Aside.
Tim. O monster, father! Look if he be not drunk; the very sight of him makes me long for a cup of six.[12]
Alex. Pray, father, pray to God to bless me. [To Tim.
Blood. Look, look! takes his brother for his father!
Sim. Alas, sir! when the drink's in, the wit's out? and none but wise children know their own fathers.
Tim. Why, I am none of your father, brother; I am Tim; do you know Tim?
Alex. Yes, umph—for a coxcomb.
Wid. How wild he looks! Good sir, we'll take our leaves.
Blood. Shalt not go, faith, widow: you cheater, rogue; must I have my friends frighted out of my house by you? Look he[13] steal nothing to feast his bawds. Get you out, sirrah! there are constables, beadles, whips, and the college of extravagants, yclept Bridewell, you rogue; you rogue, there is, there is, mark that.
Alex. Can you lend me a mark upon this ring, sir? and there set it down in your book, and, umph—mark that.
Blood. I'll have no stolen rings picked out of pockets, or taken upon the way,[14] not I.
Alex. I'll give you an old saw for't.
[Pg 13]Blood. There's a rogue mocks his father: sirrah, get you gone. Sim, go let loose the mastiff.
Sim. Alas, sir! he'll tear and pull out your son's throat.
Blood. Better pull't out than halter stretch it. Away, out of my doors! rogue, I defy thee.
Alex. Must you be my mother-in-law?
Wid. So your father says, sir.
Alex. You see the worst of your eldest son; I abuse nobody.
Blood. The rogue will fall upon her.
Alex. I will tell you an old saw.
Wid. Pray let's hear it.
Blood. Did you ever hear such a rascal? Come, come, let's leave him: I'll go buy thy wedding-ring presently. You're best be gone, sirrah: I am going for the constable—ay, and one of the churchwardens; and, now I think on't, he shall pay five shillings to the poor for being drunk: twelve pence shall go into the box, and t'other four my partner and I will share betwixt us. There's a new path to thrift, wench; we must live, we must live, girl.
Wid. And at last die for all together.
[Exeunt Bloodhound, Widow, Maid, and Man.
Sim. 'Tis a diamond.[16] [Aside.
[Pg 14]Tim. You'll be at the Fountain[17] after dinner?
Alex. While 'twill run, boy.
Tim. Here's a noble now, and I'll bring you t'other as I come by to the tavern; but I'll make you swear I shall drink nothing but small beer.
Alex. Niggers-noggers, thou shalt not; there's thine own oath for thee: thou shalt eat nothing, an' thou wilt, but a poached spider, and drive it down with syrup of toads. [Exit.
Tim. Ah! prythee, Sim, bid the maid eat my breakfast herself. [Exit.
Sim. H' has turned his stomach, for all the world like a Puritan's at the sight of a surplice.[18] But your breakfast shall be devoured by a stomach of a stronger constitution, I warrant you. [Exit.
Enter Captain Carvegut and Lieutenant Bottom.[19]
Enter Randall.
Well, was never mortal man in Wales could have waged praver, finers, and nimblers, than Randalls have done, to get service in Londons: whoope, where was hur now? just upon a pridge of stone, between the legs of a couple of pretty hills, but no more near mountains in Wales, than Clim of the Clough's bow to hur cozen David's harp. And now hur prattle of Davie, I think yonder come prancing down the hills from Kingston a couple of hur t'other cozens, Saint Nicholas' clerks;[22] the morning was so red as an egg, and the place fery full of dangers, perils, and bloody businesses by reports: augh! her swords was trawn; Cod pless us! and hur cozen Hercules was not stand against [Pg 16]two. Which shall hur take? If they take Randalls, will rip Randalls cuts out; and then Randalls shall see Paul's steeples no more; therefore hur shall go directly under the pridge, here was but standing to knees in little fine cool fair waters; and by cat, if hur have Randalls out, hur shall come and fetch Randalls, and hur will, were hur nineteen Nicholas' clerks. [Exit.
Enter Captain and Lieutenant.
Lieut. Which way took he?
Capt. On straight, I think.
Lieut. Then we should see him, man; he was just in mine eye when we were at foot o' th' hill, and, to my thinking, stood here looking towards us upon the bridge.
Capt. So thought I; but with the cloud of dust we raised about us, with the speed our horses made, it seems we lost him. Now I could stamp, and bite my horse's ears off.
Lieut. Let's spur towards Coomb House:[23] he struck that way; sure, he's not upon the road.
Capt. 'Sfoot, if we miss him, how shall we keep our word with Saunder Bloodhound in Fleet Street, after dinner, at the Fountain? he's out of cash; and thou know'st, by Cutter's law,[24] we are bound to relieve one another.
Lieut. Let's scour towards Coomb House; but if we miss him?
[Pg 17]Capt. No matter; dost see yonder barn o' th' left hand?
Lieut. What of that?
Enter Randall.
Ran. Spur did hur call hur? have made Randalls stand without poots in fery pitiful pickles; but hur will run as nimbles to Londons as creyhound after rabbits. And yet, now hur remember what hur cozens talkt, was some wiser and some, too, Randalls heard talk of parn upon left hand, and a prave bag with hundred pounds in round shillings, Cod pless us! And yonder was parns, and upon left hands too: now here was questions and demands to be made, why Randalls should not rob them would rob Randalls? hur will go to [Pg 18]parns, pluck away pords, pull out pags, and show hur cozen a round pair of heels, with all hur round shillings; mark hur now. [Exit.
Enter Captain and Lieutenant.
Lieut. The rogue rose[25] right, and has outstripped us. This was staying in Kingston with our unlucky hostess, that must be dandled, and made drunk next her heart; she made us slip the very cream o' th' morning: if anything stand awkward, a woman's at one end on't.
Capt. Come, we've a hundred pieces good yet in the barn; they shall last us and Sander[26] a month's mirth at least.
Lieut. O these sweet hundred pieces! how I will kiss you and hug you with the zeal a usurer does his bastard money when he comes from church. Were't not for them, where were our hopes? But come, they shall be sure to thunder in the taverns. I but now, just now, see pottle-pots thrown down the stairs, just like serjeants and yeomen, one i' th' neck of another.
Capt. Delicate vision! [Exeunt.
Enter Randall.
Ran. Hur have got hur pag and all by the hand, and hur had ferily thought in conscience, had not been so many round sillings in whole worlds, but in Wales: 'twas time to supply hur store, hur had but thirteenpence halfpenny in all the worlds, and that hur have left in hur little white purse, with a rope hur found py the parn, just in the place hur had this. Randalls will be no servingmans now; [Pg 19]hur will buy her prave parels, prave swords, prave taggers, and prave feathers, and go a-wooing to prave, comely, pretty maids. Rob Randalls, becat! and hur were ten dozen of cousins, Randalls rob hur; mark hur now. [Exit.
Enter Captain and Lieutenant.
Lieut. A plague of Friday mornings! the most unfortunate day in the whole week.
Capt. Was ever the like fate? 'sfoot, when I put it in, I was so wary, though it were midnight, that I watched till a cloud had masked the moon, for fear she should have seen't.
Lieut. O luck!
Capt. A gale of wind did but creep o'er the bottom, and, because I heard things stir, I stayed; 'twas twelve score past me.
Lieut. The pottle-pots will sleep in peace to-night.
Capt. And the sweet clinks.
Lieut. The clattering of pipes.
Capt. The Spanish fumes.
Lieut. The More wine, boy, the nimble Anon, anon, sir.[27]
Capt. All to-night will be nothing; come, we must shift. 'Sfoot, what a witty rogue 'twas to leave this fair thirteenpence halfpenny and this old halter; intimating aptly,
Enter Bloodhound, Tim, and Sim.
Blood. There, sirrah, there's his bond: run into the Strand, 'tis six weeks since the tallow-chandler fetched my hundred marks I lent him to set him up, and to buy grease; this is his day, I'll have his bones for't else, so pray tell him.
Tim. But are a chandler's bones worth so much, father?
Blood. Out, coxcomb!
Sim. Worth so much! I know my master will make dice of them; then 'tis but letting Master Alexander carry them next Christmas to the Temple,[29] he'll make a hundred marks a night of them.
[Pg 21]Tim. Mass, that's true.
Blood. And run to Master Ear-lack's the informer, in Thieving Lane, and ask him what he has done in my business. He gets abundance; and if he carry my cause with one false oath, he shall have Moll; he will take her with a little. Are you gone, sir?
Tim. No, forsooth.
Blood. As you come by Temple Bar, make a step to th' Devil.
Tim. To the Devil, father?
Sim. My master means the sign of the Devil;[30] and he cannot hurt you, fool; there's a saint holds him by the nose.
Tim. Sniggers! what does the devil and a saint both in a sign?
Sim. What a question's that? what does my master and his prayer-book o' Sunday both in a pew?
Blood.[31] Well, well, ye gipsy, what do we both in a pew?
Sim. Why, make a fair show; and the devil and the saint does no more.
Blood. You're witty, you're witty. Call to the man o' th' house, bid him send in the bottles of wine to-night; they will be at hand i' th' morning. Will you run, sir?
Tim. To the devil, as fast as I can, sir; the world shall know whose son I am. [Exit.
Blood. Let me see now for a poesy for the ring: never an end of an old saw? 'Tis a quick widow, Sim, and would have a witty poesy.
Sim. If she be quick, she's with child; whosoever got it, you must father it; so that
Blood. No, no; I'll have one shall savour of a saw.
Sim. Why then, 'twill smell of the painted cloth.[32]
Blood. Let me see, a widow witty——
Sim. Is pastime pretty:—put in that for the sport's sake.
Blood. No, no, I can make the sport. Then, an old man——
Sim. Then will she answer, If you cannot, a younger can.[33] And look, look, sir, now I talk of the younger, yonder's Ancient Young come over again, that mortgaged sixty pound per annum before he went; I'm deceived if he come not a day after the fair.
Blood. Mine almanac!
Sim. A prayer-book, sir?
Blood. A prayer-book; for devout beggars I hate; look, I beseech thee. Fortune, now befriend me, and I will call the plaguy whore in. Let me see, six months.
Enter Ancient Young.
Anc. Yes, 'tis he, certain: this is a business must not be slackened, sir.
Sim. Look, I beseech thee; we shall have oatmeal in our pottage six weeks after.
Blood. Four days too late, Sim; four days too late, Sim.
Sim. Plumbs in our pudding a Sunday, plumbs in our pudding.
[Pg 24]Anc. Master Bloodhound, as I take it.
Blood. You're a stranger, sir. [Aside.] You shall be witness, I shall be railed at else, they will call me devil. I pray you, how many months from the first of May to the sixth of November following?
Anc. Six months and four days, just.
Blood. I ask, because the first of May last, a noble gentleman, one Ancient Young——
Anc. I am the man, sir.
Blood. My spectacles, Sim: look, Sim, is this Ancient Young?
Sim. 'Twas Ancient Young, sir.
Blood. And is't not Ancient Young?
Sim. No, sir, you have made him a young ancient.
Blood. O Sim, a chair. I know him now, but I shall not live to tell him.
Anc. How fare you, sir?
Sim. The better for you; he thanks you, sir.
Blood. Sick, sick, exceeding sick.
Anc. O' th' sudden? Strange!
Sim. A qualm of threescore years come over his stomach, nothing else.[34] [Aside.
Blood. That you, beloved you, who, of all men i' th' world, my poor heart doated on, whom I loved better than father, mother, brother, sister, uncles, aunts—what would you have? that you should stay four days too late!
Blood. Nay, nay, I am noble, fellow, very noble, a very rock of friendship; but—but I had a house and barn burnt down to the ground since you were here.
Anc. How?
Blood. How? burned—ask Sim.
Sim. By fire, sir, by fire.
Blood. To build up which, for I am a poor man—a poor man, I was forced by course of law to enter upon your land, and so, for less money than you had of me, I was fain to sell it to another. That, by four days' stay, a man should lose his blood! our livings! our blood! O my heart! O my head!
Anc. Pray, take it not so heinous, we'll go to him: I'll buy it again of him, he won't be too cruel.
Blood. A dog, a very dog; there's more mercy in a pair of unbribed bailiffs. To shun all such solicitings, he's rid to York. A very cut-throat rogue! But I'll send to him.
Anc. An honest old man, how it moves him! [Aside.] This was my negligence. Good Sim, convey him into some warmer room; and I pray, however Fortune—she that gives ever with the dexterity she takes—shall please to fashion out my sufferings, yet for his sake, my deceased father, the long friend of your heart, in your health keep me happy.
Blood. O right honest young man! Sim.
Sim. Sir.
Blood. Have I done't well?
Sim. The devil himself could not have done't better.
Anc.[35] Good sir, talk no more, my mouth runs over. [Exeunt Bloodhound and Sim.] Sleep, wake, worthy beggar, worthy indeed to be one, and am one worthily. How fine it is to wanton without affliction! I must look out for fortunes over again: no, I have money here, and 'tis the curse of merit not to work when she has money. There was a handsome widow, whose wild-mad-jealous husband died at sea; let me see, I am near Blackfriars, I'll have one start at her, or else——
Enter Bloodhound's daughter Moll, with a bowl of beer.
Moll. By my troth, 'tis he! Captain Young's son. I have loved him even with languishings, ever since I was a girl; but should he know it, I should run mad, sure. What handsome gentlemen travel and manners make! my father begun to you, sir, in a cup of small beer.
Anc. How does he, pray?
Moll. Pretty well now, sir.
Anc. Mass, 'tis small indeed. [Aside.] You'll pledge me?
Moll. Yes, sir.
Anc. Pray, will you tell me one thing?
Moll. What is't?
Anc. Which is smaller, this beer or your maidenhead?
Moll. The beer a great deal, sir.
Anc. Ay, in quality.
Moll. But not in quantity?
[Pg 27]Anc. No.
Moll. Why?
Anc. Let me try, and I'll tell you.
Moll. Will you tell me one thing before you try?
Anc. Yes.
Moll. Which is smaller, this beer or your wit?
Anc. O the beer, the beer.
Moll. In quality?
Anc. Yes, and in the quantity.
Moll. Why, then, I pray, keep the quantity of your wit from the quality of my maidenhead, and you shall find my maidenhead more than your wit.
Anc. A witty maidenhead, by this hand. [Exeunt severally.
[1] Refuse me, or God refuse me, appears to have been among the fashionable modes of swearing in our author's time. So in "The White Devil," act i. sc. 1, Flamineo says, God refuse me. Again, in "A Dogge of Warre," by Taylor the Water-poet, Works, 1630, p. 229—
Again, in "The Gamester," by Shirley, Wilding says, "Refuse me, if I did."
[2] Not is omitted in the 4o.—Collier.
[3] See [Randolph's Works, by Hazlitt, p. 179.]
[4] See note to "The Heir," [vol. xi. 535.]
[5] Standing unseen for the present.—Collier.
[6] The 4o reads Look, look upon, and ready, &c.—Collier.
[7] A proverb or wise saying. So in "The Wife of Bath's Prologue," l. 6240—
[8] Distrained. So in "Thomas, Lord Cromwell," 1602—
[9] The 4o reads four pence and ninepence. This play, in the former editions, is very incorrectly printed.
[10] So in Massinger's "Maid of Honour," act iv. sc. 5, Sylli says, "The King ... break girdle, break!" Again, Falstaff says, in the "First Part of King Henry IV."—
To explain the phrase "may my girdle break," it should be remembered that the purse was anciently worn hanging at the girdle. Hence the propriety of Trincalo's complaint, that while Ronca embraced him his "purse shook dangerously." See "Albumazar," act iii. sc. 7 [xi. 368].
[11] The 4o reads Oculies, Oculies.—Collier.
[12] [Six-shilling beer, a stronger kind than that previously described as four-shilling.]
[13] Look, he'll steal nothing to feast his bawds, is the reading of the old copy.—Collier.
[14] Highway.
[15] These interjections probably mean to express that Alexander hiccups in the course of what he says.—Collier.
[16] [In allusion to Alexander.]
[17] [A tavern so called.]
[18] The aversion of the Puritans to a surplice is alluded to in many of the old comedies. See several instances in Mr Steevens's note to "All's Well that Ends Well," act i. sc. 3.
[19] [Two footpads, who seem to have frequented the purlieus of Coomb Park. Sham military men were as common at that time as now.]
[20] The park belonging to Coomb House.
[21] But two quavers make one crotchet: this seems to be false wit, having no foundation in truth.—Pegge.
[22] Highwaymen or robbers were formerly called Saint Nicholas' clerks. See notes by Bishop Warburton and Mr Steevens on the "First Part of King Henry IV.," act ii. sc. 1.
So in Dekker's "Belman of London," 1616: "The theefe that commits the robery, and is chiefe clarke to Saint Nicholas, is called the high lawyer."
And in "Looke on me London," 1613, sig. C: "Here closely lie Saint Nicholas Clearkes, that, with a good northerne gelding, will gaine more by a halter, than an honest yeoman with a teame of good horses."
[23] This ancient fabric, which is now destroyed, was the seat of the Nevils, Earls of Warwick. It stood about a mile from Kingston-upon-Thames, near Wolsey's Aqueducts, which convey water to Hampton Court.—Steevens.
[24] A cutter was, about the beginning of the last century, a cant word for a swaggering fellow. This appears in the old black-letter play entitled "The Faire Maid of Bristow," sig. A iij., where Sir Godfrey says of Challener—
"He was a cutter and a swaggerer."
He is elsewhere (sig. A 4) called a swaggering fellow.—MS. note in Oldys's Langbaine.
[25] [Old copy, rise. The meaning seems to be that Randall had got up betimes.]
[26] i.e., Alexander Bloodhound.—Pegge.
[27] i.e., The reply of drawers when they are called.
[28] [See "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," ii. 247-8.]
[29] It was formerly usual to celebrate Christmas, at the several inns of court, with extraordinary festivity. Sometimes plays or masques were performed; and when these were omitted, a greater degree of licence appears to have been allowed to the students than at other times. In societies where so many young men, possessed of high spirits, and abounding with superfluous sums of money, were assembled, it will not seem wonderful to find the liberty granted at this season should be productive of many irregularities. Among others, gaming, in the reign of James I., when this play was probably written, had been carried to such an extravagant height as to demand the interposition of the heads of some of the societies to prevent the evil consequences attending it. In the 12th of James I. orders for reformation and better government of the inns of court and Chancery were made by the readers and benchers of the four houses of court; among which is the following:—"For that disorders in the Christmas-time, may both infect the minds, and prejudice the estates and fortunes, of the young gentlemen in the same societies: it is therefore ordered, that there shall be commons of the house kept, in every house of court, during the Christmas; and that none shall play in their several halls at the dice, except he be a gentleman of the same society, and in commons; and the benefits of the boxes to go to the butlers of every house respectively."—Dugdale's "Orig. Jurid.," p. 318. In the 4th of Car. I. (Nov. 17) the society of Gray's Inn direct, "that all playing at dice, cards, or otherwise, in the hall, buttry, or butler's chamber, should be thenceforth barred and forbidden, at all times of the year, the twenty days in Christmas only excepted."—Ibid. p. 286. And in the 7th of Car. I. (7th Nov.) the society of the Inner Temple made several regulations for keeping good rule in Christmas-time, two of which will show how much gaming had been practised there before that time. "8. That there shall not be any knocking with boxes, or calling aloud for gamesters. 9. That no play be continued within the house upon any Saturday night, or upon Christmas-eve at night, after twelve of the clock."
Sir Simon D'Ewes also, in the MS. life of himself in the British Museum, takes notice of the Christmas irregularities about this period (p. 52, Dec. 1620)—"At the saied Temple was a lieutenant chosen, and much gaming, and other excesses increased during these festivall dayes, by his residing and keeping a standing table ther; and, when sometimes I turned in thither to behold ther sportes, and saw the many oaths, execrations, and quarrels, that accompanied ther dicing, I began seriously to loath it, though at the time I conceived the sporte of itselfe to bee lawfull."—["Life of D'Ewes," edit. 1845, i. 161.] "The first day of Januarie [i.e., 1622-23] at night, I came into commons at the Temple, wheere ther was a lieftenant choosen, and all manner of gaming and vanitie practiced, as if the church had not at all groaned under those heavie desolations which it did. Wherefore I was verie gladd, when, on the Tuesday following, being the seventh day of the same moneth, the howse broake upp ther Christmas, and added an end to those excesses."—[Life, ut supr., i. 223.]
To what excess gaming was carried on in the inns-of-court at this period may be judged from the following circumstance, that in taking up the floor of one of the Temple halls about 1764, near one hundred pair of dice were found, which had dropt at times through the chinks or joints of the boards. They were very small, scarce more than two-thirds as large as our modern ones. The hall was built in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. [See on this subject "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," i., where copious collections will be found upon this subject.]
[30] This tavern, with the same sign as above described, [existed till 1787. See Gifford's Ben Jonson, 1816, ix. 84-5.]
[31] This question is improperly given to Sim in the 4o.—Collier.
[32] [See Dyce's Middleton, iii. 97, and v. 208.]
[33] [A line of an old song altered.]
[34] This is the reading of the quarto, but Mr Reed, without necessity or notice, changed it thus—
"A qualm of threescore pounds a year came over his stomach."
Sim refers to the age and infirmity of Bloodhound.—Collier.
[35] All that follows, to the entrance of Moll, in the 4o is made a continuation of what is said by Bloodhound.—Collier.
A table set out. Enter two servants, Jarvis and John, as to cover it for dinner.
John. Is my mistress ready for dinner?
Jar. Yes, if dinner be ready for my mistress.
John. Half an hour ago, man.
Jar. But, prythee, sir, is't for certain? for yet it cannot sink into my head that she is to be married to-morrow.
John. Troth, she makes little preparation; but it may be, she would be wedded, as she would be bedded, privately.
Jar. Bedded, call you it? and she be bedded no better than he'll bed her, she may lie tantalised, and eat wishes.
John. Pox on him! they say he's the arrantest miser: we shall never live a good day with him.
Jar. Well, and she be snipped by threescore and ten, may she live six score and eleven, and repent twelve times a day—that's once an hour. [Exit.
Enter Widow.
Wid. Set meat o' th' board.
John. Yes.
Wid. Why does your fellow grumble so?
John. I do not know. They say you're to marry one that will feed us with horse-plums instead of beef and cabbage.
Wid. And are you grieved at that?
John. No, but my friends are.
Wid. What friends are grieved?
John. My guts.
Wid. So, it seems, you begun clown——
John. Yes, and shall conclude coxcomb, and I be fed with herring-bones. 'Sfoot, I say no more; but if we do want as much bread of our daily allowance as would dine a sparrow, or as much drink as would fox a fly,[36] I know what I know.
Wid. And what do you know, sir?
John. Why, that there goes but a pair of shears[37] between a promoter and a knave; if you know more, take your choice of either.
Wid. 'Tis well; set on dinner.
Enter Jarvis with a rabbit in one hand and a dish of eggs in another, and the Maid.
Jar. O mistress, yonder's the mad gallant, Master Alexander Bloodhound, entered into the hall.
[Pg 29]Wid. You should have kept him out.
Maid. Alas! ne'er a wench in town could do't, he's so nimble: I had no sooner opened the door, but he thrust in ere I was aware.
Enter Alexander.
Alex. And how does my little, handsome, dainty, delicate, well-favoured, straight and comely, delicious, bewitching widow?
Jar. 'Sfoot, here's one runs division before the fiddlers.
Wid. Sir, this is no seasonable time of visit.
Alex. 'Tis pudding-time, wench, pudding-time; and a dainty time, dinner-time, my nimble-eyed, witty one. Woot be married to-morrow, sirrah? [Sits to table.
Jar. She'll be mad to-morrow, sirrah.
Alex. What, art thou a fortune-teller?
Jar. A chip of the same block—a fool, sir.
Alex. Good fool, give me a cup of cool beer.
Jar. Fill your master a cup of cool beer.
Alex. Pish! I spoke to the fool.
Jar. I thought you'd brought the fool with you, sir.
Alex. Fool, 'tis my man: shalt sit, i' faith, wench.
Wid. For once I'll be as merry as you are mad, and learn fashions. I am set, you see, sir; but you must pardon, sir, our rudeness—Friday's fare for myself, a dish of eggs and a rabbit; I looked for no strange faces.
Alex. Strange: mine's a good face, i' faith; prythee, buss.
Jar. Why, here's one comes to the business now.
Alex. Sirrah, woot have the old fellow?
Wid. Your father? Yes.
Alex. I tell thee thou shalt not; no, no; I have such [a rare one][38]—this rabbit's raw too.
Jar. There's but one raw bit, sir.
Alex. Thy jester, sure, shall have a coat.[39]
Wid. Let it be of your own cut, sir.
Alex. Nay, nay, nay; two to one is extremity—but, as I was telling thee, I have such a husband for thee: so knowing, so discreet, so sprightly—fill a cup of claret—so admirable in desires, so excellently deserving, that an old man—fie, fie, prythee. Here's to thee.
Wid. The man's mad, sure.
Jar. Mad! by this hand, a witty gallant.
John. Prythee, peace, shalt hear a song.
Enter Ancient Young.
Wid. What cope's-mate's[40] this, trow? who let him in?
John. Look, mistress, how they stare one at another.
[Pg 31]Jar. Yes, and swell like a couple of gibbed cats[41] met both by chance i' th' dark in an old garret.
Wid. Look, look; now there's no fear of the wild beasts: they have forgot their spleens, and look prettily; they fall to their pasture. I thought they had been angry, and they are hungry.
Jar. Are they none of Duke Humphrey's[42] furies? Do you think that they devised this plot in Paul's to get a dinner?
Wid. Time may produce as strange a truth. Let's note them.
Enter Randall.
Wid. Another burr! this is the cookmaid's leaving ope the door; and this is the daintiest dish she has sent in—a widgeon in Welsh sauce! Pray, let's make a merry day on't.
[Pg 32]Ran. What! do hur keep open house? Had heard hur was widows that dwelt here: are you widows, good womans?
Wid. I want a husband, sir.[43]
Ran. Augh, Randalls comes in very good times: you keep ordinaries, hur think. What, have you set a cat before gallants there?
Jar. They will eat him for the second course. [Aside.] These are suitors to my mistress sure—things that she slights. Set your feet boldly in; widows are not caught as maids kiss—faintly, but as mastiffs fight—valiantly.
Ran. Is hur so: I pray pid hur mistress observe Randalls for valours and prave adventures?
Anc. Some beer.
Wid. Let them want nothing.
Anc. Here, widow.
Wid. I thank you, sir.
Alex. Some wine.
Jar. Here is wine for you, sir.
Ran. Randalls will not be outpraved, I warrant hur.
Alex. Here, widow.
Wid. I thank you too, sir.
Ran. Sounds, some metheglins here.
Wid. What does he call for?
Jar. Here are some eggs for you, sir.
Ran. Eggs, man! some metheglins, the wine of Wales.
Jar. Troth, sir, here's none i' th' house: pray, make a virtue of necessity, and drink to her in this glass of claret.
Ran. Well, because hur will make a great deals[Pg 33] of necessities of virtues, mark, with what a grace Randalls will drink to hur mistress.
Maid. He makes at you, forsooth.
Wid. Let him come, I have ever an English virtue to put by a Welsh.
Ran. O noble widows, hur heart was full of woes.
Alex. No, noble Welshman, hur heart was in hur hose. [Takes away his cup.
Ran. Sounds, was that hur manners, to take away Randall's cups?
Anc. No, it showed scurvy.
Alex. Take't you at worst, then.
Anc. Whelp of the devil, thou shalt see thy sire[44] for't.
John, Jar. Gentlemen, what mean you?
Ran. Let hur come, let hur come; Randalls will redeem reputations, hur warrant hur.
Wid. Redeem your wit, sir. First for you, sir, you are a stranger; but you—fie, Master Bloodhound!
Anc. Ha! Bloodhound! good sir, let me speak with you.
Ran. Sounds, what does Randalls amongst ploodhounds? Good widows, lend hur an ear.
Alex. Ancient Young! how false our memories have played through long discontinuance![45] But why met here, man? Is Mars so bad a paymaster that our ancients fight under Cupid's banner?
Anc. Faith, this was but a sudden start, begotten from distraction of some fortunes: I pursue this widow but for want of wiser work.
[Pg 34]Jar. The Welshman labours at it. [Aside.
Ran. A pair of a hundred of seeps, thirty prave cows, and twelve dozen of runts.
Wid. Twelve dozen of goose!
Ran. Give hur but another hark!
Alex. He has the mortgage still, and I have a handsome sister: do but meet at the Fountain in Fleet Street after dinner; O, I will read thee a history of happiness, and thou shalt thank me.
Anc. Ay, read, all's well or weapons.
Alex. A word, Jarvis. [Whispers him.
Ran. O prave widows, hur will meet hur there, hur knows hur times and hur seasons, hur warrant hur. Randalls will make these prave gallants hang hurselfs in those garters of willow-garlands apout hur pates; mark hur now, and remember. [Exit.
Anc. Adieu, sweet widow; for my ordinary—— [Kisses her.
Wid. 'Twas not so much worth, sir.
Anc. You mean, 'twas worth more then; and that's another handsomely begged. [Kisses her again.
Wid. You conclude women cunning beggars, then.
Anc. Yes, and men good benefactors. My best wishes wait on so sweet a mistress. Will you walk? [Exit Ancient.
Alex. I'll follow you. Woot think on't soon at night, or not at all? [Aside to Jarvis.
Jar. I would not have my wishes wronged; if I should bring it about handsomely, you can be honest. [Aside.
Alex. Can [I]? dost conclude me a satin cheat? [Aside.
Jar. No, a smooth gallant, sir. Do not you fail to be here soon at nine, still provided you will[Pg 35] be honest: if I convey you not under her bed, throw me a top o' th' tester, and lay me out o' th' way like a rusty bilbo. [Aside.
Alex. Enough; drink that. [Aside, giving him money.] Farewell, widow; Fate, the Destinies, and the three ill-favoured Sisters have concluded the means, and when I am thy husband——
Wid. I shall be your wife.
Alex. Do but remember these cross capers then, ye bitter-sweet one.[46] [Exit.
Wid. Till then adieu, you bitter-sweet one. [Exit.
Jar. This dinner would have showed better in bed-lane; and she at the other side holdeth her whole nest of suitors [at] play. What art decks the dark labyrinth of a woman's heart! [Exit.
Enter Mary Bloodhound and Sim.
Moll. Marry old Ear-lack! is my father mad?
Sim. They're both a-concluding on't yonder; to-morrow's the day; one wedding-dinner must serve both marriages.
Moll. O Sim! the Ancient, the delicate Ancient; there's a man, and thou talk'st of a man; a good face, a sparkling eye, a straight body, a delicate hand, a clean leg and foot. Ah, sweet Sim! there's a man worth a maidenhead.
Enter Bloodhound and Ear-lack.
Sim. But I say, Master Ear-lack, the old man! a foot like a bear, a leg like a bed-staff, a hand[Pg 36] like a hatchet, an eye like a pig, and a face like a winter peony;[47] there's a man for a maidenhead.
Moll. O look, look! O, alas! what shall I do with him?
Sim. What? why, what shall fifteen do with sixty and twelve? make a screen of him; stand next the fire, whilst you sit behind him and keep a friend's lips warm. Many a wench would be glad of such a fortune.
Blood. Your oath struck it dead then, o' my side?
Ear. Five hundred deep of your side, i' faith, father.
Blood. Moll, come hither, Moll; I hope Sim has discovered the project.
Ear. And to-morrow must be the day, Moll; both of a day: one dinner shall serve. We may have store of little ones; we must save for our family.
Moll. Good sir, what rashness was parent to this madness? marry an old man—Ear-lack the informer!
Blood. Madness! You're a whore.
Ear. Is she a whore, Sim?
Sim. She must be your wife, I tell——-
Blood. An arrant whore, to refuse Master Innocent Ear-lack of Rogue-land!—that for his dwelling: next, that he doth inform now and then against enormities, and hath been blanketed—it may be, pumped in's time; yet the world knows he does it not out of need: he's of mighty means, but takes delight now and then to trot up and down to avoid idleness, you whore.
[Pg 37]Sim. Good sir!
Ear. Pray, father!
Ear. Does she take tobacco, father?
Blood. No, no, man; these are out of ballads; she has all the Garland of Good-will[48] by heart.
Ear. Snails, she may sing me asleep o' nights then, Sim.
Sim. Why, right, sir; and then 'tis but tickling you o' th' forehead with her heels, you are awake again, and ne'er the worse man.
Moll. Is he but five years older than yourself, sir?
Ear. Nay, I want a week and three days of that too.
Sim. I will answer presently, sir, with another saw.
[Pg 38]Blood. Let's ha't, let's ha't.
Ear. Mark, Moll.
Blood. A very pretty pithy one, I protest; look, an' Moll do not laugh: shalt have a pair of gloves for that. What leather dost love?
Sim. Calf, sir; sheep's too simple for me.
Blood. Nay, 'tis a witty notable knave; he should never serve me else.
Enter John with a letter.
John. My mistress remembers her love, and requests you would inure her so much to your patience as to read that.
Blood. Love-letters, love-lies: dost mark, Sim; these women are violent, Sim. Whilst I read the lie,[49] do you rail to him upon the brewer: swear he has deceived us, and save a cup of beer by't.
Sim. I will not save you a cup at that rate, sir.
Ear. I can make thee a hundred a year jointure, wench. At the first, indeed, I began with petty businesses, wench; and here I picked, and there I picked; but now I run through none but things of value.
Moll. Sir, many thoughts trouble me; and your words carry such weight, that I will choose a time, when I have nothing else to do, to think on 'em.
[Pg 39]Ear. By my troth, she talks the wittiliest, an' I would understand her.
Blood. O nimble, nimble widow! I am sorry we have no better friends; [To John] but pray, commend me, though in a blunt, dry commendation; at the time and place appointed I wonnot fail. I know she has a nest of suitors, and would carry it close, because she fears surprisal. [Exit John.
Ear. What news, father?
Blood. Shalt lie there all night, son.
Ear. Was that the first news I heard on't?
Blood. I must meet a friend i' th' dark soon: let me see, we lovers are all a little mad; do you and Moll take a turn or two i' th' garden, whilst Sim and I go up into the garret and devise till the guests come. [Exit.
Sim. He's a little mad. I had best hang him upon the cross-beam in the garret. [Exit.
Ear. Come, Moll, come, Malkin:[50] we'll even to the camomile bed, and talk of household stuff; and be sure thou rememberest a trade.
Moll. Please you go before, sir.
Ear. Nay, an old ape has an old eye; I shall go before, an' thou woot show me a love-trick, and lock me into the garden. I will come discreetly behind, Moll.
Moll. Out upon him, what a suitor have I got! I am sorry you're so bad an archer, sir.
Ear. Why, bird, why, bird?
Moll. Why, to shoot at butts, when you should use prick-shafts: short shooting will lose you the game, I assure you, sir.
[Pg 40]Ear. Her mind runs, sure, upon a fletcher[51] or a bowyer: howsoever, I'll inform against both; the fletcher, for taking whole money for pierced arrows: the bowyer, for horning the headmen of his parish, and taking money for his pains. [Exeunt.
Enter in the tavern, Alexander, the Captain, Lieutenant, Sue Shortheels, and Mistress Coote, a bawd.
Enter Drawer.
Drawer. Here's a pottle of rich canary and a quart of neat claret, gentlemen; and there's a gentleman below, he says he is your brother, Master Bloodhound: he appointed to meet you here.
Capt. The expected thing, that bought the Bristow stone.
Alex. Send him up, prythee. Remember how it must be carried.
Mis. Coote. I am her grandmother; forget not that, by any means.
Alex. And pray remember that you do not mump, as if you were chewing bacon, and spoil all.
Mis. Coote. I warrant you.
Enter Ancient Young.
Alex. And hark.
Drawer. Are these the company, sir?
Anc. Yes, but those I like not; these are not they: I'll stay i' th' next room till my company come.
Drawer. Where you please, sir; pray follow me. [Exeunt.
Capt. I hear him coming up gingerly.
Alex. O, he tramples upon the bosom of a tavern with that dexterity, as your lawyers' clerks do to Westminster Hall upon a dirty day with a pair of white silk stockings.
Enter Tim.
Brother Tim, why, now you're a man of your word, I see.
Tim. Nay, I love to be as good as my say. See, brother, look, there's the rest of your money upon the ring. I cannot spend a penny, for I have ne'er a penny left. What are these? what are these?
Alex. Gallants of note and quality; he that sits taking tobacco is a captain, Captain Carvegut.
Tim. He will not make a capon of me, will he?
Alex. Are you not my brother? He that pours out the sparkling sprightly claret is a lieutenant under him, Lieutenant Bottom. He was a serjeant first.
Tim. Of the Poultry or of Wood Street?
Alex. Of the Poultry?[52] of a woodcock! A serjeant in the field, a man of blood.
Tim. I'll take my leave, brother, I am in great haste.
[Pg 42]Alex. That delicate, sweet young gentlewoman——
Tim. Foh! this tobacco!
Tim. Sweeter than ginger!
Alex. But then to touch those lips you stay too long, sure?
Tim. Pish, I tell you I do not; I know my time. Pray, what's her name?
Tim. Niggers, I have read of her in the Mirror of Knighthood.[54]
Alex. Come, they shall know you.
Tim. Nay, brother.
[Pg 43]Alex. I say they shall.
Tim. Let me go down and wash my face first.
Alex. Your face is a fine face. My brother, gentlemen.
Capt. Sir, you're victoriously welcome.
Tim. That word has e'en conquered me.
Lieut. I desire to kiss your hand, sir.
Tim. Indeed, but you shall not, sir: I went out early, and forgot to wash them.
Mis. Coote. Precious dotterel! [Aside.
Capt. Sir, I shall call it a courtesy if you shall please to vouchsafe to pledge me.
Tim. What is't, brother? Four or six?[55]
Capt. Four or six! 'tis rich Canary: it came from beyond the seas.
Tim. I will do no courtesy at this time, sir; yet for one cup I care not, because it comes from beyond the seas. I think 'tis outlandish wine.
Sue. Look how it glides!
Mis. Coote. Now, truly, the gentleman drinks as like one Master Widgeon, a kinsman of mine——
Lieut. Pox on you! heildom![56]
Tim. I ha' heard of that Widgeon, I ha' been taken for him; and now I think on't, a cup of this is better than our four-shilling beer at home.
Lieut. You must drink another, sir: you drank to nobody.
Tim. Is it the law that, if a man drinks to nobody, he must drink again?
[Pg 44]Omnes. Ay, ay, ay. Fill his glass.
Tim. Why, then, I will drink to nobody once more, because I will drink again.
Alex. Did not I tell you? More wine there, drawer.
Sue. This pageant's worth the seeing, by this hand.
Tim. Methinks this glass was better that t'other, gentlemen.
Capt. O sir, the deeper the sweeter ever.
Tim. Do you think so?
Lieut. Ever that when ye drink to nobody.
Tim. Why, then, I pray give me t'other cup, that I may drink to somebody.
Mis. Coote. I have not drunk yet, sir.
Alex. Again, ye witch! Drink to the young gentlewoman.
Tim. Mistress Lindabrides.
Sue. Thanks, most ingenious sir.
Tim. She's a little shame-faced. The deeper the sweeter, forsooth.
Alex. Pox on you for a coxcomb!
Enter Ancient Young [standing aside].
Anc. I' th' next room I have seen and heard all. O noble soldiers!
Tim. Here, boys, give us some more wine. There's a hundred marks, gallants; 'tis your own, an' do but let me bear an office amongst ye. I know as great a matter has been done for as small a sum. Pray let me follow the fashion.
Capt. Well, for once take up the money. Give me a cup of sack, and give me your hand, sir; and, because our Flemish corporal was lately choked at Delft with a flap-dragon,[57] bear you his name and [Pg 45]place, and be henceforth called Corporal Cods-head. Let the health go round!
Tim. Round! An' this go not round!—Some wine there, tapster. Is there ne'er a tapster i' th' house? [Ancient shows himself.
Alex. My worthy friend, thou'rt master of thy word. Gentlemen, 'tis Ancient Young; you're soldiers; come, come, save cap: compliment in cup. Prythee, sit down.
Anc. Are you a captain, sir?
Capt. Yes.
Anc. And you a lieutenant?
Lieut. Yes.
Anc. I pray, where served you last?
Capt. Why, at the battle of Prague.[58]
Anc. Under what colonel? In what regiment?
Capt. Why, let me see—but come, in company? Let's sit, sir. True soldiers scorn unnecessary discourse, especially in taverns.
Anc. 'Tis true, true soldiers do: but you are tavern-rats.
Capt. How?
Alex. Prythee!
Capt. Shall we suffer this, Saunder?
Alex. I must go after him.
Sue. Kill him, an' there be no more men in Christendom.
Alex. I know my sister loves him, and he swears he loves her; and, by this hand, it shall go hard if he have her not, smock and all. Brave, excellent man! With what a strength of zeal we admire that goodness in another which we cannot call our own! [Exit.
Lieut. He's a dead man, I warrant him.
Capt. But where's our corporal? Corporal, corporal!
Tim. Well, here's your corporal, an' you can be quiet. [Looks out.[60]
[Pg 47]Sue. Look, an' he have not ensconced[61] himself in a wooden castle.
Tim. Is he gone that called us butterflies?
Mis. Coote. Yes, yes; h' has taken wing; and your brother's gone after him, to fight with him.
Tim. That's well; he cannot in conscience but do us the courtesy to kill him for us. Come, gallants, what shall we do? I'll never go home to go to bed with my guts full of four-shillings beer, when I may replenish them with sack. Ha! now am I as lusty! Methinks we two have blue beards. Is there ne'er a wench to be had? Drawer, bring us up impossibilities, an honest whore and a conscionable reckoning.
Lieut. Why, here's all fire-wit, whe'r[62] he will or no.
Sue. A whore! O tempting, handsome sir! think of a rich wife rather.
Tim. Tempting, handsome sir! She's not married, is she, gentlemen?
Capt. A woodcock springed! Let us but keep him in this bacchanalian mist till morning, and 'tis done. [Aside.
Tim. Tempting, handsome sir! I've known a woman of handsome, tempting fortunes throw herself away upon a handsome, tempting sir.
[Pg 48]Lieut. Hark you, sir: if she had, and could be tempted to't, have you a mind to marry? Would you marry her?
Tim. O, and a man were so worthy, tempting sir.
Lieut. Give me but a piece from you.
Tim. And when will you give it me again?
Lieut. Pray, give me but a piece from you. I'll pay this reckoning into the bargain; and if I have not a trick to make it your own, I'll give you ten for't—here's my witness.
Tim. There 'tis; send thee good luck with't, and go drunk to bed.
Lieut. Do not you be too rash, for she observes you, and is infinitely affected to good breeding.
Tim. I wonnot speak, I tell you, till you hold up your finger or fall a-whistling.
Capt. Come, we'll pay at bar, and to the Mitre in Bread Street;[63] we'll make a mad night on't. Please you, sweet ladies, but to walk into Bread Street; this gentleman has [had] a foolish slight supper, and he most ingeniously professes it would appear to him the meridian altitude of his desired happiness but to have the table decked with a pair of perfections so exquisitely refulgent.
Tim. He talks all sack, and he will drink no small beer.
Mis. Coote. Pray lead, and we[64] shall follow.
Sue. Bless mine eyes! my heart is full of changes. [Exit.
Tim. O, is it so? I have heard there may be [Pg 49]more changes in a woman's heart in an hour than can be rung upon six bells in seven days. Well, go thy ways: little dost thou think how thou shalt be betrayed. Within this four-and-twenty hours thou shalt be mine own wife, flesh and blood, by father and mother, O tempting, handsome sir! [Exeunt.
[36] i.e., Intoxicate a fly.
[37] The 4o reads a pair of sheets, but evidently wrong. See Marston's "Malcontent," iv. 5.
[38] [These words seem to have dropped out of the old copy, as Alexander immediately after puns on the word rare (pronounced sometimes like raw).]
[39] i.e., A fool's coat, such as the jesters or fools anciently wore. See notes to "Tempest," act iii. sc. 2, by Dr Johnson and Mr Steevens.
[40] Copesmate Dr Johnson conjectures to be the same as copsmate, a companion in drinking, or one that dwells under the same cope, or house. I find the word used in "The Curtain-Drawer of the World," 1612, p. 31, but not according to either of the above explanations. "Hee that trusts a tradesman on his word, a usurer with his bond, a phisitian with his body, and the divell with his soule, needes not care who he trusts afterwards, nor what copesmate encounters him next."
Copesmate, I believe, means only companion, a word which was used both in a bad and good sense by our ancestors. To cope is to meet with, to encounter. Thus Hamlet—
"As e'er my conversation cop'd withall."
—Steevens.
Again, in Wither's "Abuses Stript and Whipt," 1613, bk. ii. s. 1—
[41] See note to "Gammer Gurton's Needle," [iii. 178], and also the notes of Dr Percy, Mr Steevens, and Mr Tollet, to the "First Part of King Henry IV.," act i. sc. 2.
[42] [A constant allusion in our old plays.]
[43] This reply, and the preceding question of Randall, were omitted by Dodsley and Reed.
[44] [It is still a common expression, that a person will "see his grandmother" after taking so and so.]
[45] Mr Reed allowed it to stand continuance instead of discontinuance, which made nonsense of the passage.—Collier.
[46] See note to "Romeo and Juliet," act ii. sc. 3, vol. x. edit. 1778.—Steevens.
[47] [Old copy and former editions, pigme. The peony is very apt to be nipped by the frost, and so to be pinched up; hence Sim's similitude.]
[48] One of the miscellaneous collections of songs and poems, formerly published, called "Garlands." The names of a great number of these, and, amongst the rest, "The Garland of Good-will," by T. D., [1604,] are enumerated in [Hazlitt's "Handbook," 1867, art. Garlands, Deloney, &c.]
[49] [A play on the similarity between lye and lie, the former being the dregs or lees of beer.]
[50] [Moll and Malkin are the same, of course. Ear-lack, just after, plays on the meanings of the words bed and stuff.]
[51] Flechier, Fr., a maker of arrows. We have still the Fletchers' Company in the city of London.
[52] [The Poultry in Wood Street is meant.]
[53] [Former edits., Tributie.]
[54] [The "Mirror of Knighthood," better known as the "Knight of the Sun," a romance in nine parts, translated into English by Margaret Tyler and others, between 1579 and 1601. Complete sets are of the greatest rarity. The bibliography of the work may be seen in Hazlitt v. Knight of the Sun.]
It appears that Thomas Este, the printer, [originally] undertook the publication of this work, which is executed by different translators, and dedicated to different patrons. Margaret Tyler (thine to use, as she says at the conclusion of her address to the reader) having no concern with any part but the first.—Steevens.
[55] Tim means to ask, is it four or six shilling beer, supposing that such was the beverage, to which the Captain replies scornfully, Four or six! 'Tis rich Canary, &c. This was omitted by Mr Reed.—Collier.
[56] [Former edits., Pox on you heilding. Heildom is a health, and the lieutenant means to say that Tim should propose one.]
[57] [See Dyce's Middleton, i. 66.]
[58] This battle was fought at Weisenberg, near Prague, 18th November 1620, and was fatally decisive against the Elector Palatine who, in consequence of it, not only lost his new kingdom of Bohemia, but also was deprived by the Emperor of his hereditary dominions.
[59] [In the former edits, this passage stands, "jeers ye puffs really of."]
[60] Tim, who has hidden or ensconced himself, looks out, and not the Captain, as Mr Reed made it, by misplacing the stage direction.—Collier.
[61] A sconce is a petty fortification. The verb to ensconce occurs more than once in Shakespeare. See note on "The Merry Wives of Windsor," act ii. sc. 2.—Steevens. [This note amounts to nothing, as the word ensconce is very common, and all that is here intended is that Tim, frightened at the Ancient, had hidden himself behind a chest of drawers (a very petty fortification!) or some other article of furniture.]
[62] i.e., Whether. It is frequently so [spelled] in ancient writers. See Ben Jonson's "New Inn," act v. sc. 2., and Mr Whalley's note, [Gifford's edit., v. 428.]
[63] From a passage in "Ram Alley," [x. 313], it has already appeared there were two taverns at this time with the same sign.
[64] [Former edits., he.]
Enter John and the Maid.
John. But, sirrah, canst tell what my mistress means to do with her suitors?
Maid. Nay, nay, I know not; but there is one of them, I am sure, worth looking after.
John. Which is he, I prythee?
Maid. O John, Master Randall, John.
John. The Welshman?
Maid. The witty man, the pretty man, the singing-man. He has the daintiest ditty, so full of pith, so full of spirit, as they say.
John. Ditties! they are the old ends of ballads.[65]
Maid. Old ends! I am sure they are new beginnings with me.
John. Here comes my mistress.
Enter Widow and Jarvis.
Wid. Who was that knocked at the gate?
Jar. Why, your Welsh wooer.
Maid. Alas! the sight on's eyes is enough to singe my little maidenhead. I shall never be able to endure him. [Exit Maid.
Enter Randall.
Hark you, widows; Randalls was disturbed in cogitations about lands, ploughs, and cheesepresses in Wales; and, by cat, hur have forgot where hur and hur meet soon at pright dark evenings.
Wid. Why, on the 'Change, in the Dutch walks.
Ran. O haw, have hur? but Randalls was talk no Dutch; pray meet her in the Welsh walk. Was no Welsh walk there?
Wid. Fie, no! There are no Welsh merchants there?
Ran. Mass, was fery true, was all shentlemen in Wales. Hur never saw hur shambermaid; pray, where was her shambermaid?
Jar. Taken up i' th' kitchen, sir.
Ran. Can hur make wedding-ped pravely for Randalls and widows?
Wid. Pray tell him, Jarvis, whe'r[67] she can or no.
Jar. Sir, not to delay, but to debilitate the strength of your active apprehension of my mistress's favour——
Ran. Was fery good words.
Jar. Hark in your ear: she will have her nest feathered with no British breed.
Ran. Sounds, was not British so good as English?
[Pg 51]Jar. Yes, where there's wisdom, wit, and valour; but, as amongst our English, we may have one fool, a knave, a coxcomb, and a coward, she bid me tell you, she has seen such wonders come out of Wales. In one word,[68] you're an ass, and she'll have none of you.
Ran. Augh, Saint Tavie, Owen, Morgan, and all hur cousins! was widow herself say so?
Wid. Good sir, let every circumstance make up one answer, take it with you.
Jar. And the Roman answer is, the English goose, sir.[69]
Ran. Sounds! hur was kill now! Gog and Gogmagog! a whole dozen of shiants. Make fool of Randalls! Randalls was wisht to as prave match as widows; was know one Mary Bloodhound, was ha' all, when her father kick up heels; and, by cat, though hur never saw hur, hur will send hur love-letters presently, get hur good-wills, and go to shurch and marry, and hur were eight-and-thirty, two hundred and nine and fifty widows. Mark hur now. [Exit Randall.
Jar. He pelts as he goes pitifully.
Wid. Where's Mary?
John. Mary!
Enter Maid.
Wid. Pray go to Aldgate, to my sempstress, for my ruff; I must use it, say, to-morrow. Did ye bid her hollow it just in the French fashion cut?
Maid. Yes, forsooth.
Wid. 'Twas well; we have no other proof in use that we are English, if we do not zany them. Let John go with you.
[Pg 52]Maid. Yes, forsooth. [Exit.
Jar. But pray, forsooth, how do you mean to dispose of your suitors?
Wid. Shall I tell thee? For this, thou hast given him his cure, and he is past care; for old Bloodhound the sawmonger, I writ to him to meet me soon, at ten in the dark, upon the 'Change; and if I come not by ten, he should stay till twelve: intimating something mystically that, to avoid surprisals of other rivals, I mean to go from thence with him to lie at his house all night, and go to church with him i' th' morning; when my meaning is only knavery, to make myself merry, and let him cool his heels[70] there till morning.
Jar. And now have I a whimsy, newly jumped into the coll of ingenious apprehension, to sauce him daintily; that for that. What think you of the gentleman that brought a stool with him out of the hall, and sat down at dinner with you in the parlour?
Wid. They say he's an ancient, but I affect not his colours.
Jar. But what say you to the mad, victorious Alexander?
Wid. A wild, mad roarer, a trouble not worth minding.
Jar. He will mind you ere morning, troth, mistress. [Aside.] There waits a gentleman i' th' next room that hath a long time loved you, and has watched for such an hour, when all was out of doors, to tell you so; and, none being within but you and I, he desires you would hear him speak, and there's an end on't.
[Pg 53]Wid. What is he?
Jar. An honest man.
Wid. How know you?
Jar. Why, he told me so.
Wid. And why were you such a fool to take his own word.
Jar. Because all the wit I had could get nobody's else.
Wid. A knave will ever tell you he's an honest man.
Jar. But an honest man will never tell you he's a knave.
Wid. Well, sir, your mistress dares look upon the honest man.
Jar. And the honest man dares look upon my mistress. [Exit.
Wid. 'Tis the roughest, bluntest fellow. Yet, when I take young Bloodhound to a retired collection of scattered judgment, which often lies disjointed with the confused distraction of so many, methinks he dwells in my opinion a right ingenious[71] spirit, veiled merely with the vanity of youth and wildness. He looks, methinks, like one that could retract himself from his mad starts, and, when he pleased, turn tame. His handsome wildness, methinks, becomes him, could he keep it bounded in thrift and temperance. But down, these thoughts; my resolve rests here in private.
[Pg 54]But from a fool, a miser, and a man too jealous for a little sweetness [in] love, Cupid defend me!
Enter Jarvis like a gentleman, very brave, with his former clothes in his hand.[72]
Jar. And to a widow wise, nobly liberal and discreetly credulous, Cupid hath sent me.
Jar. Look you, here's Jarvis hangs by geometry [Hangs up his livery]; and here's the gentleman—for less I am not—that afar off, taken with the fainted praises of your wealthy beauty, your person, wisdom, modesty, and all that can make woman gracious, in this habit sought and obtained your service.
Wid. For heaven's sake whats your intent?
Jar. I love you.
Wid. Pray, keep off.
Jar. Of a lawyer's clerk, wench, that, with six such catches, leaped in five years from his desk to his coach, drawn with four horses.
Wid. Do you mean marriage?
Jar. Marriage is a cloying meat; marry who thou woot to make a show to shroud thee from the [Pg 56]storms round-headed opinion, that sways all the world, may let fall on thee. Me cousin thou shalt call. Once in a month or so, I'll read false letters from a far-distant uncle, insert his commendations to thee, hug thy believing husband into a pair of handsome horns; look upon him with one eye, and wink upon thee with the other. Wouldst have any more?
Wid. The return of servants, or some friendly visit, will intercept us now: re-assume your habit, and be but Jarvis till to-morrow morning, and, by the potent truth of friendship, I will give you plenty of cause to confess I love you truly and strongly.
Jar. You're in earnest?
Wid. On my life, serious; let this kiss seal it.
Jar. The softest wax ever sealed bawdy business! Now for old Bloodhound: I'll meet you upon the 'Change, sir, with a blind bargain, and then help your son to a good pennyworth; this night shall be all mirth, a mistress of delight. [Exeunt.
Enter Bloodhound,[76] Sim, and Moll.
Blood. Nay, nay, nay, mark what follows; I must bring her home i' th' dark, turn her up to bed, and here she goes to church. My cloak, sirrah.
Sim. 'Tis a very dark night, sir; you'll not have a cloak for the rain.[77]
Blood. I'm going to steal the widow from I know not how many.
[Pg 57]Sim. Nay, then I'll let your cloak for the rain alone, and fetch you a cloak for your knavery.
Blood. To bed, to bed, good Sim. What, Moll, I say!
Moll. Sir.
Blood. I charge you, let not one be up i' th' house but yourself after the clock strikes ten, nor a light be stirring. Moll, trick up the green bed-chamber very daintily.
Moll. I shall, sir.
Blood. And—well-remembered, Moll—the keys of my compting-house are in the left pocket of my hose[78] above i' th' wicker chair; look to them, and have a care of the black box there I have often told thee of: look to that as to thy maidenhead.
Moll. I shall, sir.
Blood. Pray for me, all; pray for me, all.
Sim. Have you left out anything for supper?
Blood. Out, rogue! shall not I be at infinite expense to-morrow? fast to-night, and pray for me.
Sim. An old devil in a greasy satin doublet keep you company! [Aside.
Blood. Ha, what's that?
Sim. I say, the satin doublet you will wear to-morrow will be the best in the company, sir.
Blood. That's true, that's true. I come, widow, I come, wench. [Exit Bloodhound.
Moll. O sweet Sim, what shall I do to-morrow? To-morrow must be the day, the doleful day, the dismal day! Alas, Sim! what dost thou think in thy conscience I shall do with an old man?
Sim. Nay, you're well enough served; you know how your brother, not an hour ago, lay at you to[Pg 58] have the Ancient, one that your teeth e'en water at; and yet you cry, I cannot love him, I wonnot have him.
Moll. I could willingly marry him, if I might do nothing but look on him all day, where he might not see me; but to lie with him—alas! I shall be undone the first night.
Sim. That's true: how will you go to bed else? But, remember, he is a man of war, an ancient, you are his colours: now, when he has nimbly displayed you, and handsomely folded you up against the next fight, then we shall have you cry, O sweet Sim, I had been undone, if I had not been undone.[79]
Moll. Nay, and then the old fellow would mumble me to bed.
Sim. Abed! a bawd with two teeth would not mumble bacon so: then he is so sparing, you shall wear nothing but from the broker's at second-hand; when, being an ancient's wife, you shall be sure to flourish.
Moll. Prythee, go in and busy the old man with a piece of Reynard the Fox,[80] that he may not disturb us; for at this hour I expect Ancient Young and my brother.
Sim. Well, I leave you to the managing of Ancient Young, while I go in and flap the old man i' th' mouth with a fox-tail. [Exit.
Enter Alexander and Ancient.
Moll. Look, look, an' he have not brought him just upon the minute. O sweet, silken Ancient, my mind gives me thee and I shall dance the shaking of the sheets[81] together.
Alex. Now, you Mistress Figtail, is the wind come about yet? I ha' brought the gentleman: do not you tell him now, you had rather have his room than his company, and so show your breeding.
Moll. Now, fie upon you; by this light you're the wickedest fellow! My brother but abuses you: pray, sir, go over again, you've a handsome spying wit, you may send more truth over in one of your well-penned pamphlets, than all the weekly news we buy for our penny.
Anc. Pox on't! I'll stay no longer.
Alex. 'Sfoot, thou shalt stay longer; we'll stay her heart—her guts out.
Moll. Ha, ha! how will you do for a sister then?
Alex. Prythee, Moll, do but look upon him.
Moll. Yes, when I ha' no better object.
Alex. What canst thou see in him, thou unhandsome hideous thing, that merits not above thee?
Moll. What would I give to kiss him! [Aside.
Alex. Has he not a handsome body, straight legs,[82] a good face?
Moll. Yes, but his lips look as if they were as hard as his heart.
Anc. 'Sfoot, shalt try that presently.
Moll. You're basely, sir, conditioned. Pah!
[Pg 60]Alex. Why do you spit?
Moll. You may go. By this light, he kisses sweetly. [Aside.
Alex. Do but stay a little, Moll: prythee, Moll, thou knowest my father has wronged him; make him amends, and marry him.
Moll. Sweet Master Spendall, spare your busy breath; I must have a wise man, or else none.
Alex. And is not he a wise man?
Moll. No.
Alex. Why?
Moll. Because he keeps a fool company.
Alex. Why, you are now in's company.
Moll. But birds of a feather will fly together; and you and he are seldom asunder.
Alex. Why, you young witch, call your elder brother fool! But go thy ways, and keep thy maidenhead till it grow more deservedly despised than are the old base boots of a half-stewed pander: lead a Welsh morris with the apes in hell amongst the little devils; or, when thou shalt lie sighing by the side of some rich fool, remember, thou thing of thread and needles, not worth threepence halfpenny.
Moll. Too late, I fear; I ha' been too coy. [Aside.] You are to be married then, sir?
Anc. I am indeed, sweet mistress, to a maid Of excellent parentage, breeding, and beauty.
Alex. I ha' thought of such musicians for thee!
Anc. But let it not be any way distasteful unto you, that thus I tried you; for your brother persuaded me to pretend to love you, that he might perceive how your mind stood to marriage, in that, as I guess, he has a husband kept in store for you.
Alex. Ay, I have provided a husband for thee, Moll.
Moll. But I'll have no husband of your provid[Pg 61]ing; for, alas! now I shall have the old man, whether I will or no.
Alex. I have such a stripling for thee, he wants one eye, and is crooked-legged; but that was broke at football.
Anc. Alas! we cannot mould men, you know.
Alex. He's rich, he's rich, Moll.
Moll. I hate him and his riches. Good sir, are you to be married in earnest?
Alex. In earnest! Why, do you think men marry, as fencers sometimes fight, in jest? Shall I show her Mistress Elizabeth's letter I snatched from thee? [To Ancient.
Anc. Not, and thou lovest me.
Moll. Good brother, let me see it; sweet brother, dainty brother, honey brother.
Alex. No indeed, you shall not see it, sweet sister, dainty sister, honey sister.
Moll. O good sir, since so long time I have loved you, let me not die for your sake.
Alex. The tide turns. [Aside.
Anc. Long time loved me!
Alex. Think of Bess, think of Bess; 'tis the better match.
Moll. You wicked brother! Indeed I love you better than all the Besses in the world; and if to-night I shift not into better fortunes, to-morrow I am made the miserablest wife marriage and misery can produce.
Alex. Is't possible?
Moll. Alas, sir! I am to marry an old man—a very old man, trust me. I was strange[83] in the [Pg 62]nice timorous temper of a maid: I know 'tis against our sex to say we love; but rather than match with sixty and ten, threescore and ten times I would tell you so, and tell them ten times over, too. Truth loves not virtue with more of virtuous truth than I do you; and wonnot you love me then? [Weeps.
Anc. And lie with thee too, by this hand, wench. Come, let us have fair weather; thou art mine, and I am thine; there's an end o' th' business. This was but a trick, there's the projector.
Moll. O, you're a sweet brother!
Alex. And now thou'rt my sweet sister. I know the old man's gone to meet with an old wench that will meet with him,[84] or Jarvis has no juice in his brains; and while I, i' th' meantime, set another wheel agoing at the widow's, do thou soon—about ten, for 'tis to be very conveniently dark—meet this gentleman at the Nag's Head corner, just against Leadenhall. We lie in Lime Street; thither he shall carry thee, accommodate thee daintily all night with Mistress Dorothy, and marry i' th' morning very methodically.
Moll. But I have the charge of my father's keys, where all his writings lie.
Moll. Stay, stay.
Alex. A white devil with a red fox-tail in a black box. [Aside.
Moll. But yesterday my father showed it me,[Pg 63] and swears, if I pleased him well, it should serve to jump[85] out my portion.
Anc. Prove thine old dad a prophet; bring it with thee, wench.
Moll. But now, at's parting, he charged me to have a care to that as to my maidenhead.
Alex. Why, if he have thy maidenhead and that into the bargain, thy charge is performed. Away, get thee in, forget not the hour; and you had better fight under Ancient Young's colours than the old man's standard of sixty and ten.
Anc.[86] Remember this, mad-brain! [Exeunt.
[65] [Old copy, ends of old ballets.]
[66] A stanza, with some alterations, of the old ballad of "Fair Rosamond," [printed in Deloney's "Garland of Good-Will."] See Percy's "Reliques," vol. ii.
[68] The 4o reads in one shirt.—Collier.
[69] A pun on the Latin word anser, which signifies a goose.
[70] To cool his heels is a very common expression, which for some reason, or perhaps no reason, was altered in the edition of 1780, to cool himself.—Collier.
[71] Ingenious and ingenuous were formerly used indiscriminately for each other. [The truth seems to be that ingenuous was merely understood formerly in the sense in which we use it now, and that ingenious, on the contrary, had a larger meaning, standing generally for the gifts of the mind or intellect. Old-fashioned people only would say of such an one, "He's an ingenious man," meaning a person of intellectual culture.]
[72] The stage direction in the old copy is not very intelligible: Enter like a gentleman very brave, with Jarvis cloaths in's hand.—Collier.
[73] The 4o reads sweet discovered twins.—Collier.
[74] A common expression to signify the eyes. See several instances in Mr Steevens's note on "King Henry V.," act ii. sc. 3.
[75] [The text has been changed here, with what degree of success the reader has to determine. In the former editions it stood thus—
Perhaps this passage was intended as an aside.]
[76] The 4o has Enter Bloodhound, Ear-lack with letters, Sim, and Moll. But as there is no business nor speech for Ear-lack during the whole scene, I have expunged his name.
[77] [An allusion to the proverb, "He has a cloak for every rain"—i.e., an expedient for every turn of fortune.]
[78] Mr Reed altered hose to coat without any warrant whatever.—Collier.
[79] A parody of that Latin saying, Periissem nisi periissem.—Pegge.
[80] i.e., The story-book with that name, [first printed in 1481. The abridged and modernised version was probably the one with which Moll was familiar. The earliest edition of this yet discovered is dated 1620.]—Steevens.
[81] [A play on the name of] a dance, [which is constantly mentioned in old plays.]
[82] [Old copy, legg'd.]
[83] i.e., Shy, coy. See note to "Cymbeline," act i. sc. 7, edit. 1778.—Steevens.
[84] i.e., Be even with him. The phrase occurs in Shakespeare's "Much Ado about Nothing," act i. sc. 1. See note thereon.—Stevens.
[85] Jump is the word in the 4o, though altered in the edit. of 1780 without notice to eke. Moll only repeats the term used by the Ancient just before—
"How all things jump in a just equivalency."
—Collier.
[86] [Old copy gives this speech to Moll.]
Enter Sue, Tim, Captain, and Mistress Coote.
Tim. Ha, ha, ha, grandmother! I'll tell thee the best jest.
Sue. Prythee, chick.
Mis. Coote. Jest, quotha'! Here will be jesting of all sides, I think, if Jarvis keep his word.
Tim. Sirrah, whilst thou wert sent for into the next room, up came our second course; amongst others, in a dish of blackbirds, there lay one that I swore was a woodcock: you were at table, captain?
Capt. That I was, and our brave mad crew, which for my sake you are pleased to make welcome.
[Pg 64]Tim. Pish, we'll have as many more to-morrow night; but still I swore 'twas a woodcock: she swore 'twas a blackbird; now who shall we be tried by but Serjeant Sliceman, Captain Carvegut's cousin here? a trifling wager, a matter of the reckoning was laid; the serjeant swore 'twas a blackbird. I presently paid the reckoning, and she clapped o' the breast presently, and swore 'twas a woodcock, as if any other would pass after the reckoning was paid.
Mis. Coote. This was a pretty one, I protest.
Tim. Made sure before such a mad crew of witnesses, sirrah. Grannum, all's agreed, Sue's——
Sue. Ay, you may see how you men can betray poor maids.
Enter Lieutenant.
Lieut. Do you hear, corporal? yonder's Serjeant Sliceman, and the brave crew that supped with us, have called for three or four gallons of wine, and are offering money.
Tim. How! prythee, grannum, look to Dab: do you two but hold them in talk, whilst I steal down and pay the reckoning.
Lieut. Do't daintily: they'll stay all night.
Tim. That's it I would have, man: we'll make them all drunk; they'll never leave us else, and still as it comes to a crown, I'll steal down and pay it in spite of their teeth. Remember, therefore, that ye make them all drunk; but be sure you keep me sober to pay the reckonings.
Omnes. Agreed, agreed.
Mis. Coote. O Jarvis, Jarvis, how I long till I see thee! [Exeunt.
Enter Moll Bloodhound, and Sim with a letter.
Moll. There we must meet soon, and be married to-morrow morning, Sim: is't not a mad brother?
Sim. Yes, and I can tell you news of a mad lover.
Moll. What is he, in the name of Cupid?
Sim. Why, one Master Randalls, a Welshman: I have had such a fit with him; he says he was wished[87] to a very wealthy widow; but of you he has heard such histories, that he will marry you, though he never saw you; and that the parboiled Ætna of his bosom might be quenched by the consequent pastime in the Prittish flames of his Prittish plood, he salutes you with that love-letter.
Moll. This is a mad lover, indeed; prythee, read it.
Sim. Mass, h' has writ it in the Welsh-English; we had been spoiled else for want of an interpreter. But thus he begins:—Mistress Maries—
Moll. He makes two Maries serve one mistress.
Sim. Ever while you live, 'tis your first rule in Welsh grammars—[88]
That hur forsake widows, and take maids, was no great wonder, for sentlemen ever love the first cut.
Moll. But not o' th' coxcomb; he should have put in that.
Sim. The coxcomb follows by consequence, mark else.
I Randall Crack, of Carmarden, do love thee Mary Ploodhounds, of Houndsditch, dwelling near Aldgate, and Pishop's-gate, just as between hawk and buzzard.
[Pg 66]Moll. He makes an indifferent wooing.
Sim. And that hur loves Maries so monstrous, yet never saw her, was because hur hear hur in all societies so fery fillanously commended, but specially before one Master Pusy, constables of hur parish, who made hurself half foxed by swearing by the wines, that Maries would be monstrous good marriages for Randalls.
Moll. Master Busy, it seems, was not idle.
Sim. If Maries can love a Pritain of the plood of Cadwallader, which Cadwallader was Prut's great grandfather, Randalls was come in proper persons, pring round sillings in hur pockets, get father's goodwill, and go to shurch a Sunday with a whole dozen of Welsh harps before hur. So hur rest hur constant lovers,
Randall William ap Thomas, ap Tavy, ap Robert, ap Rice, ap Sheffery, Crack.
Moll. Fie! what shall I do with all them?
Sim. Why, he said these all rest your constant lovers, whereof, for manners'-sake, he puts himself in the first place. He will call here presently; will you answer him by letter or word of mouth?
Moll. Troth, neither of either, so let him understand.
Sim. Will ye not answer the love-sick gentleman?
Moll. If he be sick with the love of me, prythee, tell him I cannot endure him: let him make a virtue of necessity, and apply my hate for's health. [Exit.
Sim. Ay, but I'll have more care of the gentleman, I warrant you: if I do not make myself merry, and startle your midnight meeting, say Sim has no more wit than his godfathers, and they were both head-men of his parish.
Enter Randall.
Honest Simkins, what said Maries to Randall's letters?
Sim. You're a madman.
Ran. Augh, hur was very glad hur was mad.
Sim. The old man has money enough for her; and if you marry her, as, if her project take, you may, she'll make you more than a man.
Ran. More than mans! what's that?
Sim. Troth, cannot you tell that? this is the truth on't; she would be married to-morrow to one Ancient Young, a fellow she cannot endure: now, she says, if you could meet her privately to-night, between ten and eleven, just at the great cross-way by the Nag's Head tavern at Leadenhall.
Ran. Was high-high pump, there, as her turn in Graces Street?
Sim. There's the very place. Now, because you come the welcomest man in the world to hinder the match against her mind with the Ancient, there she will meet you, go with you to your lodging, lie there all night, and be married to you i' th' morning at the Tower, as soon as you shall please.
Ran. By cat, hur will go and prepare priests presently. Look you, Simkins, there is a great deal of round sillings for hur, hur was very lucky sillings, for came to Randalls shust for all the world as fortune was come to fool: tell Maries hur[Pg 68] will meet hur, hur warrant hur; make many puppy fools of Ancients, and love her very monstrously. [Exit.
Sim. Ha, ha, ha! so, so; this midnight match shall be mine; she told me she was to meet the Ancient there. I'll be sure the Ancient shall meet him there; so I shall lie abed and laugh, to think, if he meet her there, how she will be startled; and if the Ancient meet him there, how he will be cudgelled. Beware your ribs, Master Randall. [Exit.
Enter Old Bloodhound.
Blood. I wonder where this young rogue spends the day. I hear he has received my hundred marks and my advantage with it; and, it may be, he went home since I went out. Jarvis was with me but even now, and bid me watch, and narrowly, for fear of some of my rival spies, for I know she has many wealthy suitors. All love money. This Jarvis is most neat in a love business, and, when we are married (because many mouths, much meat), I will requite his courtesy, and turn him away: the widow's all I look for. Nay, let her fling to see I have her possessions; there's a saw for't—
Enter John and Jarvis.
John. But now, and she speak, she spoils all; or if he call her by my mistress's name, hast thou[Pg 69] not tricks to enjoin them both to silence, till they come sure?
Jar. Phaw! that's a stale one: she shall speak to him in her own accent; he shall call her by her own name, leaving out the bawd, yet she shall violently believe he loves her, and he shall confidently believe the same which he requires, and she but presents. Fall off; she comes.
Enter Mistress Coote.
Mis. Coote. Jarvis!
Jar. Here I have discovered him; 'tis he, by his coughs. Remember your instructions, and use few words; say, though till night you knew it not, you will be married early in the morning, to prevent a vintner's widow that lays claim to him.
Blood. Jarvis!
Jar. Good old man, I know him by his tongue.
Blood. Is she come? Is she come, Jarvis?
Jar. Ask her if she would live, sir. She walks aloof yonder.
Blood. We shall cosen all her wooers.
Jar. Nay, amongst all of you, we'll cosen one great one, that had laid a pernicious plot this night, with a cluster of his roaring friends, to surprise her, carry her down to the waterside, pop her in at Puddle-dock,[89] and carry her to Gravesend in a pair of oars.
Blood. What, what is his name, I prythee?
Jar. He's a knight abounding in deeds of charity; his name Sir Nicholas Nemo.
[Pg 70]Blood. And would he pop her in at Puddle-dock?
Jar. And he could but get her down there.
Blood. By my troth, we shall pop him fairly. Where is she? where is she?
Jar. Ha! do you not perceive a fellow walk up and down muffled yonder?
Blood. There is something walks.
Jar. That fellow has dogged us all the way, and I fear all is frustrate.
Blood. Not, I hope, man.
Mis. Coote. This it is to be in love; if I do not dwindle——
Jar. I know him now.
Blood. 'Tis none of Sir Nicholas' spies, is't?
Jar. He serves him.
Blood. He wonnot murder me, will he?
Jar. He shall not touch you: only, I remember, this afternoon this fellow, by what he had gathered by eavesdropping, or by frequent observation, asked me privately if there were no meeting betwixt you and my mistress to-night in this place, for a widow, he said, he knew you were to meet.
Blood. Good.
Jar. Now I handsomely threw dust in's eyes, and yet kept the plot swift afoot too. I told him you were here to meet a widow too, whom you long loved, but would not let her know't till this afternoon, naming to him one of my aunts[90], a widow by Fleet-ditch. Her name is Mistress Gray, and keeps divers gentlewomen lodgers.
Blood. Good again.
[Pg 71]Jar. To turn the scent then, and to cheat inquisition the more ingeniously——
Blood. And to bob Sir Nicholas most neatly.
Jar. Be sure, all this night, in the hearing of any that you shall but suspect to be within hearing, to call her nothing but Mistress Coote.
Blood. Or Widow Coote.
Jar. Yes, you may put her in so; but be sure you cohere in every particle with the precedent fallacy, as that you have loved her long, though till this day—and so as I did demonstrate.
Blood. But how an' she should say she is not Widow Coote, and that she knows no such woman, and so spoil all?
Jar. Trust that with her wit and my instructions. We suspected a spy, and therefore she will change her voice.
Blood. Thou hast a delicate mistress of her.
Jar. One thing more, and you meet presently. Mine aunt has had nine husbands; tell her you'll hazard a limb, and make the tenth.
Blood. Prythee, let me alone; and Sir Nicholas were here himself, he should swear 'twere thine aunt.
Jar. [To Mistress Coote.] Go forwards towards him; be not too full of prattle, but make use of your instructions.
Blood. Who's there? Widow Coote?
Mis. Coote. Master Bloodhound, as I take it.
Blood. She changes her voice bravely. I must tell thee, true widow, I have loved thee a long time (look how the rogue looks!), but had never the wit to let thee know it till to-day.
Mis. Coote. So I was given to understand, sir.
Jar. Is't not a fool finely? [Aside.
John. Handsome, by this hand.
Blood. I like thy dwelling well upon the Fleet-ditch.
Mis. Coote. A pretty wholesome air, sir, in the summer-time.
Blood. Who would think 'twere she, Jarvis? [Aside.
Jar. I told ye she was tutored. [Aside.
Blood. I'll home with her presently; some stays up in the dark.
Jar. Fool! and he have any private discourse with her, they discover themselves one to another, and so spoil the plot. No trick! no, by no means, sir, hazard your person with her; the bold rogue may come up close, so discover her to be my mistress, and recover her with much danger to you.
Blood. He has got a dagger.
Jar. And a sword six foot in length. I'll carry her home for you, therefore [let] not a light be stirring. For I know your rivals will watch your house. Sim shall show us the chamber, we'll conduct her up i' th' dark, shut the door to her above, and presently come down and let you in below.
Blood. There was never such a Jarvis heard of. Bid Sim to be careful; by the same token, I told him he should feed to-morrow for all the week after. Good night, Widow Coote; my man stayeth up; we will bob Sir Nicholas bravely. Good night, sweet Widow Coote; I do but seem to part; we'll meet at home, wench. [Exit.
Mis. Coote. Adieu, my sweet dear heart.
Mis. Coote. I warrant thee, Jarvis, let me alone to right myself into the garb of a lady. O, strange! to see how dreams fall by contraries; I shall be coached to-morrow, and yet last night dreamed I was carted. Prythee, keep a little state; go, Jarvis. [Exeunt.
Enter Randall. [Midnight.]
Ran. Was fery exceeding dark, but here is high pumps, sure, here is two couple of cross-ways, and there was the street where Grace dwells. One hundred pound in mornings in round shillings, and wife worth one thousand, ere hur go to bed. Randall's fortunes comes tumbling in like lawyers' fees, huddle upon huddle.
Enter Moll.
Moll. O sweet Ancient, keep thy word and win my heart. They say a moonshine night is good to run away with another man's wife; but I am sure a dark night is best to steal away my father's daughter.
Ran. Mary.
Moll. O, are you come, sir? there's a box of land and livings, I know not what you call it.
Ran. Lands and livings?
Moll. Nay, nay; and we talk, we are undone. Do you not see the watch coming up Gracious Street yonder? This cross-way was the worst place we could have met at; but that is yours, and I am yours; but, good sir, do not blame me, that I so suddenly yielded to your love; alas! you know what a match on't I should have to-morrow else.
Ran. Hur means the scurvy Ancient. [Aside.
Moll. I' th' morning we shall be man and wife, and then—Alas, I am undone! the watch are[Pg 74] hard upon us: go you back through Cornhill, I'll run round about the 'Change by the Church Corner, down Cateaton Street, and meet you at Bartholomew Lane end. [Exit.
Ran. Cat's Street was call hur? sure, Randalls was wrapped in['s][91] mother's smock.
Enter Constable and Watch.
Con. Keep straight towards Bishopsgate: I'm deceived if I heard not somebody run that way.
Enter Maid with a bandbox.[92]
Watch. Stay, sir; her's somebody come from Aldgate Ward?
Maid. Alas! I shall be hanged for staying so long for this cuff.
Watch. Come before the constable here.
Maid. Let the constable come before me, and he please.
Con. How now! where ha' you been, pray, dame, ha!
Maid. For my mistress's ruff at her sempstress', sir; she must needs use it to-morrow, and that made me stay till it was done.
Con. Pray, who's your mistress? where dwell you?
Maid. With one Mistress Wag, in Blackfriars, next to the sign of the Feathers and the Fool, sir.
Con. O, I know her very well; make haste [Pg 75]home; 'tis late. Come, come, let's back to Gracechurch; all's well, all's well. [Exeunt.
Enter severally, Ancient and Moll.
Anc. I 'scaped the watch at Bishopsgate with ease: there is somebody turning down the church corner towards the Exchange; it may be Mistress Mary.
Moll. Ancient!
Anc. Yes.
Moll. Are you here again? you have nimbly followed me: what said the watch to you?
Anc. I passed them easily; the gates are but now shut in.
Moll. As we go, I'll tell thee such a tale of a Welsh wooer and a lamentable love-letter.
Anc. Yes, Sim told me of such a rat, and where he lodges: I thought I should have met him here.
Moll. Here? out upon him! But the watches walk their station, and in few words is safety. I hope you will play fair, and lodge me with the maid you told me of.
Anc. She stays up for us, wench: in the word of a gentleman, all shall be fair and civil.
Moll. I believe you. [Exeunt.
Enter at several doors, Randall and Maid.
Ran. Sounds, was another fire-drake[93] walk in shange, we'll run pack; was Maries have saved her labours, and was come after Randalls. Maries, was Randall, that loves hur mightily Maries.
Maid. Master Randall.
[Pg 76]Ran. How did watch let her go to Grace's Street?
Maid. They knew me, and let me pass.
Ran. Well now hur understands Maries loves Randalls so mighty deal.
Maid. If John have not told him, I'll be hanged. [Aside.
Ran. Maries shall go with Randalls to lodgings, and that hur father work no divorcements, he will lie with her all to-night, and marry her betimes next morning: meantime, hur will make lands and livings fast.
Maid. How? father! this is a mistake sure; and, to fashion it fit for mine own following, I will both question and answer in ambiguities that if he snap me one way, I may make myself good i' th' other; and as he shall discover himself, I'll pursue the conceit accordingly. [Aside.] But will ye not deceive me? maids[94] are many men's almanacs; the dates of your desires out, we serve for nothing but to light tobacco.
Hur will love hur creat deal of much, hur warrant hur.
Maid. And 'tis but venturing a maidenhead; if the worst come to the worst, it may come back with advantage. [Exeunt.
Enter in her night-clothes, as going to bed, Widow and Maid.
Wid. Is not Mary come home yet?
Maid. No, forsooth.
Wid. 'Tis a fine time of night, I shall thank her for't: 'tis past eleven, I am sure. Fetch the prayer-book lies within upon my bed.
Maid. Yes, forsooth. [Exit.
Wid. I wonder what this gentleman should be that catched me so like Jarvis: he said he has fitted old Bloodhound according to his quality; but I must not let him dally too long upon my daily company: lust is a hand-wolf, who with daily feeding, one time or other, takes a sudden start upon his benefactor.
Enter Maid.
Maid. O mistress, mistress!
Wid. What's the matter, wench?
Maid. A man, a man under your bed, mistress.
Wid. A man! what man?
Maid. A neat man, a proper man, a well-favoured man, a handsome man.
Wid. Call up John: where's Jarvis?
Maid. Alas! I had no power to speak; his very looks are able to make a woman stand as still as a miller's horse, when he's loading. O, he comes, he comes! [Exit.
Enter Alexander.
Wid. How came you hither, sir? how got you in?
Alex. As citizens' wives do into masques, whether I would or no. Nay, nay, do not doubt[Pg 78] the discretion of my constitution: I have brought ne'er a groat in my bosom; and, by this hand, I lay under thy bed with a heart as honest and a blood as cold as had my sister lain at top. Will you have me yet?
Wid. You're a very rude, uncivil fellow.
Alex. Uncivil! and lay so tame while you set up your foot upon the bed to untie your shoe! such another word, I will uncivilise that injured civility which you so scurvily slander, and reward you with an undecency proportionable to your understandings. Will you have me? will you marry me?
Wid. You! why, to-morrow morning I am to be married to your father.
Alex. What, to sixty and I know not how many? that will lie by your side, and divide the hours with coughs, as cocks do the night by instinct of nature.
Wid. And provide for his family all day.
Alex. And only wish well to a fair wife all night.
Wid. And keep's credit all day in all companies.
Alex. And discredit himself all night in your company.
Wid. Fie, fie! pray quit my house, sir.
Alex. Yours? 'tis my house.
Wid. Your house! since when?
Alex. Even since I was begotten; I was born to't. I must have thee, and I will have thee; and this house is mine, and none of thine.
Enter Jarvis.
Jar. O mistress, the saddest accident i' th' street yonder.
Wid. What accident, prythee?
Jar. You must pardon my boldness in coming into your bed-chamber: there is a gentleman slain in a fray at the door yonder, and the people won't be persuaded but that he that did it took this house. There is a constable, churchwardens, and all the head-men of the parish be now searching; and they say they will come up hither to your bed-chamber, but they'll find him. I'll keep them down as long as I can; I can do no more than I can. [Exit.
Wid. Are not you the murderer, sir?
Alex. I ha' been under thy bed, by this hand, this three hours.
Wid. Pray, get you down then: they will all come up, and find you here and all, and what will the parish think then? Pray get you down.
Alex. No, no, no; I will not go down, now I think on't. [Makes himself unready.[95]
Wid. Why, what do you mean; you will not be so uncivil to unbrace you here?
Alex. By these buckles, I will, and what will they think on't——
Wid. Alas! you will undo me.
Alex. No, no, I will undo myself, look ye.
Wid. Good sir.
Alex. I will off with my doublet to my very shirt.
Wid. Pray, sir, have more care of a woman's reputation.
Alex. Have a care on't thyself, woman, and marry me then.[96]
[Pg 80]Wid. Should they come up and see this, what could they think, but that some foul, uncivil act of shame had this night stained my house? and as good marry him as my name lost for ever. [Aside.
Alex. Will you have me, afore t'other sleeve goes off?
Wid. Do, hang yourself; I will not have you—look, look, if he have not pulled it off quite: why, you wonnot pull off your boots too, will you?
Alex. Breeches and all, by this flesh.
Wid. What, and stand naked in a widow's chamber?
Alex. As naked as Grantham steeple or the Strand May-pole, by this spur: and what your grave parishioners will think on't?
Jar. Gentlemen, pray keep down.
Wid. Alas! they are at the stairs' foot; for heaven's sake, sir!
Alex. Will you have me?
Wid. What shall I do? no.
Alex. This is the last time of asking; they come up, and down go my breeches. Will you have me?
Wid. Ay, ay, ay, alas! and your breeches go down, I am undone for ever.
Alex. Why, then, kiss me upon't. And yet there's no cracking your credit: Jarvis, come in, Jarvis.
Enter Jarvis.
Jar. I have kept my promise, sir; you've catched the old one.
Wid. How, catched? is there nobody below, then?
Jar. Nobody but John, forsooth, recovering a tobacco snuff, that departed before supper.
Wid. And did you promise this, sir?
Jar. A woman cannot have a handsomer cloud than a hair-brained husband: I will be your coz, he shall be my cuckold. [Aside.
Wid. I love you for your art. [Aside.
Jar. Come, come, put on, sir; I've acquainted you both with your father's intended marriage. I' th' morning you shall certify him very early by letter the quality of your fortunes, and return to your obedience; and that you and your wife, still concealing the parties, will attend him to church. John and I'll be there early, as commanded by my mistress, to discharge our attendance: about goes the plot, out comes the project, and there's a wedding-dinner dressed to your hands.
Alex. As pat as a fat heir to a lean shark; we shall hunger for't: honest Jarvis, I am thy bedfellow to-night, and to-morrow thy master.
Wid. You're a fine man to use a woman thus.
Jar. You shall wear horns with wisdom; that is in your pocket. [Exeunt.
[87] i.e., Recommended.
[88] Ever while you live, 'tis your first rule in We'sh grammars, which is clearly a reply to Moll's remark, has been hitherto very absurdly made a part of Randall's letter, which begins only at That hur forsake, &c.
[89] On the banks of the river Thames, formerly used for a laystall for the soil of the streets, and much frequented by barges and lighters for taking the same away; also for landing corn and other goods.—"Stowe's Survey," bk. iii., p. 229, vol. i edit 1720.
[90] [The cant meaning of aunt at that time was procuress. See Dyce's Middleton, i. 444. The word in this acceptation is not unusual.]
[91] [See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 149. To be wrapped in his mother's smock is a synonym for good fortune.]
[92] In the 4o it runs Enter Chambermaid, Hugh with a bandbox: probably Hugh, though he says nothing, carried the box for the maid. Mr. Reed made the change.—Collier.
[93] See note to "The Miseries of Enforced Marriage," [ix. 572.]
[94] [Old copy, many minds.]
[95] To make one's-self unready was the common term for undressing. See several instances in Mr Steevens's note on the "First Part of King Henry VI.," act ii. sc. 1.
[96] In the old copy, the dialogue is here confused, what is said by Alexander being given to the widow, and what is said by the widow to Jarvis.—Collier.
Enter Sim and John, passing over with a basin of rosemary[97] and a great flagon with wine.
Sim. Come, John, carry your hand steadily; the guests drop in apace, do not let your wine drop out.[98]
John. 'Tis as I told thee; Master Alexander, thy mistress' eldest son will be here.
Sim. Rose, I pray burn some pitch i' th' parlour, 'tis good against ill airs; Master Alexander will be here. [Exeunt.
Enter Old Bloodhound and Jarvis.
Blood. I am up before you, son Ear-lack. Will Ancient Young be here with a rich wife too? Thy mistress is not stirring yet, sirrah. I'll hold my life the baggage slipped to thy mistress; there they have e'en locked the door to them, and are[Pg 83] tricking up one another: O these women! But this rogue Tim, he lay out to-night too; he received my hundred mark, and (I fear) is murdered. Truss, truss, good Jarvis.
Jar. He has been a-wooing, sir, and has fetched over the delicatest young virgin! Her father died but a week since, and left her to her marriage five thousand pound in money and a parcel of land worth three hundred per annum.
Blood. Nay, nay, 'tis like; the boy had ever a captivating tongue to take a woman. O excellent money, excellent money, mistress of my devotions! My widow's estate is little less too; and then Sander—he has got a moneyed woman too; there will be a bulk of money. Tim is puling, I may tell thee, one that by nature's course cannot live long: t'other a midnight surfeit cuts off: then have I a trick to cosen both their widows, and make all mine. O Jarvis, what a moneyed generation shall I then get upon thy mistress?
Jar. A very virtuous brood.
Blood. Hast done?
Jar. I have done, sir.
Blood. I'll in and get some music for thy mistress, to quicken her this morning; and then to church in earnest. When 'tis done, where is Sir Nicholas Nemo and his wards.[99]
Enter Alexander, Widow, Ancient, Moll, and Sim.
Anc. Joy! ay, and a hundred pound a year in a black box to the bargain, given away i' th' dark last night to we know not who, and to be heard of, we know not when. 'Sfoot, an' this be joy, would we had a handsome slice of sorrow to season it.
Alex. By this light, 'twas strange.
Moll. Believe me, sir, I thought I had given it you: he that took it called me by my name.
Sim. Did he speak Welsh or English?
Moll. Alas! I know not; I enjoined him silence, seeing the watch coming, who parted us.
Sim. If this were not Master Randalls of Randall Hall, that I told you of, I'll be flayed.
Alex. Be masked, and withdraw awhile; here comes our dad. [Exeunt.
Enter Bloodhound, Sir Marmaduke Many-Minds, Sir Janus Ambidexter, and Master Busy.
Blood. Why, Master Busy, asleep as thou stand'st, man!
Sim. Some horse taught him that; 'tis worth god-a-mercy.[100]
Con. I watch all night, I protest, sir; the compters pray for me: I send all in, cut and long tail.[101]
[Pg 85]Sir Mar. What, what?
Con. I sent twelve gentlewomen, our own neighbours, last night, for being so late but at a woman's labour.
Blood. Alas, sir! a woman in that kind, you know, must have help.
Con. What's that to me? I am to take no notice of that: they might have let her alone till morning, or she might have cried out some other time.
Sir Mar. Nay, nay, Master Busy knows his place, I warrant you.
Enter Alexander, Ancient Young, Widow, and Moll.[102]
Blood. Son Alexander, welcome; and Ancient Young too: I have heard all.
Alex. You must pardon the rudeness of the gentlewomen, sir, in not unmasking; they entreated me to inform you, there are some i' th' house to whom they would by no means be laid open.
Blood. They are witty, they are witty.
Alex. But, for myself, I am now your most obedient, virtuous Alexander.
Blood. Obedience! hang Virtue, let her starve. Has she money? has she money?
Alex. Two chests of silver and two Utopian trunks[103] full of gold and jewels.
Blood. They are all Alexander's women, do you mark?
Sim. Alexander was the conqueror, sir?
Blood. Come, come, we'll to church presently. Prythee, Jarvis, whilst the music plays just upon the delicious close, usher in the brides, the widow, and my Moll. [Exit Jarvis.
Sim. I tell you true, gallants, I have seen neither of them to-day. Shall I give him the lie?
Blood. They are both locked up, i' faith, trimming of one another. O these women, they are so secret in their business, they will make very coxcombs of us men, and do 't at pleasure too. 'Tis well said, friends; play, play. Where's Sim?
Anc. How he bestirs him!
Alex. Yes, he will sweat by and by.
[Pg 87]Sim. Here is the sign of Sim, sir.
Blood. Have the guests rosemary without?
Sim. They have Rose the cookmaid without; but they say you have Mistress Mary within.
Alex. Well said, rascal.
Blood. Mary's above, goodman blockhead. Call my son, Ear-lack, bid him for shame make haste.
Sim. He shall make haste for shame. [Exit.
Blood. I am so busied; you must bear with me, gentlemen: they leave it all to me here.
Con. But I will go charge some of the inferior guests, in the king's name, to fill some wine.
Blood. No, no, good Master Busy; we will first usher the brides.
Enter Sim.
Sim. O gentlemen, where are you? Where are you? Where are you, gentlemen?
Omnes. What's the matter?
Blood. Where's Moll, Sim? the widow, Sim, the dainty widow?
Sim. There's no Moll; there is no dainty young widow; but a damnable bawd we found abed, with a face like an apple half-roasted.
Omnes. How's this?
Blood. Why, gentlemen!
Anc. Now it works.
Blood. Jarvis, you're a rogue: a cutpurse, Jarvis. Run, Sim, call my son Ear-lack: he shall put her into the spiritual court for this.
Sim. Nay, he has put her in there already, for we found him abed with her.
Omnes. Possible!
Blood. Ha, boys! the informer and the bawd, the bawd and the informer have got a devil betwixt them, gentlemen.
Sim. Nay, sir, the jest was, that they should fall asleep together, and forget themselves; for very lovingly we found them together, like the Gemini, or the two winter mornings met together. Look, look, look, where they come, sir, and Jarvis between 'em—just like the picture of knavery betwixt fraud and lechery.
Enter Jarvis, Ear-lack, and Mistress Coote.
Jar. Tim is a puling sirrah, I may tell it thee: a midnight surfeit too may cut off Sander; I'll cosen their wives, make all mine own; and then, O Jarvis, what a moneyed generation shall I get upon this Widow Coote that hath two teeth!
Blood. Did we bring you to music, with a mischief? Ear-lack, thou'rt a goat; thou hast abused the best bed in my house; I'll set a sumner[104] upon thee.
Ear. Bloodhound, thou art a usurer, and takest forty in the hundred; I'll inform against thee.
Blood. Are you a bawd, huswife, ha?
Mis. Coote. Alas, sir! I was merely conied, betrayed by Jarvis; but as I have been bawd to the flesh, you have been bawd to your money; so set the hare-pie against the goose-giblets, and you and I are as daintily matched as can be, sir.
Blood. Sim, run to the Widow Wag's; tell her we are both abused; this Jarvis is a juggler, say.
Anc. I can save Sim that labour, sir. I assure you the widow is married to your son Alexander, and, as a confirmation, she is come herself to witness it. [Discovers.
[Pg 89]Alex. Your fair young daughter is wife to this Ancient, who is come likewise to witness it.
Wid. The plain truth is, Master Bloodhound, I would entreat you to keep the kennel: the younger dog, being of the better scent, has borne the game before you.
Alex. We have clapped hands on't, sir; and the priest that should have married you to her is to marry her to me: so, sister, talk for yourself.
Blood. Ha, brave tricks and conceits! Can you dance, Master Ear-lack?
Ear. Ha, ha! the old man's a little mad. But thou art not married, Moll?
Moll. Yes, indeed, sir, and will lie with this gentleman soon at night. Do you think I would chew ram-mutton when I might swallow venison? That's none of Venus's documents, Monsieur Dotterel.
Ear. Pox of that Venus! she's a whore, I warrant her.
Blood. And were not you the other juggler with Jarvis in this, hey? pass and repass!
Alex. Good sir, be satisfied; the widow and my sister sung both one song, and what was't, but Crabbed age and youth cannot live together.[105] Now we persuaded them, and they could not live together, they would never endure to lie together; this consequently descended, there was the antecedent: we clapped hands, sealed lips, and so fell unto the relative.
Sim. This was your bargain upon the exchange, sir, and because you have ever been addicted to[Pg 90] old proverbs and pithy saws, pray let me seal up the mistake with one that will appear very seasonably.
Blood. And I pray let's hear it, sir.
Sim. You, a new-fangled fowler, came to show your art i' th' dark; but take this truth, you catched in truth a cuckoo for't.
Enter Tim and Sue.
Blood. Heyday, we are cheated by the rule, i' faith. Now, sirrah, they say you are to be married too.
Tim. Yes, indeed, father, I am going to the business; and, gentlemen all, I am come, whether you will or no, to invite you all to my marriage to this gentlewoman who, though a good face needs no mask, she's masked, to make a man think she has a scurvy face, when I know she has a good face. This is sack to them, and out of their element.
Blood. But, sirrah, setting aside marriages, where's my hundred marks you went to receive?
Tim. Hum!—upon such a match of mine, talk of a hundred marks! this is to drink ignoble four-shillings beer. A hundred marks! why your lawyer there can clear such a trifle in a term, and his clients ne'er the better.
Blood. Such a match! I pray discover her; what is she?
Tim. What is she! here's my brother knows what she is well enough. Come hither, Dab, and be it known unto you, her name is Lindabrides, descended from the Emperor Trebatio of Greece, and half-niece, some six-and-fifty descents, to the most unvanquished Clarindiana.
Alex. Who's this? Pox on't! what makes that bawd yonder? [Unmasks her.
Con. I am very much deceived if I did not send this gentlewoman very drunk t'other night to the Compter.
Tim. I tell thee, prattling constable, 'tis a lie: Lindabrides a drunkard!
Alex. Harkee, brother, where lies her living?
Tim. Where? why, in Greece.
Alex. In grease.
Sim. She looks as if she had sold kitchen-stuff.
Alex. This is a common whore, and you a cheated coxcomb. Come hither, you rotten hospital, hung round with greasy satin; do not you know this vermin?
Mis. Coote. I winked at you, Sue, and you could have seen me: there's one Jarvis, a rope on him, h' has juggled me into the suds too.
Con. Now I know her name too: do not you pass under the name of Sue Shortheels, minion?
Sue. Go look, Master Littlewit. Will not any woman thrust herself upon a good fortune when it is offered her?
Blood. Sir Marmaduke, you are a justice of peace; I charge you in the king's name, you and Master Ambidexter, to assist me with the whore and the bawd to Bridewell.
Sir Mar. By my troth, we will, and we shall have an excellent stomach by that time dinner's ready.
Amb. Ay, ay, away with them, away with them!
Mis. Coote. O this rogue Jarvis!
[Exeunt Coote and Shortheels.
Blood. Now, now, you look like a melancholy dog, that had lost his dinner; where's my hundred marks now, you coxcomb?
Tim. Truly, father, I have paid some sixteen[Pg 92] reckonings since I saw you: I was never sober since you sent me to the devil yesterday; and for the rest of your money, I sent it to one Captain Carvegut. He swore to me his father was my Lord Mayor's cook, and that by Easter next you should have the principal and eggs for the use, indeed, sir.
Blood. O rogue, rogue! I shall have eggs for my money:[106] I must hang myself.
Sim. Not before dinner, pray, sir; the pies are almost baked.
Enter Randall.
Alex. Look, look, yonder's the conceit the mistake happened upon last night.
Anc. And the very box at's girdle.
Ran. Cot pless hur father Ploothounds, Randalls have robbed Ancients, hur warrant hur.
Anc. Sir, 'tis known how you came by that box.
Anc. And you ought to cry.
Ran. O noble Randalls, as hur meet by Nag's-head, with Maries plood, prave.
Blood. Here's another madman.
Anc. Harkee in your ear, you must deliver that box to me.
Ran. Harkee in hur t'other ear, hur will not deliver hur, and hur were nine-and-forty Ancients, and five-and-fourscore Flags.
Anc. Let my foe write mine epitaph if I tear not my birthright from thy bosom? [Draws.
Sim. Gentlemen, there's Aligant[108] i' th' house, pray set no more abroach.
Ran. Nay, let hur come with hur pack of needles, Randalls can pox and bob as well as hur, hur warrant hur.
Blood. What box is that? I should know that box.
Alex. I will resolve you, sir; keep them asunder.
Anc. You will restore that box?
Ran. Hur will not restore hur: 'twas Mary Ploodhounds gave hur the box; Randalls have married Mary Ploodhounds, and gulled Ancient, mark hur now.
Wid. Mark him, good sir; methinks he says he has married Mary Bloodhound.
Anc. Hang him, he's mad!
Ran. Souns, make tog of Randalls? come out here, Maries. Look, here was Mary Ploodhounds.
Enter Maid and Hugh.
Now I pray tumble down of hur marrow-pones, and ask hur father plessing?
Alex. This! why this is your maid, widow.
Ear. This is Mary the widow's maid, man.
Alex. And here is Mary Bloodhound, my choleric shred of Cadwallader, married to this gentleman, who has a hundred a year dangling at your girdle there.
Wid. I pray, mistress, are you married to this gentleman?
Maid. By six i' th' morning, forsooth: he took me for Mary Bloodhound, having, it seems, never seen either of us before, and I being something amorously affected, as they say, to his Welsh ditties, answered to her name, lay with him all night, and married him this morning; so that as he took me for her, I took him as he was, forsooth.
Sim. She means for a fool; I'm fain to answer you.
Blood. Ha, ha, ha! Cupid, this twenty-four hours, has done nothing but cut cross-capers.
Alex. Do ye hear, Sir Bartholomew Bayard,[109] that leap before you look? it will handsomely become you to restore the box to that gentleman, and the magnitude of your desires upon this dainty, that is so amorously taken with your ditties.
Ran. Hur wail[110] in woe, her plunge in pain.
[Pg 95]And yet, by cat, her do not neither. Randalls will prove hurself Pritains born, and because hur understands Ancients was prave fellows and great travellers, there is hur box for hur.
Anc. I thank you.
Ran. And because was no remedies, before hur all, here will Randalls embrace Maries, and take a puss. [Kisses.
Enter Jarvis brave.
[To the Widow.
Blood. Who have we here, trow?
Alex. Dost thou know the gentleman that whispered to thee?
Wid. O, wondrous well! He bid me call him coz, and carry it handsomely.
Jar. Widow, would I were off again.
Wid. Know, all: this gentleman has, to obtain his lust and loose desires, served me this seven months under the shape and name of Jarvis.
Omnes. Possible!
Wid. Look well; do you not know him?
Blood. The very face of Jarvis.
Tim. Ay truly, father, and he were anything like him, I would swear 'twere he.
Anc. What should this mean?
Alex. Some witty trick, I warrant thee: prythee, despatch him presently, that we were at church!
Wid. First, then, know you for truth, sir, I mean never to marry.
Blood. How, woman?
Sim. She has despatched you, sir!
Wid. And for a truth, sir, know you, I never mean to be your whore.
Blood. This is strange.[111]
Alex. But shall the pies be spoiled then?
Jar. Let her alone, if her husband do not know this——
Omnes. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
Blood. Her husband, I told you, was a madman.
Anc. Why, her husband's dead, sir.
Jar. He is not dead, sir; he had it spread o' purpose; he is in England, and in your house; and look, do you not see him?
Wid. Where, where?
Wid. You're welcome to my soul, sir.
Blood. By my troth, Master Wag, this was a wag's trick indeed; but I knew I knew you; I remembered you a month ago, but that I had forgotten where I saw you.
Sim. I knew you were a crafty merchant;[112] you helped my master to such bargains upon the Exchange last night: here has been the merriest morning after it.
Alex. My pitcher's broke just at the well-head; but give me leave to tell you, sir, that you have a noble wife, and indeed such a one as would worthily feast the very discretion of a wise man's desire. Her wit ingeniously waits upon her virtue, and her virtue advisedly gives freedom to her wit; but because my marriage shall seriously proceed, I wed myself, sir, to obedience and filial regularity, and vow to redeem, in the duty of a son, the affection of a father.
[Pg 98]Ran. By cat, was as well spoke as Randall hurself could talk.
[97] "Rosemary," as Mr Steevens observes (note to "Hamlet," act iv. sc. 5), "was anciently supposed to strengthen the memory; and was not only carried at funerals, but worn at weddings." See the several instances there quoted. Again, in Dekker's "Wonderful Yeare," 1603: "Heere is a strange alteration; for the rosemary that was washt in sweet water to set out the bridall, is now wet in teares to furnish her buriall."
Again, in "The Old Law," act iv. sc. 1: "Besides, there will be charges saved, too; the same rosemary that serves for the funeral will serve for the wedding."
And in "The Fair Quarrell," act v. sc. 1—
It appears also to have been customary to drink wine at church, immediately after the marriage ceremony was performed. So in Dekker's "Satiro-mastix:" "And, Peter, when we are at church, bring wine and cakes." At the marriage of the Elector Palatine with the Princess Elizabeth, daughter of James the First, it is said, "In conclusion, a joy pronounced by the king and queen, and seconded with congratulations of the lords there present, which crowned with draughts of Ippocras, out of a great golden bowle, as a health to the prosperitie of the marriage (began by the Prince Palatine, and answered by the Princess), after which were served up by six or seaven barons, so many bowles filled with wafers, so much of that worke was consummate."—Finett's "Philoxenis," 1656, fol. 11.
[98] [Old copy, on't.]
[99] The old copy reads Sir Nicholas Nemo and his words, but the sense seems to require that it should be Sir Nicholas Nemo and his wards, or watchmen or spies.—Collier.
[100] [See "Old English Jest-Books," ii. 217-18.]
[101] [Equivalent to our modern phrase, tag, rag, and bobtail. The original signification seems to have been descriptive of the different kinds of horses, cuts, curtails, and longtails, and hence it came to mean generally all sorts and kinds, like the modern term. Compare Dyce's "Shakespeare Glossary," 1868, in v.] This phrase occurs in "The Merry Wives of Windsor," act iii. sc. 4. Steevens says the origin of it was from Forest Laws, by which the dog of a man who had no right to the privilege of chase, was obliged to be cut or lawed; and amongst other modes of disabling him, one was by depriving him of his tail. Cut and long tail therefore signified the dog of a clown and the dog of a gentleman. [Reed (more correctly) remarks:] "Cut and long tail, I apprehend referred originally to horses, when their tails were either docked, or left to grow their full length; and this distinction might formerly be made according to their qualities and values. A horse therefore used for drudgery might have his tail cut, while the tails of those which served for pomp or show, might be allowed their utmost growth. A cut appears to have been the term used for a bad horse in many contemporary writers, and from thence to call a person cut became a common opprobrious word employed by the vulgar, when they abused each other. See note to 'Gammer Gurton's Needle' [iii. 211.] In confirmation of this idea, it may be added, that Sim says in the text, Some horse taught him that, which naturally introduces the phrase cut and long tail into the Constable's answer. The words cut and long tail occur also in 'The Return from Parnassus,' act iv. sc. 1: 'As long as it lasts, come cut and long tail, we'll spend it as liberally for his sake.' There seems no doubt that cut and long tail has reference to horses. Sir J. Vanbrugh, in his 'Æsop,' so employs the phrase: the groom says, 'Your worship has six coach horses, cut and long tail, two runners, half a dozen hunters,' &c."—Collier.
[102] Their entrance is not mentioned in the 4o.—Collier.
[103] i.e., Ideal ones, like the Utopian schemes of government.—Steevens.
[104] See note to "The Heir," [xi. 535.]
[105] This elegant song was the production of our great poet Shakespeare. It is printed in his collection of sonnets, entitled "The Passionate Pilgrim." The reader may likewise see it in "Percy's Reliques of Antient Poetry," vol. i. p. 259.
[106] The same phrase occurs in Shakespeare's "Winter's Tale," act i. sc. 2, where Leontes says to Mamillius—
Dr Johnson says that it seems to be a proverbial expression used when a man sees himself wronged and makes no resistance; and Mr Smith is of opinion that it means Will you put up affronts? In the present instance it seems intended to express the speaker's fears that he shall receive nothing in return for his money.
[107] These lines seem intended as a parody on the beginning of the old song called "The Spanish Lady's Love." See Percy's "Reliques," vol. ii. p. 233. An English Flag means the Ancient; a name which was formerly used as synonymous to Ensign.
[108] i.e., Wine of Alicant. [But Sim means to dissuade them from bloodshed, as there is red wine already in the house.]
[109] [See Nares, edit. 1859, in v. Bayard meant originally a bay horse, and afterward any kind or colour.]
[110] This tune is mentioned in "Eastward Hoe," 1605. In Gascoigne's works, 1587, fol. 278, is the following line—
"I wept for woe, I pin'd for deadly paine."
[111] Mr Reed transferred this exclamation to Alexander, but it is just as probably what old Bloodhound says, and the old copy gives it to him.—Collier.
[112] [This word has been already explained more than once.]
The City Night-Cap: Or, Crede quod habes, & habes. A Tragi-Comedy. By Robert Davenport. As it was Acted with great Applause, by Her Majesties Servants, at the Phœnix in Drury-Lane. London: Printed by Ja: Cottrel, for Samuel Speed, at the Signe of the Printing-Press, in St. Paul's Church-yard. 1661. 4o.
Robert Davenport is a writer (remarks Reed) of whom scarce any particulars are known. It appears, from the office-book of Sir Henry Herbert, that Davenport had licence for the "History of Henry the First" on the 10th April, 1624; and this is the earliest memorandum relating to him with which we have met. His dramatic productions are—
1. "The History of Henry the First," not printed.
2. "A Pleasant and Witty Comedy, called a New Trick to Cheat the Devil," 1639, 4o.
3. "King John and Matilda," 1655, 4o.[114]
4. "The Pirate," not printed.[115]
5. "The Woman's Mistaken," not printed.
6. "The Fatal Brothers," not printed.
7. "The Politic Queen," not printed.
8. "The City Nightcap," 1661, 4o. Licensed Oct. 24, 1624.
He has also been credited with a piece called "The Pedlar," licensed to Robert Allot, April 8, 1630; but this production, under the title of "The Conceited Pedlar," is printed at the end of Allot's edition of Randolph's "Aristippus," 4o, 1630. It is, of course, included in Hazlitt's edition of Randolph, 12o, 1875.
Davenport, besides his plays, was the author of a considerable collection of poems, the greater part of which were not published. In 1639, however, appeared a thin 4o volume, entitled "A Crowne for a Conqueror; and Too late to call backe yesterday. Two Poems, the one Divine, the other Morall. By R. D." In the Bodleian Catalogue this little book is misdated 1623.[116] The latter piece is dedicated to his noble friends, as he calls them, Mr Richard Robinson[117] and Mr Michael Bowyer; and in his address to them he styles both the poems some of the expense of his time at sea. From the address prefixed to the play of "King John and Matilda," signed R. D., he appears to have been alive in the year 1655, when that piece was first published.
[114] It was published by Andrew Pennycuicke, one of the performers, who says that he was the last who played the character of Matilda. See it criticised in the Retrosp. Review, iv. 87-100.
[115] In S. Sheppard's "Poems," 8o, 1651, is one "To Mr Davenport, on his play called 'The Pirate.'"—Collier.
[116] [For a notice of Davenport's unprinted poems, see Hazlitt's "Handbook," 1867, in v.]
Duke of Verona. | |
Duke of Venice, brother to Abstemia. | |
Duke of Milan. | |
Antonio, the duke's son. | |
Lorenzo, husband to Abstemia. | |
Philippo, his friend. | |
Lodovico, husband to Dorothea. | |
Lords of Verona. | |
Senators of Venice. | |
Sanchio, | lords of Milan. |
Sebastiano, | |
Pandulpho. | |
Spinoso. | |
Jaspro. | |
Jovani. | |
Francisco, servant to Lodovico. | |
Pambo, a clown. | |
Morbo, a pander. | |
A Turk, slave to Antonio. | |
Two slaves to Lorenzo. | |
Officers and servants. | |
WOMEN ACTORS.[118] | |
Abstemia, Lorenzo's wife, and sister to the Duke of Venice. | |
Dorothea, Lodovico's wanton lady. | |
Timpanina, a bawd. | |
Ladies. |
[118] i.e., Actors of women's parts; though women actors were brought upon the stage about the date when this play was printed, but not when it was first performed.
THE CITY NIGHTCAP.[119]
Enter Lorenzo and Philippo.
Enter Abstemia.
[Kicks her, and retires to conceal himself. She weeps.
Enter Lodovico, Pandulpho, Spinoso, Jaspro, Jovani, and Clown.
Lod. Marry, with my man Francisco. O that fellow! She were undone without him; for indeed she takes great pleasure in him: he learns[Pg 112] her music. To hear what counsel she will give him! if he but screw his look sometimes with the pin, she will tell him straight 'twas an unchristian look. I love him dearly.
Spin. But can your honour never woo your lady to a more sociable affability? She will not kiss, nor drink, nor talk, but against new fashions.
Lod. O sir, she is my crown: nor is it requisite women should be so sociable. I have had such a coil with her, to bring her but to look out at window! When we were first married, she would not drink a cup of wine, unless nine parts of it were water.
Omnes. Admired temperance!
Lod. Nay, and ye knew all, my lords, ye would say so. T'other day I brought an English gentleman home with me, to try a horse I should sell him: he (as ye know their custom, though it be none of ours) makes at her lips the first dash.
Clown. He dashed her out of countenance, I'm sure of that.
Lod. She did so pout and spit, that my hot-brained gallant could not forbear but ask the cause. Quoth she——
Clown. No, sir, she spit again before quoth she left her lips.
Lod. I think she did indeed: but then, quoth she, A kiss, sir, is sin's earnest-penny. Is't not true, Pambo?
Clown. Very true, sir. By the same token, quoth he to her again, if you dislike the penny, lady, pray let me change it into English halfpence, and so gave her two for't.
Lod. But how she vexed then! Then she rattled him, and told him roundly, though confidence made cuckolds in England, she could no coxcombs in Italy.
Clown. But did ye mark how bitterly he closed it with a middling jest?
Lod. What was that, I prythee?
Clown. Why, quoth he again, Confidence makes not so many cuckolds in England, but craft picks open more padlocks in Italy.
Jov. That was something sharp. But there she comes.
Enter Dorothea and Francisco.
Lod. Ye shall see how I'll put ye all upon her presently.
Clown. Then I shall take my turn.
Dor. Francis.
Fran. Madam.
Dor. Have you changed the ditty you last set?
Fran. I have, madam.
Dor. The conceit may stand; but I hope you have clothed the method in a more Christian-like apparel.
Fran. I have, lady.
Dor. Pray, let me hear it now.
Dor. Put in hurt her finger, good Francis: the phrase will be more decent.
Pan. Y' are a wondrous happy man in one so virtuous!
Lod. Nay, ye shall have no Count Lorenzo of me, I warrant ye.
Clown. Nor no Count Lorenzo's lady of your wife, I warrant ye.
Lod. Sweet chick, I come to take leave of thee: finger in eye already? We are all to meet the duke this afternoon, bird, who is now come from Venice. Thou may'st walk and see the Count Lorenzo's lady.
Dor. Alas! she's too merry for my company.
Clown. Why, then your ladyship may hold your tongue, say nothing, and walk in the orchard.
Dor. She can drink a cup of wine not delayed[124] with water.
Clown. Why, then you may drink a cup of water without wine.
Pan. Why, a modest woman may be kissed by accident, yet not give the least touch to her reputation.
Lod. Well said: touch her home.
Dor. Nay, but they may not: she that will kiss, they say,[125] will do worse, I warrant her.
Jov. Why, I have seen you, madam, kissed against your will.
Dor. Against my will, it may be, I have been kissed indeed.
[Pg 115]Clown. Pshaw, there's nothing against a woman's will; and I dare be sworn, if my lady kiss but any one man, 'tis because she cannot do with all.
Lod. Nay, I know that to be true, my lords: and at this time, because you cannot do with all, pray kiss them in order; kiss her all over, gentlemen, and we are gone.
Dor. Nay, good my lord, 'tis against our nation's custom.
Spin. I must have my turn too, then.
Jov. It must go round.
Dor. Fie, fie!
Lod. Look how she spits now!
Jas. The deeper the sweeter, lady.
Clown. The nearer the bone, the sweeter the flesh, lady.
Dor. How now, sauce-box!
Clown. Did not my lord bid the gentlemen kiss you all over?
Lod. I have sweet cause to be jealous, have I not, gentlemen? no. Crede quod habes, et habes still. He that believes he has horns, has them. Will you go bring my horse, sir?
Clown. I will bring your horse, sir, and your horse shall bring his tail with him. [Exit.
Lod. Francis, I prythee, stay thou at home with thy lady. Get thy instrument ready; this melancholy will spoil her: before these lords here make her but laugh, when we are gone——
Fran. Laugh before these lords when they are gone, sir!
Lod. Pish! I mean, make her laugh heartily before we come home, and, before these lords, I promise thee a lease of forty crowns per annum.
Fran. Can ye tell whether she be ticklish, sir?
Lod. O, infinitely ticklish!
Fran. I'll deserve your lease, then, ere you come home, I warrant.
Lod. And thou shalt ha't, i' faith, boy.
Enter Clown.
Clown. Your horse is ready, sir.
Lod. My lords, I think we have stayed with the longest. Farewell, Doll. Crede quod habes, et habes, gallants.
Pan. Our horses shall fetch it up again. Farewell, sweet lady.
Clown. And whensoe'er I marry, Venus send me a card may save Fortune the labour, and turn up herself. [Exeunt.
Dor. How now? why loiter you behind? why ride you not along with your lord?
Fran. To lie with your ladyship.
Dor. How?
Fran. In the bed, upon the bed, or under the bed.
Dor. Why, how now, Francis!
Fran. This is the plain truth on't, I would lie with ye.
Dor. Why, Francis——
Fran. I know too, that you will lie with me.
Dor. Nay, but, Francis——
Dor. You will not ravish me, Francis?
Fran. No; but unravel ye in two lines experience writ lately—
Dor. Indeed ye do not well to belie me thus.
Fran. Come, I'll lie with thee, wench, and make all well again. Though your confident lord makes use of Crede quod habes, et habes, and holds it impossible for any to be a cuckold, [and] can believe himself none, I would have his lady have more wit, and clap them on.
Dor. And truly, Francis, some women now would do't.
Fran. Who can you choose more convenient to practise with than me, whom he doats on? where shall a man find a friend but at home? so you break one proverb's pate, and give the other a plaster. Is't a match, wench?
Dor. Well, for once it is: but, and ye do any more, indeed I'll tell my husband.
Fran. But when shall this once be? now?
Fran. Then! how is it possible?
Dor. Possible! women can make any of these things possible, Francis: now many casualties may cross us; but soon at night my lord, I'm sure, will be so sleepy, what with his journey and deep healths for the duke's return, that before he goes[Pg 118] to bed (as he uses still when he has been hard a-drinking) he will sleep upon the bed in's clothes so sound, bells, would not wake him, rung in the chamber.
Fran. The cuckold slumbers; and though his wife hit him o' th' forehead with her heel, he dreams of no such matter.
Dor. Now Pambo, that makes him merry in his chamber, shall, when the candle's out and he asleep, bring you into the chamber.
Fran. But will he be secret?
Dor. Will he, good soul! I am not to try him now.
Dor. When you are in at door on right before you, you shall feel the bed; give me but softly a touch, I'll rise, and follow you into the next chamber: but truly, and you do not use me kindly, I shall cry out and spoil all.
Fran. Use you kindly! was lady e'er used cruelly i' th' dark? Do you but prepare Pambo and your maid: let me alone with her mistress. About eleven I desire to be expected.
Dor. And till the clock strike twelve, I'll lie awake.
Fran. Now ye dare kiss?
Dor. Once with my friend, or so; yet you may take two, Francis.
Fran. My cast is ames-ace then.
Dor. Deuce-ace had got the game.
Fran. Why, then, you're welcome. Adieu, my dainty mistress.
Dor. Farewell, kind Francis. [Exeunt.
Enter Lorenzo, as from horse.
Enter Philippo and Abstemia. Lorenzo aside.
Enter Lorenzo, Pandulpho, Spinoso, Jaspor, Jovani.
[Exit.
[Kicks her. She swoons.
[Exeunt Omnes.
[119] The plot of this play is taken partly from "Philomela, the Lady Fitzwater's Nightingale," by Robert Greene, 1592, 4o, which resembles the novel of the "Curious Impertinent" in "Don Quixote," and partly from Boccaccio's "Decameron," Gior. 7, Novella 7.—Reed.
[120] This play, in the old copy, is divided into acts, but not into scenes. It was therefore useless to mark "Scene I." at the beginning of each act, as Mr Reed allowed it to stand, without the noting of any of the other scenes.—Collier.
[121] Of course all that Lorenzo says in this scene in the presence of Abstemia is aside, and while he stands unseen by her.—Collier.
[122] [Old copy, alarm.]
[123] The 4o reads—
"Whose wife seems honest, and no hypocrite."
Mr Reed altered it as it stands in the text, and although he was probably right, the change ought to have been noticed. Collier.
[124] [Allayed, diluted. Mr Collier altered the word to allayed.]
[125] [In allusion to the proverb, "After kissing comes greater kindness."]
[126] [Old copy, them].
A bed thrust out. Lodvico sleeping in his clothes; Dorothea in bed. Enter Clown leading in Francisco.
Fran. Softly, sweet Pambo: are we in the chamber yet?
Clown. Within a yard of my lady, and ye can be quiet.
Fran. Art sure my lord's asleep?
Clown. I know not; I'll go and ask him.
Fran. No, no, no, do not wake him; we are undone then, man.
Clown. Ha, ha, ha! now do I see cuckold-making is as ticklish a profession as coneycatching. My lord was so paid with healths at Court, he's fast enough.
Fran. But still I pursue wonder why my lady should prescribe this strange, nay wondrous desperate, way to her desires.
Clown. Is that a question to ask now? would you would grope out the bed; for I sleep in my talk, I am sure of that.
[Lodvico coughs.
Fran. We are lost for ever! did he not cough?
Clown. 'Tis nothing but the last cup comes up in stewed broth. If ever you make true whore-master, I'll be bound to resign my place up to my lord's page; sea-sick, before you come to th' salt water! let me go in your stead.
Clown. Turn of your left hand, 'twill lead you to the devil—to my lady, I should say, presently. [Exit.
Dor. Who's there?
Fran. 'Tis I.
Dor. Francis!
Fran. Fortunate Francis, that was wrapped in's mother's smock.
Dor. Give me your hand, Francis.
Fran. There 'tis. I melt already!
Dor. My lord! Count Lodovico, awake!
Fran. I am lost for ever, madam.
Dor. My lord! my lord!
Fran. If I pull too hard, I shall pull her out o' th' bed too.
Dor. My lord, will ye not wake?
Lod. What's the matter? what's the matter?
Fran. How I do dwindle!
Enter Clown.
Fran. Pish, Pambo!
Clown. Here, boy.
Fran. Go meet him in the garden, and hark.
Clown. Excellent! I'll play my lady, I warrant ye.
Fran. Do't daintily.
Clown. Well, I may hope for a 'squire's place; my father was a costermonger.[127] [Exit.
Enter Lodovico and Clown.
Lod. Here's a wife, Pambo!
Clown. Now, Crede quod habes, et habes, sir.
Lod. Why, right, man; let him believe he has horns, and he has 'em.
Clown. To discover upon the pinch to ye!
Clown. Fortune's i' th' fashion of hay-forks.
Lod. Sirrah Pambo, thou shalt seldom see a harsh fellow have such a wife, such a fortunate wedding.
Clown. He will go to hanging as soon.
Clown. Ay, that shows her light from head to heel, sir; and who have heavier heads than those whose wives have light heels? that feather confounds her.
Lod. I shall so laugh to hear the comical history of the great Count Lorenzo's horns: but as I have such a wife now, what a villain did I entertain to teach her music? H' has done her no good since he came, that I saw.
Clown. Hang him, h' has made her a little perfect in prick-song, that's all; and it may be, she had skill in that before you married her too.
Enter Francisco.
Clown. 'Tis he, sure; h' has a dreaming whoremaster's pace. Pray, let me practise my lady's part, and counterfeit for her.
Lod. Can'st thou imitate to th' life?
Clown. Can I? O wicked Francis!
Lod. Admirable! Thou shalt do't.
Clown. Pray, be you ready with your rapier to spit him then, and I'll watch him a good turn, I warrant ye.
Fran. Here they are. If Pambo now comes off with his part neatly, the comedy passes bravely. Who's there? madam?
Clown. Francis?
Fran. The same.
Clown. I think this place lies too open to the air, Francis?
Clown. Well, Francis, you had been better—if I do not tell my lord of this!
Lod. He has put him to't now.
Lod. Hold, hold, hold, man!
Fran. Ha, who are you?
Lod. One that has more humanity in him, than to see a proper fellow cast himself away, I warrant thee. 'Tis I, 'tis I, man: I have heard all.
Clown. And 'twas I played my lady to have snapped ye.
Fran. Let me deserve, sir, first.
Lod. Shalt have them. I know what I do, I warrant thee.
Fran. I joy in such a lady.
Lod. Nay, there's a couple of you, for a wife and a friend. Shalt be no more my servant. I[Pg 130] had thought to have made thee my steward, but thou'rt too honest for the place, that's the truth on't.
Clown. His superfluity is my necessity. Pray, let me ha't, sir.
Lod. I will talk with thee to-morrow, Pambo: thou shalt have something too: but I'll go to bed. Honest Francis, the dearest must part, I see. I will so hug the sweet rascal, that thinks every hour ten, till I come yonder! Good night, Frank.
Clown. So a city nightcap go with thee! But shall I not be thought on for my night's service?
Fran. O, look ye, pray forget not ye had something.
Clown. Well, and pray do you remember I had nothing.
Fran. Nothing! what's that?
Clown. Nothing, before I had something, I mean. So you are well-returned from Utopia.
Fran. You're very nimble, sir: good-morrow. [Exeunt.
A bar set out. Enter the Duke of Verona, Pandulpho, Spinoso, Jaspro, Jovani, Lorenzo, Philippo, Abstemia, a guard and two slaves.
[127] A costermonger is a seller of apples; and an apple-squire was formerly a cant term for a pimp.
So in Erasmus's "Praise of Folly," translated by Chaloner, 1549, sig. P.: "Or doo you judge peradventure they coulde easily fynde in their hertes, that so many scriveners, so many registrers, so manie notaries, so many advocates, so many promoters, so many secretaries, so many moyleters, so many horsekeepers, so many gentlemen of householde, so many apple-squires, so many baudes, I had almost spoken a softer worde," &c.
Again, in "Faults, Faults, and Nothing but Faultes," by Barnaby Rich, 1606, p. 24: "Shee shall not want the assistance of her ruffians, her apple-squires, and of those brothell queanes that lodge, that harbour, and that retain her."
Again, in Ben Jonson's "Every Man in his Humour," iv. 10—
See also "Dekker's Belman of London," sig. H 2.
And in Bale's "Actis of Englishe Votaries," 1550, Part I., fol. 27: "Women in those dayes might sore have distained their newlie risen opinion of holines, if they had chaunced to haue bene with childe by the prelates, and therefore other spiritual remedies were sought out for them by their good providers and proctors; ye may if ye will call them apple-squires."—Gilchrist.
[128] [Old copy, full.]
[129] [Old copy, circumstances.]
[130] [Old copy, stand.]
[131] [A not unusual form of De Medici.]
Enter Lodovico, Jaspro, Jovani, and Clown.
Lod. There lies the jest on't. Sirrah Pambo, I do but think, an' she had met him in the garden, how she would have rattled him.
Clown. And ruffled him too, sir: the camomile[133] would have been better for it many a day after.
Jov. Such an honest-minded servant where shall one find?
Lod. Servant! my sworn brother, man; he's[Pg 139] too honest for an office, he'll never thrive in't: ye have few servants will deal so mercifully with their lords.
Jas. A wife! why, she's a saint; one that ever bears a good sound soul about her.
Clown. Yes, when she wears her new shoes.
Jov. Shall we see her, my lord?
Lod. Where is she, Pambo?
Clown. Walking a turn or two i' th' garden with Francisco, sir; I'll go call her.
Lod. No, no, no; let her alone: 'tis pity indeed to part them, they are so well-matched. Was he not reading to her?
Clown. No, sir, she was weeping to him: she heard this morning that her confessor, father Jacomo, was dead.
Jas. Father Jacomo dead?
Lod. Why, now shall not we have her eat one bit this five days.
Clown. She'll munch the more in a corner: that's the puritan's fast.
Lod. Nay, do but judge of her, my lords, by one thing: whereas most of our dames go to confession but once a month, some twice a quarter, and some but once a year, and that upon constraint too, she never misses twice a week.
Jas. 'Tis wonderful!
Lod. Nay, I told ye, ye should find no Philippo of Francisco.
Clown. And I remember I told your honour you should find no Abstemia of my lady.
Lod. Nor no Lorenzo of myself: he was ever a melancholy stubborn fellow. He kept her in too[Pg 140] much, and see what comes on't! I give my wife her will, and see what comes on't too!
Clown. Nay, sir, there is two come on't, an' a man could discover 'em.
Lod. Two what, I prythee?
Clown. It may be two babies, sir: for they come commonly with giving a woman her will.
Lod. I'd laugh at that, i' faith, boy. But who has she now for her confessor?
Clown. She looks for one, they call him father Antony, sir; and he's wished[134] to her by Madonna Lussuriosa.
Enter Dorothea and Francisco.
Lod. There's another modest soul too, never without a holy man at her elbow! But here comes one outweighs them all. Why, how now, chick, weeping so fast? This is the fault of most of our ladies; painting—weeping for their sins I should say, spoils their faces.
Fran. Sweet madam.
Lod. Look, look, look! loving soul, he weeps for company!
Clown. And I shall laugh outright by and by.
Dor. O that good man!
Lod. Why, bird?
Jas. Be patient, lady.
Dor. Would he go to heaven without his zealous pupil?
Clown. It may be he knew not your mind, forsooth.
Dor. He knew my mind well enough.
Clown. Why then, it may be, he knew you could not hold out for the journey. Pray, do not set us all a-crying.
[Weeps.
Lod. Nay, prythee, Doll. Pray, gentlemen, comfort her. [Weeps.
Clown. Now is the devil writing an encomium upon cunning cuckold-makers.
Fran. You have been harsh to her of late, I fear, sir.
Lod. By this hand, I turned not from her all last night. What should a man do?
Lod. Weep again? She'll cry out her eyes, gentlemen.
Clown. No, I warrant you: remember the two lines your honour read last night—
Lod. Good pigs-nie! Frank, prythee, walk her t'other turn i' th' garden, and get her a stomach to her supper. We'll be with ye presently, wench.
Dor. Nay, when ye please; but why should I go from ye?
Lod. Loving soul! Prythee, Frank, take her away.
Dor. Pray, let me kiss ye first. Come, Francis, Nobody cares for us.
[At the door Francis kisses her. Exeunt.
Lod. Well, there goes a couple: where shall a man match you, indeed? Hark, Pambo!
Jas. Did you observe?
Jov. They kissed!
Jas. Peace.
Lod. And entreat Madonna Lussuriosa to sup with us: as you go, tell her my lady's never well but in her company.
Clown. What, if your honour invited the Count Lorenzo? he'll be so melancholy, now his lady and he are parted.
Lod. Pray do as you are bid, kind sir, and let him alone: I'll have no cuckold sup in my house to-night.
Clown. 'Tis a very hot evening; your honour will sup in the garden then.
Lod. Yes, marry, will I, sir; what's that to you?
Clown. Why, your honour was ever as good as your word. Keep the cuckolds out of door, and lay a cloth for my lord in the arbour, gentlemen. [Exit.
Lod. I have been this three months about a project.
Jov. What is't, my lord?
Lod. Why, I intend to compose a pamphlet of all my wife's virtues, put them in print, and dedi[Pg 143]cate them to the duke, as orthodoxal directions against he marries.
Jas. 'Twill give him apt instructions, when he does marry, to pick out such a woman.
Lod. Pick her! where will he pick her? as the English proverb says, He may as soon find a needle in a bottle of hay. Would I knew what sins she has committed, I would set them down all one with another; they would serve as foils to her virtues: but I do think she has none: d'ye think she has any, gentlemen?
Jov. O, none, sir, but has some.
Lod. Ay, piddling ones, it may be; as when a pin pricks her finger to cry at sight on't, and throw't away; but for other matters——
Jas. Now I think on't, sir, I have a device newly begotten that, if you be so desirous to be resolved of her perfections, 'twill be an apt means for your intelligence.
Lod. That will be excellent; and then my book, grounded upon mine own experience, the report of my judgment in the choice of a woman, will sell them off faster than the compositor can set the letters together.
Lod. Well, he that believes he has horns, has horns; and Crede quod habes, et habes, shall be my motto. [Exeunt.
Enter Pandulpho and Spinoso.
Enter at one door Duke of Venice, Philippo, and Lords: at the other, Duke of Verona, Jaspro, Jovani; Lorenzo guarded. A bar set out. The 1st Slave.
Enter Lord, and 2d Slave.
[Aside.
[Exeunt Lorenzo,[142] Jaspro, and Jovani.
Enter Lodovico like a friar, Jaspro, and Jovani.
Lod. Well, lords,[143] you're mad lords to counsel me to this. But now, in this habit, shall I know the very core of her heart and her little piddling sins, which will show in my book as foils to her giant-bodied virtues.
Jas. That will be admirable!
Jov. We'll step aside: by this she's upon coming!
Jas. We shall know all.
Lod. Reveal, confession! but go your ways: as [Pg 153]much as may lawfully be revealed, we'll laugh at at next meeting.
Enter Dorothea.
Lod. Well, thou surpassest all the courtiers in these pretty ones, if a man had the wit to understand them. Yonder she comes: I can hardly forbear blushing, but that for discovering myself.
Lod. These will be brave sins to mix with her virtues! Why, they will make no more show than three or four bailiffs amongst a company of honest men. [Aside.] These sins, my dove-like daughter, are out of contradiction venial, trivial, and light. Have you none of greater growth?
Lod. Why then, Crede quod habes, et habes, I will believe I have horns, for I have 'em. 'Sfoot, a woman, I perceive, is a neat herald; she can quarter her husband's coat with another's[147] arms at pleasure. But I have a penance for your pure whoreship. [Aside.] You are somewhat broad: are you not with child, daughter?
[133] The camomile is said to grow faster the more it is pressed or trodden upon, and to this circumstance the Clown here alludes. Frequent notice is taken of this property in the plant by our ancient writers. As in Tofte's "Honours Academie, or the Famous Pastorall of the Faire Shepheardesse Julietta," 1610, p. 204, 5th part: "But as gold taken out of the burning furnace, is farre more bright and fierce, than when it was first flung in; and as Camomell, the more it is trod upon, the thicker and better it groweth: even so we see this faire Archeresh to shew more cleare and beautifull, when the flame was once past and gone then she had bene before."
And in the "First Part of King Henry IV.," act ii. sc. 4: "For though the camomile the more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears."
See other instances in the notes of Mr Steevens and Dr Farmer on the last passage.
[134] [Recommended.]
[135] [I might go in search of it.]
[136] [A proverbial expression, by which the Clown ironically suggests that the world is going to be good at last.]
[137] That is, acquainted, or informed him. [See note at vol. ix., p. 483.]
[138] [Old copy, fears.]
[139] The speech following has hitherto very mistakenly been assigned to Verona. The sense, even without comparison with the old copy, shows the error.—Collier.
[140] [Old copy, made.]
[141] [Old copy, So cast him from our presence.]
[142] The 4o reads, Exeunt Lord, &c., but Lorenzo is meant.—Collier.
[143] [Old copy, of lords.]
[144] See note on "Albumazar," [xi. 328.]
[145] i.e., Go before. Old copy, Far more.—Pegge.
[146] [In the former edits, this line precedes the one before it, to the prejudice of the sense.]
[147] [Old copy, butcher's.]
[148] [Old copy, orders bar. Mr Collier's correction. He alludes, as Mr Collier suggests, to the religious order to which he pretends to belong.]
Enter Abstemia.
Enter Timpania and Morbo.
Mor. Yonder she walks, mumbling to herself. The Prince Antonio has blessed her with's observation; and ye win her but to him, your house bears the bell away. Accost her quaintly.
Tim. I warrant thee, Morbo; Madonna Timpania has effected wonders of more weight than a maidenhead. Have I ruined so many city-citadels to let in court-martialists; and shall this country-cottage hold out? I were more fit for a cart than a coach then, i' faith. How now, Millicent, how d'ye this morning?
Abs. Well, I do thank so good a landlady.
Tim. But hark you, Mill. Is the door close, Morbo?
Mor. As a usurer's conscience. Grace was coming in, till she saw the door shut upon her.
Tim. I'll set Grace about her business, and I come to her. Is here any work for Grace, with a wanion to her?[149] We shall have eavesdroppers, shall we?
[Pg 159]Abs. Chastity guard me! how I tremble.
Tim. Come hither, Mistress Millicent. Fie, how you let your hair hang about your ears too! How do you like my house, Mill?
Abs. Well indeed, well.
Tim. Nay, I know a woman may rise here in one month, and she will herself. But truth's truth: I know you see something, as they say, and so forth. Did you see the gallant was here last till twelve?
Abs. Which of them mean you? Here was many.
Tim. Which? he in the white feather, that supped in the gallery: was't not white, Morbo?
Mor. As a lady's hand; by these five fingers.
Tim. White? No, no, 'twas a tawny, now I remember.
Mor. As a gipsy, by this hand: it looked white by candle-light, though.
Abs. His excellent carriage spoke him of noble birth.
Tim. And this same duke's son loves you, Millicent.
[Pg 160]Abs. Now Heaven defend me!
Tim. What, from a duke's son? marry, come up with a murrain, from whence came you, trow, ha?
Mor. Thus nice Grace was at first, and you remember.
Tim. I would have ye know, housewife, I could have taken my coach, and fetched him one of the best pieces in Milan, and her husband should have looked after me, that's neighbours might have noted, and cried, Farewell, naunt,[151] commend me to mine uncle.
Mor. And yet from these perfumed fortunes Heaven defend you!
Abs. Perfumed, indeed.
Mor. Perfumed! I am a pander, a rogue, that hangs together like a beggar's rags, by geometry, if there were not three ladies swore yesterday that my mistress perfumed the coach! so they were fain to unbrace all the side-parts, to take in fresh air.
Tim. He tells you true; I keep no common company, I warrant ye. We vent no breathed ware here.
Abs. But have ye so many several women to answer so many men that come?
Mor. I'll answer that by demonstration. Have ye not observed the variation of a cloud? sometimes it will be like a lion, sometimes like a horse, sometimes a castle, and yet still a cloud.
Abs. True.
Mor. Why, so can we make one wench one day look like a country wench, another day like a citizen's wife, another day like a lady, and yet still be a punk.
Enter Philippo.
Tim. You're reciprocal welcome, sir.
Phil. What, have ye not brought this young wild haggard[152] to the lure yet?
Tim. Faith, sir, she's a little irregular yet: but time, that turns citizens' caps into court-periwigs, will bring the wonder about.
Phil. Bless you, sweet mistress!
Enter Antonio and Slave.
Mor. 'Sfoot! here's the prince: I smell thunder.
Tim. Your grace is most methodically welcome. You must pardon my variety of phrase: the courtiers e'en cloy us with good words.
Ant. What's he?
Mor. A gentleman of Ferrara, sir; one Pedro Sebastiano.
Ant. And do ye set her out to sale? I charged ye reserve for me alone.
Tim. Indeed, sir——
Ant. Pox of your deeds! [Kicks her.
Tim. O my sciatica!
Ant. Sirrah, you perfumed rascal!
[Kicks Philippo. They draw.
Tim. Nay, good my lord.
Mor. Good sir, 'tis one of the duke's chamber.
Phil. Let him be of the devil's chamber.
[Pg 162]Ant. Sirrah, leave the house, or I will send thee out with thunder.
Slave. Good sir, 'tis madness here to stand him.
Phil. 'Sfoot, kicked! Pray that we meet no more again, sir: still keep heaven about you.[153]
Abs. Whate'er thou art, a good man still go with thee.
Ant. Will you bestow a cast of your professions?
Mor. We are vanished, sir.
Tim. This 'tis to dream of rotten glasses, Morbo.
Abs. O, what shall become of me? In his eye murder and lust contend.
Enter Timpania and Morbo.
Mor. Sir.
Ant. Is my caroch at door?
Tim. And your horses too, sir. Ye found her pliant?
Ant. Y' are rotten hospitals hung with greasy satin!
Tim. Ah!
Mor. Came this nice piece from Naples, with a pox to her?
Tim. And she has not Neapolitanised him, I'll be flea'd for't. [Exeunt Bawd and Pander.
Enter Venice, Verona, Lodovico, Pandulpho, Jaspro.
Ver. Is this your chaste, religious lady?
Lod. Nay, good my lord, let it be carried with a silent reputation, for the credit of the conclusion. As all here are privy to the passage, I do desire not to be laughed at till after the masque, and we are all ready. I have made bold with some of your grace's gentlemen, that are good dancers.
Ven. It busies me, believe me, too.
Jas. Ye may see now, sir, how possible it is for a cunning lady to make an ass of a lord too confident.
Lod. An ass! I will prove a contented cuckold the wisest man in's company.
Ver. How prove you that, sir?
Lod. Because he knows himself.
Enter Dorothea, Ladies, Francisco, and Clown.
Lod. Yes, there's devout lechery between hawk and buzzard. But, please ye, set the ladies: the masque attends your grace. [Exit.
Enter Lodovico, Clown, and Masquers: a stag, a ram, a bull, and a goat.
Clown. Look to me, master.
Lod. Do not shake: they'll think th' art out. A masque[154]——
Dor. Why, chicken, shall they make such an ass of thee? Good your grace, can a woman endure to see her loving husband wear horns in's own house?
Ver. Pray, lady, 'tis but in jest.
Dor. In jest? Nay, for the jest sake, keep then on, sweet bird.
Those two lines are extempore, I protest, sir; I brought them in, because here are some of other cities in the room, that might snuff pepper else.[155]
Ven. A Verona constable.
Clown. A constable of Verona; we will not meddle with your city of Venice, sir.
Dor. Cuckolds' round! and my sweet bird leads the dance!
Lod. I'll catch occasion by the lock,[158] sir.
Ver. Here, a health to all; it shall go round.
Lod. 'Tis a general health, and leads the rest into the field.
Clown. Your honour breaks jests as servingmen do glasses—by chance.
Dor. Now you talk of dreams, sweetheart, I'll tell ye a very unhappy one: I was a-dreamed last night of Francis there.
Lod. Of Frank?
Dor. Nay, I have done with him.
Enter Jaspro.
Lod. With me or my lady?
Jas. Nay, with you, and about earnest business.
Lod. I'll go send up, and he shall interpret my lady's dream. Hist, Jaspro. [Exeunt.
Dor. Why, husband! my lord!
Fran. Didst mark? He must interpret.[160]
Clown. I smell wormwood and vinegar. [Aside.
Ven. She changes colour.
Dor. He will not, sure, reveal confession!
Enter Jaspro and Lodovico.[161]
Clown. Father Tony!
Lod. I confess it, I deny it—ay, anything. I do everything; I do nothing.
Dor. 'Tis my misfortune still to suffer, sir.
Lod. Did you not see one slip out of a cloak-bag i' th' fashion of a flitch of bacon, and run under the table amongst the hogs?
Ven. He's mad, he's mad.
Clown. Ay, ay, a tithe-pig: 'twas overlaid last night, and he speaks nonsense all the day after——
Dor. Shall I, sir, suffer this—in mine own house too?
Clown. I'd scratch out his eyes first.
Clown. Nay, let me have a hand in't: I'll tear the coat with more zeal than a puritan would tear a surplice.
Fran. See what 'tis to accuse when you're mad.
Dor. I confess again to you now, sir, this man did lie with me.
Clown. And I brought him to her chamber, too: but come, turn out here.
Duke. Who's this?
Omnes. 'Tis Count Lodowick.
Lod. How dreams, sweet wife, do fall out true!
Clown. I was a-dream'd, now I remember, I was whipped through Verona.
Lod. I have nothing to do with ye; I take no notice of ye; I have played my part off to th' life, and your grace promised to perform yours.
Clown. Snails! upon an ass? an't 'ad been upon a horse, it had been worthy, gramercy.
Clown. He must be branded! if the whoremaster be burnt, what shall become of the procurer?
Lod. I will buss thee, and bid fair weather after thee. But for you, sirrah——
Clown. Nay, sir, 'tis but crede quod habes, et habes, at most; believe I have a halter, and I have one.
[Pg 175]Ver. You, sirrah, we are possess'd, were their pander.
Clown. I brought but flesh to flesh, sir, and your grace does as much when you bring your meat to your mouth.
Ver. You, sirrah, at a cart's tail shall be whipped through the city.
Clown. There's my dream out already! but, since there is no remedy but that whipping-cheer must close up my stomach, I would request a note from your grace to the carman, to entreat him to drive apace; I shall never endure it else.
Ver. I hope, Count Lodowick, we have satisfied ye.
Lod. To th' full; and I think the cuckold catch'd the cuckold-makers.
Ver. 'Twas a neat penance; but, O the art of woman in the performance!
[149] This expression occurs in "Pericles, Prince of Tyre," act ii. sc, 1—
Again, in Ben Jonson's "Devil is an Ass"—
[And in a thousand other places.]
[150] Springal (adolescens), a youth.—Skinner. So in Spenser's "Faery Queene," bk. v. c. x. s. 6—
And in "Wily Beguiled," 1606: "Pray ye, maid, bid him welcome, and make much of him, for by my vay, he's a good proper springold."
[151] [i.e., Aunt, a phrase already explained.]
[152] "A haggard goshawke" is one that is wild and hard to reclaim. See Latham's "Book of Faulconry," 1633.
And Massinger's "Maid of Honour," act ii. sc. 2—
[153] Philippo here makes his Exit, which is not marked in the old copy, and, under the circumstances, is not very creditable to him.—Collier.
[154] Lodovico stands by, and prompts the Clown as he speaks the prologues.—Collier.
[155] i.e., Might take offence, or be affronted. To take pepper in the nose, was formerly a cant phrase for being affronted or irritated; as in Tarlton's "Newes out of Purgatory," 1630, p. 10: "Myles hearing him name the Baker, tooke straight pepper in the nose, and starting up, threw off his cardinals roabes."
[156] Old copy, on.
[157] Old copy, Sick.
[158] As we should say, by the forelock.
[159] i.e., Says Mr Steevens (note to "Merry Wives of Windsor," act i. sc. 1), "three venues, Fr. three different set-to's, bouts, a technical term." Several instances are there produced, to which may be added the following:—
Ben Jonson's "Every Man in his Humour," act i. sc. 5—
"The Old Law," by Massinger, &c., act iii. sc. 2—
Greene's "Historie of Fryer Bacon and Fryer Bungay," Sig. G 4, edit. 1630—
Fennor's "Compter's Commonwealth," 1617, p. 21: "Thus are my young novices strucke to the heart at the first venny, and dares come no more for feare of as sharp a repulse."
[160] [Old copy reads,] I must interpret. Francisco seems to allude to Lodovico's last words.—Pegge.
[161] Lodovico is disguised like a friar, as is evident from the rest of the scene.—Collier.
[162] [Old copy, is against.]
[163] "Fast and loose," says Sir John Hawkins (note to "Antony and Cleopatra," act iv. sc. 10), "is a term to signify a cheating game, of which the following is a description. A leathern belt is made up into a number of intricate folds, and placed edgewise upon a table. One of the folds is made to represent the middle of the girdle, so that whoever should thrust a skewer into it would think he held it fast to the table; whereas, when he has so done, the person with whom he plays may take hold of both ends and draw it away. The trick is now known to the common people by the name of pricking at the belt or girdle." The Gipsies, so early as the reign of Queen Elizabeth, were great adepts in these practices. See Scot's "Discoverie of witchcraft," 1584, p. 336; where in the 29th chapter is described the manner of playing at fast and loose with handkerchiefs, &c.
Enter Antonio and a Slave, one in the other's habit
Enter a Lord.
[Exit Antonio, and the Lord after him.
Enter Philippo.
[Kicks him.
Enter Lorenzo.
Enter the Duke of Milan, Sebastiano, Sanchio, and the Lord.
Enter Lorenzo with his sword drawn.
Enter Duke of Milan, Sanchio, and Sebastiano.
Enter Antonio and Abstemia.
Enter Morbo.
Abs. I know not.
Mor. All the country's in an uproar yonder: the Prince Antonio's slain.
Ambo. How!
Mor. Nay, no man can tell how; but the murd'rer with's sword in's hand is taken.
Ant. Is he of Milan?
Mor. No, of Verona: I heard his name, and I have forgot it.
Ant. I am all wonder; 'tis the slave, sure!
Mor. Lor—Lor—Lorenzo.
Abs. Ha, Lorenzo! What, I pray?
Mor. Lorenzo Me—Medico has run him in the eye, some thirty-three inches, two barleycorns: they could scarce know him for the blood, but by his apparel. I must find out my lady; he used our house; intelligence has been given of his pilgrimage thither. I am afraid I shall be singed to death with torches, and my lady stewed between two dishes.
Ant. Why hath this thus amazed you, mistress?
Enter Milan, Lords, and Lorenzo guarded.
[The Duke and Lords whisper.
Enter a Lord.
Enter Philippo, putting on a disguise, lays down a pistol.
Ant. Goose, there's a fox in your way.
Phil. Betrayed!
Ant. Come, I have another business afoot: I have no time to discover 'em now, sir. See, I can enforce you; but by this hand, go but with me, and keep your own counsel. Garden-houses[171] are not truer bawds to cuckold-making, than I will be to thee and thy stratagem.
Phil. Th' art a mad knave: art serious?
Ant. As a usurer when he's telling interestmoney.
Phil. Whate'er thou art, thy bluntness begets belief. Go on, I trust thee.
Ant. But I have more wit than to trust you behind me, sir; pray, get you before. I have a friend shall keep you in custody till I have passed a project; and if you can keep your own counsel, I will not injure you. And this for your comfort—the prince lives.
Ant. O sir, as the justices' clerk and the constable, when they share the crowns that drunkards pay to the poor. Pray, keep fair distance, and take no great strides. [Exeunt.
Enter Lorenzo and Abstemia, as in prison.
Enter Antonio.
Enter the three Dukes, with Lords.
[164] To levell at, or to hit the white, were phrases taken from archery, and often used by our ancient writers. The white was the mark at which archers practised when they learned to shoot. So in Massinger's "Emperor of the East," act iv. sc. 3—
"The immortality of my fame is the white I shoot at;"
in Beaumont and Fletcher's "Four [Plays in One" (Dyce's edit.), ii. 512]—
in Lyly's "Euphues and his England," 1582—"Vertue is the white we shoot at, not vanitie" (p. 11). Again, "He glaunced from the marke Euphues shot at, and hit at last the white which Philautus set up" (p. 18).
Again, "An archer saye you, is to be knowen by his aime, not by his arrowe: but your aime is so ill, that if you knewe howe farre wide from the white your shaft sticketh, you would hereafter rather breake your bowe then bend it."—Ibid. 57.
[165] In this speech are to be found the outlines of the character of Zanga, so admirably drawn by Dr Young. The plot of the Revenge is, however, said to have been taken from Mrs Behn's play of "Abdelazar," which was borrowed from "Lust's Dominion; or, The Lascivious Queen."
[166] [Old copy, and.]
[167] So in "Cymbeline," act v. sc. 3—
[168] [Mr Collier's correction. Old copy, leave.]
[169] Embrace.
[170] [i.e., Surround, crown.]
[171] See note to "The Miseries of Enforced Marriage" [ix. 538.]
[172] [Old copy, a young.]
[173] Old copy reads thirstiest.
[174] So Milton, in "Paradise Lost," bk. iv. 1. 159—
The Citye Match. A Comœdye. Presented to the King and Qveene, at White-Hall. Acted since at Black-Friers, by his Maiesties Servants. Horat. de Arte Poet. Versibus exponi Tragicis res Comica non vult. Oxford, Printed by Leonard Lichfield, Printer to the University. Anno Dom. M.DC.XXXIX. Folio.
Two Plaies: The City Match, a Comœdy; and the Amorous Warre, a Tragy Comœdy: both long since written. By J. M. of Ch. Ch. in Oxon. Oxford: Printed by Hen. Hall, for Ric. Davis, 1658. 4o.
The City Match: a Comœdy. Presented to the King and Queene at White-Hall. Acted since at Black Friers, by his Majesties Servants. Horat. de Arte Poet. Versibus exponi Tragicis res Comica non vult. By J. M. St. of Ch. Ch. in Oxon. Oxford: printed by Henry Hall, Printer to the University, for Rich. Davis. 1659. 8o.
Jasper Mayne was born at Hatherley, in Devonshire, in the year 1604; and being sent to Westminster School, he continued there until the age of nineteen years, without obtaining a King's scholarship. At that time he met with a patron in Dr Bryan Duppa; by whose recommendation, in 1623, he entered himself a servitor of Christ Church, Oxford, and commenced M.A. June 18, 1631. He afterwards took holy orders, and distinguished himself in the pulpit by that quaint manner of preaching which was then in vogue. His first preferment was the vicarage of Cassington, near Woodstock,[176] to which was afterwards added the living of Pyrton, near Watlington, both by the presentation of his college. These preferments lying at a small distance from the university, he continued to reside there, and was much admired for his wit and humour. In 1638 he completed a translation of Lucian's Dialogues;[177] and in the next [Pg 202]year appeared his comedy of "The City-Match." On the breaking out of the civil war, he sided with the royal party, to which he remained ever after firmly attached. He was appointed in 1642 one of the divines to preach before the king and Parliament, in that year proceeded Bachelor of Divinity, and was created D.D. on June 7, 1646. The decline of the king's affairs caused a very great alteration in those of our author: he was ejected from his student's place in 1648, and soon after deprived of both his vicarages. In the midst of these sufferings he still preserved a warm zeal for the old establishment. In September 1652, he held a public disputation with a noted Anabaptist preacher, in Watlington Church. He afterwards had the good fortune to meet with a friend in the Earl of Devonshire, who received him into his family in the character of chaplain, and with that nobleman he resided until the Restoration. On that event he returned back to his livings, was appointed chaplain-in-ordinary to the king, promoted to a canon's stall at Christ Church, and raised to the dignity of Archdeacon of Chichester.
Thus replaced in his favourite seat of the Muses, he continued to reside there during the rest of his life, happy in the full enjoyment of his promotions. He died December 6, 1672, and his corpse was interred in the aisle adjoining to the choir of Christ Church, [Pg 203]where a monument was erected to his memory at the charge of Dr Robert South and Dr John Lamphire, the executors of his will.
Besides the translation of Lucian (before mentioned) and "The City-Match,"[178] he published several sermons and poems,[179] and "The Amorous War:" a tragi-comedy. 4o, 1648.
["The City-Match" is an excellent comedy of intrigue and counter-plot, with many amusing and lively situations, and frequent illustrations of manners. The character of Dorcas, however, is forced, and her sudden metamorphosis is wanting in probability.]
The Author of this Poem, knowing how hardly the best things protect themselves from censure, had no ambition to make it this way public, holding works of this light nature to be things which need an apology for being written at all, nor esteeming otherwise of them, whose abilities in this kind are most passable, than of masquers who spangle and glitter for the time, but 'tis th[o]rough tinsel. As it was merely out of obedience that he first wrote it, so when it was made, had it not been commanded from him, it had died upon the place where it took life. Himself being so averse from raising fame from the stage, that at the presentment he was one of the severest spectators there, nor ever showed other sign whereby it might be known to be his but his liberty to despise it. Yet he hath at length consented it should pass the press; not with an aim to purchase a new reputation, but to keep that which he hath already from growing worse; for understanding that some at London, without his approbation or allowance, were ready to print a false, imperfect copy, he was loth to be libelled by his own work, or that his play should appear to the world with more than its own faults. Farewell.
[176] 8th of October 1638. Rymer's "Fœd." xx. 317.—Gilchrist.
[177] It was not published till 1664, but the title-page expresses that it was "made English from the original in the year 1638." This fact also appears from the dedication to the Marquis of Newcastle, which is a masterpiece of solid reasoning and critical acumen, where the author mentions that "these pieces were translated for your private entertainment above five-and-twenty years since." He adds that he was then only a student of Christ Church, and that he should have translated more "if the late barbarous times had not broke my study." In the course of this preface (for the epistle is to be so considered) Mayne very severely lashes the republicans for their ignorance and presumptuousness.—Collier (note altered).
[178] From the Prologue and Epilogue it appears that this play was acted by command of the king, both at Whitehall and at the Blackfriars Theatre.—Collier.
Warehouse, an old merchant. | |
Frank Plotwell, his nephew. | |
Cypher, his factor. | |
Bannswright, old Plotwell disguised. | |
Aurelia, Penelope Plotwell disguised. | |
Seathrift, a merchant. | |
Timothy, his son. | |
Dorcas, Susan Seathrift disguised. | |
Bright, | two Templars. |
Newcut, | |
Mistress Scruple, a Puritan schoolmistress. | |
Mistress Holland, a sempstress on the Exchange. | |
Quartfield, a captain. | |
Salewit, a poet. | |
Roseclap, one that keeps an ordinary. | |
Millicent, his wife. | |
'Prentice. | |
Two Footmen. | |
Boy that sings. |
The Scene, London.
THE CITY-MATCH.[180]
Warehouse, Seathrift.
[Exit Seathrift.
Enter Cypher.
Enter Plotwell, in a sad posture. Warehouse, Plotwell, Cypher.
Enter Cypher.
Enter Bright and Newcut.
[They tear off his jacket.
Enter Timothy.
[180] In the year 1755, a gentleman of great eminence in his profession made a few alterations in this play, and presented it to the governors of the Lock Hospital, near Hyde Park Corner, who obtained a representation of it at Drury Lane for the benefit of that charity. It was at the same time printed in 8o, under the title of "The Schemers; or, The City-Match."
Mr Bromfield, the surgeon, as Mr Davies, who acted in it, told me.—Reed.
[181] The merchant-tailor here alluded to was John Stowe, author of the "Chronicles of England," who was of that company, and a tailor by profession.
[182] See Ben Jonson's "Silent Woman."—Pegge.
[183] All the editions read their.
[184] See extract from Stubbes, quoted in note to "The Miseries of Enforced Marriage" [ix., 538.]
[185] [An allusion to the Lord Mayor's Show, into which were generally introduced symbolical representations of the civic virtues.]
[186] At St Paul's Cross, where [the Lord Mayor heard his inauguration sermon.]
[187] This was a wine which was brought from Baccarach, in Germany, as appears from Heywood's "Philo-cothonista," 1635, p. 48. It is there mentioned along with Rhenish.
Ray, in his "Travels," vol. i. p. 64, says: "Next we came to Baccarach, a walled town on the right hand, having many towers, subject to the Prince Elector Palatine, famous for the goodness of its wine, as is also Rhincow, a town not far from Mentz."—Reed.
[188] See note to "The Ordinary" [xii., 227.]
[189] [A sort of playful parody on the exordium to Ovid's "Metamorphoses."]
[190] The citizens of Charles I.'s time, and earlier, were as famous for the brightness of their shoes as some particular professions at present. In "Every Man in his Humour," act ii. sc. 1, Kitely says—
[191] [Bruises or contusions occasioned by assaults.]
[192] [Probably some strong, coarse sort of substance like corduroy.]
[193] [Apparently this word means the secret pigeon-holes in a desk or secretary.]
Aurelia, Dorcas.
Enter Bannswright.
Enter Bright, Newcut, Timothy, Plotwell.
Enter a Footman.
Enter Aurelia.
Enter Captain Quartfield beating Roseclap; Salewit and Millicent labouring to part them.
Enter Bright, Newcut, Timothy, Plotwell.
[Exeunt Bright, Newcut, Salewit, Quartfield, and Roseclap.
Enter Roseclap.
Warehouse, Seathrift, Cypher.
[194] "Talc, in natural history, is a shining, squamous, fissile species of stone, easily separable into thin, transparent scales or leaves."—Chambers's "Dictionary." It was anciently found only in Spain, but since, in several parts of Europe, Asia, and Africa. "Some chemists," says the same writer, "and other empirics, have held that talc might be used for many important purposes, and pretend to draw from it that precious oil so much boasted of by the ancients, particularly the Arabs, called oil of talc, which is supposed a wonderful cosmetic, and preserver of the complexion; but the truth is, the word talc, among them, signified no more than an equal disposition of the humours, which keeps the body in good temperament and perfect health. Now, as nothing contributes more than health to the preserving of beauty, this has given occasion to the chemists to search this oil of talc, which is to maintain the body in this disposition, and to engage the ladies to be at the expense of the search."
["Talc is a cheap kind of mineral, which this county (Sussex) plentifully affords, though not so fine as that which is fetched from Venice. It is white and transparent like crystal, full of strekes or veins, which prettily scatter themselves. Being calcined, and variously prepared, it maketh a curious white-wash, which some justify lawful, because clearing, not changing, the complexion."—Fuller's "Worthies," quoted by Gifford (Ben Jonson, iv. 94).]
[195] This was Prynne's celebrated work, entitled, "Histriomastix," &c., which was, by the sentence of the Star Chamber, ordered to be burnt.
[196] The county in which the celebrated Robert Browne (who may be esteemed the head of the Puritans) was beneficed, and afterwards died in gaol, at a very advanced age.
[197] Alluding to the second publication for which Prynne was prosecuted, and sentenced to lose the remainder of his ears. It was entitled, "News from Ipswich, and the Divine Tragedy, recording God's fearful Judgments against Sabbath-Breakers. 4o, 1636." [He published it under the name of Matthew White.]
[198] It appears to have been the custom at this time to work religious and other stories in different parts of the dress then worn. In Beaumont and Fletcher's "Custom of the Country," ii. 3, [Dyce's edit. iv. 422,] Rutilio says—
[199] [This passage is quoted in the editions of Beaumont and Fletcher, to illustrate a passage in the "Custom of the Country," (see below) but it is questionable, perhaps, whether the allusions here are to be taken quite seriously.]
[200] See note to "The Ordinary" [xii., 300.]
[201] See note to "The Ordinary" [xii., 316.]
[202] [An allusion which I cannot explain. It has no connection with Chettle's play.]
[203] Prynne's book, mentioned before.
[204] [See a note in Hazlitt's "Popular Poetry," ii. 153.]
[205] [A curious little illustration of contemporary civic usages.]
[206] Alluding to an automaton, like those at St Dunstan's, Fleet Street. See notes on Shakespeare's "King Richard III.," edit. 1778, p. 113, vol. vii.—Steevens.
[207] [Nares, in his "Glossary," 1859, in v., seems to say that this is the only passage where this phrase occurs. Fortunately it is explained for us. But its origin is obscure.]
[208] [The name given to the women who attended on the chambers in the inns-of-court. It is not obsolete.]
[209] In the third year of James I., rose-rials (or royals) of gold were coined at 30s. apiece, and spur-rials at 15s. each. For Harry-groats, see note to "The Antiquary," post.
[210] So Chapman, in his "Hymn to Hymen," at the end of the "Masque of the Middle Temple and Lincoln's Inn," 1613—
—Collier.
[211] [Probably the arras in the room represented some scene in the siege of Troy.]
[212] The art of weaving tapestry was brought into England by William Sheldon, Esq., about the end of the reign of Henry VIII. (See Dugdale's "Warwickshire," p. 584.) In the time of James I., a manufacture of tapestry was set up at Mortlake, in Surrey, and soon arrived at a high degree of excellence. King James gave £2000 towards the undertaking; and Sir Francis Crane erected the house to execute the design in. Francis Cleyn painted for the workmen, and to such a pitch of perfection had the art been carried, that Archbishop Williams paid for the four seasons, worked, I suppose, for hangings, £2500.—(Walpole's "Anecdotes," ii. 21-128.) Mortlake tapestry continued long in repute, and is mentioned in Oldham's Satire in imitation of the Third Satire of Juvenal—
[213] [i.e., Added to.]
[214] The following seems to be the story here alluded to: "But the strangest I have met with in this kinde, is the historie of Eve Fleigen, out of the Dutch translated into English, and printed at London, Anno 1611: who being borne at Meurs, is said to have taken no kinde of sustenance by the space of fourteen yeeres together; that is, from the yeere of her age twenty-two to thirty-six, and from the yeere of our Lord, 1597 to 1611; and this we have confirmed by the testimony of the magistrate of the towne of Meurs, as also by the minister, who made tryall of her in his house thirteene days together, by all the meanes he could devise, but could detect no imposture. Over the picture of this maiden, set in the front of the Dutch copie, stand these Latin verses—
Thus rendred in the English copie—
—Hakewill's "Apologie," fol. 1635, p. 440.
In Davenant's "News from Plymouth," act i. sc. 1, the same person is mentioned—
[The narrative of Eve Fleigen, above referred to, is appended to an excessively rare tract of eight 4o leaves, printed in 1611, and noticed in Hazlitt's "Handbook," 1867, p. 277.]
[215] Or, as it was more frequently written, tray-trip. This game is mentioned very frequently in our ancient writers, but it is by no means clear what the nature of it was. Mr Steevens considers it as a game at cards; and Mr Tyrwhitt, as a game at tables. In opposition to both, Mr Hawkins was of opinion that it was the same play which is now called "Scotch Hop," the amusement at present of the lower class of young people. In support of this idea, the above passage was quoted by that gentleman. See notes on "Twelfth Night," act ii. sc. 5.
The truth of Mr Tyrwhitt's conjecture will be established by the following extract from "Machiavell's Dogge," 1617, 4o, sig. B.
[See also "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," 1870, ii. 340.]
[216] Alluding to the quaint speeches anciently delivered by fantastic characters during pageants and processions, such as that of the Lord Mayor, those at the entry of foreign princes, &c. The speakers were usually placed on conduits, market crosses, and other elevated situations.—Steevens.
[217] [According to some, a person who kept a tavern at or near Hoxton, but according to others, a place in that neighbourhood remarkable for selling ale. This is a doubtful matter. The ales of Pimlico, near London, are still famous.] See "Pimlyco, or Runne Red cap, 'tis a mad world at Hogsden," 1609. [As only one copy of it is known, it might be rather difficult to see it.]
[218] [See Dyce's "Shakespeare Glossary," in v. A whiffler was originally a player on a whiffle or fife in a procession, and hence was a name applied to the boys who walked (generally with flags) in the procession on Lord Mayor's Day.]
Bachelors whifflers should properly be young men free of the company. They attend on the Lord Mayor's Day, and are supposed to be out of their apprenticeships the preceding year. They are considered by the company they belong to pretty nearly in the same point of view as a gentleman considers the upper servants he keeps out of livery.—N.
In some companies, I am well informed, the children are named The Whiflers.—Reed (note altered).
Bright, Newcut, Plotwell, Roseclap, hanging out the picture of a strange fish.[221]
Enter Quartfield and Salewit, dressed like two trumpeters, keeping the door; Mistress Seathrift and Mistress Holland, with a 'prentice before 'em, as comers-in.
Enter Warehouse and Seathrift disguised.
[Cypher presses in like a waterman.
[They thrust him out.
[Draws a curtain; behind it Timothy asleep like a strange fish.
Song.
[Knocking at door.
[They draw the curtain before him.
[Exit Mistress Seathrift, Mistress Holland, and 'Prentice.
Enter Cypher, like a Waterman.
[Exit Quartfield and Salewit.
Enter Quartfield and Salewit.
Enter Roseclap.
Enter Bannswright.
[221] Mr Steevens observes (note to "The Tempest," act ii. sc. 2) that it was formerly very common to exhibit fishes, either real or imaginary, in this manner, and that it appears from the books of Stationers' Hall, that in 1604 was published, "A strange reporte of a monstrous fish, that appeared in the form of a woman from her waist upward, seene in the sea."
The Italians use Nuovo Pesce in much the same manner as we employ the phrase "a strange fish." "Nuovo pesce era questo ru-Marco"—Domenichi's "Facetie," 1565, p. 268.
[222] Made him drunk, or intoxicated him.
[223] Probably the same mentioned by Sir Kenelm Digby. See note to "The Ordinary" [xii., 245.]
[224] Meaning that the trumpet has been sounded twice, in imitation of the theatres, where, before the play begins by the entrance of the prologue, there were what were called three soundings. See Malone's "Shakespeare," by Boswell, iii. 114.—Collier.
[225] [See Mr Huth's "Ancient Ballads and Broadsides," 1867, p. 213.]
[226] The country has been laid, means that the country has been way-laid for the purpose of catching him. This was the common mode of expression at the time, as appears from Middleton's "Chaste Maid in Cheapside," 1630, and other authorities—
"Lay the water-side—she's gone for ever else!"
Again, in the same play—
"My mother's gone to lay the common staires."
—Collier.
[227] "Mare Liberum," was the title of a book written by the celebrated Grotius, to prove that the sea was free to every nation, in opposition to those who wished to circumscribe the Dutch trade. It was printed in 1609, and among other answers which appeared to it, was one by Selden, which he entitled "Mare Clausum."
[228] The echineis, a fish which by adhering to the bottoms of ships, was supposed to retard their course. So Lucan, lib. vi. v. 674—
—Steevens.
[229] Sir Francis Drake.
[230] There were two of that name, father and son, in the time of Queen Elizabeth, both eminent navigators. See their lives in "Biographia Britannica."
[231] There is an incident of this kind, where a man is shown for a fish against his will, and thrust under water whenever he attempts to speak, in the "Vida de Lazarillo de Tormes."—Collier.
[232] [This word was applied formerly to both sexes. See "Gesta Romanorum," edit. Madden, p. 456.]
[233] Prynne and his "Histriomastix," so often noticed in this play.
[234] A tavern which used to be frequented by Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, and other wits of the times, and often mentioned in their works. From the following enumeration of taverns, in an old poem called "Newes from Bartholmew Fayre" [by Richard West, 1607], the title-page of which is lost, we find it was situate in Cornhill:—
[235] [An allusion which has been often explained.]
[236] About the year 1631, Archbishop Laud, under the patronage of Charles I., undertook the repairing and rebuilding of St Paul's. On this occasion the king went to the cathedral, and, after divine service was performed, solemnly promised to exert his best endeavours to repair the ruins which time, or the casualties of weather, had made therein. In consequence of this scheme, many applications were made to noblemen and gentlemen for their assistance, and, on their refusal to contribute, some were very severely censured, and even fined.
[237] Most of our ancient maps will sufficiently illustrate this image. The vacant spaces, occasioned by tracts of sea, are usually ornamented with these monsters spouting water.—Steevens.
[238] Among the illegal modes of raising money adopted by Charles I., after he determined to govern without a parliament; the borrowing of money by writs of privy-seal was one not the least burdensome and oppressive. The manner was to direct these writs to particular persons by name, requiring the loan of money, or plate to the amount of the money, to be paid or delivered to a particular person, for the king's use. The form of the writs may be seen in "The Parliamentary History," xiii., 84, where one of them is printed. [But in this passage this speaker also intends a play on the double meaning of seal.]
[239] Alluding to a method of catching pikes.—Pegge.
[240] [Probably, nimble, sprightly, Fr. leger; unless it should be in the sense indicated by Nares in his "Glossary" under Liedger, i.e., resident; but Bannswright is not described as a pander.]
[241] A corruption, probably, of wizand, or weazon.—Steevens.
[242] Perhaps he means to say Vin de Dieu; i.e., Lacrymæ Christi.—Steevens.
[243] [The old copy here, and again just below, has improperly Plotwell, for Bannswright must be supposed to maintain his disguise at present.]
Seathrift, Mistress Seathrift, Mistress Holland, Mistress Scruple.
Plotwell, Aurelia.
Enter a Footman.
Enter Timothy fantastically dressed, and a Footman.
Enter Dorcas out of her Puritan dress.
Bright, Newcut.
Enter Warehouse, Bannswright.
Enter Timothy unbuttoning himself; Aurelia, Plotwell, Dorcas, Footman.
[Exeunt Timothy, Plotwell, and Footman.
Enter Footman.
As they kiss, enter Bright, Newcut.
Enter Plotwell.
Enter Dorcas.
Enter Bannswright, Warehouse, Dorcas.
[244] i.e., To make some of the lesser necessaries of a theatre, properties being the usual term for them. So Bottom, in the "Midsummer Night's Dream"—
"I will draw a bill of properties."
See a note on this passage.—Steevens.
Mr Steevens, in his note upon "Midsummer Night's Dream," (Malone's Shakespeare, by Boswell, v. 198), says that dresses were not included in the properties of theatres. Maine's authority is to the contrary, if Aurelia's apparel were to be used for the apparel of the actors.—Collier.
[245] Cuerpo is an undress: the Spaniards, from whom we borrowed the word, apply it to a person in a light jacket without his cabot or cloak.—Mr Gifford's note on the "Fatal Dowry," iii. 390. Cuerpo is the body, and in cuerpo means in body clothing.—Collier.
[246] i.e., The gold on my apparel. So in "King Henry V."
"Our gayness and our gilt are all besmerch'd."
See a note on this passage, vi., 128, edit. 1778.—Steevens.
[247] [Omitted in former edit.]
[248] [The christening-fee.] The chrysome was the white cloth thrown over the new-baptized child. This perhaps was the perquisite of the officiating clergyman. The child itself, however, was sometimes called a chrysome. See a note on "King Henry V.," vi., 52, edit. 1778.—Steevens.
[249] i.e., Leopards, animals often introduced into heraldic devices.
[250] [Former edit., vocation.]
[251] [Run into debt. Scores used to be chalked up at taverns. Hence the proverb, "The tapster is undone by chalk!" From being a particular phrase, it became general.]
[252] [The allowance to a kept mistress.]
[253] A biggon was a kind of coif formerly worn by men. It is now only in use for children.
[254] [Granting infant to be the right word, we are perhaps to suppose that illegitimate children were surreptitiously deposited on mercers' counters, occasionally, wrapped up as parcels. Upon their strengths appears to mean upon their credit.]
[255] From Dugdale's "Origines Juridiciales," p. 207, &c., we learn that the office of a Reader at the Middle Temple was held at a great charge to the person who executed it. "His expences," says that author, "during this time of reading, are very great; insomuch, as some have spent above six hundred pounds in two dayes less than a fortnight, which now is the usual time of reading." It appears also that many gentlemen, who were put by their reading, were removed from the Bar-table unto a table called, The Auncients Table; "And it is no disgrace," says the same author, "for any man to be removed hither; for by reason of the excessive chardge of readings, many men of great learning and competent practise, as well as others of less learning, but great estates, have refused to Read, and are here placed." To relieve the gentlemen who undertook this expensive office, it seems to have been usual to call upon the students for their assistance; and this circumstance is alluded to in the text. [The Ancients' Table is the same as the Benchers', and at Gray's Inn the Benchers are still called Ancients.]
Plotwell, Aurelia, Bright, Newcut, Quartfield, Roseclap, two Footmen, Cypher.
Enter Salewit like a Curate.
Warehouse, Dorcas.
Enter Plotwell and Roseclap.
Enter Cypher, like a sailor.
[Manet Warehouse.] Enter Seathrift, Mistress Seathrift, Mistress Holland, Mistress Scruple.
Enter Salewit.
Enter two Footmen, bearing the frame of a great picture. Curtains drawn.
[Draws the curtain; within are discovered Bright and Newcut.
Enter Dorcas.
[Aside.
Enter Plotwell and Roseclap, with Bannswright and Quartfield disguised.
[They subscribe, seal, and deliver interchangeably.
[Seathrift, Roseclap, Bright, and Newcut subscribe as witnesses.
Enter Salewit and Cypher.
Enter Timothy and Aurelia.
Enter Cypher.
[256] Dr Warburton observes (note to "Henry IV.," Part I., act ii. sc. 4) that in the persecutions of the Protestants in Flanders under Philip II. those who came over into England on that occasion brought with them the woollen manufactory. These being Calvinists were joined by those of the same persuasion from other countries, and amongst the rest from Geneva.
[257] Rosemary was anciently supposed to strengthen the memory, and was therefore distributed at marriages and funerals. See a note on "Hamlet," x. 355, edit. 1778.
[258] [Old copies, ach.]
[259] The stately step and pompous manner, used by the prologue-speakers of the times, are still retained in delivering the few lines used as a prologue in "Hamlet." These particularities seem to have been delivered traditionally to the present race of actors from their brethren in the seventeenth century.
[260] See a note on "Timon of Athens," edit. 1778, viii. 409.—Steevens.
[261] See [Randolph's Works, by Hazlitt, i. 209.] Aretine's pictures, there mentioned, were in fact Aretine's pictures of postures here alluded to.—Collier.
The Queene of Arragon. A Tragi-Comedie. London Printed by Tho. Cotes, for William Cooke, and are to be sold at his shop at Furnivals Inne gate in Holburne 1640. Folio.
William Habington, the son of Thomas Habington,[264] of Hendlip, in the county of Worcester, Esq., was born at the seat of his father, on the 4th, or, as others say, the 5th, of November 1605.[265] He received his education [Pg 324]at St Omers and Paris, and at the former of these places was earnestly solicited to become one of the order of the Jesuits. On his return from Paris, being then at man's estate, he was instructed at home in matters of history by his father, and became an accomplished gentleman. He married Lucia, daughter of William Lord Powis, and is charged by Wood with running with the times, and being not unknown to Oliver Cromwell. He died the 30th of November 1654, and was buried in the vault at Hendlip, by the bodies of his father and grandfather.
Besides the play now republished, he was the author of—
1. Poems, under the title of "Castara," 4o, 1634; 12o, 1635, 1640.[266] They are divided into three parts, each under a different title, suitable to the subject: the first, written when he was suitor to his wife, is ushered in by a character of a mistress, written in prose: the second contains verses written to her after marriage; after which is a character of a friend, before several [Pg 325]funeral elegies: and the third consists of Divine Poems, preceded by the portrait of a holy man.[267]
2. "Observations upon History." 8o, 1641.
3. "History of Edward IV., King of England," fo, 1640, written and published at the desire of King Charles I.[268]
Wood observes that the MSS. which our author and his father left[269] were then in the hands of the former's son, and might be made useful for the public, if in the possession of any other person.[270]
[264] This Thomas Habington was born 26th October 1560, and married Mary, the sister of Lord Mounteagle, the lady who is supposed to have written that letter to her brother which occasioned the discovery of the Gunpowder Plot. For harbouring Garnet and Alchorne, two Popish priests, he is said to have been condemned to die, but by the intercession of Lord Mounteagle he was reprieved and pardoned. He lived many years afterwards, not dying until the 8th of October 1647, at the advanced age of eighty-seven years. Wood says he surveyed the county of Worcester, and made a collection of most of its antiquities. He also translated "The Epistle of Gildas, the most ancient British author," 12o, 1638, and had a considerable hand in the "History of Edward IV.," published by his son.
[265] In a poem on p. 104 of his "Castara," 1640, Habington claims alliance with several noble families—
—Collier.
[266] Mr Park, in a MS. note to a copy of these poems, in 1640, observes, "The first and second parts of these poems were printed in 1634, 4o; again (with additions) in 1635, 12o; and the third part was added in 1640. He is said to have entitled his collection "Castara" in compliment to his mistress, Lucia, daughter of Lord Powis, who became his wife." This is evident from a poem on p. 102 of the edition of 1640, addressed to Lord Powis, where he speaks of his daughter as Castara.—Collier.
[267] Phillips, speaking of Habington ("Theatrum Poetarum," 1675), says "that he may be ranked with those who deserve neither the highest nor the lowest seat in the theatre of fame." Mr Park is of opinion "that this character of him is rather below par; for he appears (as an amatory poet) to have possessed a superior degree of unaffected tenderness and delicacy of sentiment to either Carew or Waller, with an elegance of versification very seldom inferior to his more famed contemporaries." Perhaps Habington's "amiable piety," rendered him a peculiar favourite with Mr Park.—Collier.
[268] Phillips, in his "Theatrum Poetarum," complains that this work is written in a style "better becoming a poetical than a historical subject."—Collier. [In "Jonsonus Virbius," verses to the memory of Ben Jonson, 1638, is a poem by W. Abington.]
[269] The collections he made of the antiquities, &c., of Worcestershire, formed the foundation of Dr Nash's history of that county.—Collier.
[270] The following is from "Wit's Recreations," 1640—
"To Mr. William Habington, on his 'Castara,' a Poem.
—Gilchrist.
THE QUEEN OF ARRAGON.[272]
Enter Sanmartino and Cleantha.
Enter Browfildora.
Enter Oniate and Floriana.
Enter Ossuna and Oniate, with divers Soldiers.
Enter Sanmartino.
Enter Decastro.
Enter Florentio, Velasco, and others.
[Exeunt several ways, the drum beating.
[272] This play being by the author communicated to Philip Earl of Pembroke, Lord Chamberlain of the Household to King Charles I., he caused it to be acted at court, and afterwards published against the author's consent. It was revived at the Restoration, when a Prologue and Epilogue, written by the author of "Hudibras," were spoken.—See Butler's "Remains," vol. i. p. 185.
[273] See note to "Lingua," act ii. sc. 2.
Enter Sanmartino, Captain, Soldier, and Browfildora.
Enter Floriana and Cleantha.
[Throws back the money.
Enter Queen, Decastro, Ossuna, Floriana, &c.
Alarum, and enter Ossuna.
[Exeunt all but the Queen, Floriana, and Cleantha.
Enter Servant.
Enter Sanmartino.
SONG.[279]
During the song [the Queen falls into a slumber, and] enter Ascanio, Lerma, Sanmartino, &c.
[275] A sort of parody on the exclamation of Pistol in "Henry V.," act ii. sc. 1—
"Base is the slave that pays!"
Mr Steevens, in a note on the passage, points out a similar expression in Heywood's "Fair Maid of the West."—Collier.
[276] i.e., Thine interpreter. Trucheman, Fr. See Cotgrave.—Steevens.
The word is not very common in our old writers, but it is found [in two or three plays printed in the present series, and] in a passage quoted in "England's Parnassus," 1600, [from Greene's "Menaphone," 1589]—
Again, in Whetstone's "Heptameron," 1582: "For he that is the Troucheman of a stranger's tongue may well declare his meaning, but yet shall marre the grace of his tale."—Collier.
[In "England's Parnasaus," 1600, is the following line from James I.'s "Essayes of a Prentise," 1584—
"Dame Nature's trunchmen, heavens interprets true;"
and Park, in his reprint of the book, not knowing the meaning of trouchman, supposed trunchman to be misprinted for trenchman.]
[277] This question, by an error of the press, Dodsley and Reed both allowed to be given to Florentio.—Collier.
[278] [Spite, hatred.]
[279] In the old folio, 1640, this song, and another song in act iv., are, as was not unusual at the time, appended at the conclusion of the play. They are here inserted in their right places.—Collier.
[280] [Old copy, your own humbled.]
Enter Velasco and Oniate.
Enter Sanmartino.
Enter Cleantha, and offers to go out.
Enter Florentio and Velasco.
[Exeunt, several ways, Sanmartino, Cleantha, and Oniate.
Enter the Queen, Floriana, Cleantha, &c.
Enter Lerma.
[Exeunt Queen and Florentio at several doors.
Manet Sanmartino and Cleantha.
Enter Browfildora and Oniate.
[Exeunt.
Enter Queen and Ascanio.
[Kisses and holds it.
[281] Peradventure. Dr Johnson observes that in this sense happily is written erroneously for haply—[a distinction surely without a difference, since both are the same, haply being merely a contracted form of the other.]
"One thing more I shall wish you to desire of them, who happily may peruse these two treatises."—Digby.
[282] Habington has the same thought in his "Castara," edit. 1640, p. 51—
—Steevens.
[283] [Old copy, love.]
[284] [Old copy, thought.]
Enter Cleantha and Floriana.
Enter Sanmartino, winding up his watch.
[Exeunt Floriana and Cleantha.
Enter Browfildora.
Song (without).
As the song ends, enter Cleantha veiled.
Enter Floriana and Oniate.
Enter Lerma and Velasco.
Enter Florentio.
Enter Lerma.
Enter Ascanio and Lerma.
Enter the Queen.
Enter Florentio, looks on the Queen, sighs, and goes in again.
Enter Decastro and his Army.
Enter two common Soldiers haling Ossuna in as a hermit.
Enter Soldier.
Enter Ascanio, Florentio.
Enter Queen, Sanmartino, Oniate, Cleantha, Floriana.
Enter Decastro, &c.
Enter Ossuna.
The Antiquary. A Comedy, Acted by her maiesties Servants, at the Cock-Pit. Written by Shackerly Mermion, Gent. London. Printed by F. K. for I. W. and F. E. and are to be sold at the Crane, in St. Paul's Church-yard. 1641. 4o.
Shakerley Marmion was born at Aynho,[288] near Brackley, in the county of Northampton, where his father was lord of the manor, and in possession of a considerable estate. He received the early part of his education at the free school, at Thame, in the county of Oxford, under the care of Richard Boucher, commonly called Butcher, the master thereof. In the year 1617 he became a gentleman-commoner of Wadham College, in Oxford, and in 1624,[289] took the degree of Master of Arts. Anthony Wood[290] says that he was "a goodly proper gentleman, and had once in his possession seven hundred pounds per annum at least." The whole of this ample fortune he dissipated; after which he went [Pg 414]into the Low Countries; but not meeting with promotion according to his expectation, he returned to England, and was admitted one of the troop raised by Sir John Suckling for the use of King Charles I. in his expedition against the Scots, in the year 1639: but falling sick at York, he returned to London, where he died in the same year.[291] Besides several poems, scattered about in different publications,[292] he wrote three plays,[293] viz.—
1. "Holland's Leaguer,[294] an excellent comedy, as it hath bin lately and often acted with great applause by the high and mighty Prince Charles his servants, at the private house in Salisbury Court, 1632." 4o.
To the Dramatis Personæ of this play the names of the several performers are added.[295]
2. "A Fine Companion,[296] acted before the king and queene, at White hall, and sundrie times with great applause, at the private house in Salisbury Court, by the Prince his servants. 1633." 4o.
3. "The Antiquary, a Comedy, acted by her Majesties servants, at the Cockpit. 1641." 4o.
He also published "Cupid and Psyche; or an epick [Pg 416]poem of Cupid and his Mistress, as it was lately presented to the Prince Elector," 1637,[297] 1666.
Prefixed to this are complimentary verses by Richard Brome, Francis Tuckyr, Thomas Nabbes, and Thomas Heywood.
Wood says he left some things in MS. ready for the press, which were either lost or in obscure hands.
[288] Some authorities state that he was born "about the beginning of January 1602," and this date seems consistent with the time when he was entered at Wadham College.—Collier.
[289] Langbaine, p. 345.
[290] "Athenæ Oxonienses," ii. 19. Oldys, in his MSS. notes on Langbaine, says it was our author's father who squandered away his fortune; but as he quotes no authority for this assertion, I have followed Wood's account.
[291] Oldys' MSS. notes to Langbaine.
[292] [Among the rest, there are some verses by Marmion before Thomas Heywood's "Dialogues and Dramas," 1637.]
[293] "The Crafty Merchant; or, The Soldier'd Citizen," has also been attributed to Shakerley Marmion, but on no sufficient evidence, as well as a pastoral, called "The Faithful Shepherd," which Philips assigns to him. The first of these, which evidently was a comedy, was never printed.—Collier. ["The Crafty Merchant," which seems to have been originally entitled "The Merchant's Sacrifice," is in the list of plays destroyed, according to Warburton the herald, by the ignorance of his cook. It is there given to Marmion. See Lansd. MS. 807.]
[294] [In 1632, Nicholas Goodman published a prose tract entitled: "Holland's Leagver; or, an Historicall Discourse of the Life and Actions of Dona Britanica Hollandia," &c. See the full title in Hazlitt, p. 232. "Holland's Leaguer," it may be well to explain, was the name of one of the licensed stews in Southwark. It was a large detached building, and stood till within some hundred years ago on the site of Holland Street, Surrey Road. Boydell published a print in 1818, containing a view of it.]
[295] They may be worth subjoining in a note: they were, William Browne, Ellis Worth, Andrew Keyne, Matthew Smith, James Sneller, Henry Gradwell, Thomas Bond, Richard Fowler, Edward May, Robert Huyt, Robert Stafford, Richard Godwin, John Wright, Richard Fouch, Arthur Savill, and Samuel Mannery. The last six played the female parts in the play.—Collier.
[296] The Prologue is a short conversation between a Critic and the Author, which contains the following hit, perhaps at Ben Jonson:—
—Collier.
[297] [In a copy now before me, which, a note on the fly-leaf says, sold at Sotheby's, in 1817, for £6. 16s. 6d., the date 1637 on the engraved title has been altered with the pen, the "7" being changed into "8." There is only one edition in 4o; but this circumstance has led to the mistaken notion that there were impressions in 1637 and 1638.]
The Duke of Pisa.[298] | |
Leonardo, | two courtiers. |
Donato, | |
Veterano, the Antiquary. | |
Gasparo, a magnifico of Pisa. | |
Lorenzo, an old gentleman. | |
Mocinigo, an old gentleman that would appear young. | |
Lionel, nephew to the Antiquary. | |
Petrucio, a foolish gentleman, son to Gasparo. | |
Aurelio, a young gentleman. | |
Aurelio's Father, in the disguise of a bravo. | |
His Boy. | |
Petro, the Antiquary's boy. | |
Æmilia, wife to Lorenzo. | |
Lucretia, daughter to Lorenzo. | |
Angelia, sister to Lionel, in the disguise of a page. | |
Julia, | two waiting-women. |
Baccha, | |
A Cook. | |
Two Servants. |
The Scene, Pisa.
[298] The scene, however, seems to be laid at Venice. The Rialto is mentioned in act i., and Venice is again spoken of in act iii. as where the transactions of the play are carried on.—Pegge.
[It may be added that there was never any Duke of Pisa, and that most of the names are Venetian.]
THE ANTIQUARY.[299]
Enter Lionel and Petrucio.
Lio. Now, sir, let me bid you welcome to your country and the longing expectation of those friends that have almost languished for the sight of you. [Aside.] I must flatter him, and stroke him too; he will give no milk else.
Pet. I have calculated by all the rules of reason and art that I shall be a great man; for what singular quality concurs to perfection and advancement that is defective in me? Take my feature and proportion; have they not a kind of sweetness and harmony, to attract the eyes of the beholders? the confirmation of which many authentical judgments of ladies have sealed and subscribed to.
Lio. How do you, sir? are you not well?
Pet. Next, my behaviour and discourse, according to the court-garb, ceremonious enough, more pro[Pg 420]mising than substantial, able to keep pace with the best hunting wit of them all: besides, Nature has blessed me with boldness sufficient and fortune with means. What then should hinder me? Nothing but destiny, villanous destiny, that chains virtue to darkness and obscurity. Well, I will insinuate myself into the court and presence of the duke; and if he have not the grace to distinguish of worth, his ignorance upon him!
Lio. What, in a muse, sir?
Pet. Cannot a gentleman ruminate over his good parts, but you must be troubling of him?
Lio. Wise men and fools are alike ambitious: this travelling motion[300] has been abroad in quest of strange fashions, where his spongy brain has sucked the dregs of all the folly he could possibly meet with, and is indeed more ass than he went forth. Had I an interest in his disgrace, I'd rail at him, and perhaps beat him for it; but he is as strange to me as to himself, therefore let him continue in his beloved simplicity. [Aside.
Pet. Next, when he shall be instructed of my worth and eminent sufficiencies, he cannot dignify me with less employment than the dignity of an[Pg 421] embassador. How bravely shall I behave myself in that service! and what an ornament unto my country may I arrive to be, and to my kindred! But I will play the gentleman, and neglect them; that's the first thing I'll study.
Lio. Shall I be bold to interrupt you, sir?
Pet. Presently I'll be at leisure to talk with you: 'tis no small point in state policy still to pretend only to be thought a man of action, and rather than want a colour, be busied with a man's own self.
Lio. Who does this ass speak to? surely to himself: and 'tis impossible he should ever be wise that has always such a foolish auditory. [Aside.
Pet. Then, with what emulous courtship will they strive to entertain me in foreign parts; and what a spectacle of admiration shall I be made amongst those who have formerly known me! How dost thou like my carriage?
Lio. Most exquisite, believe me.
Pet. But is it adorned with that even mixture of fluency and grace as are required both in a statist and a courtier?[301]
Lio. So far as the divine prospect of my understanding guides me, 'tis without parallel most excellent; but I am no professed critic in the mystery.
Pet. Well, thou hast Linceus' eyes for observation, or could'st ne'er have made such a cunning discovery of my practice. But will the ladies,[Pg 422] think you, have that apprehension to discern and approve of me?
Lio. Without question; they cannot be so dull or stony-hearted as not to be infinitely taken with your worth. Why, in a while, you shall have them so enamoured that they'll watch every opportunity to purchase your acquaintance; then again revive it with often banqueting and visits; nay, and perhaps invite others, by their foolish example, to do the like; and some, that despair of so great happiness, will inquire out your haunts, and walk there two or three hours together, to get but a sight of you.
Pet. O infinite! I am transported with the thought on't! It draws near noon, and I appointed certain gallants to meet me at the five-crown ordinary: after, we are to wait upon the like beauties you talked of to the public theatre. I feel of late a strong and witty genius growing upon me, and I begin, I know not how, to be in love with this foolish sin of poetry.
Lio. Are you, sir? there's great hopes of you.
Pet. And the reason is, because they say 'tis both the cause and effect of a good wit, to which I can sufficiently pretend: for Nature has not played the stepdame with me.
Lio. In good time, sir.
Pet. And now you talk of time, what time of day is it by your watch?
Lio. I have none, sir.
Pet. How, ne'er a watch? O, monstrous! how do you consume your hours? Ne'er a watch! 'tis the greatest solecism in society that e'er I heard of: ne'er a watch!
Lio. How deeply you conceive of it!
Pet. You have not a gentleman, that's a true gentleman, without one; 'tis the main appendix[Pg 423] to a plush lining: besides, it helps much to discourse; for while others confer notes together, we confer our watches, and spend good part of the day with talking of it.
Lio. Well, sir, because I'll be no longer destitute of such a necessary implement, I have a suit to you.
Pet. A suit to me? Let it alone till I am a great man, and then [Aside.] I shall answer you with the greater promise and less performance.
Lio. I hope, sir, you have that confidence I will ask nothing to your prejudice, but what shall some way recompense the deed.
Pet. What is't? Be brief: I am in that point a courtier.
Pet. Speak your demand.
Lio. Do it, and do it freely, then; lend me a hundred ducats.
Pet. How is that? lend you a hundred ducats! Not a —— I'll never have a friend while I breathe first: no, I'll stand upon my guard; I give all the world leave to whet their wits against me, work like moles to undermine me, yet I'll spurn all their deceits like a hillock. I tell thee I'll not buy the small repentance of a friend or whore at the rate of a livre.
Enter Angelia.
Pet. What pretty sparkle of humanity have we here? Whose attendant are you, my little knave?
Ang. I wait, sir, on Master Lionel.
[Pg 425]Lio. 'Tis well you are come. What says the gentleman?
Ang. I delivered your letter to him. He is very sorry he can furnish you no better; he has sent you twenty crowns, he says, towards the large debt he owes you.
Pet. A fine child! and delivers his tale with good method. Where, in the name of Ganymede, had'st thou this epitome of a servitor?
Lio. You'd little think of what consequence and pregnancy this imp is: you may hereafter have both cause to know and love him. What gentlemen are these?
Enter Gasparo and Lorenzo.
Pet. I am much bound to you for it.
Lor. Is that all?
Pet. See the abundant ignorance of this age! he cites my father for a precedent. Alas! he is a good old man, and no more; there he stands, he has not been abroad, nor known the world; therefore, I hope, will not be so foolishly peremptory to compare with me for judgment, that have travelled, seen fashions, and been a man of intelligence.
Lor. Signior, your ear; pray, let's counsel you.
Pet. Counsel me! the like trespass again; sure, the old man doats! Who counselled me abroad, when I had none but mine own natural wisdom for my protection? Yet I dare say I met with more perils, more variety of allurements, more Circes, more Calypsos, and the like, than e'er were feigned[305] upon Ulysses.
Pet. I thank you, sir, you'd have me marry your daughter; is it so?
Lor. With your good liking, not otherwise.
Pet. You nourish too great an ambition. What do you see in me to make such a motion? No, be wise, and keep her; were I married to her, I should not like her above a month at most.
Lor. How! not above a month?
Pet. I'll tell you, sir, I have made an experience that way on my nature: when I have hired a creature for my pleasure, as 'tis the fashion in many places, for the like time that I told you of, I have been so tired with her before 'twas out, as no horse like me; I could not spur my affection to go a jot further.
Gas. Well said, boy! thou art e'en mine own son; when I was young, 'twas just my humour.
Lio. You give yourself a plausible commends.
Pet. I can make a shift to love: but, having enjoyed, fruition kills my appetite: no, I must have several objects of beauty to keep my thoughts always in action, or I am nobody.
Gas. Still mine own flesh and blood?
Pet. Therefore I have chose honour for my mistress, upon whose wings I will mount up to the heavens; where I will fix myself a constellation,[Pg 428] for all this under-world of mortals to wonder at me.
Gas. Nay, he is a mad wag, I assure you, and knows how to put a price upon his desert.
Pet. I can no longer stay to dilate on these vanities; therefore, gallants, I leave you. [Exit.
Lor. What, is he gone? Is your son gone?
Gas. So it seems. Well, gallants, where shall I see you anon?
Lor. You shall not part with us.
Gas. You shall pardon me; I must wait upon my son. [Exit.
Lor. Do you hear, signior? A pretty preferment!
Lio. Do you see this page, then?
Lor. Ay, what of him?
Lio. That face of his shall do it.
Lor. What shall it do? Methinks he has a pretty innocent countenance.
Enter Lorenzo, Gasparo, Mocinigo, and Angelia.
Enter Duke and Leonardo.
Leo. But are you resolved of this course, sir?
Duke. Yes; we'll be once mad in our days, and do an exploit for posterity to talk of. Will you join with me?
Leo. I am at your grace's disposing.
Duke. No grace, nor no respect, I beseech you, more than ordinary friendship allows of: 'tis the only bar to hinder our designs.
Leo. Then, sir, what fashion you are pleased to appoint me, I will be glad to put on.
Duke. 'Tis well. For my part, I am determined to lay by all ensigns of my royalty for awhile, and walk abroad under a mean coverture. Variety does well; and 'tis as great delight sometimes to shroud one's head under a coarse roof as a rich canopy of gold.
Leo. But what's your intent in this?
Duke. I have a longing desire to see the fashions of the vulgar, which, should I affect in mine own person, I might divert them from their humours.[Pg 435] The face of greatness would affright them, as Cato did the Floralia[308] from the theatre.
Leo. Indeed familiarity begets boldness.
Duke. 'Tis true, indulgency and flattery take away the benefit of experience from princes, which ennobles the fortunes of private men.
Leo. But you are a duke, sir; and this descent from your honour will undervalue you.
Duke. Not a whit. I am so toiled out with grand affairs and despatching of embassages, that I am ready to sink under the burden. Why may not an Atlas of state, such as myself, that bears up the weight of a commonwealth, now and then, for recreation's sake, be glad to ease his shoulders? Has not Jupiter thrown away his rays and his thunder to walk among mortals? Does not Apollo suffer himself to be deprived of his quiver, that he may waken up his muse sometimes, and sing to his harp.
Leo. Nay, sir, to come to a more familiar example: I have heard of a nobleman that has been drunk with a tinker, and of a magnifico that has played at blow-point.[309]
[Pg 436]Duke. Very good; then take our degrees alike, and the act's as pardonable.
Leo. In a humour, sir, a man may do much. But how will you prevent their discovery of you?
Duke. Very well; the alteration of our clothes will abolish suspicion.
Leo. And how for our faces?
Duke. They shall pass without any seal of disguise. Who ne'er were thought on, will ne'er be mistrusted.
Leo. Come what will, greatness can justify any action whatsoever, and make it thought wisdom; but if we do walk undiscerned, 'twill be the better. It tickles me to think what a mass of delight we shall possess in being, as 'twere, the invisible spectators of their strange behaviours. I heard, sir, of an antiquary who, if he be as good at wine as at history, he is sure an excellent companion: and of one Petrucio, who plays the eagle in the clouds: and indeed divers others, who verify the proverb, So many men, so many humours.
Duke. All these we'll visit in order: but how we shall comply with them, 'tis as occasion shall be offered; we will not now be so serious to consider.
Leo. Well, sir, I must trust to your wit to manage it. Lead on; I attend you. [Exeunt.
[299] Mr Samuel Gale told Dr Ducarel that this comedy was acted two nights in 1718, immediately after the revival of the Society of Antiquaries, and that therein had been introduced a ticket of a turnpike (then new), which was called a Tessera.—Nott.
[300] Motion is a puppet. In Ben Jonson's "Every Man out of his Humour," act iv. sc. 5, Captain Pod, the celebrated owner of a puppet-show, and his motion, are mentioned.
Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's "Rule a Wife and have a Wife," act ii.—
In "The Queen of Corinth," by the same, act i. sc. 3—
"Good friends, for half an hour remove your motion;"
and in Dekker's "Villanies Discovered by Lanthorne and Candle-light," 1620, ch. iv.: "This labour being taken, the master of the motion hearkens where such a nobleman, &c. The motion is presented before him."
[301] A statist is a statesman. So in Ben Jonson's "Cynthia's Revels," act ii. sc. 3: "Next is your statist's face, a serious, solemn, and supercilious face, full of formal and square gravity."
And in "The Magnetick Lady," by the same, act i. sc. 7—
[302] [Suspicious.]
[303] [Old copy, fear. Feer or pheer is a companion or friend.]
[304] This speech seems more properly to belong to Lorenzo, to whom Gasparo has just pointed out his son standing with Lionel.—Collier. [It is given to Lorenzo in a copy of the original edition before me.—H.]
[305] [Query, should we read foined, thrust, as the speaker rather speaks of the adventures of Ulysses as a reality than a myth.]
[306] A company.
[307] This is taken from Chaucer—
—"Merchant's Tale," l. 930. Which Mr Pope hath modernised in the following manner—
—"January and May," l. 99.
—"Merchant's Tale," l. 943.
—"January and May," l. 106.
[308] The Floralia or feast of Flora, Goddess of Flowers, were celebrated with public sports on the 5th of the Kalends of May. The chief part of the "solemnity was managed by a company of lewd strumpets, who ran up and down naked, sometimes dancing, sometimes fighting, or acting the mimic. However it came to pass, the wisest and gravest Romans were not for discontinuing this custom, though the most indecent imaginable: for Portius Cato, when he was present at these games, and saw the people ashamed to let the women strip while he was there, immediately went out of the theatre to let the ceremony have its course."—Kennet's "Roman Antiquities," p. 297.
[309] So in "The Return from Parnassus," act iii. sc. 1: "My mistress upon good days puts on a piece of a parsonage; and we pages play at blow-point for a piece of a parsonage."
And in Donne ("Poems," 1719, p. 119)—
Enter Aurelio and Musicians.
Enter Lucretia.
Enter Lorenzo, Mocinigo, and Angelia.
Enter Æmilia and Lucretia.
Enter Antiquary and Petro.
Ant. Well, sirrah! but that I have brought you up, I would cashier you for these reproofs.
Pet. Good sir, consider, 'tis no benefit to me: he is your nephew that I speak for, and 'tis charity to relieve him.
Ant. He is a young knave, and that's crime enough; and he were old in anything, though[Pg 449] 'twere in iniquity, there were some reverence to be had of him.
Pet. Why, sir, though he be a young knave, as you term him, yet he is your kinsman, and in distress too.
Ant. Why, sir, and you know again, that 'tis an old custom (which thing I will no way transgress) for a rich man not to look upon any as his kinsman in distress.
Pet. 'Tis an ill custom, sir, and 'twere good 'twere repealed.
Ant. I have something else to look after. Have you disposed of those relics, as I bad you?
Pet. Yes, sir.
Ant. Well, thou dost not know the estimation of what thou hast in keeping. The whole Indies, seeing they are but newly discovered, are not to be valued with them: the very dust that cleaves to one of those monuments is more worth than the ore of twenty mines!
Pet. Yet, by your favour, sir, of what use can they be to you?
Ant. What use! Did not the Signiory build a state-chamber for antiquities? and 'tis the best thing that e'er they did: they are the registers, the chronicles, of the age they were made in, and speak the truth of history better than a hundred of your printed commentaries.
Pet. Yet few are of your belief.
Ant. There's a box of coins within, most of them brass, yet each of them a jewel, miraculously preserved in spite of time or envy; and are of that rarity and excellence that saints may go a pilgrimage to them, and not be ashamed.
Pet. Yet, I say still, what good can they do to you, more than to look on?
Ant. What good, thou brute! And thou wert[Pg 450] not worth a penny, the very showing of them were able to maintain thee. Let me see now, and you were put to it, how you could advance your voice in their commendation. Begin.
Pet. All you gentlemen that are affected with such rarities,[317] the world cannot produce the like, snatched from the jaws of time, and wonderfully collected by a studious antiquary, come near and admire.
Ant. Thou say'st right: the limbs of Hippolitus were never so dispersed.
Pet. First, those twelve pictures that you see there, are the portraitures of the Sibyls, drawn five hundred years since by Titianus of Padua, an excellent painter and statuary.
Ant. Very well.
Pet. Then here is Venus all naked, and Cupid by her, on a dolphin: both these were drawn by Apelles of Greece.
Ant. Proceed.
Pet. Then here is Hercules and Antæus; and that Pallas at length in alabaster, with her helmet and feathers; and that's Jupiter, with an eagle at his back.
Ant. Exceeding well!
Pet. Then there's the great silver box that Nero kept his beard in.
Ant. Good again.
Pet. And after decking it with precious stones, did consecrate it to the Capitol.
Ant. That's right.
Pet. And there hangs the net that held Mars and his mistress, while the whole bench of bawdy deities stood spectators of their sport.
Ant. Admirable good!
[Pg 451]Pet. Then here is Marius to the middle,[318] and there Cleopatra with a veil over her face; and next to her, Marcus Antonius, the Triumvir; then he with half a nose is Corvinus, and he with ne'er a one is Galba.
Ant. Very sufficient!
Pet. Then here is Vitellius, and there Titus and Vespasian: these three were made by Jacobus Sansovinus the Florentine.
Ant. 'Tis enough.
Pet. Last of all, this is the urn that did contain the ashes of the emperors.
Ant. And each of these worth a king's ransom——
Enter Duke and Leonardo.[319]
Duke. Save you, sir!
Ant. You are welcome, gentlemen.
Duke. I come, sir, a suitor to you. I hear you are possessed of many various and excellent antiquities; and though I am a stranger, I would entreat your gentleness a favour.
Ant. What's that, sir?
Duke. Only that you would vouchsafe me to be a spectator of their curiosity and worth, which courtesy shall engage me yours for ever.
Ant. For their worth I will not promise: 'tis as you please to esteem of them.
Leo. No doubt, sir, we shall ascribe what dignity belongs to them and to you their preserver.
Ant. You speak nobly; and thus much let me [Pg 452]tell you, to your edifying: the foolish doating on these present novelties is the cause why so many rare inventions have already perished; and (which is pity) antiquity has not left so much as a foot-step behind her, more than of her vices.
Leo. 'Tis the more pity, sir.
Ant. Then, what raises such vanities amongst us, and sets fantastical fancies awork? What's the reason that so many fresh tricks and new inventions of fashions and diseases come daily over sea, and land upon a man that never durst adventure to taste salt water, but only the neglect of those useful instructions which antiquity has set down.
Duke. You speak oracles, sir.
Ant. Look farther, and tell me what you find better or more honourable than age. Is not wisdom entailed upon it? Take the preheminence of it in everything—in an old friend, in old wine, in an old pedigree.
Leo. All this is certain.
Ant. I confess to you, gentlemen, I must reverence and prefer the precedent times before these, which consumed their wits in experiments: and 'twas a virtuous emulation amongst them, that nothing which should profit posterity should perish.
Leo. It argued a good fatherly providence.
Ant. It did so. There was Lysippus, that spent his whole life in the lineaments of one picture, which I will show you anon: then was there Eudoxus the philosopher,[320] who grew old in the [Pg 453]top of a mountain, to contemplate astronomy; whose manuscript I have also by me.
Duke. Have you so, sir?
Ant. I have that, and many more; yet see the preposterous desires of men in these days, that account better of a mass of gold than whatever Apelles or Phidias have invented!
Duke. That is their ignorance.
Ant. Well, gentlemen, because I perceive you are ingenious, I would entreat you to walk in, where I will demonstrate all, and proceed in my admonition. [Exeunt.
Enter Aurelio and Lionel.
Lio. 'Tis well, sir: I am glad you are so soon got free from your bondage.
Aur. Yes, I thank my stars, I am now my own man again; I have slept out my drunken fit of love, and am recovered. You, that are my friends, rejoice at my liberty.
Lio. Why, was it painful to you?
Aur. More tedious than a siege. I wonder what black leaf in the book of fate has decreed that misery upon man—to be in love; it transforms him to a worse monster than e'er Calypso's cup did: [or] a country gentleman among courtiers, or their wives among the ladies. A clown among citizens, nay, an ass among apes, is not half so ridiculous as that makes us. O that I could but come by it, how would I tear it, that never such a witched[321] passion should arise in any human breast again.
[Pg 454]Lio. You are too violent in your hate: you should never so fall out with a friend as to admit no hope of reconcilement.
Aur. I'll first be at peace with a serpent. Mark me, if thou hast care of thy time, thy health, thy fame, or thy wits, avoid it.
Lio. I must confess, I have been a little vain that way, yet never so transported, but when I saw a handsomer in place, I could leave the former and cleave to the latter. I was ever constant to beauty.
Aur. Hold thee there still, and if there be a necessity at any time that thou must be mad, let it be a short fury, and away: let not this paltry love hang too long upon the file; be not deluded with delays; for if these she-creatures have once the predominance, there shall be no way to torture thee but they'll find it out, and inflict it without mercy: they'll work on thy disposition, and if thou hast any good-nature, they'll be sure to abuse thee extremely.
Lio. Speak you this in earnest?
Aur. I know not what you call earnest, but before I'll endure that life again, I'll bind myself to a carrier, look out any employment whatever, spend my hours in seeing motions and puppet-plays, rook at bowling-alleys, mould tales, and vent them at ordinaries, carry begging epistles, walk upon projects, transcribe fiddlers' ditties.
Lio. O monstrous!
Aur. But since I have tasted the sweetness of my freedom, thou dost not know what quickness and agility is infused into me. I feel not that weight was wont to clog me, wherever I went; I am all fire and spirit, as if I had been stripped of my mortality! I hear not my thoughts whisper to me, as they were wont—Such a man is your rival;[Pg 455] There's an affront, call him to an account; Redeem your mistress's favour, Present her with such a gift, Wait her at such a place—none of these vanities.
Lio. You are happy, sir.
Enter Duke, Petro, and Leonardo.
Pet. Come, gentles, follow me, I'll bring you to them: look you where they are!
Duke. Signior Lionel, I have traced much ground to inquire for you.
Lio. I rest engaged to you for your last night's love, sir.
Duke. And I for your good company. Did you ever see such a blind ruinous tippling-house as we made shift to find out?
Leo. Ay, and the people were as wretched in it: what a mist of tobacco flew amongst them!
Lio. And what a deluge of rheum!
Pet. If the house be so old as you speak of, 'twere good you brought my master into it, and then threw't atop of him; he would never desire to be better buried.
Duke. Well said, Petro.
Lio. Sir, if it be no trouble to you, I would entreat you know my worthy friend here.
Duke. You shall make me happy in any worthy acquaintance.
Pet. Well, Signior Lionel, you are beholden to these gentlemen for their good words unto your uncle for you: they spoke in your behalf as earnestly as e'er did lawyer for his client.
Lio. And what was the issue?
Pet. He is hide-bound: he will part with nothing. There is an old rivelled purse hangs at[Pg 456] his side, has not been loosed these twenty years, and, I think, will so continue.
Lio. Why, will his charity stretch to nothing, Petro?
Pet. Yes, he has sent you something.
Lio. What is't?
Pet. A piece of antiquity, sir; 'tis English coin; and if you will needs know, 'tis an old Harry groat.[322]
Lio. Thank him heartily.
Pet. And 'tis the first, he says, that e'er was made of them; and, in his esteem, is worth three double ducats newly stamped.
Lio. His folly may put what price he please upon it, but to me 'tis no more than the value, Petro.
Pet. He says, moreover, that it may stand you in some use and pleasure hereafter, when you grow ancient; for it is worn so thin with often handling, it may serve you for a spectacle.
Lio. Very well.
Duke. 'Twere a good deed to conspire against him; he has a humour easy to be wrought on, and if you'll undertake him, we'll assist you in the performance.
Lio. With all my heart, gentlemen, and I thank you.
Duke. Let us defer it no longer then, but instantly about it.
Lio. A match! Lead on; good wit and fortune guide us. [Exeunt.
[310] So in Ben Jonson's "Every Man out of his Humour," act iii. sc. 3: "You shall see sweet silent rhetorique and dumb eloquence speaking in her eye; but when she speaks herself, such an anatomy of wit, so fine wiz'd and arteriz'd, that 'tis the goodliest model of pleasure that ever was to behold."
Again, in Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet," act ii. sc. 2—
And Pope, in his translation of the "Iliad"—
The lines in the text, as well as those quoted in the note, were all written subsequent to the publication of "The Complaint of Rosamond," by Samuel Daniel, whence the following stanza is extracted—
[311] Borrowed from Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet," act ii. sc. 2—
which, Mr Steevens observes, hath been ridiculed by Shirley in "The School of Compliment"—
"O that I were a flea upon that lip," &c.
[312] So in "Love's Labour's Lost," [Dyce 2d edit. ii. 187]—
"And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop."
See a note on this passage [in Dyce's Glossary].
[313] "A compound wine mixed with several kinds of spice."—Blount's "Glossographia." Kneeling to drink healths was formerly the common practice of drinkers. So in Ben Jonson's "Cynthia's Revels," act ii. sc. 2: "He is a great proficient in all the illiberal sciences; as cheating, drinking, swaggering, whoring, and such like; never kneels but to drink healths, nor prays but for a pipe of pudding tobacco."
[314] [Foolish.]
[315] [Old copy, A siren like.]
[316] i.e., Pleases me: a Latin phrase. So Cic. "Ad Att." 13, 21. "Inhibere illud tuum quod valde arriserat, vehementer displicet."
[317] [Old copy, rarities, such.]
—Juvenal, Sat. VIII. edit. Ald. 1535.—Steevens.
[319] Of course they are disguised, as appears from a preceding scene, although it is not mentioned here.—Collier.
[320] Of Cnidus. He flourished before the coming of Christ, about 388 years. Petronius Arbiter, in his Satyricon, writes: Eum quidem in cacumine exellissimi montis consenuisse, ut astrorum cœlique motus deprehenderet.
[321] [So the edits., and perhaps rightly, notwithstanding the fact that the word does not occur in the glossaries. At first sight, it would appear to be misprinted for wicked.]
[322] The groats coined in the reign of Henry VIII. are distinguished by different names; as, the old Harry groat, the gun hole groat, the first and second gun-stone groat, &c. The old Harry groat is that which has the head of the king, with a long face and long hair. See Hewit's "Treatise on Moins, Coins, &c.," 1775, p. 69.
Enter Bravo and Boy.
Bravo. Boy, how sits my rapier?
Boy. Close, sir, like a friend that means[323] to stick to you.
Bravo. He that will purchase honour and the name of Bravo must, by consequence, be a brave fellow—his title requires it.
Boy. But pray, sir, were you never put to the worst in your days?
Bravo. Who, I worsted? No, boy; I do manage my rapier with as much readiness and facility as an unicorn does his antler.
Boy. Sure, you must needs be very strong then.
Bravo. Not so neither; 'tis courage in me. I do it by a sleight, an activity, and by that I can control any man's point whatsoever.
Boy. Is it possible?
Bravo. I tell thee, boy, I do as much surpass Hercules at my rapier as he did me in club-fighting.[324] [I'll have you] draw[325] a register of those men that have been forced by this weak instrument to lay down their lives. I think it has cut more lives than Atropos.
Boy. But pray, sir, were they all your own exploits?
Bravo. Indeed, boy, thou may'st question it; for, and they were to perform again, they would [Pg 458]hardly be done. What will this age come to? Where be those stirring humours that were wont to trouble the world? Peace, I think, will o'er-spread them all like a gangrene, and men will die with a lethargy; there's no malice extant, no jealousies, no employment to set wickedness awork! 'tis never a dead time with me but when there's nobody to kill.
Boy. That's a miserable extremity indeed, sir.
Bravo. Leave me, boy, to my meditations. [Exit Boy
Enter Mocinigo.
Well, go thy ways, old Nick Machiavel, there will never be the peer of thee for wholesome policy and good counsel. Thou took'st pains to chalk men out the dark paths and hidden plots of murther and deceit, and no man has the grace to follow thee; the age is unthankful, thy principles are quite forsaken and worn out of memory.
Moc. There's a fellow walks melancholy, and that's commonly a passion apt to entertain any mischief; discontent and honesty seldom harbour together. How scurvily he looks, like one of the devil's factors! I'll tempt him. By your leave, sir.
Bravo. Ha!
Moc. No hurt, good sir; be not so furious, I beseech you.
Bravo. What are you?
Moc. I am bold to disturb you, and would fain communicate a business, if you had the patience to hear me.
Bravo. Speak, what is't?
Moc. You seem a man upon whom fortune, perhaps, has not cast so favourable an aspect as you deserve.
Bravo. Can you win her to look better?
Moc. Though not her, yet, perhaps, a servant of hers, that shall be as gracious to you and as profitable.
Bravo. What's she?
Moc. It may be you want money: there is a way to purchase it, if you have the heart.
Bravo. The heart! Hast thou the heart to speak, nay to conceive, what I dare not undertake?
Moc. A fit instrument for my purpose! How luckily has fortune brought me to him! [Aside.] Do you hear, sir, 'tis but the slight killing of a man, or so—no more.
Bravo. Is that all?
Moc. Is that nothing?
Bravo. Some queasy stomach might turn, perhaps, at such a motion; but I am more resolved, better hardened. What is he? For I have my several rates, salaries for blood: for a lord, so much; for a knight, so much; a gentleman, so much; a peasant, so much; a stranger, so much, and a native, so much.
Moc. Nay, he is a gentleman, and a citizen of Venice.
Bravo. Let him be what he will, and we can agree: it has been a foolish ambition heretofore to save them, and men were rewarded for it with garlands;[326] but I had rather destroy one or two of them: they multiply too fast.
Moc. Do you know one Signior Aurelio, then? He is the man; he wooed my mistress, and sought to win her from me.
[Pg 460]Bravo. A warrantable cause! show me the man, and 'tis enough.
Moc. And what must I give you?
Bravo. At a word, thirty livres: I'll not bate you a betso.[327]
Moc. I'll give you twenty.
Bravo. You bid like a chapman. Well, 'tis a hard time; in hope of your custom hereafter, I'll take your money.
Moc. There 'tis. Now for the means; how can you compass it? Were you not best poison him, think you?
Bravo. With a bullet or stiletto. Poison him! I scorn to do things so poorly; no, I'll use valour in my villany, or I'll do nothing.
Moc. You speak honourably: and, now I think on't, what if you beat him well-favouredly, and spare his life?
Bravo. Beat him! stay there; I'll kill him for this sum, but I'll not beat him for thrice the value; so he might do as much for me: no, I'll leave him impotent for all thought of revenge.
Enter Lucretia.
Moc. Well, sir, use your pleasure. Look you, here's the gentlewoman for whose sake it is done. Lady, you are come most opportunely to be a witness of my love and zeal to you; he is the man that will do the feat.
Luc. What feat?
Moc. That you and I consulted of; kill the rascal Aurelio, take him out of the way: what[Pg 461] should he live any longer for? I'll have no man breathe that you disgust.
Luc. Then ought you to go and hang yourself.
Moc. Who, I hang myself! for what? my good service and respect to your quiet? If he have any mind to haunt your chamber hereafter, he shall do it as a ghost, without any substantial shape, I assure you.
Luc. I think the fool is in earnest: I must use policy, and not play away a man's life so. [Aside.] Nay, prythee, sweetheart, be not angry, 'twas but to try thee: this kiss and my love. [Kisses him.
Moc. Why, here's some amends yet: now 'tis as it should be.
Luc. I would not allow myself any conference with you, did my reason persuade me that you were as bad as you seem to be. Pray, what are you?
Bravo. I am, sweet creature, a kind of lawless[Pg 462] justicer,[328] or usurping martialist of authority, that will kill any man with my safety.
Enter Duke, Lionel, and Leonardo, Petrucio following.
Duke. I see him coming: let's fall into admiration of his good parts, that he may over-hear his own praise.
Lio. I have, methinks, a longing desire to meet with Signior Petrucio.
Pet. I hear myself named amongst them. 'Tis no point of civility to listen what opinion the world holds of me, I shall conceive it by their discourse: a man behind his back shall be sure to have nothing but truth spoke of him. [Aside.
Leo. Pray, sir, when saw you that thrice noble and accomplished gentleman Petrucio?
Pet. Thrice noble and accomplish'd! there's a new style thrust upon me. [Aside.
Duke. It pleased the indulgency of my fate to bless me with his company this morning, where he himself was no less favourable to grace me with the perusal of a madrigal or an essay of beauty, which he had then newly compos'd.
Lio. Well, gallants, either my understanding misinforms me, or he is one of the most rare and noble-qualified pieces of gentility, that ever did enrich our climate.
Leo. Believe it, sir, 'twere a kind of profanation to make doubt of the contrary.
Pet. How happy am I in such acquaintance! A man shall have his due, when your meaner society has neither judgment to discern worth, nor credit to commend it. [Aside.
Duke. 'Twas my happiness, th' other day, to be in the presence with certain ladies, where I heard[Pg 467] him the most extolled and approved: one of them was not ashamed to pronounce it openly, that she would never desire more of heaven, than to enjoy such a man for her servant.
Pet. It shall be my next employment to inquire out for that lady. [Aside.
Lio. 'Tis a miracle to me how, in so small a competency of time, he should arrive to such an absolute plenitude of perfection.
Leo. No wonder at all; a man that has travelled, and been careful of his time.
Lio. But, by your favour, sir, 'tis not every man's happiness to make so good use on't.
Duke. I'll resolve you something: there is as great a mystery in the acquisition of knowledge, as of wealth. Have you not a citizen will grow rich in a moment, and why not he ingenious? Besides, who knows but he might have digged for it, and so found out some concealed treasure of understanding.
Pet. Now, as I am truly noble, 'tis a wrongful imputation upon me. [Aside.
Leo. Well, if he had but bounty annexed to his other sufficiencies, he were unparalleled.
Duke. Nay, there's no man in the earth more liberal: take it upon my word, he has not that thing in the world so dear or precious in his esteem, which he will not most willingly part with upon the least summons of his friend.
Pet. Now must I give away some two or three hundred pounds' worth of toys, to maintain this assertion. [Aside.
Lio. You spoke of verses e'en now; if you have the copy, pray vouchsafe us a sight of them.
Duke. I cannot suddenly resolve you: yes, here they are.
Lio. What's this?
A MADRIGAL OF BEAUTY.
Leo. Ay marry, sir, this sounds something like excellent.
Leo. Why, this has some taste in't: how should he arrive to this admirable invention?
Duke. Are you so preposterous in your opinion, to think that wit and elegancy in writing are only confined to stagers and book-worms? 'Twere a solecism to imagine that a young bravery, who lives in the perpetual sphere of humanity, where every waiting-woman speaks perfect Arcadia,[330] and the ladies lips distil with the very quintessence of conceit, should be so barren of apprehension, as not to participate of their virtues.
Leo. Now I consider, they are great helps to a man.
Duke. But when he has travelled, and delibated the French[331] and the Spanish; can lie a-bed, and expound Astræa,[332] and digest him into compliments; and when he is up, accost his mistress with what [Pg 469]he had read in the morning; now, if such a one should rack up his imagination, and give wings to his muse, 'tis credible, he should more catch your delicate court-ear, than all you head-scratchers, thumb-biters, lamp-wasters of them all.
Leo. Well, I say the iniquity of fortune appears in nothing more, than not advancing that man to some extraordinary honours.
Lio. But I never thought he had any genius that way.
Duke. What, because he has been backward to produce his good qualities? Believe it, poetry will out; it can no more be hid than fire or love.
Pet. I'll break them off, they have e'en spoken enough in my behalf for nothing, o' conscience. [Aside.] Save you, Cavalieros!
Duke. My much honoured Petrucio, you are welcome; we were now entered into a discourse of your worth. Whither do your occasions enforce you so fast?
Pet. Gentlemen, to tell you true, I am going upon some raptures.
Leo. Upon raptures, say you.
Pet. Yes, my employment is tripartite: I have here an anagram to a lady I made of her name this morning, with a poesy to another, that must be inserted into a ring; and here's a paper carries a secret word too, that must be given, and worn by a knight and tilter; and all my own imaginations, as I hope to be blessed.
Lio. Is't possible? how, have you lately drunk of the horsepond,[333] or stepped on the forked Parnassus, that you start out so sudden a poet?
[Pg 470]Pet. Tut! I leave your Helicons and your pale Pirenes,[334] to such as will look after them. For my own part, I follow the instigation of my brain, and scorn other helps.
Lio. Do you so?
Pet. I'll justify it: the multiplicity of learning does but distract a man. I am all for your modern humours, and when I list to express a passion, it flows from me with that spring of amorous conceits, that a true lover may hang his head over, and read in it the very phys'nomy of his affection.
Duke. Why, this is a rare mirror! [Aside.
Leo. 'Tis so indeed, and beyond all the art of optics. [Aside.
Pet. And when my head labours with the pangs of delivery, by chance up comes a countess's waiting-woman, at whose sight, as at the remembrance of a mistress, my pen falls out of my hand; and then do I read to her half-a-dozen lines, whereat we both sit together, and melt into tears.
Leo. Pitiful-hearted creatures! [Aside.
Pet. I am now about a device that this gentleman has promis'd shall be presented before his highness.
Duke. Yes, upon my word, sir, and yourself with it.
Pet. Shall the duke take notice of me too? O heavens! how you transport me with the thought on't!
Duke. I'll bring you to him, believe me, and you know not what grace he may do you.
Pet. 'Tis a happiness beyond mortals! I cannot tell, it may be my good fortune to advance you all.
[Pg 471]Lio. We shall be glad to have dependence on you.
Pet. Gentles, I would intreat you a courtesy.
Duke. What's that, signior?
Pet. That you would be all pleas'd to grace my lodging to-morrow at a banquet: there will be ladies and gallants; and among the rest, I'll send to invite your uncle the Antiquary; and we'll be very merry, I assure you.
Leo. Well, sir, your bounty commands us not to fail you.
Pet. Bounty! there's a memorandum for me. [Writes in his note-book.] In the meantime, pray accept these few favours at my hands,[335] as assurances that you will not fail me; till when, I take my leave. [Exit.
Lio. Farewell, sir. Go thy ways; thou hast as dull a piece of scalp as ere covered the brain of any traveller. [Aside.
Duke. For love's sake, Lionel, let's haste to thy uncle, before the coxcomb prevent us.
Lio. Why, sir, I stay for you.
Leo. Has Petro prepar'd him for your entrance, and is your disguise fit?
Lio. I have all in readiness.
Duke. On then, and when you are warm in your discourse, we'll come with our device to affright him: 'twill be an excellent scene of affliction.
Leo. Be sure you mark your cue, sir, and do not fail to approach.
Duke. Trust to my care, I warrant you. [Exeunt.
Enter Aurelio and Servant.
Aur. A gentlewoman without speak with me, say you?
Ser. Yes, sir, and will by no means be put back.
Aur. I am no lawyer, nor no secretary: what business can she have here, I wonder?
Ser. She is very importunate to enter.
Aur. I was once in the humour never to admit any of them to come near me again, but since she is so eager, let her approach. I'll try my strength, what proof 'tis against her enchantments: if ever Ulysses were more provident, or better arm'd to sail by the Sirens, I'll perish; if she have the art to impose upon me, let her beg my wit for an anatomy, and dissect it!
Enter Lucretia.
Now, Lady Humour, what new emotion in the blood has turn'd the tide of your fancy to come hither?
Luc. These words are but unkind salutes to a gentlewoman.
Aur. They are too good for you. With what face dare you approach hither, knowing how infinitely you have abused me? You want matter to exercise your wits on; the world's too wise for you; and, ere you ensnare me again, you'll have good luck.
Luc. Pray, sir, do not reiterate those things which might better be forgotten. I confess I have done ill, because I am a woman and young, and 'will be nobleness in you not to remember it.
Aur. I'll sooner plough up [the] shore and sow it, and live in expectation of a crop, before I'll[Pg 473] think the least good from any of your sex, while I breathe again.
Luc. I hope, sir, that time and experience will rectify your judgment to a better opinion of us.
Aur. I'll trust my ship to a storm, my substance to a broken citizen, ere I'll credit any of you.
Luc. Good sir, be intreated: I come a penitent lover, with a vow'd recantation to all former practices and malicious endeavours, that I have wrought against you.
Aur. How can I think better of you, when I consider your nature, your pride, your treachery, your covetousness, your lust; and how you commit perjury easier than speak?
Luc. Sure, 'tis no desert in us, but your own misguided thoughts that move in you this passion.
Aur. Indeed, time was I thought you pretty foolish things to play withal, and was so blinded as to imagine that your hairs were golden threads,[336] that your eyes darted forth beams, that laughter sat smiling on your lips, and the coral itself looked pale to them: that you moved like a goddess, and diffused your pleasures wide as the air: then could I prevent the rising sun[337] to wait on you, ob[Pg 474]served every nod you cast forth, had the patience to hear your discourse, and admired you, when you talked of your visits, of the court, of councils, of nobility, and of your ancestors.
Luc. And were not these pleasing to you?
Aur. Nothing but a heap of tortures: but since I have learned the Delphic Oracle, to know myself, and ponder what a deal of mischief you work, I am content to live private and solitary, without any pensive thought what you do, or what shall become of you.
Luc. Sir, if you calculate all occasions, I have not merited this neglect from you.
Aur. Yes, and more. Do you not remember what tasks you were wont to put me to, and expenses? when I bestowed on you gowns and petticoats, and you in exchange gave me bracelets and shoe-ties? how you fooled me sometimes, and set me to pin plaits in your ruff, two hours together, and made a waiting frippery of me? how you racked my brain to compose verses for you—a thing I could never abide? Nay, in my conscience, and I had not took courage, you had brought me to spin, and beat me with your slippers.
Luc. Well, sir, I perceive you are resolved to hear no reason; but, before my sorrowful departure, know she that you slight is the preserver of your life; therefore I dare be bold to call you ingrate, and in that I have spoke all that can be ill in man.[338]
Aur. Pray, stay; come back a little.
Luc. Not till you are better-tempered. What I have revealed is true; and though you prove unthankful, good deeds reward themselves: the con[Pg 475]science of the fact shall pay my virtue. So I leave you. [Exit.
Aur. That I should owe my life to her! which way, I wonder? Something depends on this, I must win out: well, I will not forswear it, but the toy may take me in the head, and I may see her. [Exit.
Enter Antiquary and Petro.
Ant. Has he such rare things, say you?
Pet. Yes, sir, I believe you have not seen the like of them: they are a couple of old manuscripts, found in a wall,[339] and stored up with the foundation; it may be they are the writings of some prophetess.
Ant. What moves you to think so, Petro?
Pet. Because, sir, the characters are so imperfect; for time has eaten out the letters, and the dust makes a parenthesis[340] betwixt every syllable.
Ant. A shrewd, convincing argument! this fellow has a notable reach with him. Go, bid him enter. A hundred to one some fool has them in possession that knows not their value: it may be a man may purchase them for little or nothing——
Enter Lionel, like a scholar, with two books.
Come near, friend, let me see what you have there. Umph, 'tis, as I said, they are of the old Roman binding. What's the price of these?
[Pg 476]Lio. I would be loth, sir, to sell them under rate, only to merit laughter for my rashness; therefore I thought good to bestow them on you, and refer myself to your wisdom and free nature for my satisfaction.
Ant. You say well; then am I bound again in conscience to deal justly with you: will five hundred crowns content you?
Lio. I'll demand no more, sir.
Ant. Petro, see them delivered. Now I need not fear to tell you what they are: this is a book de Republica, 'tis Marcus Tullius Cicero's own hand writing; I have some other books of his penning give me assurance of it.[341]
Pet. And what's the other, sir?
Ant. This other is a book of mathematics, that was long lost in darkness, and afterwards restored by Ptolemy.
Lio. I wonder, sir, unless you were Time's secretary, how you should arrive to this intelligence.
Ant. I know it by more than inspiration. You had them out of a wall, you say.
Lio. Yes, sir.
Ant. Well, then, however you came by them, they were first brought to Venice by Cardinal Grimani,[342] a patriarch, and were digged out of the ruins of Aquileia, after it was sacked by Attila king of the Huns.
Lio. This to me is wonderful.
Ant. Petro, I mean to retire, and give myself wholly to contemplation of these studies; and because nothing shall hinder me, I mean to lease out [Pg 477]my lands and live confined: inquire me out a chapman that will take them of me.
Lio. If you please to let them, sir, I will help you to a tenant.
Ant. Will you, sir? with all my heart, and I'll afford him the better bargain for your sake.
Pet. He may pay the rent with counters, and make him believe they are antiquities.
Ant. What's the yearly rent of them, Petro?
Pet. They have been racked, sir, to three thousand crowns; but the old rent was never above fifteen hundred.
Ant. Go to, you have said enough; I'll have no more than the old rent. Name your man, and the indentures shall be drawn.
Lio. Before I propose that, sir, I thought good to acquaint you with a specialty I found among other writings which, having a seal to it and a name subscribed, does most properly belong to you.
Ant. Let me see it. What's here? Signior Giovanni Veterano di Monte Nigro! He was my great grandfather, and this is an old debt of his that remains yet uncancelled. You could never have pleased me better to my cost: this ought, in conscience, to be discharged, and I'll see it satisfied the first thing I do. Come along.
Pet. Will you afford your nephew no exhibition out of your estate, sir?
Ant. Not a sol; not a gazet.[343] I have articles to propose before the senate shall disinherit him.
Lio. Have you, sir? Not justly, I hope. Pray, what are they?
[Pg 478]Ant. One of them is, he sent me letters beyond sea, dated Stilo Novo.[344]
Lio. That was a great oversight.
Ant. Then you remember, Petro, he took up commodities, new-fashioned stuffs, when he was under age, too, that he might cosen his creditors.
Pet. Yes, sir.
Ant. And afterwards found out a new way to pay them, too.
Lio. He served them but in their kind, sir: perhaps they meant to have cheated him.
Ant. 'Tis all one; I'll have no such practices. But the worst of all: one time, when I found him drunk, and chid him for his vice, he had no way to excuse himself, but to say, he would become a new man.
Lio. That was heinously spoken, indeed!
Ant. These are sufficient aggravations to any one that shall understand my humour.
Enter Duke and Leonardo.
Duke. Save you, sir!
Ant. These gentlemen shall be witnesses to the bonds. You are very welcome!
Duke. I hardly believe it, when you hear our message.
Ant. Why, I beseech you?
[Pg 479]Duke. I am sorry to be made the unkind instrument to wrong you; but since 'tis a task imposed from so great a command, I hope you will the easier be induced to dispense with me.
Ant. Come nearer to your aim: I understand you not.
Duke. Then thus, sir: the duke has been informed of your rarities; and holding them an unfit treasure for a private man to possess, he hath sent his mandamus to take them from you. See, here's his hand for the delivery.
Ant. O, O!
Leo. What ails you, sir?
Ant. I am struck with a sudden sickness: some good man help to keep my soul in, that is rushing from me, and will by no means be entreated to continue!
Lio. Pray, sir, be comforted.
Ant. Comfort! no, I despise it: he has given me daggers to my heart!
Leo. Show yourself a man, sir, and contemn the worst of fortune.
Ant. Good sir, could not you have invented a less studied way of torture to take away my life?
Duke. I hope 'twill not work so deeply with you.
Ant. Nay, and 'twould stop there, 'twere well; but 'tis a punishment will follow me after death, and afflict me worse than a fury.
Leo. I much pity the gentleman's case.
Ant. Think what 'tis to lose a son when you have brought him up, or, after a seven years' voyage, to see your ship sink in the harbour!
Duke. 'Twere a woeful spectacle, indeed!
Ant. They are but tickling to this: I have been all my life a-gathering what I must now lose in a[Pg 480] moment. The sacking of a city is nothing to be compared with it.
Leo. And that's lamentable.
Ant. 'Twill but only give you a light to conceive of my misery.
Lio. Pray, sir, be not importunate to take them this time; but try rather, if by any means you can revoke the decree.
Duke. 'Twill be somewhat dangerous; but, for your sake, I'll try.
Ant. Shall I hope any comfort? Then, upon my credit, gentlemen, I'll appoint you all mine heirs, so soon as I am dead.
Duke. You speak nobly.
Ant. Nay, and because you shall not long gape after it, I'll die within a month, and set you down all joint executors.
Lio. But when you are freed from the terror of his imposition, will you not recant?
Ant. Nay, and you doubt me, walk along, and I'll confirm't upon you instantly. [Exeunt.
[323] [Old copy, meant.]
[324] Thus Armado, in "Love's Labour's Lost," edit. 1778, vol. ii. p. 394: "I do excel Samson in my rapier as much as he did me in carrying gates."—Steevens.
[325] [Edits., Have you ... drawn; but the speaker evidently does not intend to ask the boy whether he has drawn the register.]
[326] The Romans bestowed an oaken wreath on him who had preserved the life of a citizen. The mother of Coriolanus, in Shakespeare, boasts that he "returned, his brows bound with oak."—Steevens.
[327] A coin of the least value of any current in Venice; it was worth no more than half a sol, that is, near a farthing. See Coriat's "Crudities," 1611, p. 286.
[328] This expression puts one in mind of Bacon's description of Revenge, when he says that it is "wild justice." A Bravo is a revenger of injuries, and may therefore very fitly be called a lawless justicer.—Collier.
[329] See note to "The Parson's Wedding," post.
[330] The romance by Sir Philip Sydney.
[331] i.e., Had a taste of, Delibo, Lat. So Claudian. B. Get. 351, "Contentus delibasse cibos."—Steevens.
[332] [A French romance by Honorè d'Urfè, which had been translated into English in 1620. It was formerly very popular. Another translation was made in 1657-8, 3 vols. folio.]
[333] [Hippocrene.] So Persius: "Fonte labra prolui Caballino."—Steevens.
[334] So Persius: "Pallidamque Pyrenen."—Steevens.
[335] [He probably distributes among them some of his MSS. verses.]
[336] "That your hairs were golden threads," is the true reading; but Mr Reed allowed it to stand, "that your hearts were golden threads," which is nonsense, or very near it. Shakespeare has the same expression in his "Rape of Lucrece"—
"Her hair, like golden threads, play'd with her breath."
—Collier.
[337] i.e., Go before. So in the 119th Psalm: "Mine eyes prevent the night watches."—Steevens.
Again, in the office of consecrating Cramp Rings: "We beseech thee, O Lord, that the Spirit which proceeds from thee may prevent and follow in our desires," &c.—Reed.
One of the Collects of the Church Service begins, "Prevent us, O Lord, in all our doings."—Collier.
[338] Alluding to the ancient aphorism, Ingratus si dixeris, omnia dixeris.
[339] [Possibly the author had in his recollection Wimbeldon's "Godlie Sermon," preached at Paul's Cross in 1388, and "found out hyd in a wall;" printed in 1584.]
[340] This is borrowed from the character of an Antiquary, in [Earle's] "Micro-Cosmographie, or a Piece of the World Discovered," 12o, 1628: "Printed books he contemnes as a novelty of this latter age; but a manuscript he pores on everlastingly, especially if the cover be all moth-eaten, and the dust make a parenthesis between every syllable."
[341] [The antiquary was fortunate in the possession of what is still unknown in a complete state. Fragments, recovered from a palimpsest, have been printed by Cardinal Mai.]
[342] [Old copy, Girmanus.]
[343] A gazet, says Coriat (p. 286), "is almost a penny; whereof ten doe make a liver, that is, nine pence." Newspapers being originally sold for that piece of money, acquired their present name of Gazettes.—See Junius "Etymol." voce Gazette.
[344] The manner of dating letters from abroad, before the alteration of the calendar, according to the reformation of it by Pope Gregory XIII. In "The Woman's Prize; or, the Tamer Tam'd," by Beaumont and Fletcher [Dyce's edit. vii. 194], Maria says to Petruchio, who had threatened to travel, in order to be rid of her—
—[Act. iv. sc. 5.]
Enter Æmilia and Angelia, disguised.
Enter Lorenzo.
Enter Æmilia.
Enter Lionel.
Enter Aurelio above; Duke and Leonardo [pass] over the stage.
Aur. Good morrow, gentlemen. What, you are for the feast, I perceive.
Duke. Master Aurelio, good morrow to you. Whose chamber's that, I pray?
Aur. My own, sir, now; I thank ill fortune and a good wife.
Duke. What! are you married, and your friends not pre-acquainted? This will be construed amongst them.
Aur. A stolen wedding, sir! I was glad to apprehend any occasion, when I found her inclining. We'll celebrate the solemnities hereafter, when there shall be nothing wanting to make our Hymen happy and flourishing.
Leo. In good time, sir. Who is your spouse, I pray?
Aur. Marry, sir, a creature for whose sake I have endured many a heat and cold, before I could vanquish her. She has proved one of Hercules' labours to me; but time, that prefers all things, made my long toil and affection both successful: and, in brief, 'tis mistress Lucretia, as very a haggard as ever was brought to fist.
Duke. Indeed! I have often heard you much complain of her coyness and disdain; what auspicious charm has now reconciled you together?
Aur. There is, sir, a critical minute in every man's wooing, when his mistress may be won; which if he carelessly neglect to prosecute, he may wait long enough before he gain the like opportunity.
Leo. It seems, sir, you have lighted upon't. We wish you much joy in your fair choice.
Aur. Thank you, gentlemen; and I to either of you no worse fortune. But that my wife is not yet risen, I would intreat you take the pains come up and visit her.
Duke. No, sir, that would be uncivil; we'll wait some fitter occasion to gratulate your rites. Good-morrow to you. [Exeunt.
Aur. Your servant! Nay, lie you still, and dare not so much as proffer to mutter; for if you do, I vanish. Now, if you will revolt, you may. I have laid a stain upon your honour, which you shall wash off as well as you can.
Enter Lucretia.
Luc. Was this done like a gentleman, or indeed like a true lover, to bring my name in question, and make me no less than your whore? Was I ever married to you? Speak.
Aur. No; but you may, when you please.
Luc. Why were you then so impudent to proclaim such a falsehood, and say I was your wife, and that you had lain with me, when 'twas no such matter?
Aur. Because I meant to make you so, and no man else should do it.
Luc. 'Slight, this is a device to over-reach a woman with! He has madded me, and I would give a hundred crowns I could scold out my anger. [Aside.
Aur. Come, there's no injury done to you but what lies in my power to make whole again.
Luc. Your power to make whole! I'll have no man command me so far. What can any lawful[Pg 489] jury judge of my honesty, upon such proofs as these, when they shall see a gentleman making himself ready[349] so early, and saluting them out of the chamber, whither (like a false man) thou hast stolen in by the bribery of my servant? Is this no scandal?
Aur. 'Twas done on purpose, and I am glad my inventions thrive so; therefore do not stand talking, but resolve.
Luc. What should I resolve?
Aur. To marry me for the safeguard of your credit, and that suddenly; for I have made a vow that, unless you will do it without delay, I'll not have you at all.
Luc. Some politician counsel me! There's no such torment to a woman, though she affect a thing ever so earnestly, yet to be forced to it.
Aur. What, are you agreed?
Luc. Well, you are a tyrant, lead on: what must be, must be; but if there were any other way in the earth to save my reputation, I'd never have thee.
Aur. Then I must do you a courtesy against your will. [Exeunt.
Enter Petrucio and Cook.
Pet. Come, honest cook, let me see how thy imagination has wrought, as well as thy fingers, and what curiosity thou hast shown in the preparation of this banquet; for gluttoning delights to be ingenious.
Cook. I have provided you a feast, sir, of twelve dishes, whereof each of them is an emblem of one of the twelve signs in the Zodiac.
[Pg 490]Pet. Well said! Who will now deny that cookery is a mystery?
Cook. Look you, sir, there is the list of them.
Pet. Aries, Taurus, Gemini; good: for Aries, a dish of lamb-stones and sweet-breads; for Taurus, a sirloin of beef; for Gemini, a brace of pheasants; for Cancer, a buttered crab; for Libra, a balance—in one scale a custard, in the other a tart—that's a dish for an alderman; for Virgo, a green salad; for Scorpio, a grand one; for Sagittarius, a pasty of venison; for Aquarius, a goose; for Pisces, two mullets. Is that all?
Cook. Read on, sir.
Pet. And in the middle of the table, to have an artificial hen, made of puff-paste, with her wings displayed, sitting upon eggs composed of the same materials; where in each of them shall be enclosed a fat nightingale, well seasoned with pepper and amber-grease.[350] So then will I add one invention [Pg 491]more of my own; for I will have all these descend from the top of my roof in a throne, as you see Cupid or Mercury in a play.
Cook. That will be rare indeed, sir! [Exit.
Enter Duke and Leonardo.
Pet. See, the guests are come; go, and make all ready. Gentles, you are welcome.
Duke. Is the Antiquary arrived, or no? can you tell, sir?
Pet. Not yet, but I expect him each minute—
Enter Antiquary.
See, your word has charmed him hither already!
Duke. Signior, you are happily encountered, and the rather, because I have good news to tell you: the Duke has been so gracious as to release his demand for your antiquities.
Ant. Has he? You have filled me all over with spirit, with which I will mix sixteen glasses of wine to his health, the first thing I do. Would I knew his highness, or had a just occasion to present my loyalty at his feet!
Duke. For that, take no thought; it shall be my care to bring you and Signior Petrucio here both [Pg 492]before him. I have already acquainted him with both your worths, and for aught I can gather by his speech, he intends to do you some extraordinary honours: it may be, he will make one a senator, because of his age: and on the other, bestow his daughter or niece in marriage. There's some such thing hatching, I assure you.
Pet. Very likely, I imagined as much: that last shall be my lot; I knew some such destiny would befall me. [Aside.] Shall we be jovial upon this news, and thrust all sadness out of doors?
Leo. For our parts, Vitellius was never so voluptuous: all our discourse shall run wit to the last.
Pet. There spoke my genius! [Aside.
Ant. Now you talk of music, have you e'er a one that can play us an old lesson, or sing us an old song?
Pet. An old lesson! yes, he shall play The Beginning of the World;[351] and for a song, he shall sing one that was made to the moving of the orbs, when they were first set in tune.
Ant. Such a one would I hear.
Pet. Walk in then, and it shall not be long, before I satisfy your desires. [Exeunt.
Enter Petro and Julia, with two bottles.
Julia. Come, master Petro, welcome heartily; while they are drinking within, we'll be as merry as the maids: I stole these bottles from under the cupboard, on purpose against your coming.
Pet. Courteous mistress Julia, how shall I deserve this favour from you?
Julia. There is a way, master Petro, if you could find it; but the tenderness of your youth keeps you in ignorance: 'tis a great fault, I must tell you.
Pet. I shall strive to amend it, if you please to instruct me, lady.
Julia. Alas, do not you know what maids love all this while? You must come oftener amongst us; want of company keeps the spring of your blood backward.
Pet. It does so; but you shall see, when we are private, I shall begin to practise with you better.
Enter Baccha.
Bac. Master Petro, this was kindly done of you.
Pet. What's my master a-doing, can you tell?
Bac. Why, they are as jovial as twenty beggars, drink their whole cups, six glasses at a health: your master's almost tipped already.
Pet. So much the better, his business is the sooner dispatched.
Julia. Well let us not stand idle, but verify the proverb, Like master, like man; and it shall go hard, Master Petro, but we will put you in the same cue.
Pet. Let me have fair play, put nothing in my cup, and do your worst.
Bac. Unless the cup have that virtue to retain[Pg 494] the print of a kiss or the glance of an eye, to enamour you: nothing else, I assure you.
Pet. For that I shall be more thirsty of than of the liquor.
Julia. Then let's make no more words, but about it presently. Come, Master Petro, will you walk in?
Pet. I attend you.
Bac. It shall go hard, but I'll drink him asleep, and then work some knavery upon him. [Exeunt.
Enter Duke, Leonardo, and the Antiquary drunk.
Ant. I'll drink with all Xerxes' army now; a whole river at a draught.
Duke. By'r lady, sir, that requires a large swallow.
Ant. 'Tis all one to our noble duke's health: I can drink no less, not a drop less; and you his servants will pledge me, I am sure.
Leo. Yes, sir, if you could show us a way, when we had done, how to build water-mills in our bellies.
Ant. Do you what you will; for my part, I will begin it again and again, till Bacchus himself shall stand amazed at me.
Leo. But should this quantity of drink come up, 'twere enough to breed a deluge, and drown a whole country.
Ant. No matter, they can ne'er die better than to be drowned in the duke's health.
Duke. Well, sir, I'll acquaint him how much he is beholden to you.
Ant. Will you believe me, gentlemen, upon my credit?
Leo. Yes, sir, anything.
Ant. Do you see these breeches then?
Leo. Ay, what of them?
Ant. These were Pompey's breeches, I assure you.
Duke. Is't possible?
Ant. He had his denomination from them: he was called Pompey the Great, from wearing these great breeches.
Leo. I never heard so much before.
Ant. And this was Julius Cæsar's hat, when he was killed in the Capitol; and I am as great as either of them at this present.
Leo. Like enough so.
Ant. And in my conceit I am as honourable.
Duke. If you are not, you deserve to be.
Ant. Where's Signor Petrucio?
Enter Petrucio and Gasparo.
Pet. Nay, good father, do not trouble me now; 'tis enough now, that I have promised you to go to the duke with me; in the meantime, let me work out matters; do not clog me in the way of my preferment. When I am a nobleman, I will do by you, as Jupiter did by the other deities; that is, I will let down my chair of honour, and pull you up after me.[352]
Gas. Well, you shall rule me, son. [Exit.
Duke. Signor, where have you been?
Pet. I have been forcing my brain to the composition of a few verses, in the behalf of your entertainment, and I never knew them flow so dully from me before: an exorcist would have conjured you up half-a-dozen spirits in the space.
[Pg 496]Leo. Indeed, I heard you make a fearful noise, as if you had been in travail with some strange monster.
Pet. But I have brought them out at last, I thank Minerva, and without the help of a midwife.
Ant. Reach me a chair: I'll sit down, and read them for you.
Leo. You read them!
Ant. Yes, but I'll put on my optics first. Look you, these were Hannibal's spectacles.
Duke. Why, did Hannibal wear spectacles?
Ant. Yes; after he grew dim with dust in following the camp, he wore spectacles. Reach me the paper.
Leo. No; an author must recite his own works.
Ant. Then I'll sit and sleep.
Leo. Read on, signior.
Pet. They were made to show how welcome you are to me.
Duke. Read them out.
[While he reads the Antiquary falls asleep.
Duke. Ay, marry, sir, we are doubly beholden to you. What, is Signior Veterano fallen asleep, and at the recitation of such verses? A most inhuman disgrace, and not to be digested!
Pet. Has he wronged me so discourteously? I'll be revenged, by Phœbus.
Leo. But which way can you parallel so foul an injury?
Pet. I'll go in, and make some verses against him.
Duke. That you shall not; 'tis not requital sufficient: I have a better trick than so. Come, bear him in, and you shall see what I will invent for you. This was a wrong and a half. [Exeunt.
Enter Æmilia and Lionel.
Æmi. Now, Master Lionel, as you have been fortunate in the forecasting of this business, so pray be studious in the executing, that we may both come off with honour.
Lio. Observe but my directions, and say nothing.
Æmi. The whole adventure of my credit depends upon your care and evidence.
Lio. Let no former passage discourage you; be but as peremptory, as [your][353] cause is good.
Æmi. Nay, if I but once apprehend a just occasion to usurp over him, let me alone to talk and look scurvily. Step aside, I hear him coming.
Enter Lorenzo.
Lor. My wife? some angel guard me! The looks of Medusa were not so ominous. I'll haste from the infection of her sight, as from the appearance of a basilisk.
Æmi. Nay, sir, you may tarry; and if virtue has not quite forsook you, or that your ears be not altogether obdurate to good counsel, consider what I say, and be ashamed of the injuries you have wrought against me.
[Pg 498]Lor. What unheard-of evasion has the subtlety of woman's nature suggested to her thoughts, to come off now?
Æmi. Well, sir, however you carry it, 'tis I have reason to complain; but the mildness of my disposition and enjoined obedience will not permit me, though indeed your wantonness and ill-carriage have sufficiently provoked me.
Lor. Provoked you! I provoked you? As if any fault in a husband should warrant the like in his wife! No: 'twas thy lust and mightiness of desire, that is so strong within thee. Had'st thou no company, no masculine object to look upon, yet thy own fancy were able to create a creature, with whom thou might'st commit, though not an actual, yet a mental wickedness.
Æmi. What recompense can you make me for those slanderous conceits, when they shall be proved false to you?
Lor. Hear me, thou base woman! thou that art the abstract of all ever yet was bad; with whom mischief is so incorporate, that you are both one piece together; and but that you go still hand in hand, the devil were not sufficient to encounter with; for thou art indeed able to instruct him! Do not imagine with this frontless impudence to stand daring of me: I can be angry, and as quick in the execution of it, I can.
Æmi. Be as angry as you please; truth and honesty will be confident, in despite of you: those are virtues that will look justice itself in the face.
Lor. Ay, but where are they? Not a-near you; thou would'st blast them to behold thee: scarce, I think, in the world, especially such worlds as you women are.
Æmi. Hum! to see, what an easy matter it is[Pg 499] to let a jealous, peevish husband go on, and rebuke him at pleasure!
Lor. So lewd and stubborn!—mads me. Speak briefly, what objection can you allege against me or for yourself.
Æmi. None, alas, against you! You are virtuous; but you think you can act the Jupiter, to blind me with your escapes and concealed trulls: yet I am not so simple, but I can play the Juno, and find out your exploits.
Lor. What exploits? What concealed trulls?
Æmi. Why, the supposed boy you seem to be jealous of, 'tis your own leman,[354] your own dear morsel: I have searched out the mystery. Husbands must do ill, and wives must bear the reproach! A fine inversion!
Lor. I am more in a maze, more involv'd in a labyrinth, than before.
Æmi. You were best plead innocence too, 'tis your safest refuge: but I did not think a man of your age and beard had been so lascivious to keep a disguised callet[355] under my nose; a base cocka[Pg 500]trice[356] in page's apparel to wait upon you, and rob me of my due benevolence! There's no law nor equity to warrant this.
Lor. Why, do I any such thing?
Æmi. Pray, what else is the boy, but your own hermaphrodite? a female siren in a male outside! Alas! had I intended what you suspect and accuse me for, I had been more wary, more private in the carriage, I assure you.
Lor. Why, is that boy otherwise than he appears to be?
Enter Lionel.
Æmi. 'Tis a thing will be quickly search'd out. Your secret bawdry and the murder of my good name will not long lie hid, I warrant you.
Lio. Now is my cue to second her. [Aside.
Lor. Signior Lionel, most welcome. I would[Pg 501] entreat your advice here to the clearing of a doubt.
Lio. What's that, sir?
Lor. 'Tis concerning the boy you placed with me.
Lio. Ay, what of him?
Lor. Whether it were an enchantment or no, or an illusion of the sight, or if I could persuade myself it was a dream, 'twere better; but my imagination so persuaded me, that I heard my wife and him interchanging amorous discourse together. To what an extremity of passion the frailty of man's nature might induce me to!
Lio. Very good.
Lor. Not very good, neither; but, after the expense of so much anger and distraction, my wife comes upon me again, and affirms that he is no boy, but a disguised mistress of my own, and upon this swells against me, as if she had lain all night in the leaven.
Æmi. Have not I reason?
Lor. Pray, sir, will you inform us of the verity of his sex.
Lio. Then take it upon my word, 'tis a woman.
Æmi. Now, sir, what have you to answer?
Lor. I am not yet thoroughly satisfied; but if it be a woman, I must confess my error.
Æmi. What satisfaction's that, after so great a wrong, and the taking away of my good name? You forget my deserts, and how I brought you a dowry of ten talents: besides, I find no such superfluity of courage in you to do this, neither.
Lor. Well, were he a boy or no, 'tis more than I can affirm; yet this I'll swear, I entertained him for no mistress, and, I hope, you for no servant; therefore, good wife, be pacified.
Æmi. No, sir, I'll call my kindred and my[Pg 502] friends together, then present a joint complaint of you to the senate, and if they right me not, I'll protest there's no justice in their court or government.
Lor. If she have this plea against me, I must make my peace; she'll undo me else. [Aside.] Sweet wife, I'll ask thee forgiveness upon my knees, if thou wilt have me: I rejoice more that thou art clear, than I was angry for the supposed offence. Be but patient, and the liberty thou enjoyedst before shall be thought thraldom hereafter. Sweet sir, will you mediate?
Lio. Come, sweet lady, upon my request you shall be made friends; 'twas but a mistake; conceive it so, and he shall study to redeem it.
Æmi. Well, sir, upon this gentleman's intreaty, you have your pardon. You know the propensity of my disposition, and that makes you so bold with me.
Lor. Pray, Master Lionel, will you acquaint my wife with the purpose of this concealment; for I am utterly ignorant, and she has not the patience to hear me.
Lio. It requires more privacy than so, neither is it yet ripe for projection; but because the community of counsel is the only pledge of friendship, walk in, and I'll acquaint you.
Lor. Honest, sweet wife, I thank thee with all my heart. [Exeunt.
Enter Duke, Leonardo, and Petrucio, bringing in the Antiquary, in a fool's coat.
Duke. So, set him down softly; then let us slip aside, and overhear him.
Ant. Where am I? What metamorphosis am I crept into? A fool's coat! what's the emblem[Pg 503] of this, trow? Who has thus transformed me, I wonder? I was awake, am I not asleep still? Why, Petro, you rogue: sure, I have drank of Circe's cup, and that has turn'd me to this shape of a fool: and I had drank a little longer, I had been changed into an ass. Why, Petro, I say, I will not rest calling, till thou comest——
Enter Petro in woman's clothes.
Heyday, what more transmigrations of forms! I think Pythagoras has been amongst us. How came you thus accoutred, sirrah?
Pet. Why, sir, the wenches made me drunk, and dressed me, as you see.
Ant. A merry world the while! My boy and I make one hermaphrodite, and now, next Midsummer-ale,[357] I may serve for a fool, and he for a Maid-Marian.
Enter Duke and Leonardo.
Duke. Who is this? Signor Veterano?
Ant. The same, sir: I was not so when you left me. Do you know who has thus abused me?
Duke. Not I, sir.
Ant. You promised to do me a courtesy.
Duke. Anything lies in my power.
Ant. Then, pray, will you bring me immediately to the duke?
Duke. Not as you are, I hope.
Ant. Yes, as I am: he shall see how I am wronged amongst them. I know he loves me, and will right me. Pray, sir, forbear persuasion to the contrary, and lead on. [Exeunt.
[345] See Milton's "Comus," l. 739, &c.
[346] So in "King Henry IV., Part I."—
"And on thine eye-lids crown the god of sleep."
—Steevens. [The whole passage seems to be imitated from one in "Venus and Adonis."]
[348] Famous for all the arts of fraud and thievery—
"Non fuit Autolyci tam piccata manus."
—Martial.
See Mr Steevens's note on "The Winter's Tale," act iv. sc. 2.
[349] [Dressing himself.]
[350] Ambergrease was formerly an ingredient used in heightening sauces. So in Milton's "Paradise Regained," book ii. l. 344—
On this passage Dr Newton observes, that "ambergris, or grey amber, is esteemed the best, and used in perfumes and cordials." A curious lady communicated the following remarks upon this passage to Mr Peck, which we will here transcribe: "Grey amber is the amber our author here speaks of, and melts like butter. It was formerly a main ingredient in every concert for a banquet—viz., to fume the meat with, and that whether boiled, roasted, or baked; laid often on the top of a baked pudding; which last I have eat of at an old courtier's table. And I remember, in our old chronicle there is much complaint of the nobilities being made sick, at Cardinal Wolsey's banquets, with rich scented cates and dishes most costly dressed with ambergris. I also recollect I once saw a little book writ by a gentlewoman of Queen Elizabeth's Court, where ambergris is mentioned as the haut-gout of that age." So far this curious lady; and Beaumont and Fletcher, in the "Custom of the Country," act iii. sc. 2—
It appears also to have been esteemed a restorative, being mentioned, with other things used for that purpose, in Marston's "Fawne," act ii. sc. 1. See also Surflet's Translation of Laurentius's "Discourse of Old Age, &c.," 1599, p. 194.
[351] [Or Sellenger's Round. See Chappell's "Popular Music," pp. 69, 70.]
[353] [Mr. Collier's addition.]
[354] Leman is the old word for a lover of either sex; and in a note to "The Merry Wives of Windsor," act iv. sc. 2, Mr Steevens derives it from lief, which is Dutch for beloved. In this opinion he only follows Junius, while others consider it to have its origin in l'aimant.
—Apius and Virginia, 1575, sign. D 3.
In "The Contention between Liberalitie and Prodigalitie," 1602, it is made the subject of a pun:
—Sign. C 4.—Collier.
[355] [Drab.]
[356] This was one of the names by which women of ill-fame were usually distinguished.
So in Ben Jonson's "Every Man out of his Humour" "His chief exercises are taking the whiff, squiring a cockatrice, and making privy searches for imparters."
In "Cynthia's Revels," act ii. sc. 4: "—Marry, to his cockatrice, or punquetto, half a dozen taffata gowns, or sattin kirtles, in a pair or two of months; why, they are nothing."
And in his "Poetaster," act iii. sc. 4: "—I would fain come with my cockatrice, one day, and see a play, if I knew when there were a good bawdy one."
Again in Massinger's "City Madam," act ii. sc. 1:
And in Dekker's "Belman of London," sign. B.: "Shee feedes uppon gold as the estredge doth upon iron, and drinks silver faster downe her crane-like throat, than an English cockatrice doth Hiphocras."
See also an extract from the "Gull's Horn Book," 1609, in Shakespeare, p. 83, edit. 1778.
[357] Rustic meetings of festivity, at particular seasons, were formerly called ales; as Church-ale, Whitsun-ale, Bride-ale, Midsummer-ale, &c. Carew, in his "Survey of Cornwall," edition 1769, p. 68, gives the following account of the Church-ale; with which, it is most likely, the others agreed:—"For the church-ale, two young men of the parish are yerely chosen by their last foregoers, to be wardens; who, dividing the task, make collection among the parishioners, of whatsoever provision it pleaseth them voluntarily to bestow. This they imploy in brewing, baking, and other acates, against Whitsontide; upon which holydayes the neighbours meet at the church-house, and there merily feede on their owne victuals, contributing some petty portion to the stock; which by many smalls, groweth to a meetly greatnes; for there is entertayned a kinde of emulation betweene these wardens, who by his graciousnes in gathering, and good husbandry in expending, can best advance the churches profit. Besides, the neighbour parishes at those times lovingly visit one another, and this way frankely spend their money together. The afternoones are consumed in such exercises as olde and yong folke (having leysure) doe accustomably weare out the time withall."——In the subsequent pages, Carew enters into a defence of these meetings, which in his time had become productive of riot and disorder, and were among the subjects of complaint by the more rigid puritans. For an account of Maid Marian, see Mr Tollet's Dissertation at the end of the "First Part of Henry IV." [But see both subjects copiously illustrated in "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," i. 156, et seq.]
Enter Lorenzo, Mocinigo, Æmilia, and Lucretia.
Lor. Now, Signor Mocinigo, what haste requires your presence?
Moc. Marry, sir, this. You brought me once into a paradise of pleasure and expectation of much comfort; my request therefore is, that you would no longer defer what then you so liberally promised.
[Pg 505]Lor. How do you mean?
Moc. Why, sir, in joining that beauteous lady, your daughter, and myself in the firm bonds of matrimony; for I am somewhat impatient of delay in this kind, and indeed the height of my blood requires it.
Luc. Are you so hot? I shall give you a card to cool you[358] presently. [Aside.
Lor. 'Tis an honest and a virtuous demand, and on all sides an action of great consequence; and, for my part, there's not a thing in the world I could wish sooner accomplished.
Moc. Thank you, sir.
Lor. There's another branch of policy, besides the coupling of you together, which springs from the fruitfulness of my brain, that I as much labour to bring to perfection as the other.
Moc. What's that, sir?
Lor. A device upon the same occasion, but with a different respect; 'tis to be imposed upon Petrucio. I hate to differ so much from the nature of an Italian, as not to be revengeful; and the occasion at this time was, he scorned the love of her, that you now so studiously affect; but I'll fit him in his kind.
[Pg 506]Moc. Did he so? He deserves to have both his eyes struck as blind as Cupid's, his master, that should have taught him better manners. But how will you do it?
Lor. There's one Lionel, an ingenious witty gentleman.
Æmi. Ay, that he is, as ever breathed, husband, upon my knowledge.
Lor. Well, he is so, and we two have cast to requite it upon him. The plot, as he informs me, is already in agitation, and afterwards, sans delay, I'll bestow her upon you.
Luc. But you may be deceived. [Aside.
Moc. Still you engage me more and more your debtor.
Lor. If I can bring both these to success, as they are happily intended, I may sit down, and, with the poet, cry, Jamque opus exegi.
Moc. Would I could say so too; I wish as much, but 'tis you must confirm it, fair mistress: one bare word of your consent, and 'tis done. The sweetness of your looks encourage me, that you will join pity with your beauty; there shall be nothing wanting in me to demerit it; and then, I hope, although I am base,
Lor. How now, Signor! What, love and poetry, have they two found you out? Nay, then you must conquer. Consider this, daughter; show thy obedience to Phœbus and god Cupid: make an humble professor of thyself; 'twill be the more acceptable, and advance thy deserts.
Æmi. Do, chicken, speak the word, and make him happy in a minute.
Lor. Well said, wife; solicit in his behalf; 'tis[Pg 507] well done; I am loth to importune her too much, for fear of a repulse.
Æmi. Marry, come up, sir; you are still usurping in my company. Is this according to the articles proposed between us, that I should bear rule and you obey with silence? I had thought to have endeavoured for persuasion, but because you exhort me to it, I'll desist from what I intended: I'll do nothing but of my own accord, I.
Lor. Mum! wife, I have done. This we, that are married, must be subject to.
Moc. You give an ill example, Mistress Æmilia; you give an ill example——
Æmi. What old fellow is this that talks so? Do you know him, daughter?
Moc. Have you so soon forgot me, lady?
Æmi. Where has he had his breeding, I wonder? He is the offspring of some peasant, sure! Can he show any pedigree?
Lor. Let her alone, there's no dealing with her. Come, daughter, let me hear your answer to this gentleman.
Luc. Truly, sir, I have endeavoured all means possible, and in a manner enforced myself to love him——
Lor. Well said, girl.
Luc. But could never effect it.
Lor. How!
Luc. I have examined whatever might commend a gentleman, both for his exterior and inward abilities; yet, amongst all that may speak him worthy, I could never discern one good part or quality to invite affection.
Lor. This is it I feared. Now should I break out into rage; but my wife and a foolish nature withhold my passion.
Moc. I am undone, unspirited, my hopes vain, and my labours nullities!
Lor. Where be your large vaunts now, Signor? What strange tricks and devices you had to win a woman!
Moc. Such assurance I conceived of myself; but when they affect wilful stubbornness, lock up their ears, and will hearken to no manner of persuasion, what shall a man do?
Lor. You hear what taxes are laid upon you, daughter: these are stains to your other virtues.
Luc. Pray, sir, hear my defence. What sympathy can there be between our two ages or agreement in our conditions? But you'll object, he has means. 'Tis confess'd; but what assurance has he to keep it? Will it continue longer than the law permits him possession, which will come like a torrent, and sweep away all? He has made a forfeiture of his whole estate.
Lor. What, are you become a statist's daughter[359] or a prophetess? Whence have you this intelligence?
Moc. I hope she will not betray me. [Aside.
Luc. If murder can exact it, 'tis absolutely lost.
Lor. How, murder!
Luc. Yes, he conspired the other day with a bravo, a cut-throat, to take away the life of a noble innocent gentleman, which is since discovered by miracle: the same that came with music to my window.
Moc. All's out; I'm ruined in her confession! That man that trusts woman with a privacy, and hopes for silence, he may as well expect it at the[Pg 509] fall of a bridge![360] A secret with them is like a viper; 'twill make way, though it eat through the bowels of them. [Aside.
Lor. Take heed how you traduce a person of his rank and eminency: a scar in a mean man becomes a wound in a greater.
Luc. There he is, question him; and if he deny it, get him examined.
Lor. Why, signor, is this true?
Æmi. His silence betrays him: 'tis so.
Moc. 'Tis so, that all women thirst man's overthrow; that's a principle as demonstrative as truth: 'tis the only end they were made for; and when they have once insinuated themselves into our counsels, and gained the power of our life, the fire is more merciful; it burns within them till it get forth.
Lor. I commend her for the discovery: 'twas not fit her weak thoughts should be clogged with so foul a matter. It had been to her like forced meat to a surfeited stomach, that would have bred nothing but crudities in her conscience.
Moc. O my cursed fate! shame and punishment attend me! they are the fruits of lust. Sir, all that I did was for her ease and liberty. [Aside.
Luc. Nay, sir, he was so impudent to be an accessory. Who knows but he might as privately have plotted to have sent me after him; for how should I have been secure of my life when he made no scruple to kill another upon so small an inducement?
Æmi. Thou sayest right, daughter; thou shalt[Pg 510] utterly disclaim him. The cast of his eye shows he was ever a knave.
Moc. How the scabs descant upon me!
Lor. What was the motive to this foul attempt?
Luc. Why, sir, because he was an affectionate lover of mine, and for no other reason in the earth.
Æmi. O mandrake, was that all? He thought, belike, he should not have enough. Thou covetous engrosser of venery. Why, one wife is able to content two husbands.
Moc. Sir, I am at your mercy: bid them not insult upon me. I beseech you, let me go as I came.
Lor. Stay there; I know not how I shall be censured for your escape. I may be thought a party in the business.
Luc. Besides, I hear since that the mercenary varlet that did it, though he be otherwise most desperate and hardened in such exploits, yet out of the apprehension of so unjust an act, and moved in conscience for so foul a guilt, is grown distracted, raves out of measure, confesses the deed, accuses himself and the procurer, curses both, and will by no means be quieted.
Lor. Where is that fellow?
Luc. Sir, if you please to accompany me, I will bring you to him, where your own eye and ear shall witness the certainty; and then, I hope, you will repent that ever you sought to tie me to such a monster as this, who preferred the heat of his desires before all laws of nature or humanity.
Lor. Yes, that I will, and gratulate the subtlety of thy wit, and goodness of fate, that protected thee from him.
Æmi. Away with him, husband: and be sure to beg his lands betimes, before your court-vultures scent his carcase.
Lor. Well said, wife; I should never have thought on this now, and thou had'st not put me in mind of it: women, I see, have the only masculine policy, and are the best solicitors and politicians of a state. But I'll first go and see him my daughter tells me of, that, when I am truly informed of all, I may the better proceed in my accusation against them. Come along, sir.
Moc. Well, if you are so violent, I'm as resolute: 'tis but a hanging matter, and do your worst. [Exeunt.
Enter Bravo and Boy.
Bravo. What news, boy?
Boy. Sir, Mistress Lucretia commends her to you, and desires, as ever her persuasions wrought upon you, or as you affect her good, and would add credit and belief to what she has reported, that you would now strain your utmost to the expression of what she and you consulted of.
Bravo. I apprehend her: where is she?
Boy. Hard by, sir: her father, and the old fornicator Mocinigo, and I think her mother, are all coming to be spectators of your strange behaviour. [Exit.
Bravo. Go, wait them in, let me alone to personate an ecstasy;[361] I am near mad already, and I do not fool myself quite into't, I care not. I'll withdraw, till they come. [Exit.
Enter Lorenzo, Mocinigo, Æmilia, Lucretia, and Boy.
Lor. Is this the place?
Luc. Yes, sir. Where's your master, boy? how does he?
Boy. O sweet mistress, quite distempered; his brains turn round like the needle of a dial, six men's strength is not able to hold him; he was bound with I know not how many cords this morning, and broke them all. See, where he enters!
Enter Bravo.
Lor. He begins to preach.
Æmi. Will he do us no mischief, think you?
Boy. O no, he's the best for that in his fits that e'er you knew: he hurts nobody.
Moc. But I am vilely afraid of him.
Boy. If you are a vile person, or have done any great wickedness, you were best look to yourself; for those he knows by instinct, and assaults them with as much violence as may be.
Moc. Then am I perished. Good sir, I had rather answer the law than be terrified with his looks.
[Pg 513]Lor. Nay, you shall tarry, and take part with us, by your favour.
Æmi. How his eyes sparkle!
[Aside.
Bravo. You and I must walk together: come into the middle; yet further.
Enter Aurelio as an Officer, and two Servants.
Aur. Where be these fellows here that murder men? Serjeants, apprehend them, and convey them straight before the duke.
Bravo. Who are you?
Aur. We are the duke's officers.
Bravo. The duke's officers must be obey'd, take heed of displeasing them: how majestically they look!
Lor. You see, wife, the charm of authority: and a man be ne'er so wild, it tames him presently.
Æmi. Ay, husband, I know what will tame a man besides authority.
Aur. Come, gentles, since you are all together, I must entreat your company along with us, to witness what you know in this behalf.
Lor. Sir, you have prevented us; for we intended to have brought him ourselves before his highness.
Aur. Then I hope your resolution will make it the easier to you. What, sir, will you go willingly?
Bravo. Without all contradiction; lead on. [Exeunt, flourish.
Enter Lionel as the Duke; Duke, Petrucio, Gasparo, Angelia as a woman.
[Exeunt Petrucio, Gasparo, and Angelia.
Enter Antiquary and Petro.
Lio. How now! what new-come pageant have we here?
Duke. This is the famous antiquary I told your grace of, a man worthy your grace; the Janus of our age, and treasurer of times passed: a man worthy your bounteous favour and kind notice; that will as soon forget himself in the remembrance of your highness, as any subject you have.
Lio. How comes he so accoutred?
Duke. No miracle at all, sir; for, as you have many fools in the habit of a wise man, so have you sometimes a wise man in the habit of a fool.
Ant. Sir, I have been so grossly abused, as no story, record, or chronicle can parallel the like, and I come here for redress: I hear your highness loves me, and indeed you are partly interested in the cause, for I, having took somewhat a large potion for your grace's health, fell asleep, when in the interim they apparelled me as you see, made a fool or an asinigo[365] of me; and for my boy here, they [Pg 520]cogged him out of his proper shape into the habit of an Amazon, to wait upon me.
Lio. But who did this?
Ant. Nay, sir, that I cannot tell; but I desire it may be found out.
Duke. Well, signor, if you knew all, you have no cause to be angry.
Ant. How so?
Duke. Why, that same coat you wear did formerly belong unto Pantolabus the Roman jester, and buffoon to Augustus Cæsar.
Enter Aurelio, Lorenzo, Mocinigo, Bravo, Æmilia, Lucretia, Officers.
Enter Petrucio, Angelia, and Gasparo.
Enter Leonardo.
[358] A cooling card is frequently mentioned in our ancient authors; but the precise sense in which it is used is difficult to be ascertained. In some places it seems to signify admonition or advice; in others, censure or reproof. In Lyly's "Euphues," p. 39, "Euphues, to the intent he might bridle the overlashing affections of Philautus, conveied into his studie a certeine pamphlet, which he tearmed A cooling card for Philautus; yet generally to bee applyed to all lovers."
So in the "First Part of Henry VI.," act v. sc. 4—
"There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling card."
And in the "Wounds of Civil War," 1594—
"I'll have a present cooling card for you."
[360] i.e., at the fall of water through a bridge. The idea seems to be taken from the noisy situation of the houses formerly standing on London Bridge.—Steevens.
[361] So in "Hamlet," act iii. sc. 4—
Mr Steevens observes that in this place, and many others, ecstasy means a temporary alienation of mind, a fit.
[362] Alluding to the fate of Polydorus, a son of King Priam. See Virgil's "Æneid," book iii. l. 49—
[363] In the first edit. this line is thus—
"Black with the curls of snakes, sits a spectatrix."
It may be doubted whether Mr Reed had sufficient warrant for altering the old reading: at all events spectatrix, the word of the time, might have stood; perhaps, in the two next lines their should be changed to her.—Collier.
[364] So in Shakespeare's "Antony and Cleopatra"—
"Let me lodge Lichas on the horn o' th' moon."
—Steevens.
Again, Ovid's "Metam.," lib. 9. l. 215—
Of which the following is Gay's translation—
[365] A cant term for a foolish fellow or idiot. See Mr Steevens's note on "Troilus and Cressida," act ii. sc. 1.
END OF VOL. XIII.
Contents added by transcriber.
Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors.
Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.