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THB
or
BEN JONSON,
AND
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER :
THB FIKST
Aim
WITH THE NOTES OF PETER WHALLEY;
THB LAVrVR,
vdBHK lift *^LttS« 2flD DHB fltt ^VfluBtf
©F
Thk Latb GEOROE COLBfAN^ Es^.
EMBELUSHED WnH POtOnjOTS.
IN FOUR TOLUMES.
aMaMMaBBBBaBBMaaaBBaai
VOL. IV.
PRINTED FOB JOHN 8T0CKDALB, PICCADILLY.
iln.
0^
ll
/^c. y>V
London 1 Printed by B. M*MUlan, >
IluwSireci, CoventCard«o. S
CONTENTS.
VOLUME THE FOURTH.
'L07FS.CURE: OR,THE MARTL\LBfAID: ^(:bMe<fy 1
WOlfEN PLEAS'D; Afragt-Comedy 31
THE NIGHT-WALKER: OR, THE LITTLE THIEF; A Cmeijf . . 6$
THE ISLAND PRINCESS; A li-agi-Comeiy 95
1HE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAMD; A Comidg . . 131
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN; AComedg 0 l67
THE CORONATION; A Comedy 196
IHESEA-VOTAGE; ACome^ 225
THE COXCOMB; ACmedy 249
WIT AT SEVERAL WEAPONS; A Comedy 285
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN; ^7>-d^CoMe<fy 321
y CUPID'S REVENGE; yl7V<^y /• • 355
VTHE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN 387
VFHE TRAGEDY OF THIERRY AND THEODORET 437
THE WOMAN-HATER 469
THE NICE VALOUR; OR. THE PASSIONATE MADMAN ; yf C^MWify 507
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE; A Ti-aghComedy 533
^ THE MASQUE OF THE INNER-TEMPLE AND GRAY'S INN; ■
GRAY'S INN AND THE INNER-TEMPLE
. FOUR PLATS, OR MORAL REPRESENTA'nONS, IN ONE ... 575
RAY'S INN; 1
( 569
• • • • ^
\
a
LOVE'S CURE;
OB>
THE MARTIAL MAID^
A COMEDY.
OF THE
UNIVERSITY
OF
This Play is by Gardiner^n his Commendatory Verses, ascribed to Fletcher singly; but
the Prologue speaks of it as the production of both authors, although again the £)pilogue
lakes notice of but one. There never were any alterations made in this Comedy, nor
has it been acted for many years past.
PROLOGUE, AT THE REVIVING OF THIS PLAY.
Statites and pictures challenge price and
&me.
If they can justly boast and prove they came
Fram Phidias or Appelles. >ione deny.
Poets and painters hold a sympathy ; [grace.
Yet their works may decay, and lose their
Receiving blemish in their limbs or face;
When the mind's art has this preheminence,
She still retaineth her first excellence.
Then why sliould Aot this dear piece be
esteemxl
Child to the richest fancies that e'erteem'd?
Wlien not their meanest offspring, tlmt came
forth, «
But bore the image of their fslthers' worth.
Beaumont's, and Fletcher's, whose desert
out-weighs
The best applause, and their least sprig of
bays
Is worthy Phoebus; and who comes to gather
Tlieir fruits of wit, lie shall not rob the trea-
surcfc
Nor can ypu ever surfbit of tlic plenty,
Nor can you call tiiem rate, though they bo
dainty :
The more you take, the more you do them
right;
And wo will thank you for your own delight.
Mest.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Pachieco, a Cohkry
AssisTAHT, or Gaoemor.
ViTELLi, a young Gentleman, enemy to AU
Tarez,
Iamokal, a fighting Gallant, friend to Vu-
ielli,
Av ASTRO, an honegl Gentleman, friend to
VitelU.
Alvarez, etiemy to Vitelli,
Syavedra, friend to Alvarez.
Lccio, Son to Alvarez, brought tip as a
Woman,
AiccAziEB, a sharking panderly Constable.
Pachirco, a Cohler, '\
MEND02A, a Botcher, >
Metaldi, a Smith, j
oftDorship^
Lazarillo, Pachieco*s hungry Servant*
Bobadilla, Steward to Alvarez,
Herald.
Offici&r.
Women.
Eugenia, a virtuous Lady, Wife to DonAl^
varez,
Clara, the Martial Maid, Daughter to Al-
, varez, enamoured i^' VitelU.
Genevoba, Sister to Vitelli, in love with
Lucio,
Macroda^ a wanton MUtress of Vitelli.
VOLIIL
SCENE, Sevik
B
LOVE'S CURE; OR, THE MARTIAt MAID. [Act t Sc«iit %
ACT L
SCENE t
Enter Vitelli, tiamoral, and Jnoitro,
TittlU. ALVAREZpardon'd? '
■"■ Ana, And return'd.
Lam. I saw him land
Ac St.Lucar*s; and such a general welcome
Fame, as harbinger to his brave actions.
Had with the ea^y people prepard for bim,
As if by his command alone, and fortane,
Holland, with tibose Low Provinces tliat hold
out
Against the arch-duke, were again compell'd
With their obedience to give up their lives
To be at his devotion.
Vlt. You amaze me ! [Se\il
For tho' I've heard, that when he fled from
To save his life (then forfeited to law
For murdering don Pedro, my dear uncle),
His extreme wants enforced huii to tate pay
I' th'army, sat down then before Ostend;
'Twas never yet reported, b^ whose flavour
He durst presume to entertain a thought
Of coming home witli pardon.
Ana* 'Tis our naturp
Or not to hear, or not to give belief
To what wc wish for from our enemies.
Lam, Sir, 'tis most certain, the infanta's^
letters.
Assisted by the arch-duke's, to king Philip,
Have not alone securM him from the rigour
Of our Castilian justice, butretum'd lum
A free man, and in grace.
Vit, By what curs'd means
Could such a fugitive arise unto [more
The knowledge of their liighnesscs? Much
(Though known), to stand but in the least de-
gree
Offavour with them?
Lam, To give satisfaction
To your demand (tho' to praise him I hate,
Ciui yield me small contentment), I will tcU
you,
And truly; since, should I detract his worth,
Twocdd argue want of merit in myself.
Briefly to pass his tedious pilgrimage
For sixteen 3^ears, a banish'd guilU man.
And to forget the storms, th' affirlghts, the
horrors,
Ills constancy, not fortune overcame^
I bring him, with his little son, grown man
(Tho'°twas said here he took a daughter
with him).
To Ostend's bloody siege,j that stage of war,
Wherein tlie flower of many nations acted,
V^nd the whole Christian world spectators
Thereby his son (or were he by adoption
Or Nature liis) a brave scene was presented.
Which I make choice to speak of, since fron
tliat
The good success of Alvarez had beginning.
Vn, So r love virtue ia an enemy,
That I desire in the relation of [yourself
This young man's gIoriou& deed, youH keep
A friend tos^ truth, and it.
Lam, Such was my purpose.
The town being oft assaulted, but in vain,
To dare the proud defendants to a sally.
Weary of ease, don Inigo Peralta,
Son to the general of our Castile forces,.
All arm'd, advanc'd within shot of tlieir wallis
From whence the musqueteers ptay'd liiick
upon him; fger
Yet he, brave youth, as careless of the dan-*
As careful of his honour, drew his sword.
And waving it about his head, as if
He dar'd one spirited like himself to trial
Of single valour, he made iiis retreat.
With sucli a slow, and yet majestic ' pace.
As if he still caird loud, ^ Dare none come
on?"
When suddenly, from a postern of the town
Two gallant horsemen issued, and o'ertook
The army looking on, yet not a man [him^
That durst reheve the rash adventurer;
Which Lucio, son to Alvarez, then seeing.
As in the vant-guard he sat bravely mounted^
(Or were it pity of the youth's misfortune,
Care to preserve tlie honour of his country.
Or bokl desire to get himself » name).
He made his brave horse like a whirlwind
bear him
Among the combatants; and in a momeni
Discharg'd his pctronel, with such sure aim,
Tluit of tlie adverse party from his horse
One tiunbied dead; then wheeling rounds
and drawing
A falchion, swift as lightning he came oq
Upon the other, and with one strong blow.
In view of the amazed town and camp,
He struck him dead, and brought Peralta olK
With double honour to himself.
Fif. Twas brave!
But the success of this?
Lam, The camp receiv*d him
With acclamations of joy and welcome;
And for addition to' the fair reward
(Being a massy chain of gold giv*n to him
By young Feral ta's father), he was brougiit
To the infauta's presence, kiss'd her hand.
And from tliat lady (greater in her goodness
Than her high birth) had this encourage*
ment:
And yet mi^etiie pace.] SympsoB objects to the word yet^ and would rt^d,
>■■ ' ■' ' a sloW| fuid that majestic, pace.
G(^
A€t 1 Scttm t.) lOVBS CURE J OR, tHE MARTIAL MAID-
•» Go OB, joong man! Yet, not to feed thy
valour
• With hope ofrecompense to come from me,
• For present satisfaction of wiiat's past,
^ Ask any thing that's fit for me to give «
• An^ thee to take, and be assured of it.*'
Anm. Excellent princess!
Fh. And stil'd worthily
The heart-blood, nay, the soul of soldiers.
But what was his request?
Lam. That the repeal
Of Alvarez makes plain : He humbly begg'd
His father's pardon, and so movingly
Told the sad story of your uncle's death,
Tliat the infanta wept; and instantly
Grsinttng liis suit, working the archrduke to it,
Their letters were directed to the king.
With whom they so prevailed, that Alvarez
Was freely pardon'd. .
VU. ^is not in the king
To make that good.
Ana, Not in the king? Wliat subject
Dares contradict his poVr ?
Vit, In this I dare,
And will; and not call his prerogative
In question, nor presume to limit it.
I know he b the master of his laws,
And may foi^ve the forfeits made to them,
But not tlie injur^f done to my honour :
And 8ince(forgetting my brave uncle's merits.
And many services, under duke d-'Alva)
He suffers him to fall, wresting from justice
The powerful sword, that would revenge his
death,
ni fill with this Astrea*s empty hand, [king's.
And in my just wreak make this arm the
My deadly hate to Alvarez, and his house,
Whidi as I crew in years hath still encreas'd
{As if it calld on Time to make me man),
Sept while it had no object for her fury.
Bat a weak woman, and her talk*d«of daugh-
ter; [sight*,
But now, since there are quarries worth her
Both in the father and his hopeful son,
PH boldly cast her oil^ and gorge her full
With both their hearts: to further which,
your friendship, [deeds
And oaths' ! Will your assistance let ydur
Make answer to me? Useless are all words,
'Till you have writ performance with your
svrords. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Bobadilla and Lu^io,
Lncio. Go, fetch my work. This ruff was
not vi'eU starch'd.
So tell the maid ; 't has too much blue in it:
And look you that the partridge and the pul-
len [ther
Have clean meat and firesh water, or my mo-
Is like to he4r on't. [there ever
Bob^ Oh, good St. Jaques, help me J Was
Such an hermaphrodite heard of? Would any
Wench living, that should hoar and see what
I do, [man lies
Be wrought to believe^ that the best of a
Under this petticoat, and that a cod-piece
Were far fitter here, than a pinn'd placket?
Lucio» You had best talk filthily, do; t
have a tongue
To tell mv mother, a| well as ears to hear
Your ribaldry.
Bob. Nay, you liave ten women's tongues
That way, I am sure ! Why, my voung master.
Or mistress, madam, don, or what you will.
What the devil have you to do with pullen
or partridge?
Or to sit pricking on a clout all day?
You have a better needle, I know, and might
Make better work, if you had grace to use it.
I Lticio. Why, how dare you speak thi«> be-
fore me, sirrah? [what I speak?
Bob. Nay, rather, why dare not you do
Tho' my ladjr, your mother, for fear of
Vitelli and bis faction, liath [kept you
Brought you up like her daughter, and ha»
These twenty years (which is ever since
You were bom) a ctose prisoner within doors ;
Yet since*you are a man, and are as well
Provided as other men are, mcthinks [flesh
You should have the same motions of the
As other cavaliers of us are indin'd unto.
Lucio. Indeed, you have cause to (bve
those wanton motions,
They having holpe you to an excellent whip*
ping**
* Qnarria^ worth her sight] " This nght, though it is not altogether void of sense, dijt-
continues tlie chain of metaphors taken from falconry. Our business then musit be to join
ita^n (a thing not hard to be done), by changing one letter, and adding another, thus:
But now, since there arc quarries, worth her Jiight.
Mr. Seward concurred too in the same correeti(^n. Sytnpson,
^ • to further whichj yourfriendihip^
Andoatht; mil your assUtanee, let your deeds,'] Thus point the two last edi-
tions, and the first not a great deal better. Had tlie editors of any ot the copies understood
this passage, they would have talcen better care in the punctuation, and given tho-texi as
Mr. Seward and myself have done in the present edition. Sympson,
These gentlemen point,
—to further which, your friendship.
And oaths, will your assistance : let, &c.
We think they have quite mistaken tlie passage, and hope we have been moie sttccessful in
ffpseoting the meaning of the poet.
* I'hey having Iwpe you to «rn— -} Amended in 1750*
B 2 ' For
LOVE'S CURS; OR, THE MARTIAL MAID. t^<:<^ 1- ^^^ ^
Evig. Thoushalt: bat first kaeel witli me^
Lucio,
No more Posthumia now ! thou hast a father^
A tather living to take off that name, [dead^
Which my too-credulous fears, tliat he was
Bestow'd upon thee. Thou shalt see hint)
Lucio,
And make Iiim youn^ again by seeing thee^
Who only hadst a bemg in my womb
When he went from me, Lucio. Oh, my joys
So far transport me, that I must forget '
The ornaments of matrons, modesty,
And grave behaviour! But let all forgive me.
If in tir expression ofnw soul's best comfort^
Tho' old, I do a while foiiget mine age.
And play the wanton in tbe entertainnient
Of those delights I have so long despaired of!
Lucio, Shall I tlien see my fatlier?
Eug. This hour, Lucio;
Wliich reckon the hcgiuuing of thy life,
I mean that life in which thou shalt appear
To be such as I brought thee forth, a man.
This womanish disguise, in wliich I have
So long concealed thee, thou shalt now cast
off, [from me,
And change those qualities thou didst ieam
For masculine virtues; for which seek no tutor.
But let thy fatlier's actions be thy precepts.
And for thee, Zancho, now expect reward
tor thy true service [learn
Bob, Shalll? — You hear, fellow Stephano?
To know me more respectively ! How dost
Thou think I shall become the steward's
chair? ha!
Will not tliese slender liaunches shew well
with
A gold chain ^ and a night-cap afler supper'.
When I take the accounts?
Eug. Haste, and take down those blacks
with which iny chamber [moum'd.
Hath like the widow, her said mistress.
And hang up for it tin* rich Persian ari*as,
Us'd on my wedding-night ; for this to me
Shall be a second inarringe ! Send for music.
And will the cooks to use their best of cun-
To please t\\t palate. [nijig
hob. Will your ladyship have
A potatoe-pie'? 'lis a goo<l stirring dish
For an old lady, after a long Lent,
For doing somediing (I but put you in mind
of it) [mother
With th* Indian maid, the governor sent my
From Mexico.
• Bob. Why, I but
Taught her a Spanish trick in charity, [live
And holpe the king to a subject, that may
To take grave Maurice prisoner^, and that
was [as you
More good to the state than a thousand such
Are ever like to do. And I will tell you
(In a fatherly care of the infant, I speak it)
If he live (as bless the babe, in passion I
Remember him!) to your years, shall he
sftend his time
In pinning, painting, purling, and perfuming,
As you do ? ' No; he shall to the wars.
Use his Spanish pike, tho* with die danger
of the lash, [vok'd,
As his father has done; and when he is pro-
As I am now, draw his tolcdo desperately.
As
Lucio. You will not kiU me? Oh !
Bob. I knew this
Would silence him. How he hides his eyes !
. If he were a wench now, as he seems, what an
Advantage had I, drawing two toledos
'When one can do this! But— Oh me, my
lady! [jest.
I must put up. — ^Young master, I did but
Oh, Custom, what hast thou made of him !
Enter Eugenia and Servant.
Eng, For bringing this, be still my friend;
no more
A ser\'ant to me.
Bob, What's the matter?
Eug, Here,
. Ecn here, where I am happy to receive
Assurance of my Alvarez: return, [thoughts
I will kneel down; and may those holy
That now possess me wholly, make this place
A temple to me, where I may give thanks
For this unhop'd-for blesung, HeavVs kind
Ilhth pour'd upon me ! [hand
Lucio. Im t my duty, madam.
Presume, if you have cause of joy, to entreat
I may share in it. [hhu yet^.
Bob, Tis well, he has forgot how I frighted
' To take grave Maurice prisoner.'] Crave is printed in the last editions witn a great
letter and in Italia^ as if it was a proper name, whereas it is an epithet only, and a elm-
racteristic of prince Maurice of Nassau^, who after performing great actions against the
Spaniards, is said to have died of grief, on account of the siege of Breda. Strada de Belfo
BdgicOf though a bigotted Jesuit, and extremely prejudiced against the Protestants, gives
prince Maurice the following character: Hie iili Mauritius estf a nobis sape, nee sinejbrtis
et eauti Ducis laude memorandus; i. e. This is that Maurice whom >ve shall often speak of,
and never without the character of a brave and cautious general. Seicard,
* ■ how I frighted him yet.
Eug. Thou shalt.] Sampson thinks it undoubted that we should read,
* how I frighted him.
Eug.\ That thou shalt.
' Chain.] See note 3, on jthe Lovers' Progress,
• With a chain, and gold nighi^cap.] Corrected from S^mpsotfs cpnjecture*
* FoTAiot-pie,] See note 36, ou the Loyal Subject,
jEug.
jkct 1. Scene S.] LOVE'S CXTBE ; OR, THB MARTIAL MAID.
JSitf. Bemjoej I say! Why, sir, you can
go SaterF [practise
Bab, I could, madain; but I am now to
The steward's pace; that*s the reward I look
for.
ETerf man must fashion his gait according
To his calling: you, fellow Stcphano,, may
walk faster,
To overtake preferment; so, usher me.
LttOih I^ray, madam, let the waistcoat I
last wrought
fie made up for my father ! I will have
A cap, and boot-hose, Miitable to it.
Eug. Of that [now
We'll think hereafter, Lucio; our thoughts
Mast have no object but thy father's wel-
To which, thy help ! [come;
Lucio. With humble gladness, madam.
[Eseunt.
SCENE TIL
Enter Alvarez and Clara,
Ah, Where lost we Syavedra?
Chra. He was met,
Ent'ring the city, by some gentlemen.
Kinsmen, as he said, of liis own, with whom
For compliment-sake (for so I tliink he
term'd it)
He was compeird to stay; tho'I much wonder.
A man that knows to do, and has done well
r th' head of his troop, when the bold foe
charg'd home, '
Can learn so suddenly t' abdse his time
In apish entertainment. For my part,
(By all the glorious rewards of war),
rd rather meet ten enemies i' th' field, [on
All sworn to fetch my head, than be brought
To change an hour's discourse with one of
Smooth city-fools, or tissue-cavaliers /these
(The only galUnts, as they wisely think).
To get a jewel, or a wanton kiss
From a court- lip, tho' paiuted. ^
Ah. My love Clara,
(For Lucio is a name thou must forget,,
WithLucio'sbold behaviour), tlio' thy breed-
ing [cuse
r th' camp, may plead something in the ex-
Of thorough manners, custom having changed
(Tho not thy sex) the softness of thy nature.
And Fortune, then a cruel step-dame to thee,
Imposed upon thy tender sweetness burdens
Of buneer, cold^ wounds, waiit^ such as
wotilo crack
The sinews of a man, not bom a soldier;
Yet, now she smiles, and like a natural mother
Looks gently on thee, Clara, entertain
Her proffer'd bounties with a willing bosom :
Thou sbalt no more have need to use thy
sword ; [alter'cf)
Thy beauty (which e'en Belgia hath not
Shall be a stronger guard, to keep my Clara,
Than that has been (tho' never us'd but no-
And know thus much [^'y)*
Clara. Sir, I know only that
It stands not with my duty to gain*say you
In any thing: I must and will put on [wish
What fashion you think best, tho' I could
I were what I appear.
Ah. Endeavour rather ^ [Mutick.
To be what you are, Clara; entring here.
As you were bom, a woman.
Enter Eugenia, Lucioy and Servunt^
Eug. Let choice musick,
In the best voice that e*er touched human ear
(For joy hath tied my tongue up), speak your
welcome !
Ah. My soul (for thou giv'st new life to
my spirit^ [Embraces her.
Myriads of joy, though short in number of
Thy virtues, fall on thee ! Oh, my Eugenia,
Th^ assurance that I do embrace thee, make*
My twenty years of sorrow but a dream ;
And by the nectar which I take from these,
I feel my age restored, and, like old iEsou,
Grow young again.
Eug. My lord, long wish'd-for, welcome!
Tis a sweet briefness! yet in that short word
All pleasures which I may call mine begin.
Ana may they long encrease, before they find
A second period ! Let mine eyes now surfeit
On this so wish'd-for object, and my lips
Yet modestly pay back the parting kiss
You tmsted with them, when you^ fled from
Sevil, [she?
With litde Ckra, my sweet daughter! lives
Yet I could chide myself, having you here^
For being so covetous of all joys at once,
T' enquire for her; you being, alone, to me
My Clnra, Lucio, my lord, myself,
Nay» more than all the world!
Ah. As you to me are.
Eug, Sit down, and let me feed upon the
story [safetj^ !
Of your past dangers, now you're liere in
It viill give relish, and fresh appetite
To my delights, if such dehghts can cloy me.
Yet do not, Alvarez ! let me first yield you
Account of my life in your absence, and
Make you acquainted how I have preser\'*d
The jewel left lock'd up within my womb.
When you, in being forc'd to leave your
Suffered a civil death. [country,
Ah. Do, ray Eugenia ;
'Tis that I most desire to hear.
Eug. Then know
Ah, >Vhat noise is that?
\lVithin clashing ofscords.
S^av. [witlUn'] If you .are noble enemies,
' Oppress me not with odds, but kill me fairly!
Vit. [a:ithin'\ Stand off! I am too many
of myself.
Enter Bobadilla.
Bob, Murder, murder, murder! Your
friend, my lord,
Don Syavedra is set upon in the streets.
By your enemies, Vitelli and his faction :
I am almost kill'd with looking on tliem.
Ah. I'll free him, or fall wiSi him I Draw
thy sword.
And follow me { [EjU,
Clartf,
LOVFS CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL UAIO. [Act 1. Scene S.
Clara, Fortunei I give thee thanks
For this occasion once more to use it, [ExiL
Bob, Nay, hold not me, madam ! If I do
any hurt, hang me. Hnto
Luc. Oh, 1 am dead with fear! Lets fly
Your closet, mother.
Eug, No hour of my life
Secure of danger? Heav'n be merciful.
Or now at once dispatch me !
Enter ViteUi, nurtued hf Alvare$ and Sj^a^
vedrOf Clara heating off Anastro*
Clara, Follow Um!
Leave me to keep these ofl^
Ah. Assault my friend.
So near my house?
Vit, Nor in it will spare thee,
Tho' 'twere a temple; and 111 make it one,
I being the priest, andtliou the sacrifice,
ril ofl^r to my nncle.
Alv. Haste thqa to him.
And say I sent thee !
Clara, Twas put bravely by— —*-
And that; yet he comes on, and boldly; rare
I' th' wars, where emulation and example
Join to encrease the courage, and make less
The dangerlr valour, and true resolution
Never appeared so lovely — ^brave min !
Sure he is more than man; and if he fall,
The best of virtue, fortitude, wotdd die with
And can I soiier it? for^ve me, duty ! [him :
So I love valour, as I will protect it
A^nst my father, and redeem it, thc^
Tis forfeited by one I hate.
Vii, Come on !
All is not lost yet: yon shall buy me dearer
Before you have me; keep off,
Clara. Fear me not! [sword
Thy worth has took me prisoner, and my
For this time knows thee only for a friend,
And to all else I turn the point of it.
Sya^* Defend your father's enemy?
Ah, Art thou mad ? J!'^^^' which
Clara, Are ye men rather? Shall thatva-
Begot you lawiiil honour in the wars, [tard
Prove now the parent of an infamous bas-
So foul, yet so long-liv'd, as murder will
Be to your shames r Have each of you, alone.
With your own dangers only, purchas'd glory
From multitudes of enemies, not allowing
Those nearest to ;^ou to have part in it.
And do you now join, and lend mutual help
Against k single opposite? Hatli the mercy
Of the great king, but newly wash'd away
The blood, that with the forfeit of your life
CleaVd to your name and family, like an
In this again to set a deeper dye upon [ulcer.
Your infamy? You'll say he is your foe.
And by his rashness call d on his own ruin ;
> liemember yet, he was first wrong'd, and
honour [place
SpnrrM liim to what he did ; and next the
Wliert now he is, your house, which by the
Of ho^itable duty should protect him;[taws
Have yott been twenty years a stranger to*t,
To make yonr entrance now in blood? or
think you [be
Your countrvman, a true-born Spaniard, will
An off'rin^ nt to please the genius of it ?
No; in thra FU presume to teach my father.
And this first act of disobedience shall
Confirm I am most dutiful*
Ah, Fm pleasM
With what I dare not give allowance to.—
Unnatural wretch, what wilt thou do?
Clara. Set free
A noble enemy: come not on! by Heaven,
You pass to him thro* me! The way is opei>.
Farewell ! when next I meet you, do not
look for
A friend, but a voVd foe; I see you worthy.
And therefore now preserve you, for the ho»
Of my sword only. [nour
Vit, Were this man a friend, [foe
How would he win me, tlmt being my vow*d
Deserves so well ! I thank you for my life;
But how I shall deserve it, give me leave
Hereafter to consider. [J&rtV •
Ah, Quit thy fear ;
All danger is blown overt I have letters
To th' governor, i*th'king*s name, to secure xx%
From such attempts hereafter; yet we need
^ not [dread others;
That have such strong guards of our own.
And, to encrease thy comfort, know, this
young man,
Whom with such fervent earnestness you eye^
Is not what he appears, but such a one
As thou^with joy wilt bless, .tliy daughter
Clara.
Eug, A thousand blessings in that word f
Ah, The reason
Why I have bred her up thus, at more leisure
I will impart unto you : wonder not
At what you've seen her do, it being the least
Of many great and valiant underbiking!^
She hath made gpod with honour.
Eug. Fll return
The joy I have in her, with one as great
To you, my Alvarez ; you, in a man,
Have giv'n to roe a daughter ; in a woman,^
I give to you a son : this was the pledge
You lefl here with roe, whom I have brought
I>in*rent from what he was, as yr>u did Clam^
And with the like success; as she appears
Alter*d by custom, more than woman, he,
Transfbrm'd by his soft life, is less than man*
Ah. Fortune in this gives ample satis&ction
For all our sorrows past.
Lucio. My dearest sister !
Clara. Kind brother !
Ah. Now our mutual cara must be
Employed to help wrongM Nature, to recover
Her right in either of tliem^ lost by custom :
To you I give my Cliira, and receive
My Lucio to my charge; and we'll contend.
With loving industry, who soonest can
Turn this man woni[an, or this woman ma^.
[Exeunt.
ACT
AetiScttet.} I/0VES CUBE; OB, IHfi ICAKHAL MAin.
ACT IL
SCENE L
Enter Pachkco and Lasarillo,
f oeiL l^OYy my cloak and rapier! it fita
^ not
A geniieman of my rank to walk the streets
hkfuerpo.
Laz, Nay, you are a very rank gentleman,
S^oor. I am very hungry; they tell me
In Sevii here, I look like an eel, [smith
With a man*s head; and your neighbour the
Here hard by, would have borrowed me the
other day [angle-rod.
To have fish'd with me, because h! bad lost his
Pack. Oh, happy thou, Lazarillo, being
the cause [lean
Of other men's wits, as in thine own 1 Live
And witty still: oppress not thy stomach
Too mnch: gross feeders, great sleepers;
great sleepers, fet bodies ;
Fat bodies, lean brains ! No, I^oarillo ;
I will make thee immortal, change thy ho^
manity
loco deity, for i will teach thee
To live upon nothing.
Lot, Faith, signor,
I am inmiortal then already, or very
Near it, for I do live upon little or nothing.
Belike that is the reason the poets are said
To be immortal; for some or them live
Upon their wits, which is indeed as good
As little or nothing. Dot, good master, let me
Be mortal still, and let us go to supper.
Pack. Be abstinent; shew not the corrup-
tion of
Hiy generation : he that feeds shall die,
Theivfbre, he that feeds not sliall live.
Laz. Ay, but how long
Shall be IK-eP There's Uic question.
Pack. As long as he
Can without feeding. Didst thou read of the
liiraculous maid in Flanders —
• Laz. No, nor of
Any maid else; for the miracle of virginity
Now-*-days ceases, ere the virgin
Can read virginity !
PadL She that livM three years
Witboat any otlier sustenance than
Hft noell of a rose ? [her gut» shrunk
Laz. I heard of her, signor; but they say
All into lutcstrines, and her nether parts
Clingfd together hkc a serpent's tail ; so that
'ThttTahe continued a woman still [ster.
Above the girdle, beneath yet she was monr-
Pach, So are mo|t women, believe it.
Imz. Nay all women, signor,
That can live only upon the smell of a rose.
Pack, No part of the history is fabulous.
LaZn I think rather.
No part of tite (Me Is historical.
But for an this, sir, my rebellious stomach
Will not let me i>e immortal : I will be
As immortal as mortal hunger will suffer.
Put me to a certain stint, sir ! allow me
But a red herring a day !
Paeh. O, dcDioif
Wouldst thou be gluttonous in thy delicacies ?
Laz. He that e^ts nothing but a red her«
ring a-day
Shall ne*er be broiled for the devil's rasher ;
A p^chaM, signor, a sardina'^ an olive,
TlAt I may be a philosopher first.
And immortal after.
Paeh. Patience, Lazaiillo!
Let contemplation be thy food awhile :
I say unto thee.
One pease was a sddier^sprovant a whole day
At the destruction of Jerusalem.
Enter Metaldi and Mendoza,
Laz. Ay, an it were any where but at '
The destruction of a place, FU be haog'd.
Met. Signor Pachieco AlastOy
My most ingenioos cobler of Sevil,
The banos naxioi to your signory !
Pack. Signor Metaldi de Forgio !
My most ft^ous smith, and man of metal, I
Return your courtesy ten-fold, and do
Humble my bonnet beneath tlie slioe-solo
Of your congie. Tlie like to you,
Signor Mendoza Pediculo de Vermuu^
My most exquisite hose-heeler !
Imz. Here's a greeting
^twixt a cobler, a smith, and a botcher t
They all bek>n|( ta the foot, which makes
them stand
So much upon their gentry.
Mend. Sigpor Lazarillo!
Laz. Ah, sigpor, si/ Nay, we are all signers
Here in Spai% fiom the jakes^farmer to tlie
grandee.
Or adelantadob This botcher looks [now^
As if he were dough4>ak*d; a little butter
And I could eat him like an oaten cake!
His iatber's-diet was new cheese and onions
When he got him : what a scalliou-fac'd ras«
ca) lis ? * [stand
Met. But why, n^nor Pachieco, do you
So moch on the prionty, and antiquity
Of your qoality (aa you call itj in comparisoii
Ofours?
Mend. Ay ; your reason for that.
PocA. Why, thou iron-pated smith, uid thorn
- Woollen-witted hose-heeler, hear wimt I
Will 8|>eak indifferently, and according
To antient writers, of our tiiree profesMont;
And let die upright Lazarillo be
Both judge and moderator !
** A surdiny.] See note i on Lore's Filgrimage. Sym^^son^
Jmz.
9
' lOVE* CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAtD. [Act a. Scene t
Laz. Still am I
The most immortally hungry that may be !
Fach. Suppose thou wilt derive tliy pedi-
Like some of the old heroes (as Hercules,
MnevtSy Achilles), lineally from [father,
The gods, making Saturn thy great-grand-
And Vulcan thy father — Vulcan was a go<i —
Laz» He'll make VuldUi your god tat her
bv-and-by. [block-head,
Ifach, Yet, I saj^, Saturn was a crabbed
And Vulcan a limping hum-head ; for Venus
his wife [dren :
Was a strumpet, and Mars be^at all her chil-
Therefore, however, thy origmal Fther",
Must of necessity spring from bastarcfy. Fur-
What can shew a more deject spirit in man,
than [feet,
To lay his hands under every one's horses'
To do him service, as thou dost ? — For thee,
I will be brief; thou dost botch, and not mend,
Thou art a hider of enormities,
Vizu scabs, chilblains, and kib'd heels;
Much prone thou art to sects, and heresies,
Disturbing state and govcrmuent; for how
canst thou
fie a somid member in the commonwealth.
That art so subject to stitches in the ankles?
Blush and be silent then, oh, ye mechanicks !
Compare np more with the politick cobler !
For coblers, in old time, have prophesied;
What may they do now then, that have
Every day waxed better and better?
Have we not the length of every man's foot?
Are we not daily menders? Yea, and what
Not horse-menders — [menders?
Laz. Nor manners-menders.
Pack, But soal-menders: [man.
Oh, divine coblers! Do we not, hke the wise
Spin our own threads (or our wives for us)?
Do we not, by our sowing the iiidc, reap the
beef?
Are not we of the gentle-craft, wliilst both you
Are but craf)^s-men ? You wil say, you fear
Neitlier iron nor steel, and what you get is
wrought
Out of the fire ; I must answer you again tho'.
All this is but foi^ery. You may likewise say,
A man's a man, that has but a hose on lus
head :
I must likewise answer, that man is a botcher
That has a heclM hose on his head. To con-
clude.
There can be no comparison with
The cobler, who is all in all [and ends
In tlie commonwealth, has his politick eye
On every man's steps tliat walks, and whose
course shall
Be lasting to the 'World's end* *
Met, f^ive place:
The wit ot man is wonderful ! Thou Cthee
Hast hit the nail on the head, and I will give
Six pots foi-^t, tho* I ne'er clinch shoe again.
Enter Vitelli and Alguazier.
Pack. Who's tliis? Oh, our Alguazier; a*
arrant a knave
As e'er wore one head under two offices;
He is one side Alguazier.
Met, The other side Seijeant
Mend, That's both sides carrion, I am sure.
PacL Tliis is he [and lodees 'em
Apprehends whores in the way of justice,
lu^his own house, in the way of pront. He
with liim
Is the grand don Vitelli, 'twixt whom and
Fernando Alvarez the mortal hatred is :
He is indeed my don's bawd, and does
At this present lodge a famous courtezan
Of his, lately come from Madrid. [ask :
VU, Let her want nothing, signer, she can
What loss or injury you may sustain
I will repair, and recompense your love :
Onlv tliat fellow's coming I mislike.
And did fore-warn her ef him. Bear her this,
VVith my best love ; at nifjat 111 visit her.
Afg, I rest your lordship's servant !
Fit. Good ev'n, signers ! — [thee
Oh, Alvarez, thou hast brought a son with
Both brightens and obscures our nation.
Whose pure strong beams on us shoot like
the suu's
On baser fires. I would to Heaven my blood
Had never stain*d thy bold unfortunate hand.
That with mine honour I might emulate.
Not persecute such virtue ! I will see him,
Tho' with the hazard of my life ; no rest
In my contentious spirits can I find
'Till I have gratified him in like kind. [Exit^
A/g. I know ye not ! what are ye? Hence,
ye base besoguios'^l
I^ath, Marry, Cazzo ! Signor Alguazier,
d'you not know us?
Why, we are your honest neighbour.
The cobler, smith, and botcher, that have so
often
" Fur t her f what can be a more deject $pirit.'\ I cannot help thinking but the judicious
reader will wish, with me, that the authors had wrote, what can shewy 6cc. S^tpwn.
'^ Betog^ios,'] This appears to be a word of contempt, whicli perliaps will receive some
explanation from the following passage in Churchyard's Challenge, 1593, p. 85,. ^' It majr
'^ Dee thought that every mercinarie man and common hireling (taken up tor a while, or
^ serving a smaH season) is a souldier fit to be rei;istred, or liououred among the renouned
*' sort of warlike people. For such numbers of bezoingnics or neccssarie instruments folr
" the time, are to fall to their occupation when the service is ended, and not to live idely
** or looke for imbrasing.*' R»
Be$ognio9 ieem to mean tlie lower rank, people ia want, and of base condition ; so, he^
win, French, ti€ed, want.
Sat
Act«. Scene 3.] lOVfiTS CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAID.
9
Sat snoring cheek by jolt, witji your signory,
In rug a( midnight.
Lttz. Nay, good Bignor,
Be not angry ; you must understand, a cat
Aod SQch an officer see best in the dark.
Mei. By this band,
I couki find in my heart to shoe his head !
Pack, Why then we know you, signor!
ThcMfr mongril, [beadle,
ficgpt at midnight, at the gaol-gate, by a
On a catcbpole^s wife, are not you he tliat was
Whipt out of Toledo for perjury? -
MauL Next,
Condemn'd to the gallies for pilfery,
To the bull's pizzle?
Met. And after call'd
To the Inqoimtion, for apottacyf [durst
Pack. Are not yon li^ that, ratherthan you
Go an industrious Toyage, being press'd.
To the island?^ skuird till the fleet was gone,
and then
EarnM your rial a-day by squiring punks .
And poaklings up and down the city }
1mm. Are not you
A Portuguese bovn, descended o' the Moors,
And came hither intoSevil with your master,
An arrant tailor, in your red bonnet.
And your bluejacket lousy; tho* now
Tour block-head be cover*d with the Spanish
hk)ck.
And your lashed shoulders with a yelvet-pee.
I Pack. Are not you he that have been of
thirtjr callings, [first,
Tet ne^ a one h&wfol? that being a chandler
Pioiess^d sincerity, and would sell no man
Mustard to his beef on the Sabbath, and yet
Byoocnsy all your life-time ? [sold
MeL. Are not you he, that were since
A surgeon to the stews, and undertook
J To cure, what the church itself could not,
^ strumpets?
That rise to yqar joffice by being a great
don's bawd f
Las. That commit men nightly, o£fenoe-
lesm for the gain
Of a groat a prisoner, whidi yonr beadle seems
To put up, when you share three-pence?
Mend. Are not you he
That is a kisser of men, in drunkenness,
And a betrayer in sobriety ?
A^. Dialolo/ They'll rail me into tlie
Again. [gallies
Pack. Yes, signor, thou art even lie
[ We speak of ali this while. Thou mayst, by
thy place now.
Lay us by tkt heels, 'tis true ; bu t take heed ;
Be wiaer, pluck not ruin on thine own head ;
For B0fer was there at|$ih an anatomy, [fore,
J» we shall make thee then; be wise there-
Ob, thott child, of the night! Be friends, and
^ake hands. [redder:
Tbott art a fpoper man, if thy -beard were I
Remember thy worshipful function,
A constable; tho' thou tum'st day into night,
And night into day, what of that? Watch less.
And pray more : gird thy bear-skin (viz. thy
rug-gown) [go
To thy loins; take thy sUfTin thy hand, and
Forth at midnight' 3; let not thy mittens abate
The talons of 3iy authority**, but gripe
Thefl and whoredom, wlieresoever thou
meet'stVm; [safely
Bear 'em awav like a tempest, and lodge 'em
In thine own house.
Laz. Would you have whores and thieves
Lodg'd in such a house ?
Pack. Tljey ever do so ;
I have found a thief or a -whore there, [me.
When the whole suburbs could not furnish
Laz. But why do they lodge there?
Pack. That they may be [usually.
Safe and forth-coming; for in the morning
The thief is sent to the gaol, and the whore
prostrates
Herself to the justice.
Mend. Admirable Pachieco !
Met. Thou cobler of Christendom !
Alg. There is no railing with these rogues :
I will close with 'em, 'till I can cry quittance.
Wh^, signors, and my honest neighbours,
will ye [is
Impute that as a neglect of my ffiends, which
An imperfection in me? I have been
Sand-blind from my infimcy ; to make yon
You sliall sup with me. [amends
Xctf. Shall we sup with yoi sir? [tleman
O' my conscience, they have wrong'd the gen*
Extremely.
Alg. And after supper, I have
A project to employ you in, shall make you
Dnnk and eat merrily this month. I am
A little knavisK; why, and do not I know ali
You to be knaves ?
Pack, I grant you, < we are all
Knaves, and will be your knaves; but oh,
while you live,
Take heed of being a proud knave I
Ale. On then, pass; [bear out me.
( will bear out my staff, and my staff shall
Laz. Oh, Lazardlo, thou art going to sup-
per!
SCENE 11.
[Exeunt.
Enter Lucio and Bobadilla.
Lueio. Pray be not angry.
Bob. I am angry, and I will be^angry.
Diabolo ! what should you do in the kitchen ?
Cannot the cooks lick their fingers without
Your overseeing? nor the maids make pot-
tage, [Lucio?
Except your dog's head be in the pot? Don
Don Quot-Quean, don Spinster; wear
A petticoat still, an^ put cm your smock a'
' Monday;
"^ ^^.'A? fcfflr-ife'n (»• % nt^gamn) t$ tl^ hins ; take iky xtaffin iky hand, and go
rds are foundry in the first folio.
fertk at midnight.] These woi
•♦ That i$, Let sof thy mitt
VOLm.
mittens be the same to thy talons, as a button is to a foil. Sympwn.
C I TviU
10
LOVE'S CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAID. [Act 2. Scene ^
1 will have a baby o^cloufo made for it, like
A ^reat girl ! Nay, if }ou will needs be starch-
ing
Of rufifi, and sowing of black-work, I will
Of a mild and loving tutor, become a tt rant:
Your father has committed you to my charge,
And I will make a man or a mouse on you.
Lucio, What would you have me do? This
scurvy sword [Pish! look,
So gaUs my thigh, I would it were burnt ! —
This cloak will ne'er keep on; these boots too
hide-bound.
Make me walk stiff, as if my legs were frozen,
And mv spurs jingle like a morris-dancer:
Lord, how my h^ul aches with this roguish
This masculine attire is most uneasy; [hat!
Vm bound up in it; I liad rather walk
In folio again, loose, like a woman.
Bob, In foolio, had you not? [parents!
Thou mock to Heav'n, and Nature, and thy
Thou tender leg of lamb ! Oh, how he walks
As if he had bepiss'd himself, and fleers!
Is this a gait for the young cavalier,
Don Lucio, son and heir to Alvarez ?
Has it a com ? or does it walk on conscience.
It treads so gingerly? Com^ on your wavs!
Suppose me now your father's foe, ViteUi,
And spying you i'th' street, thus I advance:
I twist my beard, and then I draw my sword.
Lucio, Alas!
Bo6. And thus accost thee : Traiterousbrat,
How durst thou thus confront me? impious
twig
Of that old stock, dew'd with my kinsman's
gore.
Draw ! for III quarter thee in pieces four.
Zkcio. Nay, prithee Bobadiua, leaving thy
fooling.
Put up thjr sword. I will not meddle with you.
Ay, jusUe me, I care not, I'll not draw ;
Pray be a quiet man.
Sob. D'ye hear? answer me.
As you would do don Vitelli, or Fll be
So bold as to lay the pommel of my sword
Over the hilts of your head ! — My name's
And m have the wall. [Vitelli,
Lucio, Why then,
111 have the kennel: what a coil you keep ?
Signer, whathappen'd 'twixt my sire and your
Kmsman, was tong before I saw the world;
No fault of mine, nor will I justify
My father's crimes : forget, sir, and forgive,
Tis Christianity. I pray put up your sword;
I'll give you any satisfaction.
That may become a gentleman. However,
I hope you're bred to more humanity,
Than to revenge my father's wrong on me,
That crave your love and peace. Law-yoQ-
now, Zancho,
Would not this quiet him, were he tenVitellis?
Bob, Oh, craven-chicken of a cock o' th'
game!
W^ell, what remedy? Did thy father see this,
O' my conscience, he would cut off thy mas-
culine
Gender, crap thiae ears, beat out thine eyes,
And set the^ in one of the pear-trees for a
scare-crow !
As I am Vitell^ I am satisfied;
But as I amBobadillaSpindola Zancho,
Steward of the house, and thy father's servant,
I could find in my heart to lop off
The hinder part of thy face, or to
Beat all thy teeth into thy mouth! Ob, thou
Wliey-blooded milksop, I'll wait upon thee
no longer; [ways, sir;
Thou sh^t ev'n wait upon me. Come your
I shall take a little pains with you else.
Enter Clara.
Clanu Where art thou, brother Lucio?—
Ran, tan tan ta,
Ran tan ran tan tan ta, ta ran tan tan tan !
Oil, I shall no more see those golden days !
These cloaths will never fadge with me: a pox
O' this filthy fardingale, this hip-hape ! —
Brother, Tfin'd,
Why arc women's haunches only limited, coo-
Hoop'd in as 'twere, with these same scurvy
vardingales ? [most subject
B(A. &causo women's haunclies only are
To display and flv out.
Clara. BobadiUa, rogue, ten ducats,
I hit the prepuce of thy cod-piece !
Lucio. Hold,
If you love my life, sister ! I am not
Zancho Bobadilla ; I am your brother,Lucio.
What a fright you have put me in !
Clara. Brother? and wherefore thus?
Lucio, Why, master steward here, signor
Zancho, fuse me.
Made me change: he does notliing but inia*
And call me coward, and swears 1 shall
Wait upon him.
Bob. Well! I do no more [away tlio'!
Than I have authority for. — 'Would 1 were
For she's as much too manish, as he
Too womanish : I dare not meddle with her;
Yet I must set a good face ou it, if I had it.—
I have like charge of you, madam ; I
Am as well to mollify you, as to
Qualify him. What have you to do with
Armors, and pistols, and javelins, and swords^
And such tools? Remember, mistress,Nature
Hath given you a sheath only, to signify
Women are to put up men's weapons, not
To draw them ! — Look you now, is tliis a fit
Tr5t for a gentlewoman? You shall see
The court-kdies move like goddesses, as i£
They trod air; they will swim you their
measures
Like whiting-mops, as if their feet ^vere fin ns.
And the hinges of their knees oil'd. Do th«^
Love to ride great horses, as you do ? no ;
They love to ride great asses sooner. Faith,
I know not what to say t'ye both: custom.
hath
TuruM Nature topsy-turvy in you,
Clara. Nay,
But, master steward !
B<A* You cannot trot so ias^
Bus he ambles a« :>lowly.
^ Clara.
Act 2. Sceac S.] LOVE'S CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAID.
11
Ctora. SigDor Spiodle f
W)U jou hc»r me r
B06. He that shall come to
Bestride Yoar Tii^ity, had better be
A-foot o^r the draeon.
C/aro. Very well!
Bob. Did ever
Spanish lady pace so ?
C/oro. Hold tlwse a little !
Xtrcto. Ill not touch 'cm, I. [yoar pate,
Clara, First do I bretdc your office o'er
Yoii doe-skin-fai^d rogue, piKcher, you Poor*
Which I will beat to stock-fish. [Jolm !
Xacao. Sister!
Bob. Madam! [talk'd to, ha?
Ciam, You cittern-head ! who have you
You nasty, stinking, and iH-<5ounteiianc'd cur !
Bob. By this hand, I'll Inmir your brother
I get him alone. [for4;his, when
Chra, How ! Kick him, Lucio !
He shall kick you. Bob, spite o' thy nose ;
that's flat.
Rick him, I say, or I will cut thy head off!
Biib. Softly, you had best !
Clara, Now, thou lean, dried> andominous-
vTsaf^d knave,
Tbov &lse and peremptory steward, pray !
For I will hang thee up in thine own chatn !
Xaido. Good sister, do not choak hun.
Bob. Murder! murder! ' [£71^.
CianL Well ! I shall meet w' ye.— Lucio,
who bought this ? [one,
lis a reasonable good one ; but tliere han^
Spain's champion ne'er us'd truer; with this
staff
Old Ahrarez has ted op men so- close.
They could almost spit in the cannon'smouth;
WinlstI with that, and this, well mounted'^,
skin'd [sire,
A faorse^troop thro' and thro', like switt de-
And seen poor rogues retire, all gore, and
Like bleedmg shads. [gash'd
Lucio. Bless us, sister Clara,
How desperately you talk ! What d'ye call
This gun? a dasi;?
Clara. Fll give't thee ; a French petronel.
You never saw my Barbiary, the infanta
Bestow'd upon ine, as yet, Lucio :
Walk down, and see it.
Lucia, What, into the stable ? [there
Not I; the jades will kick : the poor groom
Was almost spoil'd the other day.
Clara. Fy on thee !
Thou wilt scarce be a man before thy mother.
Xttcio. When will you be a woman ?
Enter Alvarez and Bobadilla,
Clara. 'Would I were none I
But Nature's privy seal assures me one.
Abh Thou anger'st me ! Can strong ha-
bitual custom [manners,
Work vrilh such magick on the mind and
In spite of sex and Nature? Find out, sirrah.
Some skilful fighter.
Bob. Yes, sir.
Alv, 1 will rectify
And redeem either^ proper inclination,
Or bray 'em in a mortar, and new-mould 'em.
Bob. Believe your eyes, sir; I tell you, we
wash an Ethiop. lEx'U.
Clara. I strike it, for ten ducats.
Alv. How now, Clara,
Your breeches on still ? and your petticoat
Not yet off, Lucio? art thou not gelt?
Or did the cold Muscovite beget thee.
That lay here lieger'^, in the last great frost?
Art not thou, Clara, tum'd a man indeed
Beneath the girdle? and a woman thou?
I'll have you search'd ; by Heaven, I strongly
doubt!
" ^-aTidthiSy tcell mounted^ scour*d
A hor^e-troap ihtoHgU and throHgh,r^] The old folio reads scurr'd^ which I take to be only
afidse spellingof a better word, viz. skirrd : thus Shakespear in Macbeth, act v. scene 3.
Send out more horses; ikir the country round.
To skir is teUtariy to fight as the light-horse do, from whence the substantive 9kirmish*
In Henry V. Shakespear uses the word for flying wiftfyy tho' from an enemy. The king
sajs of the' French horse, act iv. scene 13.
HeU make 'em $kir away, as swift as stones
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings.
No reader of taste wou'd bear the change of the word ikir, which is perfectly poetical, us
the sound is an echo to the sense, for icour; and Fletcher has not suffered much less by the
change. Seward.
** That lay here lieger.] So, in Greene's Quip for an Upsurt Courtier, 4to. 1592. " In-
^ deed, I liave been lieger in my time in London, and l»ve play'd many madde pranckes,
*' fbrwhidi cause you may i4>parently see I am made a curtail; tor the pillory (in the sight
" of a mat m«9y good and sufficient witnesses) hath eaten off booth my cares, and now,
" sir, this jope^naker Iwnteth me heere with his halters." — And in the lioaring Girle, or
MoQ Cutporsc, by Middleton and Dekkar,
^ What durst move you, sir,
** To think me whootish ? a name which I'de teare out
** From the hye Germaine's throat, if it lay ledger there !
" To dispatch privy sUnders against meer R*
Dr. Johnson says,./€^er is derived from the Dutch Ugger; and signifies, ''Any tiling that
^ lies in a place ; as, a leger ambassador, a resident; a ^^'cr-book; a book that lie^ in the
"^ compting^hoose.''
C2 ^ We
13
LOVETS CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAID. [Act 2. Scene 2.
We most bttve these thiogii mended. Come,
gQin! [Exit.
Enter VUelli and Bobadilia,
Bob. WithLucio, say you? There he*8 for
Vit. And there's for thee. [you.
Bob. 1 thank you. You have now bought
A little advice oftne: if you chance
To have conference with that lady there.
Be very civil, or look to your head !
She ha« ten nails, and you have but two eyes :
If any foolish hot motions should chance
To rise in the horizon, under your equinoc-
tial there.
Qualify it as well as you can, for I fear
The elevation of your pole will not
Agree with the horoscope of her constitution :
She is Bell and the Dragon, I assure you.
[Exit.
Vit. Are you the Lucio, sir, tliat sav d Vi-
t^Ui?
Lucio. Not I, indeed, sir; I did never
brabble;
There walks that Lucio metamorphosed.
[Exit.
Vit. D' you mock me?
Clara. No, he does not: I am that
Supposed Lucio that was, but Clara
Thai is, and daughter unto Alvarez.
Vit. Amazement daunts me ! 'Would my
life were riddles.
So you were still my fair expositor !
Protected by a lady from my death ?
Oh, I shall wear an everlasting.blush
Upon my cheek from this discovery !
Oh, you, the fairest soldier I e*er saw,
Each of whose eyes, like a bright beamy
shield.
Conquers without blows, the contentious —
Clura. Sir, guard yourself; you're in your
And may be injur'd. [enemies house,
Vit. Tis impossible :
Foe, nor oppressing odds, dares prove Vitelli,
If Clara side him, and will call nim friend.
I would the difference of our bloods were such
As might with any shift be wip'd away !
Or 'would to Heav'n yoursell were all your
name;
That, having lost blood by vou, I might hope
To raise blood from you! But my black-
wingf d fate ^
Hovers aversely over that fond hope;
And he whose tongue thus gratifies the
daughter '7
And sister of his enemy, wears a sword
To rip the father and the brother up : [mine,
Thus you, that sav'd this wretched life of
Have sav'd it to the ruin of your fineuds.
That my affections should promiscuously
Dart love and hate at once, both worthily !
Pray let me kiss your band !
Clara. You're trenclierous.
And come to do me mischief.
Vit. Speak on still;
Your words are falser, fair, than my intents.
And each sweet acceAt far more treach'rous;
for
Tho' you speak ill of me, ypu speak so well
I do desire to hear you.
Clara. Pray be gone ;
Or, kill me it you please.
Vit, Ohy neither can I :
For, to be gone were to destroy my life ;
And to kill you were to destroy mv soul.
I am in love, yet must not be in love !
I'll e et away apace. Yet, valiant lady.
Such gratitude to honour I do owe.
And such obedience to your memory.
That if you will bestow something, that I
May wear about me, it shall bind my wrath.
My most invet'rate wrath, firora all attempts,
Tall you and I meet ne^U
Clara. A favour, sir ?
Why, I'll give you good counsel
Vit. That already
You have bestow'd ; a ribbon, or a glove-^
Clara. Nay, those are tokens for a wait-
To trim the butler with. [ing-maid
Vit. Your feather—
Clara. Fy!
The wenches give them to the servingHooen.
Vit. That little ring—
Clara. Ttvill hold you but by tli' finger;
And I would have you faster.
Vit. Any thing
That I may wear, and but remember you.
Clara. This smile; my good opinion; br
But that, it seems, you like not. [myself!
Vit. Yes; so well.
When any smiles, I will remember yours;
Your good opinion shall in weight poise me
Against a thousand ill; lastly, yoimel^
Mv curious eye now figures m my heart.
Where I will wear you till the table break.
So, whitest angels guard you!
Clara. Stay, sir; I
I have fitly thought to give, what you as fitly
May not ditsdain to wear.
Vit. What's that?
Clara. This sword. —
I never heard a man speak till this hour:
His words are eolden chains, and now I fear
The lioness haUi met a tamer liere : f lug?
Fy, how his tongue chimes! — What wastsay-
Oh, this favour I bequeath you, which I tie
In a love-knot, fisst, ne'er to hurt my friends;
Yet be it fortunate '^nst all yoor foes
(For I have neither fnend, nut foe, but yours)
As e'er it was to me! IVe k'fept it long.
And value it, next my vireimty. —
But^ good, return it; for f now remember
I vow d, who purclWd itfihould have me too.
*' Thu$ gratifies the daughter.'] TlnBgratiJia seems to come in oddly ; for what |;ratifica*
3on does Vitelli make Clara here? He gives her good words, 'tis true, and sets ofi the sep-
tion
vice she had done him at her first appearance on the stage; but this ou^it rather to be
called a panegyrick, than a gratification, and who knows but the authors might have given it
■ ■ ' ■> thus glorifiei the daughter. StfmpMon.
ViU
Acta. Scene-!-] LOVE'S CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAID.
19
FU, ' W^ould Uiat were posuble ; But, aks,
'qs not:
Yet this aasare yourself, most-honoui'd Clara,
QI not mfiringe an article of breath
Mjvow hath ofiSer'd t' you; nor from this
part
VVhiJst it hath edge, or point, or I a heart.
[Exit.
Clara. Oh, leaye me living ! — What new
exercise
Is crept into my breast, that blancheth clean
My former nature? I begin to find
I am a woman, and must learn to fight
A softer sweeter battle than with swords.
I'm^iickmethinks; but the disease I feel
Pleasethj and punisheth. I warrant, love
Is very like this, that folks talk of so ;
I skill not what it is, yet sure e'en here,
E'en in my heart, I sensibly perceive
It glows, and riseth like a glimmering flame,
But know not yet the essence on% nor name.
[ExU.
ACT III.
SCENE L
Enter Malroda and AlguazUr.
Malr. fJE must not? nor he shall not ?
■"■ who shall let him? [dom !
You, politick Diei^o, with your face of wis-
Don Blirt ! The pox upon your aphorisms.
Your grave and sage-ale physiognomy !
Do not I know thee for the Alguazier,
Whose dunghill all the parish scavengers
Couki never rid? Thou comedy to men, •
Whose serious folly is a butt for all \%rit^
To shoot their wits at; whilst thou hast not
Nor heart, to answer, or be aisry!
Aig. Lady! [supported by
Malr. Peace, peace, you rotten rogue,
A staff of rott'ner office 1 Dare yoo check
An/s accesses that I will allow ?
Piorato is my friend, and visits me
' In lawful sort, tf espouse me as his wife ;
I And who will cross, or shall, our interviews?
I Yoa know me, sirrah, for no chambermaid,
i That cast her belly and her wastecoat lately.
I Thoa think'st thy constableahip is much !
not so;
I am ten offices to thee: ay, thy house,
, Thy house and office is mam^n'd by me.
Alg, My house-ofoffice is maintam'd iW
garden!
Go to! I know you; and I have cilntnT'd
(You're a delinquent), but I have contriv'd
A poison, tho* not in the third degree:
I can say, black's your eye, though it be grey ;
I have conorv'd at this your friend, and you;
But what is got by this connivency ?
1 like his feature well'* ; a proper man,
Of |ood diseoorsc, fine conversation,
Vahaat, and a great carrier of the business,
S«€et-bKflflted'^ as the niditingale or thrush :
Yet I must tell you, yon forget yourself;
My lord Vilelli's love, and maintenance,
DeKrves no other Jack i'th* box, but he.
I What tfaNy be gathered first the golden fruit,^
And blew your pigs-coat up into a bhster, *
Wbenyott did wait at court upon his mother;
Has he not well provided for the bairn?
Beside, what profit reap I by the other?
If you will have me serve your pleasure, lady>
Your pleasure must accommodate my service ;
As ^ood be virtuous and poor, as not
Thrive by my knav'ry ; all the world would be
Good, prosper'd goodness like to villainy.
I arn the king's vicegerent by my place;
His right lieutenant m mine own precinct.
Mair. Thou'rt a right rascal in all menV
precincts !
Yet now, my pair of twins, of fool and knave.
Look, we are friends ; there's gold for thee :
' admit
Whom 1 will have, and keep it from my don,
And I will make thee richer than thou'rt
wise:
Thou shalt be my bawd, and my officer;
Thy children shall eat still, my good night-
owl,
And thy old wife sell andirons to the court.
Be countenanced by the dons, and wear a
hood, [mother,,
Nay, keep my garden-house; 111 call her
Tliee father, my |ood poisonous red-hair'd
And gold shall daily be thy sacrifice, [deel,
Wrought from a fertile island of mine own.
Which I will offer, like an Indian queen.
Alg. And I will be thy devil, thou my
With which I'll catch the worid. [flesli
Malr. Fill some tobacco, *
And bring it in. If Piorato come
Before my don, admit him; if my don
Before my love, conduct liim, my dear de-
vil! {Exit.
Alg. I will, my dear flesh.— First coine^
first serv'd : well said ! —
Oh, equal Heaven, how wisely thou disposest
Thy several gifts! One's bom a great rich
For the subordinate knave to work upon;
Another's poor, with wit's addition,
Which well or ill us'd, builds a living \ip,
And that too from the sire oft descends;
I Only fair Virtue, by traduction
■' I Hke ki$ feather well] Amended in 1750.
»» Sweet breasted.] See note 28, on the Pilgrim.
Never
LOVE'S CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAID. [Act 3, Scene 2.
Bob. A receipt for a coWard ! Fll be bold.
To write jour good prescription. [sir,
Pio. Sir, hereafter
You shall, and underneath it put jiro^ofum. —
Is your chain risht?
Bob* It is both right and just, sir;
For, tho' I am a steward, I did get it
With DO man's wrong.
Pio. Ytfu are witty.
Bob. So, 80. [ra«h.
Could you not cure one, sir, of being too
And over-darinj;? (there now's my disease)
Fool-hardy, as they say? for that in sooth
I am.
Fio» Most easily.
Bob. How?
Pio, To make you drunk, sir, [twice.
With small beer once a day, and beat you
Till you be bruised all over; if that help not.
Knock out your brains.
Bob. This is strong phyaick, signor.
And never will agree with my weak body:
I find the medicine worse than the malady.
And therefore will remain fool-hardy stilL
You'll come, sir ?
Pio. As I am a gentleman. [his woitl.
Bob. A man o' th' sword should never break
Pio, I'll overtake you: I have only, sir,
A complimental visitation
To ofier to a mistress lodg'd here by.
Bob. A genttewomaa?
Pio. Yes, sir.
Bob. Fair, and comely ?
Pio. Oh, sir, the paragon, the nonpareil
Of Sevil, the most wealthy mine of Spain,
For beauty and perfection.
Bob. Say you so?
Might not a man entreat a courtesy,
To walk alonij with you, signer, to peruse
This dainty mine, tho' not to dig in% signer ?
Hauh— I hope you'll not deny me, being a
stranger;
Tho' I'm a steward, I am flesh and blood.
And frail as other men.
Pio. Sir, blow your nose !
I dare not, for the world : no ; she is kept
By a great don, Vitelii.
Ba6. How!
Pio. T'ls true. J!^'**^^*^
Bob. See, things will veer about ! This doa
Am I to seek now, to deliver letters [you^
From my young mistress Clara ; and, I tell
Under the rose (because you are a stranger,
And ray especial friend), I doubt there is
A little foolish love betwixt the parties,
Unknown uuto my lord.
Pio, Happy discovery !
My fruit begins to ripen. — Hark you, sir !
I would not wish you now to give those let-
ters;
But home, and ope this to madonna Clara,
Which when I come I'll justify, and relate
More amply .and particularly.
14
Neversucceeds^^, and seldom meets success :
What have I then to do with't? My free will,
Left me by Heaven, makes me or good or ill.
Now since vice gets more in this vicious world
Than piety, and my star's confluence
Enforce my disposition to affect [tise
Gain, and the name of rich, let who will prac-
War, and grow that way great; religious,
And that vray good! My chief felicity
Is wealthy the nurse of sensuality ;
And he that mainly labours to be rich.
Must scratch great scabs, and claw a strum-
pet's itch. lExit.
SCENE II.
Enter Piorato and BobadUla.
Pio. To say, sir, I will wait upon vour
Were not to understand myself. [lord,
. Bob. To say, sir.
You will do any thing but wait upon hkn.
Were not to understand my lord.
Pto. I'll meet him [to render
Some half-hour !ience, and doubt not but
His son a man again: the cure is easy;
I have done divers.
Bob. Women do you mean, sir? [spark
Pio. Cures I do mean. Be there but one
Of fire remaining in him unextinct.
With my discourse I'll blow it to a flame,
And with my practice into action.
I have had one so full of childish fear.
And womanish-hearted, sent to my advice,
He durst not draw a knife to cut his meat.
Bob, And how, sir, did you help him ?
Pio. Sir, I kept him
Seven days in a dark room by candle-light,
A plenteous table spread, with all good meats.
Before his eyes, a case of keen broad knives
Upon the board, and he so watch'd he might
not
Touch the least modicum, unless he cut it :
And thus I brougjit him first to draw a knife.
Bob. Good!
Pio. Then for ten days did I diet him
Only with burnt pork, sir, and gammons of
A pill of caviare now and then, [bacon ;
Which breeds choler adust, vou know--
Bob. 'Tis true. [and cold crudities,
Pto. And to pui^e phlegmatick humour.
In all that time he drank me aqua-foriis,
And nothing else but—
Bob. Agua^itiEf signor ;
For aquorfortii poisons.
Pio. Aguo'fortis,
1 say again : What's one man's poison, signor,
Is another's meat or drink.
Bob. Your patience, sir ! [stomach.
By your gooa patience, h' had a huge cold
Pto. I fired it, and gave him then three
sweats
In the Artillcry-Yard, three drilling days;
And now hell shoot a gun, and draw a sword,
e\nd fight, with any man in Clurlstendem.
ao ^c^ff, succeeds.] I. i. Never follows bv succ€S.non.
Bob.
Acts. Scene 2.] LOVE'S CURE; OR, TIIE MARTIAL MAID.
J&j6. I approve \manosf Enter Malroda.
Yoar counsel, and wOl practise it. Bazi Im
Here's two chewres, chewi^d*"! When Wis-
dom is employ'd, [signer !
Tia ever thus. — Your more acquaintance,
I tajnot hetxjttj lest you think I thought not
Yours good enough. [£jri^
Enter Alguaner,
Pao. Tour servant, excellent steward !
'Would all Uie dons in Spain had no more
hnins! \fnondeur!
Here comes the Alguazier: Dieuvousguarde,
Is anr cos stirring yet?
Mg, Your cuz, good cousin?
A wbore is like a lool^ a-kin to all [signor.
The gallants in the town. Your cuz, good
Is gone abroad, sir, witli her other cousin,
MylordVitelli; since when there hath been
Some dozen cousins here to enquire for her.
Fio. She's greatly allied, sir.
Alg. Marry is slie, sir ;
Come of a lusty kindred! The truth is,
Imostconnivenomore; no more admittance
Most I consent to; my good lord has
threatened me,
And you must pardon
Fh. Out upon thee, man ! [grave ?
Tun hcMiest in thine age? one foot i' th*
Thou shalt not wrong thyself so for a mil-
lion,
liook, thou three-headed Cerberus (for wit
I mean), here is one sop, and two, and three;
For ev'ry chap a bit !
Alg. Ay, marry, sir ! —
Well, the poor heart loves you but too well.
We have been talking on you, 'faith, tliis hour,
Where, wliat I said — Go to ! she loves your
valour;
Oh, and your musick most abominably !
She is within, sir, and alone. — What mean
you f [Piorato changes sides,
rion That is your sergeant's side, I take
it, sir;
Now I endure your constable's much better:
There is less danger in't; for one, you know,
Is a tame harmless monster in the light.
The sergeant, salvage both by day and night.
Alg, I will call l^r to you for that.
pS. No, ru
Chann her..
AJ^. She^scome.
Pio. My spirit!
15
Malr, Oh, my sweet !
Leap hearts to lips, and in our kisses meet !
SONG.
Pio. Turn, turn, thy beauteous foce away,
How pale and sickl;^ looks the day.
In emulatioo of thy brighter beams!
Oh, envious light, fly, fly, begone.
Come, night, and piece two breasts as
one; [dreams.
"When what lore does, we will repeat in
Yet, thy eyes open, who can day hence
friffht? [nightl
Let but their lids flilt, and it will be
Alg, Well, I will leave you to your forti-
tude.
And you to temperance. AU, ye pretty pair!
'Twere sin to sunder you. Lovers oeing alone
Make one of two, and day and night all one.
But fall not ou^ I charge you, keep the
peace ;
You know my place else. ^ [Exit.
Malr, No, yon will not marry ;
You are a courtier, and can sing, my love.
And want no mistresses; but yet I care not.
I'll love you still, and when I'm dead for you.
Then you'll believe my truth.
Pio, You kill me, fair !
It is my lesson that you speak. Have I
In any circumstance deseiVd this doobt? '
I am not like your fidse and perjur'd don.
That here mamtains you, and has vow'd iiis
And yet attempts in way of marrii^e [faith;
A lady not far off.
Malr, How's that?
Pio, *Tis so; '
And therefore, mistress, now tlje time is come
You may demand his promise; and I swear
To marry you with speed.
Malr, And with that gold
Wliich don Vitelii gives, you'll walk some
voyage".
And leave me to my trade; and laugh, and
brag, [lord.
How you o*er-reach*d a whore, and guU'd a
Pio, You anger me extremely ! Fare you
well ! [me
What should I say to be believ'd? Expose
To .any hazard; or, like jealous Juno,
Th' incensed step-mother of Hercules,
** flm^i ^870 cbewres chewT^d.] That is. Here are two businesses dispatched, Chewre
may be a South Country word for business; but in the North we should say,
Here's two chares ehar*d.
So in Noble Kinsmen we have the same word, act iii. scene 2. the Gaoler's Daughter^
speaking of Palamon, says,
All's chared when he is gone. No, no, I lie.
My Other's to be hang'd for his escape, &:c. Sympson,
^ Walk tome voyage.] Voyage is now improperly applied only to ioutnies at sea; but it
property signifies a journey either by land or sea, as the French use the word voyage. The
WM Journey is derived mm jour, the day; voyage is from voye, via, tlie way; and here is
i in its proper signification* Sevard.
Design
16
LOVERS CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAID. [Act S. Scene 3.
Design me labours most impossible ^^,
FIl do *em, or die in 'em ; so at last
You will believe me.
Malr. Come; we're friends; I do!
I'm thine; walk in. My lord has sent me
outsides, [sad.
But thou sbalt have 'em; the colours are too
Pio. 'Faith, mistress, I want cloaths in-
Malr. I have [deed.
Some gold too, for my servant.
Fio. And I have
A better metal for my mistress. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter VttelU and Alguazier, at several doors.
Alg. Undone! — Wit, now or never help
me ! — My master.'
He'll cut my throat! — I'm a dead constable!
And he'll not be bang'd neitlier; there's the
grief.—
The party, sir, is here— — -
Vit. What?
A1^. He was here [him ;
(I cry your lordship mercy !) but I rattled
I told liim here were no companions
For such debaoch'd, and poor-condition'd fel-
lows;
I bid him venture not so desperately
The cropping of his ears, slitting his nose.
Or being gelt
Vit. T'was well done.
Alg. Please your honour,
I tola him there were stews; and then at last
Swore three or four great oaths she vras re-
mov'd,.
Which r did think I mighty in conscience^
Being for your lordship.
PiV. What became of hiin?
Alg* Faith, sir, he went away with a flea
in's ear,
like a poor cur, clapping his trundle tail
Betwixt his legs. — A chi ha, a cfai ha, a chi
hal—Now, luck!
Enter Malroda and Fiorato.
Malr, Tis he; do as I told thee; bless
thee, signor! —
Oh, ray dear lord.
lit. Malroda? what, alone? [panied
Malr, She never is alone, that is accom-
With noble thoughts, my lord ; and mine are
Being only of your lordship. [such^
Vit. Pretty lass! [done; but 'faith,
Malr. Oh, my good lord, my picture'*
It is not lijie. Naj, this way, sir ! the light
Strikes best upon it here.
Fio. Excellent wench ! [Exit,
Alg. I am giad^the danger's o'er. [Exit.
Vit. Tis wondrous like,
But tliat Art cannot counterfeit what Nature
Could make but once.
Malr. All's clear; another tune
You must hear from me now. — Vitelli, thou*rt
A most perfidious and a perjured man,
As ever did usurp nobility 1
Vit. What mean'st thou, Mai?
Malr. Leave your betraying smiles,
And change the tunes of your enticing tongue
To penitential prayers ; for I am great
In labout*, e'en with anger, big with-cliild
Of woman's rage**, bigger than when my
womb
Was pregnant by thee ! Go, seducer, fly
Out of x£e worlcl ; let me the last wretch be
Dishonour'd by thee ! Touch me not : I loath
My very heart, because thou la/st there long.
A woman's well belp*d up, that's confident
In Ver a dittering outsiae of you all !
'Would I had honestly been match'd to some
Poor country swain, ere known th^ vanity
Of court ! peace then had been my portion^
Nor had been cozened by an hour's pomp.
To be a whore unto nay dying day !
Vit. Oh, th' uncomfortable ways such wo-
men have*' ! [suranoe
Their different speech and meaning, no as-
In what they say or do : dissemblers
^3 Labours most impomhl€.\ This place, at first sight, appears to be a contradiction ;
for if the labours were impossinle, they could not be done either by Piorato or Hercules.*
Afos/, I take it here, should be wrote thus:
■ ■ ■ Labours 'most impossible,
i. e. almost. The using of a simple for a compound word, is frequent in our poets; and wc^
have it again in this very play, act v. scene 2.
■ ■ being by your beams of beauty /orm'flf, t. e. infbrm'd. Sympson.
This is refinement. The labours of Hercules were enjoined as supposed impossibilities.
Almost impossible^ is a poor phrase indeed. Poetry is not logick or mathematicks.
*♦ for lam great
In labour, e*0i with anger, big with child
Of woman* s ra^e. 1 Here we have a strange anticlimax, she is in labour with anger,
and yet only big with child of rage. The editor possibly might be the author of this incon--
tistencyi who seeing the line wrote
E'en with anger big with child, &c.
thought that the measure was deficient, and so might out of his own head give us in labour,
to nmke up the deficiency : but he did not see the inconsistency of this addition, which
makes the place nonsense. - Sympson.
*' Oh, tV uncomfortable ways such wtmen haoe.l Seward thinks unccurfortahlt a cortup-
tioD, and that we should read unstable,
E'ea
UNIVEfRSITY
Act 3. Scene 4.] LOVE'S CURB; OR, THE MAI
lAlD.
17
E'en in their prayers, as if the weeping Greek
That flattcf'd Troj a-fiie, had been tkeir
Adam;
liars, as if their mother had been made
Oaly of all the falshood of the man,
DisDOs'd into that rib ? Do I know this, '
Apa more ; nay, all that can concern this sex,
With the true end of mjr creation?
Can I with rational discourse sometimes
Advance my spirit into Heav'n, before
It has shook hands with my body, and ^et
Su&r mv filthy flesh to master it, [blindly
With sight of such fair frail beguiling objects ?
When I am absent, easily I resolve
Ne'er more to entertain those strong desires
That triuDoph o'er me, e'en to actad sin ;
Yet when 1 meet again those aorcerei^s eyeSy
Their beams my hu-dest resolhtions tna%
As if that cakes of ice and July met ;
Aad her sighs, powerful as the violent norths
like a light feather twirl me round about,
And leave me in mine own low state again. —
What ail'st thou? Pritliee, weep not 1— Oli,
those tears, [raise
If they were true, and riehtly spent, would
A flowery spring i' th' midst of January ;
Celestial nunisters with clirystal cups
Would iitoop to save 'em for inmiortal drink !
I But from this passion — Why all this ?
Bialr. IVyou ask?
You're marrying ! having made me unfit
For any man, yon leave me fit for all :
Porters must tie my burdens now, to live;
And fitting me yourself for carts and beadles^^
, Yoo leave me to 'em ! And who, of all the
world.
Bat the virago, your great arch-foe's daughter?
But on ! I care not, this poor rush ! Twill
breed [laugh;
I An excellent comedy ; ha ! ha ! It makes me
: I cannot chuse. The best is, some report
\ It is a match for fear, not love, o* your side.
\ Vit. Why^ how the devil knows she that I
«iw [witch?
This lady ? are all whores piec'd with some
I will be merry. — 'Faith, 'tis true, sweetheart,
I I am to marry—
Afo/r. Are you ? You base lord !
By Heaven, I'll pistol thee.
' Fit» A roaring whore ? — [by.
Take heed ! there's ^ correction-house hard
Yon ha' leam'd this o' your swordman, that I
warn*d you of, [whereas
Your fencers, and your drunkards. But
Yon upbraid me with oaths, why, I must
I tell you [vow^d,
I ne'er promis'd yon marriage, nor have
I ^t said I'd love you, long as you remained
' The woman I expected, or you swore :
And how you've fkufd of that, sweetheart,
you know. [you well !
You fiiin would shew your power ; jbut, fare
ni keep no more faith with an infidel.
Ma/r, Nor I my bosom for a Turk. D'ye
hear?
VOL. ra. •
Go ! and tlie devil take me, if ever
I see you more ! I was too true.
Vit, Come ; pish I
That devil take the falsest of us two !
ilffl/r. Amen! [self:
Vit. You're an ill clerk, and curse youi^
Madness transports you. I confess, I drew
you [not
Unto my will ; but you must know that must
Make me dote on the habit of my sin:
I will, to settle you to your content.
Be master of my word. And yet he lied,
That told you I was marrying, but in thought :
But will you slave me to your tyranny
So cruelly, I shall not dare to look
Or speak to otlier women ? make me not
Your smock's monopoly. Come, let's be
friends !
Look, here's a jewel for thee: I will come
At night, and
Malr. What? Tfaith you shall not,«ir.
Vit. r&ith and trotli, and verily, but I
will. [rail?
Malr, Ualf-drunk, to make a noise, and
Vit. No, no;
Sober, and dieted for th' nonce. Fm thine !
I've won the day.
Malr, The night, tho', shall he mine.
[Exeunt*
SCENE IV.
Enter Clara and Bobadilla.
Clara, What said he, sirrah? [not,
Bab, Little or nothing. Faith, I saw him
Nor will not: He doUi love a strumpet,
mistress, [stable's nose :
Nay, keeps her spitefully, under the con*
It shall be justified by the gentleman, .
Your brother's master, that is now within
A*practising. There are your letters ! Come,
You shall not cast yourself away, while I live;
Nor will I venture my right-worshipful place
In such a business. Here's your mother
(down !) [low — I ^ishy
And he that loves you; another 'gates fel-
If you liad any grace
Clara. Well, rogue!
Bob. ni in,
To see don Lucio manage: He will make
A pretty piece of flesh, I promise you;
He does already handle's weapon finely. \Exitm
Enter Eugenia and Si/avedra,
Eug, She knows your love, sir, and the
fuU allowance
Her fiither and myself approve it with ;
And I must tell you, I much hope it hath
Wrought some impression by her alteration:
She sighs, and says Vbrsoof A, aod cries heigh-ho!
She'll take ill words o' th' steward, and the
-Yet answer affiibly,and modestly; [servants.
Tilings, sir, not usual with her. There she is;
Change some few words.
S^ffv. Madam, I am bound t'you.
How now, fiur mistress? working?
D . CkrcL
18
LOVE'S CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAID. [Act 3. Scene 4.
Clara. Yes, forsooth ;
Learning to live another day.
Syav. That needs not. [does;
Vlara, No, forsooth? by my troly, but it
We know not what we may come to.
Eug» Tis strange ! [pM*
Svav, Come, Tve beggfd leave for you to
Clora. Forsooth,
'Tis ill for a fair lady to be idle. [that.
Syav, SW bad better be well busied, I know
Turtle, methinks you mourn; shall I sit by
you? [gone;
Clara. If you be weary, sir, y* bad bint be
I work not a true stitch, now you're my mate.
Si^v. If I be so, I must do more tlien side
YOU**.
C/ara. Ev'n what you will, but tread me.
Syav. Shall we bill ?
Clara, Oh, no, forsooth.
Syav. Being so lair, my Clara,
Whv d'you delight in black-work?
Clara, Oh, w-hite sir.
The fairest ladies like the blackest men:
I ever lov'd the colour; all black things
Are least subject to change.
Svav, Why, I do love [faces
A black thing too ; and the most beauteous
Have oftnest of them ; as the blackest eyes.
Jet-arched brows, such hair. FU kiss your
hand. [my mother
Clara. Twill hinder me my work, sir; and
Will chide me if I do not do my task.
Syav, Your mother^ nor your father shall
chide. — You [rul'd.
Might have a prettier task, would you be
And look with open eyes.
Clara, I stare upon you,
And broadly see you; a wondrous proper man!
Yet ^twere a greater task for me to love you,
Than I shall ever work, sir, in seven year.
Plague o' this stitching ! I had rather feel
Two, than sow one. — This rogue has given
me a stitch [shall prick you !
Clean cross my heart. Good faith, sir, I
SyoT), In gooder faith, I would prick you
wun ! [the man s foolish !
Glara, Now you grow troublesome! Fish,
Syav, Pra^.wear these trifles.
Clara, Neither you, nor trifles :
You are a trifle ; wear yourself, sir, out,
And here no more trifle the time away.
Si/av, Come, youVe deceiv'd in me ; I will
Nor fast, nor die for you. {not wake,
Clara, Goose, be not you deceiv'd !
I cannot like, nor love, nof live with you,
Nor ^t, nor watch, nor pray for you.
Eug, Her old fit! [will break
Si/av, Sure, this is not the way. Nay, I
Your melancholy >
Clara, I shall break your pate then.
Away, you sanguine scabbaitl !
Ens, Out upon thee!
Thou*Tt break my heart, Fm sure.
Enter Alvarez, PioratOf Xucio, and BdbadiUa,
Sifav, She's not yet tame. [yon here
Jlv, On, sir ! put home ! or I shall goa4
With this old fox of mine, that will bite better.
Oh, the brave age b gone ! In my young days
A chevalier would stock *' a needle's point
Three times together strait i' th'hams; or
Give you new garters? [shall I
Bob, Faich, old master, there
Is little hope; the linen sure was dank
He was begot in, he's so faint and cold !
Ev'n send him to Toledo, there to study ;
For he will never fadge with these Toledos.
Bear / up your point there, pick his teeth !
Oh,-base! [—Bear
Tio, Fy ! you're the most untoward scholar !
Your body gracefully ; what a posture's there !
You lie too open-breasted.
Lucio, Oh!
Fio. You would
Never make a good statesman.
Lucio, Pray no more ! [need not
I hope to breathe in peace, and therefore
The practice of these dang'rous qualities:
I do not mean to live b/t, for I trust
You'll leave me better able.
Alv, Not a button!
Eugenia, let's go get us a new heir.
Sug, Ay, by my troth, your daughter's as
untoward. [thee, ere
Alv, FU break thee bone by bone, and bake
I will ha' such a wooden son to inherit. —
Take him a good knock ; see how that will
work.
Pio. Now for your life, signer !
Lucto. Oh, alas, Fm kill'd !
My eye is out ! Look, fatlier ! Zancho !
Fll play the fool no more thus, that I will not.
Clara, 'Heart, ne'er a rogue in Spain shall
wrong my brother.
Whilst I can hold a sword.
Pio, Hold, madam, madam !
Alv, Clara!
Eug. Dahghter!
IkS. Mistress!
Pio, Bradamante!
Hold, hold, I pray. [sure \ —
Alv, The devil's in her, o' tli' other sudm
Thei^'s gold for you.— They have cliang'd
what-ye-cal't's. [meut.
Will no cure help? Well, I have one experi*
And if that ^il, FU hang him ; there's an end
on't.
Come you along with me ! and you, sir!
Bob, Now are you going to drowning.
i Exeunt Alv, Eu^. Lucio, andBoh^
'U e'en along with ye; she's too
great a lady,
** 1 mu$i do more then, tide you,"] We should certainly read, I must do more tbaa
side you,
*' Stock a needles point.] Seward would read strike for stock; and Sympson, stick.
• For
Act 4. S6ene S.] LOVE'S CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAID.
19
For me, and would prove more than my
match. [ExiL
Ciara. Toii^re he, spoke of Vitelli to the
steward ? [me fbr^t.
Pm. Yes; and, I thank you, you have beat
Clara, But are you sure you do not wrong
Pio, Sure? [himf
So sore, that if you please venture yourself^
rU shew you him and his cockatrice together,
Aod you shall hear 'em talk.
Clara, Will you? By Heaven, sir,
Yoa shall endear me ever; and I ask
Yon mercy !
Fia, You were somewlmt boisterous.
Clara. There's gold to make f amends;
aod for this pains,
ni gratify you further. -Ill but mask me,
Aad walk along w'ye. Faith, let's make a
night on't ! [ Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Eater AlguazitTf Tachieco^Men^otaj Metaldi,
and LazanUo,
Alg, Come OD^ my brave water-spaniels !
you
That hunt ducks in the night, and hide more
knavery
Under your gowns than your betters! Observe
my precepts.
And edify by my doctrine. At yond corner
Will I set you : If drunkards molest the street,
And fall to brabbling, knock you down the
malefactors, [bring them
And take you up their cloaks and hats, and
To me ; they are lawful prisoners, and must
Be ransom'd'^ ere they receive liberty. What
You are to execute upon occasion, [else
You sufficiently know, and therefore I
Abbreviate my lecture.
Met, We
Are wise enough, and warm enough.
Mend, Vice this night
Shall be apprehended i
Pack, The terror of rug-gowns
Shall be known, and our buls discharge us
Of aflei^reckouings.
Lat, I will do any thing.
So I may eat!
Pack, Lazarillo, we will spend no more;
Now we are grown worse, we will live better ;
Follow our calling faithfully. [let us
Alg, Away then ! [would serve
The commonwealth is our mistress; and who
A common mistress, but to gain by her?
[Exeunt,
ACT IV.
SCENE L
Enter Vitelli^ Lamaral, Genewra, AnastrOy
«»d ttfo Paget with Hghti.
Lam, T PRAY you see the masque^ my
■■- lord.
Ana. Tis early night yet.
Gen. Oh, if it be so late, take me along;
I would not give advantage to ill tongues
To tax my being here, wiuiout your presence
To be my warrant.
Fit, You might spare tliis, sister,
Knowing ]vith whom I leave you; one that
is, [vant.
By your allowance, and his choice, your ser-
Aud, may my counsel and persuasion work
it, [ment
Your husband speedily. — For your entertain-
My thanks! I will not rob you of the means
To dolour mistress some acceptable service,
1b watting on her to my house.
Geo, My lord —
VU, As you respect me, without further
trouble [for you,
Bedre, and taste those pleasuses prepar*d
And leave me to ray own ways.
Lam, When yon please, sir. l^Exeunt.
SCENE n.
Enter Malroda and Alguazier,
Malr. Youll leave my chamber?
Alg, Let us but bill once,
My dove, my sparrow, and I, with my
Will be thy slaves for ever. [office,
Malr. Are you so hot ?
Alg. But taste the difference of a man in
place : [forward.
You'll find that, when authority pncks him
Your don, nor yet your Diego, comes not
near him,
To do aiady right ! No men pay dearer
For their stol'n sweets than we; three mi-
nutes' trading
Affords to any sinner a protection.
For three years after; think on that. I burn I
But one drop of your bounty—*
Malr. Hence, you rogue !
Am I fit for you? is't not grace siifficient
To have your staff a bolt to bar the door
Where a don enters, but tliatyoull presume
To be his taster ?
Aig. Is no mote respect
Due to this rod of justice?
ilia/r. Do you dispute? [more!
Good doctor of the dungeon, not a word
Pox ! if you do, my lord Vitelli knows it.
Alg. \V by, I am big enough to answer him^
Or any man.
Malr. Tis well !
Vit. Uaithin] Malroda!
Aig. ilow?
Malr, You know the voice; and now
crouch like a cur
D 9 Ta'eu
LOVE'S CUREr OR, THE MARTIAL MAID. [Act 4. Scene 2.
Ta'en worrying sheep: I now could have
you gelded
For a hawd rampant; but, on tlus submis-
For once I spare you. [sion,
Alg. I will be reveng'd ! —
My honourable lord.
Enter VitellL
Vit. There's for thy care.
Alg, Vm mad, stark mad ! Proud Pagan!
scorn her host?
Enter Piorato and Clara, above.
I would I were but valiant enough to kick
I'd wish no manlrood else. [her !
Malr. What's that?
Alg. I'm gone. [Exit.
Fio. You see I've kei>t my word,
Clara, But in this object
Hardly descrv'd my thanks.
Pio. Is there aught else
You will command me ?
Clara, > Only your sword, [know
Which I must have. Nay, willingly! I yet
To force it, and to use it.
Pio. Tis yours, lady.
Clara. I usk no other guard.
JPio, If so, I leave you. [word,
And now, if tliat the constable keep his
A poorer man may chance to eull a lord. >
Malr. By this good kiss, you shall not.
Vit. By this kiss, [make
I must, and will, Malroda ! What, d'you
A stranger of me ?
Malr. I'll be so to you.
And you shall find it.
Vit, These are your old arts, [hunt for ;
T* endear the game you know I come to
Which I have borne too coldly.
Malr, Do so still !
For if I heat you, hang me !
Vit. If you do not,
J know who'll starve for't. Why, thou
shame of women,
Whose folly or whose impudence is greater
Is doubtful to determine! this to me.
That know thee for a whore I
Malr. And made me one ; "
Remember that !
Vit* Why, should I but ^row wise,
And tie that bounty up, which nor discretion
Nor honour can give way to, thou wouldst be
A bawd ere twenty; and, witliina month,
A barefoot, lowsv, and diseased whore,
And shift tliy lodgings oflner than a rogue
That's whipt from post to post.
Malr. Pish I ail our college
Know you can rail well in tliis kind.
Clara, 'Fore me,
Uc never spake so well 1
Vit. I have maintained thee [shine
Tlie envy of great fortunes; made thee
As if thy name were glorious; stuck thee full
Of jewels, as the firmament of stars ;
And in it made thee so remarkable, [poor,
That it grew questiouablQ whether Virtue
Or Vice so set forth as it is in thee.
Were ev'n by Modesty's self to be preferr'd :
And ain I thus repaid ?
Malr, YouVe still my debtor ! [honour.
Can this, tho' true» be weigh'd with my lost
Much less my faitli? I have iiv'd private to
you, . [was,
And but for you had ne'er known what lost
Nor what the sorrow for't.
Vit, 'Tis false !
Malr. Tis true ! [ing
But how rctum'd by you? thy whole life t>e- -
But one continued act of lust, and shipwreck
Of women's chastities.
Vit, But that I know [tbinp,
That she that dares be damn'd dares any
I should admire thy tempting me ; but pre-
sume not faflections ;
O' th' power you think you hold o'er my
It will deceive you ! Yield, and presently,'
Or by the inflamed blood, which thou must
I'll make a forcible entry. [quench,
Malr, Touch me not I ly^u do.
You know I have a throat: by Heaven, ii'
I will cry out a rape, or sheath this here,
Ere ril be kept, and us'd for juUp-watcr,
T* allay the heat which luscious meats and
And not desire, hath rais'd. [wine,
Vit. A desp'rate devil !
My blood commands my reason; I must take
Some milder way^
Malr, I hope, dear don, I fit you:
The night is mine, altho' the day was yours I
You are not fasting now. Tliis speeding trick
(Which I would as a principle leave to all
That make their maintenance out of their
own Indies,
As I do now) my good old mother taught me:
Daughter, quoth she, contest not with your
lover,
His stomach being empty ; let wine heat hhn.
And then you may command him : 'tis a sure
His looks shew he is coming. * [one !
Vit. Come, this needs not,
Especially to me : you know how dear
I ever have esteem d you —
CUura, Lost again 1 [to change
Vit. That any sigh^' of yours liath pow^er
My strongest resolution ; and one tear
Sutlicient to command a pardon from me.
For any wrong from you, which all mankind ,
Should kneel in vain for.
Malr. Pray you pardon those
That need your favour, or desire it.
Vit, Prithee
Be better temper'd : I'!l^pay, as a forfeit
For my rasli anger, this purse fill'd with gold.
Thon shalt hav€< servants, gowns, attires ;
Only continue mine. [what not ?
** That any sight vfywrs.'] Amended from Syfnpson's conjecture.
Mair.
Act 4. Scene S.] LOVE'S CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAID.
2i
ibir. TwBS this I fish*d for.
fit. Look on me, and receive it.
Mndr. Well, 700 know
My gentle nature, and take pride t' abuse it. .
Yoo see a trifle pleases me: we*re friends;
This kiss, and this, confirms it.
CUtnt. With my ruin !
ifalr. rii have this diamond, and this pearl.
Fi7. They're youi's.
Mulr. But Will YOU not, when you have
what you came tor, [shion
Take them from me to-morrow? Tis a far
Your loids of late have us'd.
Ftt. But rU not follow.
Ciara. That any man at such a rate as this
Should pay for his repentance !
Fa. Shall we to-hed now?
Malr. Instantly, sweet. Yet, now I think
on't better,
There's something first, that in a word or two-
I must acquaint you with.
Clara, Can I cry aim*'
To this, R^nst myself? Til break this match.
Or make it stronger with my blood !
[Deictnda.
Enier Alguaziery Piorato, Pachieco, Metaldi,
Mendoza, LazariUo, 4'C-
Alg. Vva yours ! [self:
A don's not privileged here more than your-
Win her, and wear her.
Puk Have yon a priest read? ?
Alg, I have him for thee, lad. — And when
Itove , [Innt,
Married this sconiful whore Co this poor gal-
She will make suit to me : there is a trick
To bring a high-pric'd wench upon her
knees.' [talons,
For you, my fine neat harpies, stretcli your
And prove yourselves true night-birds.
Pack. Take my word
For me and all the rest.
Lbz, If there be meat
Or any banquet stirring, you shall see.
How rll bestow myselE
Alg. When they are drawn, [on.
Rash ih upon 'em; all' fair prize you hsht
I must awav: your officer may give way [it.
To th' knav ry of his watch, but must not see
Too all know where to find me« [Exit,
Ma. There look for us.
ru. Who's that?
Malr. My Piorato? Welcome, welcome !
Faith, had you not come when you did, my
Had done I know not what to me. [lord
Pi7. Frngull'd! [at!
First cheated of my jewels, and then laugh'd
Sirrah, what makes you here ?
Pio, A business brings me.
More Uwful than youAwn.
VU. How*s that, you slave ? [a whore,
Malr, He's such, that would continue her
Whom he would make a wife of!
' Vii. rU tread upon
The fiice you doat on, strumpet !
Enter Clara.
Pack. Keep the peace there !
Vit. A plot upon my life too?
Met, Down with him !
Clara, Shew your old valour, and learn
from a woman !
One eagle has a world of odds against .^
A flight of daws, as these are.
Pio. Get you off;
I'll follow instantly.
Pach. Run for more help there !
[Eseunt all but Vit, and Clara,
Vit. Loss of my gold, and jewels, and the
wench too,
AfHicts me not so much as the having Clara
The witness of my weakness.
Ciara, lie turns from me !
And yet I may ui^e merit; since his life
Is made my second gift. '
Vit, May I ne'er prosper ^
If I know how to tliank her !
Clara, Sir, your pardon
For pressing thus, beyond a virgin's bounds.
Upon your privacies ; ahd let my being
Like to a man, as you are, be th' excuse
Of my soliciting that from you, which shall
Be granted on m]^ part, altho' desir'd [not
By any otlier. Sir, you understand me ;
And 'twould shew nobly in you, to prevent
From me a further boldness, which I must
Proceed in, if you prove not merciful,
Tho' with my loss of blushes and good name.
Vit. Madam, I know your wil^ and would
be thankful.
If it were possible I could affect
The daughter of an enemy.
Clara. That fair false one, [sued.
Whom with fond dotage you have long pur«
Had such a father ; she to wliom you pay
Dearer fur your dishonour, than all titles
Ambitious men hunt for are worth.
Vit, 'Tis truth. [exchange
Clara. Yet witli her, as a friend, you still
Health for diseases, and, to your disgrace,
Nourish the rivals to your present pleasures.
At your own charij^e ; us'd as a property
To give a safe protection, to her lust.
Yet share in nothing but tlie shame of it.
Vit. Grant all this so, to take yoii for a
wife
Were greater hazard; for should I offend you
(As 'tis not easy still to please a woman).
You're of so great a spirit, that I must learn
To wear your petticoat, for you will have
My breeches from me.
Clara. Ratlier from diis hour
I here abjure all actions of a man.
And will esteem it happiness from you
To suffer like a wom^. Love, true love.
Hath made a search within me, and expell'd
*5 Can I cry ayme.] See note 71 on the Fabc One,
AU
LOVE'S CURE; OR, THE lilARTIAL MAID. [Act 4. Scene S.
All but my natural softness, and made perfect
That wkich my parents' care could not begin.
Tvr'rll shew strength in nothing, but my duty
And glad desire to please you, and in that
Grow every day more able.
Fil^ Could thi9 be,
What a brave race might I beget ! I find
A kind of yielding; and no reason why
I should hold longer out: she's young, and
iair, [devil
And chaste, for sure; but with her leave, the
Durst not attempt her. Madam, tho* ^ou have
A soldier's arm, your lips appear as.if
They were a lady's.
Ciaru. They dare, sir, from you
Endure the trial.
Vit. Ha ! once more, I pray you!
The best I ever tasted ; and 'tis said
I have prov'd many. 'Tis not safe, I fear.
To ask the rest now. Well, I will leave
whoring.
And luck herek send me with her! — Wor-
thiest lady, •
I'll wait upon you home, and by the way
(If e^er I marry, as 111 not forswear it)
Tell you, you are my wife.
Ciara. Which if you do.
From me, all mankind women learn to
wooe!»« [Exeunt.
SCENE HI.
Mntcr Alguaxier^ Packieco, Metaidi^ Menr
doza, and LaviriHo,
Alg. A cloak ? Good purchase ! And rich
hangers? well!
We'll share ten pistolets a^man.
Laz, Yet still [duct
Fm monstrous hungry ! Could you not de«
So much out of the gross sum, as would pur-
chase [capons?
Eight loins of veal, and some two dozen of
Fach. Oh, stranee proportion for i^ve !
Laz. For five? I have
A legion in my stomach, that have kept
Perpetual fast these ten years : for the capons.
They arc to me but as so many black-birds.
May r but eat once, and be satisfied.
Let the fktes call me, when my ship is fraught,
And I shall hang in peace.
A^, Steal well to-night.
And thou shalt feed to-morrow. So ! now yoa
are
Yourselves again, 111 raise another watch
To free you from suspicion : set on any
You meet with boldly; FU not be far oflF,
T' assist you, and protect you. [Exit.
Met, Oh, brave officer!
Enter Alvarez j LuciOf and Bobadilla.^
Pack, 'Would every ward had one but so
well given, [velvet !
And we would watch, 'for rug, in gowns of
Mend. Stand close ; a prize !
Met, Sattin, and gold lace, lads !
Ah. Why dost thou hang upon me?
Lucio. Tis so dark [ther,
I dare not see my way; for Heav'n sake, fa-
Let us go home f
Bob. No, even here we'll leave you —
Let*s run away from him, my lord.
Lucio, Oh,''las!
Alv, Th' hast made me mad, and I will
beat thee dead, [thee.
Then bray thee in a mortar, and new-mould
But I will alter thee.
Bob. Twill never be :
He has been three days practising to drink.
Yet still he sips like to a waiting-woman.
And looks as he were murd'ring of a fart
Among wild Irish swaggerers.
Lttcio. I have still
Your good word, Zancho. Father>-
Alv. Milk*8op, coward ! [thee ;
No house of mine receives thee ; I disclaim
Thy mother on her knees shall not entreat me
Hereafter to acknowlodse thee !
Lucio. Pray you spesik for me !
Bob. I would, but now I cannot with mine
honour.
Ah. I'here's only one course lef^ that
may redeem thee ; [meet ;
Which is, to strike the next man that you
And if we chance to light upon a woman.
Take her away, and use her like a man.
Or I will cut thy hamstrings.
Pach. This nudtes for us.
Ah. What dost thou do now ?
Lucio, Sir, Fm saying my prayers; [me.
For being to undertake what you would have
I know I cannot live.
3^ Mankind women."] In Slwkespeare's Coriolanus, Sicinius asks Voluninia, ' Are yoa
mankind f^ On which Dr. Johnson remarks, that ^ A mankind woman is a woman with the
* roughness of a man, and, in an aggravated sense, a woman ferocious, violent, and eager to
' shed blood.' Mr. Upton says, mankind means wicked, and gives the following examples :
* See, see, this mankinde strumpet, see (he cride)
' This shamelesse whore.' Fairfax's Tasso, xx. 95.
* Out ! a mankind witch !' , Winter's Tale, act ii.
Morose, being interrupted by the intrusion and noise of men and women, cries out,
' O mankind generation !'
And Mr. Steevens adds the following from Ben Jonson:
* Pallas, nor thee I call on, mankind maid.'
See Upton's Remarks on Ben Jonson, p. 92, and Johnson and Steevens's Shakespeare, voL
\ij. p^393. R.
Mankind^ applied to women, both here and in Ben Jonson, plainly signifies masculine.
Enter
-Act 4. Scene 3.] LOVE'S CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAID.
Enter Lamoral^ Genevora, Anastro, and
Pages with lights.
Lam, Madun, I fear Tthcr's house
You'll wish / had us*d your cobgIi ; your bro-
Is yet f^T off.
Gen, The better, sir; this walk
Will help digestion after your great supper.
Of which I have fed largely.
Ah, To your task !
Or else you know what follows.
Ludo, I am dying ! [vour,
Now, Lord have mercy on me ! — By your la-
Sir, I must strike you.
Lam, For what cause ?
Lttcio. I know not.
And I mustlikewise talk with that young lady,
An hoar in private.
Lam, What you must, b doubtful;
But I am certain, sir, I must beat yoii.
Ludo, Help, help!
I Ah, Not strike again ?
Lam, How! Alvarez?
Ana, This for my lord Vitelli's love !
Pach, Break out; [side,
I And, like true thieves, make prey on either
I But seem to help the stronger 3'.
Bo6. Oh,m)rlozdf
Tbe/ve beat him on his knees.
Ijtch. Tho' I want courage,
I yet have a son's duty in me, and
Compassion of a father's danger; that,
That wholly now possesses me.
Ah, Lacio,
This is beyond my hope.
Met. So ! Lazarillo,
Take up all, boy! Well done!
PaciL And now steal off
Closely and cunningly.
I Ana, How! have I found you?
Why, gentlemen, are you mad, to make
A piey to rogues ? [yourselves
Lam, ' Wopld we were off !
Bob, Thieves, thieves ! [with them.
I Lam, Deferourown contention, and down
; Lueio, I'll make you sure !
Boh, Now he plays the devil.
Gen, This pi^ce is not for me. [Esit,
Lncio, 111 follow her:
Half of my penance is past o'er. [Exit,
Enter Alguazier, Assistant, ^ othi^ Watches,
Afg. What noise, [I charge you.
What tumult's there? Keep the king's peace,
Paeh. I'm glad he's come yet.
Ah, Oh, you keep good guard
Upon the city, when men'x>f our rank
Are set ujjon in the streets.
Lam, The Assistant
Shall hear on't, be assur'd.
Ana, And if he be
i That careftd governor he is reported,
You will smart for it.
! Alg, Patience, good signors!
Let me survey the rascals. Oh, I know them.
And thank you for them : they are pilfriog
Of Andaluzia, that have perused [rogues
All prisons in Castile. I dare not trust
The dungeon with them; no, I'll have them
To my own house. [home
Pach. We'd rather go to prison.
Alg, Had you so, dog-bolts? yes, I know
you had ! (<>n
You there would use your cunning ^neen
The simple locks, you would; but FU pre-
vent you.
iaw." My mistress lost? good night ![£jrir.
Bob, Your son's gone too ;
What should become of him ?
Ah, Come of him what will.
Now he dares a^ht, I care not: I'll to bed.
Look to your prisoners, Alguazier.
Jl Aiv 1 ^^ lExU with Bob.
Alg. All's cleared.
Droop not for one disaster ; let us hug,
And triumph in our knav'ries.
Assist. This confirms
What was reported of him.
Met, Twas done bravely !
Alg. 1 must a little glory in the means
We officers liave to play tlie knaveS, and
safely; 'n^^
How we break thro' the toils pitch'd by the
Yet hang up them* that are far less delin-
quents !
A simple shopkeeper's carted for a bawd.
For lodging, tho' unwittingly, a mnock-game-
Where, with rewards, and credit, I have kept
Malroda m my house, as in a cloister.
Without taint or suspicion.
Pach, But suppose
The eovernor should know it ?
Alg, He? Good gentleman,
Let him perplex himself with prying into
The measures in the market, and th' abuses
The day stonds guilty of: the piUage of
The night is only mine, mine own fee^imple.
Which you shall holdfrom me, tenants at will.
And pay no rent for't.
Pach. Admirable landlord ! [commit such
A "^-^'^^^ .'^^'^ go sea«:li the taverns,
As we find dnnkmg, and be drunk ourselves
With what we take from them. These siUy
wretches, [hither
Whom I for form-sake only have brought
bhall watch without, and guard us.
Assist, And we will
See you safe lodg'd, most worthy Alguazier,
With all of you, his comrades. ' i
Met, Tin the governor.
Alg, We are betray'd.
Assist. My guard there!— Bind them fast.
Enter Guard.
How men in liigh place and autliority
Are m their lives and estimations wrong'd
3' But seem to help the stranger.] Corrected from Sympson's conjecture.
^T
u
LOVE'S CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAtD. [Act 4. Scene 4.
By their sabord'oate ministers ; yet such
They cannot but employ ; wrong'd Justice
finding
Scai'ce one true seniint in ten officers.
T'expostulat^ with you, were but to delay
Your crimes^ due punishment, which shall
fall upon you
So speedily, and severely, that it shall
Frignt others by th' example ; and confirm^
Uowevec corrupt officers may disgrace
Themselves, 'tis not in them to wrong their
place.
Brmg them away. ,
Alg: We'll sufTer noble yet,
And like to Spanish gallants.
Pach. And weUl hang so.
Laz, I have no stomach
endeavour.
to't; but ni
lExeunt,
SCENE IV.
Enter Lucio and Genevora.
Gen, Nay, you are rude ! pray you forbear!
you offer now
More tlian the tireeding of a gentleman
Can give you warrant tor.
Lucio, ^is but to kiss you ;
Aiid think not I'll receive that for a fovour
Which was enjoin'd me for a penance, lady.
Gen. You've met a gentle confessor; and,
for once,
(So then you will rest satisfied) I vouchsafe it.
Ludo. Rest satisfied with a kiss? Why,
can a man
Desire more from a woman ? is there any
Pleasure beypnd it? may I never live
If I know what it is !
Gen. Sweet innocence ! [ — My veins
Lucio. What strange new modons do I feel !
Bum with an unknown fire; in ev'ry part
I suffer alteration ; I am poisou'd,
Yet languish with desire again to taste it,
So sweetly it works on me.
Gen, I ne'er saw
A lovely man, 'till now.
Lucio. How can this be ?
She is a woman, as my mother is.
And her I have kiss'd often, and brought off
My lips unscorch'd : Yours are more lovely,
lady, [vouchsafe
And so should be less hurtful. Pray you
Your hand, to quench the heat ta'en from
Perhaps that may restore me. [your lip !
Gen, W^illingly. [you burn thus,
Lucio* The flame encreases ! If to touch
What would more strict embraces do ? I know
not:
And yet, methinks, to die so were to ascend
To Heav*n, thro' Paradise.
Gen, I'm wounded too;
Tlio' modesty forbids that I should speak
W^hat ignorance makes him bold in. — ^Why
Your eyes so strongly on me? [d'you fix,
Lucio, Pray you stand still ! [on :
There's nothing else that's worth the looking
I could adore you, lady.
Gen, Can you love me? [but touch
Lucio. To wait on you in your cl^ambcr, and
What you^ by wearing it, have made divine.
Were such a happiness — I am resolv'd,
I'll sell my liberty to you for tliis glove,
And write myself your slave.
Enter LamoraL
Gen. On easier terms
Receive it, as a friend.
Lam. How! giving favour ?«-
Ill have it, with his heart* ^ .
Gen. What will you do? #[rather !
Lucio. As you are mierciful, take my life
• Gen. Will you depart with it so 3^?
Lucio. Does tKat grieve you ? [valiant.
Gen. I know not; but ev'n now \ou appeared
Lucio. 'Twas to preserve my -father; in
I could be so again. [his <^nse
Gen, Not in your own ?
Kneel to thy rival, and thine enemy? *
Away, unworthy creature ! I begin
To hate mjrself, for giving entrance tn
A good opinion of Uiee. For thy torment, .
If ray poor beauty be of any power,
Mayst thou dote on it desp'rately ! but never
Presume to hope for grace, till tliou recover
And wear the favour that was ravish'd from
thee.
Lam. He wears my head too then. [Exit,
Gen. Poor fool, farewell! [Exit,
Lucio, My womanish soul, which hitherto
hath governed
This coward flesh, I feel departing from ine;
And in me by her beauty is inspird
A new and masculine one, instructing me
What's fit to do or suffer. Powerful Love !
That hast with loud, and yet a pleasing
thunder [creature,
RousM sleeping manhood in me, thy new
Perfect thv work ; so that I may make known
Nature (tho' long kept back) will have her
own ! lExit.
3* Depart.] This word is here used in the sense of part.
ACT
Mt 6. Scene 1-] ' itoVE'S CURE ; OR, THE MARTIAL itfAID.
»
ACT V.
SCENE L
Enter Lamorul and Lucie.
Xrt'i./^AN it be possible, that in six short
^ hours,
T\te subject still the same, so many habits
Should be remov'd? or this new Liicio (he
Ihat yesternight was baiiled and disgracM,
v!\nd thAnk'd the man that did it ; that then
kneefd
And blobber'd like a woman) should now dare
On terms of lionour to seek reparation,
For what he then appeared not capable of?
iMcio, Sttch miracles, men tliat dare do
injuries
lAve to their shames to see, for punishment
And scourge to their proad follies.
/>//«. Prithee leave me :
Had I my page or footman here to flesh thee,
I durst the better hear rliee.
LmcIo, This scorn needs not ;
And oifer such no more !
Idtm, Why, say I should.
You'll not be angry ?
Ijueio, Indeed, \ think 1 shall ! [tain.
Would you vouchsafe to shew yourself a cap-
And lead a little further, to some place
XJiat's less frequented •
/■am. He looks pale.
JLucio. If not,
3Iake use of this.
Lam. There's anger in his eyes too :
Hisgesture, voice, bcliaviour,alf new fashion^,
Wefi, if it does*endure in act tlic trial
Of what in show it promises to make good,
UUsses* Cyclops, lo's transformation,
Korvdice fetch*d from hell, witli all the rest
Of Ovid's fables, I'll put in my creed;
And, tor proof ail incredible things may be.
Write down tliat liiicio, the cowtu^ Lucio,
Xhe womanifth Lucio, fought.
Lucio. And L:miond«
The still employM great duellist Immoral,
Xook his life from him.
Lam. Twill not come to that sure !
Metlnnks the only drawing of my sword
Should friglit that confidence.
Lucio. It confinub it nither :
TkO make which good, know you stand now
oppos'd
By one that is your rival; one that wishes
If our name and title greater, to raise his ;
The wrong you did less pardonable than it is.
Silt yow strength to defend it more than ever
It WAS when justice friended it; the lady
For whom we now contend, Genevora,
Qf more desert, (if snch incomparable beauty
Could suffer an addition) ; your love
To dcHi Vitelfi nmltipHed, and your hate
Aps:nst my father siud his house encrea5*d:
VOL. III.
And lastly, that the glore which you there-
wear, [you)
To my dishonour ! (which I roust force from
Were dearer to you than your life.
L<m. You'll find
It is, and so Fll guard it.
Lucio. All these meet then,
Witii the black infamy to be foil'd by one
That's notallov^^d anian, to help your valour;
That, fidling by your bund, I may or die
Or win in this one single opposition
My misti-ess, and such honour as I may
Enrich my lather's anns with!
Lam. 'Tis said nobly ;
My life with them are at the stake.
Lucio. At all then! [Fight.
Ltan. She's your's ! this, and my hfe too,
follow your fortune !
And give not only back that part the loser
Scorns to accept of!
Luciti. What's that ?
La?n. My poor life;
Which do not leave me as a further torment,
I laving despoil'd me of my sword,mine honour,
Hope of my lady's gnice, fame, aivd all else
That made it worth the keeping.
Lucio, 1 take back [me.
No more from you than what you forc'd from
And with a worser title. Yet think not
That I'll dispute this, as made insolent
Hy my success, but as one equal with you,
If*s>o yon will accept me. That newcuun^e
(Or call it fortune if you please) that is
Confen'd upbn "ine by the only sidit
Of fair Genevora, was not bestow M on me
To bloody purposes; nor did her command
Deprive me of the happiness to see her,
But 'till I did redeem her favour from you ;
Which oidy I rejoice in, and share with you
In all you sufler else.
L/im. This courtesy [own:
Wounds deeper than your sword can, or mine
Pra^' you make use of either, and di&patch me !
Lucio. The barbiu-ous Turk is sutisfied with
spoil ; . [for.
And shall I, being possess'd of what J came
Prove the more infidel?
Lam. You were better be 5=0
Than publish my disgrace, as 'tis the custom.
And which I must expect.
LiiCio. Judge belter of me:
I have no tongue to trumpet mine own praise
To your dishonour; 'tis a bastard oouraffe
That seeks a name out that way, no true-bom
one.
Pray you be comforted ! for, by all gopdness^
But to her virtuous self (the best part of it;
1 never will discover on what terms [vou,
^I came by these : which yet I take not from
But leicve yon,io exchange ofthem, mine own,
Ifi With
»
)/>VE'S CURE; OR, tllE MARTIAL MAID« [Act 5. Soeoe %,
Fit. Spoke like that true friend
That loves not only for his private end !
[Eafeunt*
SCENE n.
Enter Cenevora tnth n Letter, and Bokir
dilla.
Oen. This from madonna Clara?
Bob. Yes, an't please you.
Gen. Alvarez' daughter?
Bob. The same, lady.
Gen. She
That sav'd my brotber^s life ?
Bob. You're still i' th' right : pcnowin|{
She will'd me wait your waking forth, and,
ilow necessary a discreet wise man
Was, in a business of such weight, she pleasM
To think on me. It may be, in my face
Your ladyship, not acquainted with my wi»-
dom,
Finds no such matter; what I am, I am;
Thought's free, and think yon what you
Gen. Tis strange — [please.
Bob. That I should be wise, madam ?
Gen. No, thou art so. [^f^^y
There's for thy pains ; and prithee tell thy
I will not (ail to meet her : ril receive
Thy thanks and dyty in thy present absence*
Farewell, farewell, I say ! Now thou art wise.
lExit. Boh,
She writes here, she hath something to im<*
part [not i
Tliat may concern my brother's life: I know
But general fame does give her out so worthy.
That I dare not suspect her; yet wish Lucia
Enter Lucio.
Were master of her mind *. but, fy upon't !
Why do I think on him ? — See, I am punished
for't.
In his unlook'd-for presence: now I must
Endure another teoious piece of coortship.
Would make one forswear courtesy.
Lucio. Gracious madam, [Kneels,
The sorrow paid, for your just anger tow'rda
me.
Arising from my weakness, I presume
To press into your presence, and despair not
An easy bardon.
Gen. He speaks sense : Oh, strange !
Lucio. And yet believe, that no desires of
mine,
Thp' all are too strong in rae, had the power,
Fo^ their delight, to force me to infringe
What you commanded ; it being in your part
To lessen your great rigor when you please,
3' Tiat there wot musick tit tV.] The editon of 1750 object lo the expession, mutiek efa
ttrord, and substitote majgicky saymg, ' We suppose the line might originaUy run thus :
< ■ there ne'er was magickfn it,
'- i. c. the wonders of his sword were not owing to any charm or enchantment, like the
^ swords of kniehts-crrant, but only to the powerful arm that wielded it.' We heartily
agree with themin the variation to magkk, but can scarce belit^ve tlrnt the authprs meant
any' allusion to knight-^Itaiitry.
An4
With the desire of beine a friend ; which if
You will not grant me, but on further trial
Of manhood in ine, seek me when you please,
(And tho' I mieht refuse it with mine honour)
Win them again and wear them. So, ^od
. morrow! [Exit.
Lam, I ne*er knew what true valour was
'till now; [all
And liave gaiti'd more by tliis disgrace, than
llie honours I have won : they made me
proud,
Presumptuous of my fortune, a mere beast,
Fnsliion d by them, only to dare and do,
yielding no reasons fortny wilful actions
But what I stuck on my sword's point, pre-
suming
It was the best revenue. How unequal
Wrongs well maintain'd make us to others,
which [selves !
Ending with shame, teach us to know our-
I will think more on*t.
Enter Vitelli.
Vit. Lamoral!
Lum. My lord?
Vit. I came to seek you.
L<im.' And unwillingly [sir?
You ne'er found me 'tiU now ? Your pleasure,
Vit, That which will pleuse thee, friend !
Thy vow'd love to me
Shall nowl)e put in action ; means are ofier'd
To use thy good sword for me, that which still
Thou wear'st as if it were a jpart of thee.
Where is^?
Ltttn. Tis chang'd for one more fortunate:
Pray you enquire not how.
Vit. Why, I ne'er thought
That there ivas mi^ick in it* 3, but ascribed
The fortune of it to the arm.
Lam. W^hich is
Grown weaker too. I am not (in a word)
Worthy youf friendship:, I am one new van-
Yet shame to tell by whom ! [quisb*d,
jy. But I'll tell thee [deem
'Gainst whom thou an to fight, and there re-
Thy honour lost, if there be any such.
The king, by my long suit, at length is pleased
That Alvarez and myself, with either's second.
Shall end the difference between our bouses,
Which he accepts of: I make choice of thee;
And, where you speak of a disgrace, the means
To blot rt out, by such, a publick trial
Of thy approved valour, will revive
Thy ancient courage. If you embrace it, do;
If not, m seek some other.
Lam, As I am,
You may command me.
Act 5. Scene 3.] LOVITS CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAID.
2T
And mme to suffer with an humble patience
What you'll impose upon it.
Gen. Courtly too ! [Lucio^ madam,
Ludo. Yet liath tlie poor and contemn'd
(Made able only by his hope to serve you),
Eecover'd what with violence, not justice,
Was taken from him ; and here at your feet,
With these, he could have laid tlie conquer*d
head
Of lamoral (*tis all I say of him)
For rudely touching that, which, as a relick,
I ever would have wors^pp*d, since 'twas
yours.
Ceun Valiant, and every thing a lady could
Wish in her servant!
Imcw. All that's good in me,
That Keav'nly love, tlie opposite to base lust
(Wbicli would have all men wortliy), hath
created;
W'hich being by your beams of beauty form'd,
Cherish as your own creature !
Got. I am gone
Too fitf now to dissemble. — Rise, or sure
I must kneel with you too: let this one kiss
Speak the rest for me! 'tis too much I do,
And yet, if chastity would, I could wish more.
Lttcio. lo overjoying me. you are grown sad!
What is it, ma£un ? by lijuiv'n, [yet.
There's nothing that's withm my nerves (and
Pavour'd by you, I should as much as man)
But when you please, now, or on all occasions
Ton can tmnk of hereafter, but you may
Dispose of at your pleasiue,
Gen, Ifyoqbieak
Tha( oath again, vou |os^ me : yet, so well
I ioye you, I shall never put you to't;
And yet, forget it not. Kest satisfied [eyes
With that you have recciv'd now! theTe are
May be upon us; iill the difference
Between our friepds are ended, I would not
Be seen so private with you.
Lueio. I obey you, [remember
Gen, But let me hear Q^ from you^ and
I am Vitelli's sister !
Lucio. What's that, madam ?
Gen, Nay, nothing. Fare you well ! who
feels love's fire,
Would ever ask to have means to desire'^.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
tnttr Auiitanty Syatfedroy 4nMStr0j^ Herald,
and Aitendants,
Assist. Are they come in?
Herald. Yes.
Asnst. Read tlbe proclamation,.
That all the people Here assembled may
Have satis&ction, what the king's dear love.
In care of the republick, hath ordained*
Attend with silence^ Read aloud.
Herald [reaiing]. Forasmuch at our high
and mighty master, Philip, the potent and
most Catholick king of Spain, hath not only
in his own royal person, been long and often
solicited, and grieved, with the deadly and
incurable hatred sprung up betwixt the two
ancient and most honourably-descended
houses of these his two dearly and equally-
beloved subjects, don Ferdinando de Alva-
rez, and don Pedro de Vitelli (all which in
vain his miyesty hath often endeavoured to
reconcile and qualify^; but that also through
the debates, quarrels, and outrages daily
arising, falling, and flowing from tliese great
heads, his publick civil government is sedi-
tiously and barbarously molested and wound-
ed, and many of his cliief gentry (no less
tender to his royal majesty than the very
branches of his own sacred blood), spoiled,
lost, and submerg'd, in tlie impious inunda-
tion and torrent of their still-growing malice ;
it hath therefore pleased his sacred majesty,
out of his infinite, affection tc^preserve his
commonwealth, and general peace, from fur-
ther violation (as a sweet and heartily-4oving
father of his people), and on the earnest pe-
titions of these arcli-enemies, to order and
ordain, that they be read^, each with his
well-chosen and oeloved friend, armed at all
Joints like gentlemen, in the castle of Sl
a^o, on this present Monday morning, be-
twixt eight and nine of the clock, where (be-
fore the combatants be allowed to commence
this granted dueH this to be read aloud for
the publick satisraction of his miyest/s weUr
beloved subjects* 'Save the king !
[Drums within.
Syav, Hark, how their ixums speak theia
insatiate thirst ^ [peace.
Of blood, and stop tlieir ears 'gainst pious
Who, gently whispering, implores their friend-
ship I
A^t^ Ki^gs nor authority can master fate:
Admit 'em then; and blood extinguish hate f
Enter sfvcralfyf Alvarez and Ludo, Vitelli
and Lamoral.
Syav, Stay ! yet be pleas'd to think, and.
let not daring
(Wherein men no w-a-days exceed e'en beasts,
And think themselves not men else) so tran-
sport you
Beyond the bounds of Christianity!
Lord Alvarez, Vitelli, gentlemen.
No town in Spain, from our metropolis
Unto the rudest hovel,, but is ereat
With your assured valours' dafly proofs:
Oh, will you then, for a superfluous fame,
A sound of honour, which, in these times, all
Like hereticks profess (with obstinacy, *
^ To have means to desire.'] i, e, to hjave the mieans to compass his desire. Sjfmpson.
Surely, this b wrongly interpreted :—the meaning is, * All who feci the pleasure of love,
"* would wish always to have the means of loving.' 2b have means to desire^ cannot be con*
Knied means to eompass his desire. _
Eg But
LOVE'S CXJRE; OA, THEl^IAKTIAL MAID. [Act 5. Scene 9.
But most crroneoasly)* r^ture vour souls?
It is a hard task, thro* a sen of blood
To sail, and land at Heaven.
Vit, I hope not,
If justice be my pilot. But, my lord.
You know if argument, or time, or love,
Could reconcile, long siuce we had bhook
hands :
I dare protest, your breath cools not a vein
In anv one of us; but blows the fire,
Which nought but blood reciprocal can
quench. [right ;
Ah. Vitclli, thou say'st bravely, and say^st
And I will kill thee for\ I love thee so.
Vit. 11a, ha ! Old mau, upon thy death Til
build
A story with this arm, for thy old wife
To tell thy dau^rhter Clara seven years hence,
As she sits weeping by a winter-fire,
How such a time \ itelli slew her husband
With the same bword his daughter favour'd
liim.
And lives, an^wears it yet. Come, Lnroora],
Kedecm thyself!
Lam. Lucio, Gencvora
Shall on this Sword receive thy bleeding heart,
for my presented hat, laid at her feet.
Lucio. Thou talk'st well, Lamoral ; but 'tis
thy head
That I will carry to her to thy hat.
Py, father ! I do cool too much.
Ah. Oh, boy ! thy father's true son !
Beat drums ! And so, good-morrow to your
lordship !
Enter above, Eugenia, Clara, and Gencvora,
Syav. Brave resolutions !;
A7ta. Brave, and Spanish, right !.
Gen. Lucio !
Clara, Vitelli !
Eug. Alvarez!
Ah. llow the devil
Cot these cats into th' gutter? my puss too?
• Eug, Hear u»\
Gen. Wc must be heard !
Clara. We will be heard j
Vitelli, look ; see Clara on her knees,
Imploring tliy compassion! — Heav*n, how
sternly
3* A lad^i tears are silent orators.'] So Crashaw,
. * Sententious show'rs ! O! let them fall!
* Their cadence is rhetorical.*
Agaiu; in D^ieFs Complaint of Kosamond ;
* Ah, beaut}j, syren, fair enchanting good !
' Sweet, silent rhetorick of persuadmg eyes!
* Dumb eloquence, whose power doth move the blood,
' More than the words or wisdom of the wise.*
Vid€ Stcevcns's Notes on Shakespeare, vol. vii. p. 335.
3<^ The honcstrtongu'drhetoricmt.] Seward proposes substituting loudest for honest. Th^
correction is troiQ Syinpson's conjecture, who sa;^s, * Our poets, who were admirers of tlie
* classics, might possibly have had Nestor in their eye, who is thus described by Homer;
* Experienc'd Nestor, in persuasion skilFd,
They dart their emulous eyes, as if each
scorn'd
To be behind the other in a look ! [sister
Mother, dcutli needs no sw ord here ? Oli, my
(Fate fsiin would have it so), persuade, ei>-»^
treat !
A lady's tears are silent orators' ',
Or should be so at least, to move beyond
The honiest-tongued rhetorician'^; [death.
Why will you fight? Why does an uncle*9
Twenty year old, exceed your love to me.
But twenty days? Whose* forc'd cause, and
fair manner
You could not understand, only have heawl.
Custmn, that wrought so cunningly on Na-
ture
In me, that I forcot my sex, and knew not -
Whether my body female were or nuilc,
You did unweave, and had the power to charm
A new creation in me, made me fear
To think on those deeds I did perpetrate.
How little. powV tho* you allow to mc.
That cannot with my sighs, my tears, my
praters, [jiinin !
Move you from your own loss, if yon should
Vit. I must forget you, Clara : 'till I have
Redeem'd my uncle's blood, that brands my*
fiice
Like a pestif 'rouAcnrbuncle, I'm blind
To \>hut you do, deaf to your cries, and
To all impulsive exorations. [marble
When on this poiiit rve-perch'd thy father's
soul,
ril tender tliee this bloody reeking hand,
Drawn forth the bowels of that murderer :
If thon canst love me then, I'll marry thee,
And, for thy father lost, get thee a son :
On no condition else !
Assist. Most barbarous!
'^ Si/ar. Savai^e!
Jina. Irreligious!
Otn. Oh, Lucio, b'^a"**
Be thou more merciful! thou bear'st fewer
Art lately wean'd from soft eflcminacy;
A maiden's manners, and a maiden's heart ^*
Are neighbours sjtill to thee: be then more
mild ; [rate
Proceed not to this combat; Be'>t thou desp*-
Of thine own life? Yet, dearest,. pity mine! *
Thy valour's not thine own ; 1 gave it thee j
^ Words sweet as honey, from liis lips distill'd/
Afr. Pop^s Translation^
Tliesr-
Act. 5. Scenes.] LOVE'S CURE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAID,
Tbew ejes begot it, this tongue bred it up.
This breast would lodge it : do not use my
To mine own ruin! I have made thee rich;
fie not so thankless, to undo me for*t!
iMcio. Mistress, you know I do not wear
a vein
I would not rip for you^ to do you service:
Life's but a word, a sliadow, a melting dream,
Compar'd to essential and eternal honour.
Why, would you have me value it beyond
Your brother? If I first cast down my sword.
May all my body here be made one wound.
And yet my soul not find lleav'n tboro' it !
Ah, You would be catterwauliug too; but,
peace f
Go, get you home, and provide dinner for
Tour son, and me ; we'll be exceeding merry.
Oh, Lucio, I will have thee cock of all
The proud Vitellis that do live in Spain !
Fy, we shall take cold ! Hunch ! By Keav'n,
Already. [I'm hoarse
LaoL How your sister whets my spleen!
I could eat Lucio now.
Got. Vitelli! brotlier!
Ev'n for your father's soul, your uncle's blood.
As jbu do love my life; hut last, and most.
As you respect your own honour and tame,
Tlirow down your sword ! 1* is most valiant
That herein yields first.
lit. Peace, you fool!
Clara. Why, Lucio,
Do thou b^in: 'tis no disparagement;
lie's elder, and thy better, and thy valour
Is in his infiuicy.
Gen, Or pay it me, [time
To whom tliou ow'st it. Oh, that constant
Would but go back a week; then Lucio,
Thou wouldst not dare to fight!
Eug, Lucio, thy mother, [first.
Thy mother begs it! throw tliy sword down
Ah, I'll throw his head dowu after then.
Gen, Lamoral, [me.
You're often swore you'd be commanded by
Lam, Never to this; your spite and scorn,
Hare lost all power on nic ! [Genevora,
Gen, Your hearing for six wonis!
Attisi, S^av, Ana, Strange obstinacy!
Ah, VU. Jjucio. Lam, We'll stay no longer.
Clara, Then, by thy oatli, Vitelli, [sword
Thy dreadful oath, thou wouldst return tlmt
VTben I should ask it, give it to me uow ;
Thi$ instant I require it!
Gen, By thy vow.
As dreadful, Lucio, to obey my will
Ja any oi^e thing I would watch to challenge,
I cbajrge thee not* to strike a stroke! Now, he
Of our two brodiers that loves perjury [vow!
Best, and dares first be dmnn'd, infringe hi^
Svffv. Excellent ladies !
wit. Pish, you tyrannize,
Xttcio. We did equivocatet
Ah, On!
Clara, Then, I-4icio,
iff p^i\ I love my husband (for he is noi.
Wanting but ceremony), that I pray
His Vengeful sword may fkil upon thy head .
Successfully, for falshood to his sister.
Gen, I likewise pray, Vitelli, Lucio's sword
(Who eouall/s my husband as tlieu hers)
May find tliy fi&lse heart, that durst 'gas;e tliy
And durst not keep it! \ [ifaitlv
Assist. Are you men, or stone?
Alv. Men, and we'll prove it with our
swords. [have done!
Eitg, Your hearing for six words, and we
Zaucho, come fortli! — We'll fight our chal*
Now speak your resolutions. [lenge too ;
Enter Bobadilla, with two Swords and a
Pistol,
Gen, These tliey are ; [swords
The fu^t blow giv'u betwixt you,8heaths these
In one another's bosoms.
Eug. And, rogue, look
You at that instant do discliarge that pistol
Into mv hrcsist : if you start hgk, or quake,
I'll stick you like a pig. ^f
Alv. Hold! you are, mad. [ofbliss^
Gen, This wo have said ; and, by our hope
Tliis we will do ! Speak your intents. -
Cfara, Gen. Strike!
Eug, Shoot! [friends!
Alv. Vit. Lueio. Lam, Hold! hold! all
Assist. Come down.
Alv, These devlish women [they list!
Can make men friends and enemies wlien.
S^av, A pliant undertaking, and a happy!
Why, this is noble in you ; and will be
A welcoiner present to our master
Philip, than the return from bis Indies.
Enter Clara, Genevora, Eugenia, and Boha-'
• • dilla,
Clara. Father, your blessing!
Alv. Take her: if ye bring not [worlds.
Betwixt you boys that will find out new
And win ^ein too, Fm a fiilse prophet.
Vit, Brother,
There is a sister. Long-divided streama
Mix now at length, by fate.
Bob. I'm not regarded !
I was the careful steward that provided
These instruments of peace; I put
The longest weapon in your sister's hand, . •
My lord, because she was the shortest Ijuly;
For likely the shortest ladies love the longc'st
men. [chan^'d it z
And, for mine own part, I could liave dis-
My pistol is no ordinary pistol ;
It has two ramming bullets; but, thought I,
Why should I shoot iny two bullets into
My old lady? If they Imd gone, I would not
Have stay'd iong alter; I would ev'n have
died too.
Bravely, i'faith, like a Roinan steward ; hung
Myselt'inmine own chain, and there liad
beei>
A story of Bobadilla Spindola Zancho,
For after-ages to lament. UumJ
iOVE'S CtTRE; OR, THE MARTIAL MAID. {Acts. ScemrS.
With this your brother botdier, there for
nothing
To cobblei and heeUhose for the poor friars;
'Till they allow yoor penance for safficient.
And your amendment; then you shall be
And may set up again. [ijeed,
Fach, Mendoza, come :
Our souls have trod awry in all men's sight ;
We'll under-hiy 'em, till they go upright.
[Exeunt Paeh. and Mend^
Anitt. Smithy in those shackles you; for
yoar hard heart.
Must lie by th' heels a year.
Met, Fve shod your horse, my lord. [Exk,
A$sUt, Away! For you, my hungry, whito-
loaf d face, [sure
You must to th' gallieS| where you shall be
To have no more oits than you shall have
blows. [have rows. '
LfiZ. Well ; tho' £ herrings want, I shall
Assist. Signor, you have prevented us, and
punish'd
Yourself severelier than we would have donet
You liave married a whore ; may she prove
honest!
P«o. It is better, my lord, than to raarrf^
An honest woman, that may prove a whore.
Vit, It is a handsome wench, an thoa
canst keep her tame,
m send you what I promis'd.
Pio. Joy to your lordships! ffoes
Ak, Here may all ladies learn, to maite of
The perfect*st friends; and not the perfect^Rt
foes
Of dearest friends, as some do now-a-days!
Vit, Behold the pow'r of love'^l Nature^
tho' lost
By custom irreooverably, past the hope
Of friends' restoring, love hath here retrieved
To her own liabit; made lier blush to see
Her so-long monstrous metamorphoses :
May strange afiairs never have worse success !
[Exeunt,
I pereehe, I am not only not regMedi
But also no^ rewarded.
Ah. Prithee, peiMsef
'Shalt have a new chain, next St. JaqueaT day,
Or this new gilt.
Bob. Fm satisfied; let virtue baive her due.
And yet I'm melancholy upon this atonement;
Pray Heaven the state rue it not! I would
My lord Vitelli's steward and I could meet;
They should find it should cost 'em a little
more
To make us friends. Well, I will forswear
Wine and woinen for a year; and then
I will be drunk to-morrow, and run a-whoring
Like a dog with a broken bottle at's tail;
Then will! repent next day, and forswear 'em
Ag^in more vehemently; be forsworn
Next day again, and repent my repentance:
Tor thus a melancholy gentleman doth
And ought to live.
Assist . Nf|y, you shall dine with me;
And afUrw^lll' 11 with you to the king.
But first, I iWispatch the castle's business
That this day may be complete. Bring forth
Uie malefactors!
Enter Alguasier^ Pachieco, MetakU, JWaw-
dosa, Lazarillo, Piorato, Malrodfh i^d
Guard.
Yon, Alguaner, the ring-leader of these
Poor fellows, are degraded from your office ;
You must restore all stol'n goods you re-
. ceiv*d.
And watch a twelvemonth without any pay:
This, if you fail of (all your goods confiscate),
You*re to be whipt, and sent into the gailies.
Aig. I like all, but restoring; that catho-
' lick doctrine
I do dislike. Learn, all ye officers.
By this, to live uprightly— if you can! [Exit,
Assist, You cobler, to translate your man^
ners new.
Axe doom'd to th' cloisters of the Mendicaqts,
37 Behold the power of love, to Nature lost^
Love hath here retriei^d.] Here is another difficult passage, at least
to me, BehM the power of love, which (love) hath here' to lost Nature retrieved to her own
habit. This the reader may make sense of if he can, while I endeavour to set the plaee
right thus:
Behold the power of love. Nature #W lost,
' Love hatli retrieved
To her own habit, &c.
Heie we have a glimmering of sense and reason, and the poets are cleai^d from a bkioder
they could hardly be guilty of. Sympson.
EPILOGUE.
Our author fears there arc some rebel hearts,
Whose dullness doth oppose love's piercing
darts;
jSuch will be apt to say there wanted wit, ^
Tlie. Isnguage low, very few scenes are writ
With spirit and Fife ; such odd tbihgs as these
He cares not for, nor ever means to pleaiie;
For if yonrseWes, a mistress, or love's friends,^
Are lik'd^' with this smooth play, he hath
his ends.
3* L*/cU] i. e. Pleased. Symifson,
WOMEJI
WOMEN PLEAS'D,
A TRAGICOMEDY.
The Commendatory Verses bj Gardiner and Hills ascribe this Play (which was first pria^d
JO the folio of 1647) to Fletcher alone. Part of it is founded on Boccace's Decameron^
ton which Cfaftucer. has built a Tale, which Dryden has modernized : there has been nn
lepresentation of it at either Theatre for many years, nor do we know of any alteration
iifit
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Men.
Dvxt ^StoMO, Suitor to Behidere.
Silvio, a Gemiicman rfQuakty, Servant to
Betoidere,
CLADDiOy SUvufs Friendj Brother to Iw-
h^lof kU disguU^d to her, under the neme
ofRugio.
Babtello, Ct^tom of the Citadel^ Uncle to
Lopez, a sordid Usurer, thejeuioue Husband
^habeUa.
PtiiORiQy a hungry Servant to Lopez,
Soto, a merry Servant to Claudio,
Lnm of Florence.
lo%D% of Sienna,
C0Utf8£LX.OBS.
COURTJEBS. *
A Farmer, Father to Sota» ^
Captain.
Soldiers of the Guard.
A Clerk.
BoMBY, an Enemy to Waka and May-pole$^
Morruniancers, Masquers,
WOKBK.
DvcBESs of Florence,
B£LviD£RE> a virttumt Prineeu, Daughtetf
to the Duchess, in love with SUviom
RoDOPE, Wife to Bartello,
Isabella, WifetoLopet,
Jaqvehet, Servant to habella*
Two Gentlewomen.
SCENE, Florence,
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Enter Bartello and ^vio.
SMo, '^T^S true, ^ fyi^^ one,
*^ She is a right good princess, and
And Floieiice, when she sets, has lost a pla^-
neL [nephew,
Bart, My mistress? I tell thee, gentle
There is not such another fiiend to goodness^
To downright dealing, to fhith, and true
heart, [blessed us,
Within die ChristiaA confines. Before she
lastice was a cheesei^onger, a mere cheese-
moofler, [nn^gots,
Weig^ nothine to the world but mites and
And a main stink: L^w, like a horse-coutier.
H^ rales and precepts huiq^ with gaads and
lUibands^
And pampcrU up to coeen him that bongbt
When she hersetf was hackney^ hune, and
founder*d.
Sil, But the sweet lady Belvideie, tho
bri^t one—-- * [dear nephew,
Bart, Ay, there's a face indeed! Oh, my
Could a youHfl follow of th^ fi^ry mettle
Freeze, and tmt lady in hit armsf
Sil. Ithinknot* [let that pass;
Bart, Thott hast a parlous j advent! But
She is as truly virtooos, foir, and noble.
As her great mothai's good; and tlmt's not
ordinary. [ones,
Sil, But why (so many priBces,and so great
Bemg Buit6rs) should the duchess deny to
match h^r? [bosom;
. Bart, She is a jewel, mRn, hangs in hev
Her only child: with her eyes she sees all
things, ^ [from her.
Discounts with her tongue ; and . pluck her
(Sodotingly the old one loves her youpg one).
You
«e
WOMEN PLEASED.
[Act 1. Scene 1«
Vou pla<^ her heart out too: besides^ of late
days,
The dake of Milan, who could never win her
By love, nor treaty, laid a close tmin for her
lu her own private ^alks, some forty horse-
men, [with ;
So to surprise her, which we found, and dealt
And sent 'em running home to the duke
their master,
like do^ with bottles at their tails.
Sil, Since that, I heard, sir^
Sli' has sent her to your citadel to secure her,
My consul Rodope', your wife, attending her.
Bartf Yqu liear a truth; and all conveni-
ent pleasures
Are there proportioned for her.
Sii. I would fain, sir.
Like one, that owes a duteous service to her,
Sometimes, so please you—
Bitrt, Gentle cousin, pardon me!
I must not, nor you must not dare to offer:
The last cdibt lies on his life pursues it.
Your friend, sir, to command abroad, to love
yon, fyou;
To lend you any thing I have, to wait upon
But, in the citadd where I stand ctiar^d,
Not a bit upon a march : no service, sir.
No, good sir, by no means ! I kiss your
hands, sir. [JEsit,
Sil. To your keeping only? none else to
look upon her?
None but Bartcllo worthy her attendance ?
No feiih but his to serve lier ? Oh, Belvidere,
Thou saint to whom my youth is sacrific'd.
Thou point to which my life turns, and my
fortune ! [comforts,
Art thou lock'd from me no%v ? from alt my
Art thou snatch'd violently*? Thou hear'st
me not ;
Nor canst tliou see, fair soul, thy servant's
mournings ; i
Yet let thy gentle heart feel what is absence',
The great divorce of minds so truly loving,
So long, and nurs'd in one allbction,
Ev'n from our infant eyes 6uck*d in, and non*
rish*d— [constant,
Oh! let it feel but that, and there stand
And r am blest. My dear aunt liodope,
Tliat is her g<ivemcss, did love me dearly;
There's one hope yet to see her: When he's
absent, [closely.
It may be ventur'd, and she may work it
I know the lady^swiU goes equal with me.
And so the dai^er o' th* edict avoided:
Let me think more ! for I must try all b«*
zards.
Enter Claudia and Solo.
Soto, Will you go yonder, sir?
Cltm, Yes, marry will V, sir,
Soto. And by this ladder ?
Clau, By that ladder, coxcomb. .
Soto, Have you any moie necks at bone
when this is broken? Fhas, i>ir;
For this will crack with the best mend he
Or, can you pitch of all four, like an ape now ?
Let me see you tumble.
Chu. You arc very pleasant, sir.
Soto. No, truly, sir; I should be loath to
see you [cry s^uff6.
Come fluttering down like a young rook,
And take you up with your lirains beaten
into your buttocks, [stands musing here ?
Clau, Hold your, peace, iiss ! — ^^Who's tliis
Silvio?
SiL Wlio calls me?
Clau, One most glad to see you, sir.
SiL JSIy dearest Claudio ? What makes you
thus private.
And with a preparation of this nature?
Soto, We've leave to play, and are goin*;
to climb birds' nests. * [you from me ?
Sil. Prithee what is it, friend ? Why stsirt
Is your old mistress crown so coy and cruel.
She must be scal'd ? It seems you're loath to
tell me. [ship
Since twenty years' continuance of our fhcnd*
May not be worth the weight of such a se-
cret,
'Twill be but rude to ask again. Save you !
Clau. Nay, stay, dear Suvio ! if you love
me, take it;
For, 'till you know it, never woman labourM
As I do now.
Sil. I'll do my best to ease it.
Clau. You've heard, the lady Belvidere—
Sil, What heard, sir? [fears,
Clau. Heard, to the citadel, upon souie
She is conliifd. [Aside.
SiL Why, dreams \\e on this beauty r —
*Ti» true, l\ e heard it.
CVaa, And that no access, [hazard,
No blessing from those eyes, but with much
Ev'n hazard of a life- - •
' My cousin Hudbpe, your wife, &c.] We have a miglity jumble through the play, of con->
tin and aunt, as the reader wiU easily perceive. Sympson*
^ From all my comfijrt$
Art thou inatdi*d violent lyf] Silvio is not lamenting tho lady's condition, but hb own,
and therefore I should think it would be better to read,
' ■'? From me all my comforts
Arc they snatched violently. Sympion.
The text is much best; and though loosely* expressed, means to represent iSi/vio lamenting
hii own coiidiiion. . .
^ Yet let tkif gentle heart feci what his ah$enct.'\ A letter too much in Aw, makes stran'-e
9tafl' in this passage; our authors. possibly wrote, ^
■ '<>■ feel what is absence. Sympton,
Sik
Ad 1. Scene !?.]
WOMEN PLEAS'D.
53
St/. He dares not love her! — [purpose?
Tre bmrd that too : But whither points your
Ciau, Oil, Silvio, let me speak that none
may hear roe, [long,
NoimT but thy troth! I've loVd this lady
Long giv'n away mv life to her devotion,
Long dwelt npon that beauty to my ruin.
Su. Does she know this?
Cinu. No ; there begins my misery !
IxioQ-Iike» Tve only yet clasp'd clouds, [me.
And fed upon poor empty dreams that starve
Sil. And what d' you mean to do now?
Oau, Tho'IdieWt,
IW all the tortures in the world hung on me,
Ami'd with imperious Love, I stand prepar*d
now [lier.
With this to reach her chamber; there to see
And tell her boldly with what truth I love her.
SU. Twill not be easily done, sir —
C/tftt. Ob, my Silvio,
The hardest things are sweetest in possession.
SU. Nor will shew much discretion.
Clau. Love is blind, man;
And he that looksfor reason there, far blinder.
SU, Have you considered ripely?
Cku. AU that may fall,
And arm'd against that all.
SiL Her honour too?
What she may snfier in this rash adventore?
The beauty of her name?
Clau. ril do it cbsely, [tion —
And only at her window with that cau-
SU, Are there no gaards?
Clau. Corraption chokes their service.
SU. Or do you hold her bred so light a
woman.
To hold commerce with strange tongues?
Ciau. Why, this service.
This only hazard of my life, must tell her,
Tbo* she were Vesta's self, I must deserve
ber, [sink here,
SU, I would not have you go; pray let it
And think a nobler way to raise your service,
A safer and a wiser !
Clau. Tb too late, sir.
SU. Then I must say, you shall not go.
Clau, I shall not?
&L You shall not go: that part bred
with you, friendship.
Bids me say boldly so, and you observe me.
Clau, You stretch that tie too far*
SU. ru stretch it further:
The honour that I bear that spotless virtue
Too fbolly seek to taint, unnobly covet.
Bids me command you stay ; if not, thus
force you!
Stia, This will be worse than climbing.
Clau. Why d* you draw, sir? [master.
&X To kill thee, if thy base will be thy
Clau. I ever was your friend.
SU. Whilst thou wert honest,
And not a night-thief of another's honour:
Jiwver odl'd a fool mv friend, a mad man,
That dnrst expose his iame to all opinions.
His life t* unhonest dangers: I ne'er lov'd him,
VOLIU.
Durst know his name, that sought a viiigin*s
roin;
Nor ever took I pleasore in acquaintance
With men, that give as loose reins to their
fimcies
As the wild ocean to his raging fluxes :
A noble soul I twin with, and my love
Follows his life dards master his affections.
Will you give off, or fight?
Clau. I will not fi^ht with you ; [ger :
The sacred name offriend ties up that an-
Rather PU study^
SU Do, to be a friend still.
Clau, If this way, I shall never hold.
SU. ril watch you : [for't.
And, if I catch you false, by Heav*n you die
All love foi^ot!
Clau. When I fear that, I'm fit for'L
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Lopez at a Table wUh Jewels' and Money
upon itf an Egg roasting bif a Candle.
Lopez. Whilst prodigal young gaudy fools
are banqueting, l&^^Jf
And launching out theirstates to catch the
Thus do I study to preserve my fortune.
And hatch with care at home the wealth that
saints me.
Here's rubies of Beng^la, rich, rich, glorious !
These diamonds of Ormus, bou^t for little.
Here vented at the price of princes' ransoms ;
How bright they shine, like constellations I
The South-sea's treasure here, pearl, fair and
Able to equal Cleopatra's banquet I [orient^
Here chains of lesser stones for ladies* lustres.
Ingots of gold, rin^i brooches, bars of silver,
Tl^se are my studies to set off in sale well.
And not in sensual surfeits to consume 'cm.
How roasts mine egg? he heats apace ; I'll
turn him. [Penurio,
Penurio; where, you knave, d' you waitT
You lazy knave !
Enter Penurio.
Fen. Did you call, sir?
Lopez. Where's your mistress ?
What vanity holds her from her attendance?
Pen. The very sight of this e^ has made
him cockish; ^ithin, sir.
What would a dozen butter'd do? She is
Lopez. Within, sir? at what tlirift, you
knave? what getting?
Pen. Getting a good stomach, sir, an she
knew where to get meat to't;
She's praying heartily upon her knees, sir.
That Heav'n would send her a good bearing
dinner. [thought on^
Lopez. Nothing but gluttony and surfeit
Health flung behind! had she not yester-
night, sirrah.
Two sprats to supper, and the oil allowable?
Was she not sick with eating ? Hadst not
thou [satisfies)
(Thou most ungrateful knave, that nothing
r The
WOMEN PLEASD.
The water that I boird my other egg in.
To make thee hearty broth?
Pen. Tis true, I had, sir; fstone oiit;
But I might as soon make the philosopher's
You gave it me ia water, and, but for man-
ner's sake, * [so hearty.
I could give it you again, in wmd, it was
I shall turn pissing-conduit shortly. — My
mistress comes) sir.
Enter Isabella.
Lopez. Welcome, my dove !
Isab. Pray yon keep your welcome to yon,
Unless it carries more than words to please
me. [me,
Is this the joy to be a wife ? to bring with
Besides the nobleness of blood I spring from,
A full and able portion to maintain me ?
Is this the happmess of youth and 'beauty.
The great content of bemg made a mistress,
To live a slave subject to wants and hungers,
To jealousies for every eye that wanders,
Unmanly jealousy ?
Lopez. Good Isabella— [famish me,
Isab. Too good for you ! D* yon think to
Or keep me like an aims-woman in such rai-
ment, ["gJy ?
Such poor unhandsome weeds ? am I old or
I never was bred thus; and if your misery
Will suffer wilful blindness to abuse me,
lyiy patience shall be no bawd to mine own
nun.
Fen. Tickle him, mistress; to him!
I$ab, Had yon love in you,
Or any part of man —
Pen. Follow that, mistress !
Isab. Or had humanity but ever known you,
You'd shame to use a woman of my wav thus.
So poor, and basely ! You're strangely jea-
If I should give you cause— ' [lous of me ;
Lopez. How, Isabella ? [voke me —
Isab. As do not venture this way to pro-
Pen. Excellent well, mistress!
Lopez. Ho w^s this, Isabella?
Isab. Twill stir a saint, and I am but a
woman,
And by that tenure may —
(Act 1. Scene 9.
Lopez. By no means, chicken!
You know I love you. Fy, take no example '
By those young gadding dames, (you're noted
virtuous) [on *em,
That stick their husbands' wealth m trifles
And point 'em but the way to their own mi-
series.
I am not jealous. Kiss me. Faith, I am not.
And for your diet, 'tis to keep you heaithfnl
(Surfeits destroy more than the sword) that
I'm, careful ' [handled;
Your meat should be both neat, and cleanly
See, sweety I'm cook mysclt^ and mine own
cater*. [fingers !
Pen. A pox of that cook cannot lick liis
Lopez, ril add another dish ; you shall have
Tis nourishing and good. [milk to't;
Pen. \yith butter in't, sir?
Lopez. (This knave would breed a famine
in a kingdom 1) [must be wise then.
And cloatfas tliat shall content you; yon
And live sequester'd to yourSelf and me^
Not wandring after every toy comes cross to«.
Nor struck with every spleen'. — What's the
knave doing ? Penurio ! [flies here ;
Pen. Hunting, sir, for a second course of
They're rare new sallads.
Lopez. For certain, Isabella,
This rav'ning fellow has a wolf in's belly.
UntempVate knave, wiilnothing quench thy
appetite ?
I saw him eat two apples, which is monstrous.
Pen, If you had giv'n me those, 't had been
more monstrous. [lain.
Lopez. 'Tis a main miracle to feed this vil-
Come, Isabella, let us in to supper.
And think the Iloman dainties at our table !
•Tis all but thought. [Exeunt.
Pen., Would all my thoughts would do it!
The devil should think of purchasing tliat
egg-shell.
To victual out a witch for the Bunnoothes* :
Tis treason to any good stomach living now
To hear a tedious grace said, and no meat
to't.
I have a radish yet, but tlmt's but transitory.
♦ Ctf/<T.] Probably we should read, caterer.
' Nor struck with even/ spleen.] Seward would alter spleen to sheen, which, says he, is
the same as bright or brtghtness. The alteration proposed is, we think, a very poor <Mie;
and we do not remember sheen as a substantive, lior struck mlhevery spleen, we conceive,
signifies, not put out of humour with trifles.
^ Bermoothes.l i. c. Bummdas. — Dr. Warburton remarks, that ' Smith, in his account of
* these islands, p. 173, says, that tlie Burmudas were so fearful to the worlds that many culled
* them, The Isle of Devils — P 174 — to all seamen no less terrible than an inchanted den of
^furies. And no wonder, for the clime was extremely subject to storms and hurricanes;
* and the islands were surrounded with scattered rocks lying shallowly hid under the surfisce
* of the water.'
The opinion that Bermudas was haonted with evil spirits continued so^late as the civil
wars. In a little piece of Sir John Berkinhead*s, intitled, Two Centuries of Paul's Ckureh-
yard, una cum indice expurgatorio, &t. 12°. in page 62, under tlic title of Cases of Conzci^
ence, is this,
34. ' Whether Bermudas and the parliament-house lie under one planet^ seeing both are
haunted with devils.' Percy*
SCENE
Act 1. Scene 8.}
WOMEN PLEMD.
95
%£N£ ni.
Enter Soio.
Stto, Can any living man, unless a rascal
Hit neither knows hLuself, nor a fashiou'd
rdeman, [now ?
me for a worse man than my master
Fm asturally proud in these cloaths : but if
pride now
Suwld catch a fell in what I am attempting !
Jii bttt a |HO?erb sound, and a neck broken,
Ibat's the worst can come on't: ageutie-
nan's gone then. [end on*t !
A gentleman o' th' first house, there's tlie
Uj luaster lies most pitifully complaining,
WoDg^^ and kicking up to th' ears in love
jwAetf [kills roe:
And such a lamentable noise he keeps, it
Tfe got his cloaths, and if I can get to ner,
fijr hook or crook here', such a song V\\ sine
her— [ter!
I think I shall be bang'd ; but that's no mat-
Wbtt's a hanging among friends? I am va-
liant now^
Ai an elq>hant. I have conaider'd what
To say too. Let me see now ! this b the
place; [dow
I'm piagny high ! Stay; at that lower win-
Let me aim finely now, like a good gunner,
It may prove but a whipping.
Enter Silvio,
SU, I saw soroebod V [mcthought yet
Ptts by me now. and, though't were dark,
I knew the doaths. Ha ! let me not be co-
icn'^!
The ladder too, ready to fling it ? Monstrous !
Tishe, 'tis Claudiof most voluptuous villain.
Scandal to woman's credit ! Love, I forget
thee—
SUo. What will he do, i' th' name of
HeaVn ! What's that there ?
iSil And all the friendship that I bore
thee, bury here —
' By hook or crook hereJ] Mr. Warton observes, (Observations on Spenser, vol. ii.) that
die proverb of getting any tiling by hooke or by crooke was supposed to have arisen in the
dme of Charles L when there were two learned judges, named Hooke and Crooke; and a
difficult cause was to be gotten either by Hooke or hy^Crooke, This notion he shews to be
poondless, and that the form was not then invented as a proverb, but applied as a pun.
He is, however, mistaken in' imagining there was any judge of that time, of the name of
Booke, In Hiuiibras, part iii. c. ii. are the following lines:
' These are the courses that we took
' To carry things by Hook or Crook,* line 938.
Which, Dr. Gray says, alludes to the judgment of judge Crook and Huttony who dissented
fioffl their brethren m the determination of tlie cause about ship-money, and occasioned the
ng$ to say that tlie king carried it b;^ Hook, but not by Crook, The phrase, however, is
ccrtainlj (as Mc VVarton proves) of higher antiquity than the time of Charles I. as may an*
pear by several passages in our ancient writers. In Lodge's ' Wit's Miserie and the World's
' Madnesse,' 1596, p. 7, ' He matcheth not according to his birth, but the increase of Iris
' fortane : and by hooke or crooke so stirreth in tlie world, that not only be attaineth pre-
* beminence in the city, but some place m court.' — Again, in the Life of Jasper Cotignie, B. L.
'Therefore, having afwaj^es this saying ni his mouth, what skUls it whither a man use mau<*
'liaeiae or wyliucsse ageinst his enemie? he determined to go intoo his camp as a revolter,
* ud to hunt for opportunitie to accomplish his device by hooke or by crooke? R*
F 2 Ciau.
Sotq. What has be in's liand? I hope but
a cudgel.
Sil. Thy fiiults forgive, oh, Heav'n ! Fare-
well, thou traitor ! IFires a pi$toL
Soto, I'm slain, I'm slain !
SiL He's down, and dead, dead certain,
(It was too rash, too full of spleen) stark
dead:
This is no phice now to repent in ; only,
'Would I mid given this hand that shot the
pistol [Claudio !
I had misa'd thee, and thou wert once more
[Exit.
Enter Ciaudio.
Clau. Why should I love thus foolishly?
thus desp'rately ?
And give away my heart where no hope's
left me ?
Why should not the true counsel of a friend
restrain me ?
Tlie devil's mouth Lrun into, affright me?
The honour of the lady, charm my wildness ?
I have no power, no being of myself,
No reason strong enough now left within me
To bind my wiU. Oh, love, thou god, or
devil, [me —
Or what thou art, that plays the tyrant in
iSo^o.. Oh!
Claik. What's tliat cry?
Soto, A suigeon, a surgeon,
Twenty good surgeons !
Clau, Tis not far from me:
Some murder, o' my life !
Soto, Will you let me die here?
No drink come, nor no surgeon ?
Clau. Tis my man, sure. [thee ?
His voice, and here he lies. How is it with
Soto. Fm slain, sir, I am slain.
Clau. Slain? Who has slnin thee?
Soto. KiU'd, kill'd, out-right kill'd!
CUm. Where's thy hurt?
Soto, I know not;
But I am sure Fm kill'd.
WOMEN PLEAS'D.
[Act 9* Scene 1.
Gau, Canst thou sit up.
That I may find the hurt oat?
- Soto, I can sit up ;
But, nevertheless, 1 m slain.
CUu. 'lis not o* this side/?
Soto. No, sir, I think it be not.
Ciau, Nor o* this side.
Was it done with a sword ?
Soio. A gun, a gun, sweet master.
Clan. Die devil a bullet has been here;
thou'rt well, man.
Soto, No, sure, Vm kilFd.
Ciau, Let me see thy thighs, and belly:
As whole as a fish, for any thing I see yet ;
Thou bleed'st no where.
Soto. I think I do not bleed, sir,
But vet, I am afraid I'm slain.
Cutu. Stand up, fool ! [shot thee?
Thou hast as much hurt as my nail. Who
A pottle, or a pint?
Soto. Signor Silvio shot me, [seeing.
In these cloaths, taking me for you, and
The ladder in my hand here, which I stole
from you, [and have spoke for you.
Thinking to have gone to the lady myself,
Ciau, If he had hit you home, h had
serv'd you right, sirrah, [shews to me,
You saucy rogue! — How poor my intent
Uow naked now, and foolish !
Soto. Are you sure he ha« not hit m«?
It 0ive a monstrous bounce.
Ciau. You rose o' your right side.
And said your prayers too, you had been
paid else : [fear kills thee?
But what need'st thou a bullet, when thy
Sirral), keep your own counsel for all this;
you'll be nang'd else,
If It be known.
Soto. IfH be by mv means, let me ;
I'm glad I am not kill*d, and far more gladder
My gentleman^like humours out ; I feel *tis
dangerous, [ar-week.
And to be a gentleman is to be kill'd twice
Ciau. Keep yourself close i* th' country
for a w^hile, sirrah !
There's money: Walk to your friends.
Soto. They have no pistols.
Nor are no gentlemen, that is my comfort.
[Exit.
Cluu. I will
Retire too, and live private (for this Silvio,
InflamM with noblenes6,wiU be my death else);
And, if I can, forget tliis love that loads me.
At least the danger. — And, now I thiak on*t
better,
I've some conclusions else invite me to it.
[EtU.
ACT IL
SCENES
Enter Rodope aud Silvio, at several doon.
Rod. -KlEPllEWl
■^^ Sil. My dear aunt !
Rod. Would you go by thus slily.
And never see me ! not once send in to me.
Your loving aunt? she that, above all those
I call my kindred, honoured you, aud plac'd
you
Nearest my heart?
Sil. 1 thank you, wortliy aunt.
But such at this time are my occasions —
Rod. You shall not go yet; by my faith,
you shall not! [nephew?
I will not be denied. Why look you sad,
Sil. I*m seldom other. — Oh, this blood sits
heavy !-^
As I walkkl this way late last night,
In meditation of some tilings concem'd me —
Rod. What, nephew ?
iSi7. Why, methought I heard a piece, lady,
A piece shot off, much about this pldce too,
(But could not judge the cause, nor what it
bonded)
Under the castle-wall.
Rod. We heard it too ; [nothing.
And the watch pursu'd it presently, but found
Not any track.
Sil* i am right glad to hear it !—
The ruffians surely tliat command the night
Have found him, stript him, and into the river
Convey'd the body.
Rod. You look still sadder, nephew.
Is any thing witliin these walls to comfort
you?
Speak, and be master oft. ^
Sil. You're a right courtier ;
A great professor, but a poor performer.
Rod. D'you doubt iny faith ? You never
found me that way, [friend.
(I dare well speak it boldly) but a true
Sil. Continue then.
Rod. Try me, and see who falters.
Sil. I will, and presently: ^tis in your
power [courtesy.
To make me the most bound man to your
Rod. Let me know how, and if I fail —
Sil. 'TIS thus then :
Get me access to th' lady Belvidere,
But for a minute, but to see her; your husband
Now's safe at court; I left him full employ'd
there. [power to grant you.
Rod. You've ask'd the thing without my
The law lies, on the danger : If I lov'd yoa
not, [for't.
I'd bid you go, and there be found, and die
Sil. I knew your love, and where there
shew'd a danger ['*'"? friend.
How far you durst step for me t Give roe a
That,
Act S. Scene 3.]
WOMEN PLEASED.
W
Thai, where occaaon is to do a benefit,
A*ms at the end, and not the rube before it.
I was a fool to ask ^rou this ! a more fooi
To think a woman liad so mach noble nature
To entertain a secret of this burthen :
You'd best to tell tlie duchess I persuaded
you, [credit ;
That*s a fine course, and one will win you
Forget the name of cousin, blot rny blood
out^ ■ [shorter!
And, so you raise yourself, let me grow
A woman-friend? He that believes that
weakness,
Steers in a stormy n^ht without a compass.
Rod, What is't I durst not do mieht not
impeach you? [not thmk of!
Sili Why, this 3rou dare not do, you dare
Bod, ^is a main hazard.
SU, If it were not so,
I frottld iK>t come to you to seek a favour.
Rod. You'll lose yourself.
Sil. The loss ends with myself then.
Rod. You will but see her?
Sii. Only look upon her.
RmL Not stay?
SiL Prescribe your time.
Rod, Not trafBck with her,
In any close dishonourable action ?
SiL Stand you yourself by.
Rod. I will venture for you : [friend,
Because you shall be sure I am a touch'd
111 bring her to you. Come, walk; you
know the garden,
And take this key to open the little postern ;
There stand no guards.
Sil, I shall soon find it, aunt [Exeunt,
SCENE II.
Enter two Sddien.
1 Sold, Is the capt^n come home ?
2 Sold, No ; who commands the ^uard
1 Sold, I think Petruchio. [to-night?
2&R What's the won!?
• 1 Sold, None knows yet.
i Sold, I would this lady were married
out o' th' way once,
Or out of our cuiitodies ! I wish they would
take in more companies, [shrewdly.
For I am sure we feel her in our duties
1 SM, Tis not her faulty I warrant you;
she's ready for't ;
And tha^s tne plague ; when they grow ripe
for marriage.
They must fa^ slipt like hawks.
2 Sold, Give me a mean wench ! [ready.
No state-doubt lies on her, slie's always
1 Sold, Come to the guard ; 'tis late, and
Cannot l)e long away. [sure the captain
2 SM. I've watch'd these three nights;
To-morrow they may keep me tame for
nothing. [Exeunt.
SCENE m.
Enter Silvio, Belvidere, and Rodope with a
light.
SiL This is the place, I think. What
light is that there ?
The lady and my cousin !
Bel. Is this the garden ?
Rod. Yes, madam.
SU. Oh, my blessed mistress,
Saint of my soul! '
Bel. Speak softly ! — ^Take me to you !
Oh, Silvio, 1 am tliine, thine ever, Silvio !
Rod, ]js this your promise, sir? Lady, your
honour!
I am undone if this be seen, disgrac'd.
Fallen under all discredit !
BeL Do you love still?
Dear, do you keep your old faith ?
Si/. Ever, lady; [sake me!
And, when that fails me, all that's good for-
Rod. Do not you shame ^Jfadam, I must
not suffer this, ^^
I will not suffer it! Men call you virtuous:
What do you mean, to lose yourself thus ?
. Silvio,
I char8;e thee get away, charge you retire you ;
I'll call the watch else.
SiL Call all the world to see us!
We live in one. another's happiness,
And so will die.
BeL Here will I hang for ever! [madam,
Rod. As you respect me, as hereafter,
You would enjoy his love — Nothing prevail
with you ? [thou villain,
ni try my strength then: get thee gone,
Thou promise-breaker !
SiL I am tied ; I cannot.
Rod. I'll ring the bell then ?
SiL Ring it to death, I'm fix'd here.
Enter BarteUo, and two Soldiers with lights.
Bart. I saw a light over tlie garden wall ^,
Hard by the ladies chamber : Here's some
As I live, I saw it twice. [knavery !
R/hL The guard, the ^uard there !
I must not suffer this, it is too mischievous.
Bart. Light up the torch ! I fear'd this.
Ha! young Silvio?
How got he in ?
1 Sold. The devil brought him in sure;
He came not by us.
Bart. My wife between 'em bustling?
Guard, pull him off !
Rxfd. Now, now, ye feel the misery.
Bart. You, madam, at an hour so far
, undecent ?
Death o' iny soul! This is a foul fault in you !
Your mother's care abus'd too ! Light us to
her chamber'.
I'm sorry to see this.
»
' Cher the garden walk.] Mr. Seward thinks with me, that it might be better read^
garden walL ;^mpso7i.
^ Light's to her chamber,] So the former editions.
Bel.
08
WOMEN PLEASD.
[Act S. Scene 5.
Bel Farew«Uy my Silvio,
And let no danger sink thee !
jli/. Nor death, lady. [Exeunt Bd.andRod,
Bart. Are you so hot ? I shall prepare you
physick [fieiy:
Will purge you finely, neatly; you're too
Think of your pmyers, sir, an you've not
forgot 'em! . [holes?
Cai^ you fly i* th' air, or creep you in at key-
I have a gin will catch you, tho you conjur'd.
Take him to guard to-night, to strong and
sure guard ; [sport serve you,
111 back to th' duchess presently. No less
Than th' heir to a dukedom ? Play at push-
pin Uiere, sir ? [shot slwrt,
Itwafiwellaim'd; but, phigueoipou't, you
And that will lose your wne.
Sil. I know the loss then. [Exeunt,
SCENE IV.
Enter Claudio, like a Merchant,
Clou, Now,iii tliis habit, may I safely see
How my incedH friend carries my murder;
Who little I imagin'd had been wrought
To such a height of rage: and much I grieve
now
Mine own blind passion had so master d me
I could not see his love; for sure he loves her,
And on a nobler ground than I pretended.
Enter Penurio,
It must be so, it ia so.— What, Penurio, .
My shotten friend, what wind blew you?
Ten, Faith, 'tis true,
Any strong wind will blow me like a feather:
I am all air, nothing of earth within me,
Nor have not ha^d this month, but that good
dinner [by me.
Your worsWp gave me yesterday; that stays
And gives me bidlast, else the sun would
drawmc. * , t!?^?.
Clau, But does my mistress ^eak still of
Pen. Yes, sir, [«>o,
And in her sleep, that makes my master mad
And turn and fart for anger.
Clau, Art sure she saw me?
"Pen, She saw you at a window.
Clau, Tis most true.
In such a place I saw a gentlewoman,
A young, sweet, handsome woman—
Pen. That's she, that's she, sir. [her—
Clau. And well she view'd me : I vicw'd
Pen. Still she, sir.
Clau. Atla8tslieblush'd,andthenlooVdo(F.
Pen. That blush, sir.
If you can read it truly —
Clau. But didst tlwu tell her, [one ?
Or didst thou fool me, thou knew'st such a
Pen. I told her, and I told her such a
sweet tale —
Clau. But did she hear thee ?
Pen. With a thousand ears, sir,
And swallow'd what I said as greedily
As great-bellied women do cherries, stones
and all, sir.
Clou* Methinkt she should not love thy
master?
Pen. Hang him, pitcher ! [endure him.
There's nothmg loves him; his own cat can't
Sh' had better lie with a bear ; for he's so
hairy, [him.
That a tame warren of fleas frisk round about
Clau. And wilt tbou work still ?
Pen. Like a miner for you.
Clau. And get access ?
Pen. Or conjure you together; [Ijim,
Tis her desire to meet : she's poison'd with
And 'till she take a sweet fresh air— that's
you, sir — [precious varlet !
CUni. There's money for thee ; thou'rt a
Be fat, be fat, and blow thy master backward.
Pen. Blow you my mistress, sir, as flat as
a flounder, [their veals s
Then blow her up again^ as butcliers blow
If she die upon the same.
Bury her, bury her, in God'> name !
Clau. ThcMi art a merry knave ! By tliia
hand, 111 feed thee, [do tliis !
Tin tliou crack'^ at both ends, if thou dar'st
Thou slialt eat no fhntasUcal porridge.
Nor lick the dish where oil was yesterday.
Dust, and dead flies to-day; capons, fat
capons —
Pen. Oh, hearty sound !
Clau. Crani'd full of itching oysters—
Pen, Will you have the duchess?
Clau. And lobsters big as gauntlets;
Thou shalt despise base beef-
Pea. I do despise it ! [sliding —
And now, metliinks, I feel a Urt come
Clau. Leaping into thy mouth; but first
d^ faithfully.
Pern When will you come?
Clau, To-morrow.
Pen. I'll attend you;
For then niv master will be out in business.
Clau, What news abroad ?
Pen, 'Mass, as I was coming to you,
I heard that signor Silvio, a good gentleman,
(Many a good meal I have eaten with him) —
Clau. What of him? [the duchess;
Pen. Was this day to be arraign'd before
But why, I could not*hear.
Clau. Silvio arraign'd?—
Go, get you gone, and think of me»
Pen. I fly, sir. [Exit.
Clau. Arraign'd? for what? for my sup-
pos'd death? No,
That cannot be sure, there's no rumour of it.
Be't what it will, I will be there and see it.
And, if my help will bring him off, he bas
it. [ExU.
SCENE V.
Enter Duchesh Lords, Silvio ( prisoner) ^
Belvidere, Bartello, Rodopcy Clerky Coun-
sellors, and Attendants.
Duch. Read the edict last made; keep
silence there !
Clcrh [reading]. If any man, of what
condition
Ace S. Scent 6.]
WOMEN PLfiAS'O.
eooditioD soever, and a subject, after the
fmblisfaing of t\ds edict, shall, without special
licence from the great dnchess, attempt or
boT'^, offer, or make an attempt to solicit,
the love of the princess Belvidere, the per-
son so offendiog shall forfeit hifi lite, [here,
Coun. The reason why my roval mistress
In her last treaty with Sienna*s duke,
Promb'd her beauteous daughter there in
marriage ;
The duke of Milan, rival in this fortune",
Unnobly sought by practice to betray her;
Which foand, and cross'd, the citadel re-
ceived her, [last cause,
There to secure her mother's word; the
So many gentlemen of late enamoured
On this most beauteous princess, and not
brooking
One more than other, to deserve a favour,
filood has been spilt, many brave spirits lost.
And nlore, unless sh' had been kept close
from their violence, [prevention
Had like to have foUowM : theiretbre for due
Of all such hazards and unnoble actions.
This last edict was published * which thou,
Silvio,
like a fidse man, a bad man, and a traitor.
Hast rent a-pieces, and contemnM; for
which cause
Thou stand'st a guilty man here now.
Enter Claudio,
Clerk, Speak, Silvio ! [justice?
What' canst thou say t*avoid the nand of
8iL Nothing, but I confess, submit, and
lay mv head to't. [standings?
£a. Have ye no eyes, my lords, no under-
The gentleman will cast himself away.
Cast himself wilfully ! Are you, or you,
guilty ? [him :
No more is he, no more taint sticks upon
1 drew him thither, 'twas my way betray 'd him;
I got the entrance kept, I entertained him,
I hid the danger from limi, forc'd him to me ;
Poor gentle soul, he's in no part trvisgress-
ing:
I wrote unto him—
SU» Do not wrong that honour, [sions !
Cast not upon that pnreness these asper-
H^ Heav'n, it was my love, my violence ;
My life must answer it : I broke in to her,
Tempted the law, solicited unjustly-—
Hd, As there is truth in Hearn, I was
the first cause ! [naked'%
How could tins man have come to me, left
Without my counsel and provision ?
What hour could he find out to pass the
watches, [judges.
But I must make it sure first? Reverend
Be not abns'd, nor let an innocent life lie
Upon your shaking consciences ! I did it ;
My love the main wheel that set him a-going;
Ilis motion but compeird.
jSi/. Can j^e believe tliis, [ness
And know with what a modesty and white-
Her life was ever rank'd? Can ye believe
this, [ful?
And see me here before ye, young and wil*
Apt to what danger love dares uirust me
on, [temnit?
And, where law stops my way, apt to con«
If I were bashful, old, or dull, and sleepy
In love*s alarms, a woman might awake me.
Direct, and clew me out the way to happi-
ness; [boauty.
But I, like fire, kindled with that bright
Catch hold of all occasions; and run thro'
'em. [answer it —
BeL I charge ye, as your honest souls will
iSi/- I charge ye, as ye are the friends to
virtue.
That has no pattern living but this lady —
BeL Let not his blood —
Sil, Let not her wilfulness [at) —
(For then you act a scene hell will rejoice
BeL He's clear.
SiL She is as white in this as infants.
C/atf . The god of love protect your cause,
and help ye !
Two nobler pieces of affection
These eyes ne'er look'd on; if such good-
ness perish,
Let never true hearts meet again, but break!
[Exit.
1 Lord, A strange example of strong love,
a rare one ! [say, to think on.
2 Lurd. Madam, we know not wliat to
Duch, I must confess it strikes me tender
too, [there?
Searches my motlier*s heart. You fisund 'em
Bart. Yes, certain, madam.
Duch, And so link'd together ? [hasten
Bart, As they had been one piece of ala*
Duch, Nothing dishonourable ?
SiL So let my soul have happiness,
As that tliought yet durst never seek this
bosom ! [law, abus'd me ;
Duch, What shall I do? H* has broke my
Fain would I know the truth: either con-
fess it.
'° Attempt or 6t(y, offer or make an attempt] This nonsensical place has been thus
I thus,
Great Ducheu attained, try, offer, or make an attempt, Sf€, Sympton.
" Rhal in tim/ortune.] The sense seems to demand Ats, i. e* Sienna's fortune. Svmpson.
We think thki» genuine; and the whole line signifies, that the duke of Mihm was
Siennai's rival in Belvidere, ints/ortnne. The next hoe confirms this explanation.
f* (km tome, left naked.] Sympson tufp«cts wc should read, lbss naked,
SU.
40
WOMEN PLEASED.
[Act 2. Scene 6.
And let mc itnderfttand the main offender.
Or both shall feel the torture.
5*7. Are you a mother,
The mother of so sweet a rose as this is,
So pure a flower, and dare you lose that
nature ? [edness.
Dare you take to yourself so great « wick-
(Oh, holy Heav'n!) of thinking what may
ruin [gods dwell ?
This goodly building ? this temple, where the
Give me a thousand tortui'es, I deserve 'em,
And shew me death in all the shapes ima-
gin'd — [it, seek. it;
Bel, No death but I will answer't, meet
No torture but Til laugh upon't, and kiss it.
1 Lord, This is no way.
2 Lord, They say no more, for certain,
Than their strong hearts will suffer.
Duch, I've bethought me :
No, lords, altho' I have a child offendine,
Nature dares not forget she is a child still:
Till now, I'never look'd on love imperious.
I have bethought me of a way to break vou,
To separate, tho* not your loves, your bodies:
Silvio, attend ! Til be your judge myself now.
The sentence of your death (because my
daughter
"Will bear an equal part in your afflictions)
I take avvay, and pardon : this remains then.
An easy and a gentle punishment.
And this shall bo fulfiU'd: because unnobly
YouVe sought the love and marriage of a
princess,
The absolute and sole heir of this dukedom,
By that means, as we must imagine strongly,
To plant yourself into this rule hereafter.
We here* pronounce you a man banisli'd
from us.
Sil. For ever banish Vl, lady ?
Thick. Yet more mercy ! -
But for a year, and then tigain in this place
To make your full appearance. Yet more pity !
If in that time ^ou can absolve a question.
Writ down within this scroll, absolve it
rightly, %ou :
This lady is your wife, and shall live with
If not, you lose your head,
SiL I take this honour.
And humbly kiss those royal hands.
Dtich, Receive it.
Bartello, to your old guard take t^e princess.
And so, the court break up !
Sil. Farewell to all,
And to that spotless heart my endless ser-
vice! [Exit,
1 Lcfrd, What will tliis prove ?
2 Lord, I'll tell you a year hence, sir.
[Exeunt,
SCENE VI.
Enter Penurio, Isabcllu, and Claudio,
Ten, Are you pleas'd now ? Have I not
wrought this wonder }
Non € henfatto, tignor 9
Clau, Rarely, Fenurio. |
Pen. Close, close then, and work, wax !
Clau, I'm Btadying for thee [year.
A dinner, that shaU victual thee for ten
Pen, Do you hear, mistress ? [is.
You know what a dunderwwhelp my master
(I need not preach to you) how unfit and
wanting
To give a woman satisfaction: how [fellow;
He stinks, and snores, a bull's a better bed-
And, for his love, never let that deceive.
Isab. Nay, sure he loves me noc
Pen, If he could coin you.
Or turn you into metal, much might be then ;
He loves not any thing but wliat is traffic :
I've heard him swear, he'd sell you to the
^nd signor.
Lfl6. The Turk? [you—
Pen. The very Turk, and how they'd use
Isab, 111 fit him fbr't : the Turk ?
Pen. I know the price too : [mistress,
Now you have time to pay him, pay him liomey
Pay him o' th' pate, clout lum for all his
courtesies: [delicate.
Here's one that dances in your eyes, young,
To work thiiT vengeance ; if you let it slip
now, [mistress.
There is no pit^ng of you. Od's precious,
Were I his wife, I would so maul his ma-
zard —
'TIS charity,'mcre charity, pure charity!
Are you the first? Has it not been from
Eve's time, [way ?
Women would have their safe revenges this
And good and gracious women, excellent
women ?
Is't not a handsome gentleman, a sweet gen-
tleman?
View him from head to foot, a complete
gentleman ? fyou.
When can you hope the like again? I leave
And my revenge too, with you : I know my
office ;
I'll not be far off. Be not long arfumbling !
When danger shall appear, I'll give th* alarm.
[Exit.
Isab, You're welcome, sir! and Vould it
were my fortune
T' afford a gentleman of your fair seeming
A freer entertainment than this house has:
You partly know, sir —
C/flw. Know, and pity, lady, [blasted:
Such sweetness in the bud should be an
Dare vou make me your sen^ant?
leai. Dare you make, sir,
That service worthy of a woman's &vour
By constancy and goodness ?
Clou, Here I swear to you,
By the unvalued love I bear this beauty,
(And kiss the book too^ never to be recreant;
To lionour you, to truly love and serve you.
My youth to waicupon you, what my wealth
has— [aflfection !
Isab* Oh, make me not so poor to sell
Those bought loves, sir, wear fester than the
. monies.
A hand-
Act! Scenes.]
A fagodsome (^ntleman! a most delicate
iwcetone'^!
Clou, Let my truth purchase then!
hob, I should first try it ;
Bat TOQ may happily-*
CiSm. Yon ishaU not doubt me:
(I hope she loves me) When I prove false,
Will you believe a litUe? ^shame take me !
Jm. I fear, too much, sir.
dttu. And will vou love a little?
lub. That should be your part.
Ciau. Thus I begin then; thus, and thus.
hab. A good beginning, [ing.
We ha?e a proverb says, makes a good end-
Cku. Say you so? 'tis well inferr'd.
liob. Good sir, your patience !
Methinks IVe ventured now, like a weak
bark.
Upon a broken billow, that will swallow pie,
Upon a roo^h sea of suspicions,
Stuck round with jealous rocks.
Fen, fwUkin] A-hem, a-hem there !
hab. This is my man ! my fears too soon
have found me.
Enter Penurio.
Now, what's the news?
Pen, A pox of yond old tmcl.
The captain, the old captain f
bob. What old captain? . [castle.
Pen. Captain Courageous yonder^iof the
Captain, don Diego, old Bartello.
Imb. Where
Is he? [devil.
Pen, He's coming in: 'twould vex the
That such an old potgun as this, that
Can make no sport, should hinder them that
can do't. [tleinan
bob, I would not have him see the geif-
Forall the world; my predit were undone
then. [comes in.
Pen, Shall I fling a piss-pot on's tiead as he
Aad take him into the kitchen, there to dry
him? [morous too,
Isah. That will not do. And he's so hu-
He will come in.
Clau. What is he?
liab. One much troubles me.
Pen, And can do nothing, cannot eat.
Iktb. Your sight now.
Oat of a driveling dotage he bears to me,
May make him tell my husband, and undo
me.
Clau, What would you have me do?
hab. But for a while, sir,
Step here behind thb hanging ; presently
I'll answer him, and then —
Clau. I will obey you.
WOMEN PLEAS'D.
41
Enter Bartello.
Bart. Where's my rich jeweller? Fvc stones
to set.
Fen. He is abroad, and sure, ^r.
'Bart. There*^ for your service! [beauty?
Where's the fair lacly? All alone, sweet
Isab. She's never much alone, sir, that's
acquainted [thoughts are.
With such companions as good honest
Bart. I'll sit down by thee, and Til kiss
th^ hand too, [thee.
And in thine ear swear, by my life, I love
Isab. You're a merry captain.
Bart, And a mad one, lady, [eyes, wench f
By th' mass, th* hast goodly eyes, excellent
Ye twinkling rogues ! look what thy captain
brings thee !
Thou must needs love me, love me iieartily,
Hue me, and love me, hue me close.
Tsab. Fy, captain ! [strain you, sirrah,
Bart. Nay, I have strength, and I can
And vauk into my seat as nimbly, little one.
As any of your smooth-chin'd boys in Flo«
reuce. ^
I must needs commit a little folly with you ;
I'll not be long; a bridling cast, and away,
wench ! [way now —
Th' hob-hail thy husband's as fitly out o* th'
Isab. D' YOU think he keeps a bawdy-house ?
Bart. That all one. [my carriage,
Isab, Or did you e'er see that lightness in
That you might promise to yourself^—
Bart. Away, fool! [fellow.
A |ood turn's a good turn ; I'm an honest
Isab. You've a handsome wife, a virtuous
eentlewoman —
Bart, They are not for this time o* th' year.
Isab. A lady.
That ever bore that great respect to you,
That noble constancy —
Bart. That'9 more than I know.
Enter Maid and Penurh.
Maid. Oh, misttf^ss, you're undone! my
master's coining.
Pen. Coming hard by here.
Bart. Plague consume the rascal !
Shiilll make petty-pa ttieb of him?
Isab. Now what love, sir?
Fear of your coming made him jealous first;
Your finding here will make him mad and
desperate;
And what in tliat wild mood he'll execute —
Bart. 1 can think of nothing; I have uo
wit left me ;
Certain my head's a mustard-pot'* !
Isab. I've thought, sir;
" A mast delicate sweet one.] These words have liitherto been given to Claudio.
'* 1 have no wit l^ me:
Certain mtf head*s a mustard pot.] So in the Second Part of Henry IV. act ii. scene 4,
Fabtaff says, in answer to Doll Tearsheet's observation that Poius liad a good wit, ' He a
'good wit? bang him, baboon! his zoit is as thick as Tcwke<jbury miaf arc/; there is no
' oiore conceit in hijn than is in a maUet/ H,
VOL. III. G And,
4f
WOMEN PLEASED.
[Act d. Scene 1«
And, if you'll please to put in execution
What I conceive —
Bart, 111 do it; tell it quickly.
Isab, Draw your sworcl quickly, and go
down enrag'ci,
As if you liad pursu'd some foe up hither,
And grumble to yourself extremely, terribly.
Bat not a word to him; and so pass by him.
Bart, ril do it perfectly.
Enter Lopez.
Iwb. Stand you still, good sir. [so poorly,
Bart. Rascal, slave, villain ! take a house
After th* hast wrong'd a gentleman, a soldier?
Base poltroon boy! you will forsake your
nest, sirrah?
Lopez, The matter, good sweet captain ?
Bart. Run-away rogue ! [ardice ?
And take a house to cover thy base cow-
1*11 whip you, I'll so scourge you — lExit.
Lopez, Mercy upon me,
What's all this matter, wife ?
J$ah. Did you meet the mad man '' ?
Lopez, I never saw the captain so pro-
voked yet. [devil !
Isah. Oh, he*$ a devil sure, a most oloody
lie follow'd a young gentleman, his sword
drawn,
W*ith such a fury — how I shake to think on't!
And foin'd, ancl slash'd at him, and swore
he'd kill him ;
Drove him up hither, follow'd him still
bloodily^
And, if I bad not hid bim, sure had slain bim.
A merciless old man! [Claudia appears.
Clou. Most virtuous lady,
Even as the giver of my lire, I thank you !
Lopez. This fellow must not stay here, he's
too handsome. — [all security;
He's gone, sir, and you may pass now witli
I'll be your guide myself, and such a way
ril lead you, none shall cross, nor none shall
know you. [for this trick !
The doors left open, sirrah ? I'll starve you
rU make thee fast o' Sundays : and for you,
lady,
ni have your lodgings further off, and closer;
Y\\ have no street-lights to you! Will you
go, sir ? (this fortune ! —
Clau. I tliank you, sir !— -The devil take
And, once more, all my service to yonr
goodness ! [ExiU
Pen. Now could I eat my very arms for
madness ! [take it,
Cross'd in the nick o' th' matter? Vengeance
And that old cavalier that spoiFd our cock-
I'll lay the ne«t plot surer. [%1>^*
Isab. Fm glad, and sorry :
Glad that I got so fairly off suspicion ;
Sorry, I lost my new»lov'd friend.
Fen. Not lost, mistress ;
I'll conjure once aeain to raise that spirit.
In, an^ look soberly upon the matter! [fa 11^
We'll ring him one peal more; and if Uiat
The devil take tlie clappers, bells, and all!
[ExeunU
ACT III.
SCENE I.
Enter Ducheu, Lords, and Badope.
Duch. "VrOW, RoHope, how do you find
■^^ my daughwi* ?
Bjod. Madam, I find her now what you
would have her, [to her,
What the state wishes her ; I urg'd l»er fault
Open'd her eyes, and made her see the mis-
chief
She was running vrith a headlong will into ;
Made licr start at her folly, shake and tremble.
At the mere memory of such an ignorance.
She now contemns his love, hates his re-
membrance,
Cannot endure to hear the name of Silvio;
His person spits at —
IJtich, I am glad to hear thi.'.
Bod. And humbly now to your will, your
ciire, madam, [ence;
Bends her affections, bows her best obcdi-
Sienna's duke with new eyes now she looks
on.
And with a princely lore, fit for his person.
Returns that happiness and joy he look'd for;
The general good- of both the neighbour
dukedoms,
Not any private end, or rash affection.
She aims at now. Hearing the duke arrival
too fvice)^
(To whom she owes all honour, and all eer-
She charged me kneel thus at your graced
feet,
And not to rise without a general pardon.
Duch. She has it, and my love again, my
old love; [ten CO,
And with more tenderness I meet this pcni-
TlKin if she ne'er had staried from her ho-
nour, [vou,
I thank you, Rodopc, am bound to uiank
And daily to remeraoer this great service.
This honest faithful service ! Go in peace.
'5 Bidyoii vtcet, kc] This scene was afterwnrds introduced by Ravenscroft, into a co^i-
teniptible play written by him, which, however, liath been acted within these tew vears,
called The London Cuckolds. It. . * •
And
Att3. Scene 1-1
WOMEN PLEASED.
43
And by this ring, deliirer'd to Bartello,
Let her enjoy our favour, and her liberty;
And presently to this place^ with all honour.
See her conducted.
Rod. Your grace has made me happy.
Exit.
Enter a Lord.
lord. Siensa's noble duke craves his ad-
suttaoce.
Eakr Duke tf Sienna, with Attendants.
Dm*. Go, wait upon liis grace ! — Fair sir,
you're welcome,
Welcome to her ever admir'd your virtues !
And DOW, methinks, my court looks truly
YoaVe taken too much pains, sir. [noble.
Duke. Royal lady,
To wait upQn your grace is but my service.
DacA, keep that, sir, for the saint youVe
vov'd it to. [pleases
Duke. I keep a life for her. Since your grace
To jump so happily into the matter,
I come indeed to claim your royal promise.
The beauteous Belvidere in marriage :
I come to tender her my youth, my fortune.
My everlasting love.
Inter Bdtidere, Bartello, Rodope, and At^
tendants.
Duck. You're like to win, sir. —
All is forgot, forgiven too. No sadness^
Mjreood child! you have the same heart
siul here. [nobly.
The dake of Sienna, child ! Pray, use him
Duke. An angel beauty!
Bel Your grace is fairly welcome !
ADd what in modesty a blushing maid may
Wish to a gentleman of your great goodness —
Bat wi^es are too poor a pay for princes.
Duke. You've made me richer than all
states and titles ! [nours -.
One kiss of this white hand's above all ho-
My fiiith, dear lady, and my fruitful service,
My duteous zeal —
BeL Your grace is a great master.
And speak too powVfully to be resisted.
Once more, you're welcome, sir: to me
you're welcome, [sir;
To her that honours you ! I could say more.
But in another's tongue 'twere better spoken.
Duke. As wise as fair ! you've made your
servant happy.
I never saw so rich a mine of sweetness.
Duck, Will your grace please, after your
painiul journey, [ready?
To take some rest? Are the duke's lodgings
Lord, All, madam. [to-morrow, sir,
Duck. Then wait upon his grace, all ! And
WeH sliew you in what high esteem we hold
Till then, a fair repose ! ^ [you :
Duke, My fairest service !
[Knt Duke, 8fc.
Duck. You have so honoured me, my
dearest daughter,
So truly pleas'd me in this entertainment,
I mean your loving carriage to Sienna,
That both forever I forget all trespasses,
And to secure you next of my full favour,
Ask what you will within my power to grant
you,
Ask freely; and if I forget my promise —
Ask confidently !
Bel. You're too royal to me ;
To me that have so foolishly transgress'd you.
So like a girl, so far forgot my virtue,
Which now appears as base and ugly to me,
As did his dream, that jtliought he was in
Paradise, [der'd !
Awak'd and saw the devil. How was I wan-
And lose an object of that graceful sweetness.
That god-like presence, as Sienna is !
Darkness and cheerful day had not such dif-
ference.
But I must ever bless your care, your wisdom,
That led me from this labyrinth of folly :
How had I sunk else! what example given!
Duck. Prithee no more; and as tliou art
my best one, [ness !
Ask something that may equ:d such a good-^
BeL Why did you let him go so slightly
from you.
More like a man in triumph, than condemn'd ?
Why did you make his penance but a qucs-
A riddle, every idle wit unlocks ! [tion,
Duck. 'Tis not so,
Nor do not fear it so ; he will not find it :
I have given that (unless mjjQ^lf discover it)
Will cost his head.
Bel. 'TIS subject to construction ?
Duch. That it is too.
Bel. It may be then absolv'd, [madam:
Aiul then are we both scorn'd and luugh'd at.
Beside the promise you h^ve tied upon it,
Which you must never keep —
Duch. 1 never meant it. [my suit to you,
Bel. For Heav'n's sake, let rae know't ? 'tis
The boon you'd have me ask : let me but see
it.
That, if there be a way to make't so strong
No wit nor powerful reason can run thro' it
For my disgrace, I may beg of Heav'n to
grant it. [judgments
l)ucA. Fear not ! it has been put to sharper
Than e'er he shall arrive at : my dear father,
That -was as fiery in his understanding
And ready in his wit as any living.
Had it two yeai*s, and studied it, yet lost it :
Tfiis night you are my bedfellow! there,
daughter,
Into your bosom I'll commit this secret.
And there we'll both take counsel.
Bel. I shall find
Some trick I hope too strong yet for hi»
mind. / {KnewiH,
G 2 I5C£NJB
u
W OMEN PLEAS'D.
[Act 3. Scene 2«
SCENE IL
Enter Penurio.
Pen. Methinks I'm batten'd well of late,
grown lusty, [teous Rugjo !
Tat, high, and kicking, thanks to the boun-
And now, methinks, I scorn these poor re-
pasts, [pilchers:
Cheese-parings, and the stinking tongues of
But why should I remember these? they're
odious, [now,
They're odious in mine eyes; the full fat dish
The bearing dish, is that I reverence.
The dish an able serving-man sweats under.
And bends i' th' hams, as if the house hung
on hiiD, quets.
That dish is the dish ; hang your bladder ban-
Or half a dozen of turnips and two mush-
rooms! [but two belches :
These, when they breed their best, hatch
The state of a fat turkey, the decorum
He marches in with, all the train and cir-
cumstance ;
'Tis such a matter, such a glorious matter !
And then Ids sauce with oranges and onions.
And he display'd in all parts! for such a
dish now.
And at my need, I would betray my father,
And, for a roasted conger, all my country*^.
Enter Bartello.
Bart, What, ray friend Lean-gut! how
docs thy beauteous mistress?
Aiid wherc*s your master, sirrah? where's
that hornpipe ?
Pen. My mistress, sir, does as a poor
wrong'd gentlewoman [injuries)
(Too much, Heav'n knows, oppress*d witii
Mav do, and live.
A/r^ Is tlie old fool still jealous?
Pen, As old fools are and will be, still the
S!une, sir. [cause.
Bart. He must have cause, he must have
Pen. 'Tis true, sir ;
And would he had with all my heart !
Bart, He shall have. [porridge.
Pen. For then he had salt to his saiTron
Bart. Why [rascal?
Don't I see thee sometime? why, thou starved
Why don*c you come to me, you precious
bow-case ?
I keep good meat at home, good store.
Pen. Yes, sir;
I will not fail you all next week.
Bart. ThoiiVt welcome :
I have a secret I would fain impart to thee ;
But thou*rt so thin, the wind will blow it
from thee,
Or men will read it thro* thee.
Pen. Wrapt up in beef, sir, [me !
In good gross beef, let all the world look on
The Englisli have that trick to keep intelli-
gence, [tie your tongue up.
Bart, A witty knave ! First, there's to
Pen. Dumb as a dog, sir.
Bart, Next, hark in your ear, sirrah!
Pen, Well, very well, excellent well ! Tis
done, sir ;
Say no more to me.
Bart. Say, and hold.'
Pen, 'Tis done, sir.
Bart. As thou lov*st butter'd eggs, swear.
Pen. Let me kiss the book first :
But here's my hand, brave captafai. ^
Bart. Look you hold, sirran. [Eril.
Pen, Oh, the most precious vanity of this
world ! [and larded
When such dry neats* tongues must be 8oak*d
With voung fat supple wenclies! Oh, the
devil.
What can he do? he cannot suck an ^igofT,
But his back's loose i' th' hilts : go thy ways,
captain I
Well may thy warlike name work miracles;
But if e'er thy founder'd courser win match
Or stand right but one train — [more.
Enter Three Gentlemen,
1 Gent. Now, signor Shadow,
What art thou thinking of? how to rob tky
master — [undertakes that.
Pen. Of his good deeds f The thief that
Must have a hook will poze all hell to ham^
roer. [pose*^
Have you din'd, gentlemen, or do you pur*
2 Gent. Din'd, two long hours ago.
Pen, Pi-ay ye take me with ye.
3 Gent, To supper, dost thou mean ?
Pen. To any tlung [true, gentlemen;
That has the smell of meat in't. Tell me
Arc not you three now going to be sinful ?
To jeopard a joint, or so? I've found your
faces' 7,
I And sec tchore written in your eyes.
iGeni^
^ All tny cmntrv.'] To betray a father, and all a country, sounds something harsh. I
would suppose the line once run so, ,
And for a roasted conger sell my country. Sympson,
*' To iropard a point. ^ Mr. Theobald and Mr. Seward read witlime je^flrrf, and the old-
est folio retains pretty near the same reading,
. Tbjeabard apoinf.
But what are we to make of, Pve fovnd your fices? The reader may put what sense he
pleases to this place. But I cannot help tliinking but we ought to read,
I've con'd your faces,
t. e. consider'd, viow'd, study'd 'em. Sj/mpson.
\\ hy Mr. Syrapson, in his quotations in this note, substitutes jjoi/i/ for joint, we are at a
lost ^o know; and so we ar§ to find out v here the difliculty of, i'r* found ^our facet, lies:
Feuuritf
AfitlSceittS.]
WOMEN PLEAST3.
4«
. 1 Gent. A parions rascal!
liioo'it much upon the matter.
Pen. Mave a care, gentlemen !
Ttt a sore age, very sore age, lewd age ;
And women now are like old knights' ad-
ventures.
Foil of enchanted flames, and daqgerous.
S Gent. Where the most danger is, there's
the most honour. [sufferance;
Pen. I grant ye, honour most consists in
And by tlmt role you three should be most
honourable. J^^^> Penurio,
3 Gent, A subtle rogue! But canst thou
Where we may lieht upon —
Pen. A learned sui^eon ?
3 Gent, Pox take ye, fool ! I mean good
wholesome wenches. [spoil ye too.
Pen. 'Faith, wholesome women will but
For you are so us'd to snap-haunches'^ —
Bat take my counsel;
Take &t old women, fat, and five and fifty;
The do^ays are come in.
S Gent. Take fat old women? [better !
Pen. The fatter and the older, still the
Too do not know the pleasure of an old
dame, [knack on*t :
A fat old dame; you do not know the
They're like our country grots^ as cool as
CbristmAS,
And sore i' th' keels. [os !
1 Gent. Hang him, starv'd fool, he mocks
3 Gent. Penurio, thou know^st all the
handsome wenches : [ now ?
^'hat shall I give thee for a merchant's wife
Pen. I take no money, gentlemen ; that's
base! [ye —
I trade in meat : A merchant's wife will cost
A glorious capon, a great shoulder of mutton^
And a tart as big as a conjurer's circle.
3 Gent. That's cheap enough.
1 Gent. And what a (abei^asher's?
Fen. Worse meat will serve for her: a
great goose-pie—
(But you must send it out o' di* country to
me.
It will not do else) with a piece of bacooi
And, if you can, a pot of lAitter with it.
2 Genf. Now do I aim at horse-flesh s
what a parson's ? [her;
Pen. A titl)e-pig has no fellow, if I tetch
If she be puritan '', plumb porridge does it.
And a fat loin of veal, well sauc'd and roasted.
2 Gent. We'll meet one night, and tliou
shalt liave all these,
O' that condition we may have the wenches^
A dainty rascal !
Pen. When your stomachs serve ye,
(For mine is ever ready) 1*11 supply ye.
1 Gent. Farewell ! and there s to fill thj
Pen. Brave gentleman — [paunco,
2 Gent. Hold, sirrah ! there. '
Pen, Any young wench i* th* town, sir—
3 Gent, it shall go round. [Exeunt Qent.
Pen. Most honourable gentlemen !
All these are courtiers; bat they are mere
coxcombs,
And only for a wench their purses open;
Nor have they so much judgment left to
chuse her.
If e'er they call upon me, I'll so fit 'em--
I have a pack ofwry-mouth'dmackrelladieSy
Stink like a standing ditch, and those dear
damsels — [monsieurs !
But I forgot my business; I thank you,
I have a thousand whimsies in my brains
now. [Ikit*
SCENE III.
Enter (to a banquet) Ducheis, Duke of 5*-
enna, Lordt^ and Attendants.
Duch. Your grace shallnow perceive how
much we honour you, [ship.
And in what dear regard we hold your fnend-
Will you sit^ sir, and grace this homely ban«
quet ? [too magnificent.
Vuke. Madam, to your poor friend you're
Penurio asks them coarsely. Are not you three going to be sinful? and aflerwards adds, Fvs
hand yonr faces; i.e. *I have discovered .the meaning of your looks, and see whore
written in your eyes.' This interpretation is unforced, and shews found to be the betteiy
as well as the older reading. Corid conveys a weaker sense.
'* Snap-haunces.] So the former editions.
*^ If she be Puritan, plumb porridge^ I read, ^
If she ben't Puritan, ^c.
The Puritans have several of them very warmly opposed the observance of church festivals,
and of consequence the feasting upon tliem, which Hudibras has finely burlesqued, in part i«
eanto i.
» Rather than fail, they will defy
That which they love most tenderly;
Quarrel with minc*d pies, and disparage
Their best and dearest friend plum porridge;
Fntpig and goose itself oppose,
Ana blaspheme ctafar</ thro' the nose.
From whence it vrill appear that a ne^tive is wanting in the line above, which I have in«
Berted. The reader wiA observe that in this and another banter on the fanatics, our poets
have brought their scene back to England ; for I believe there was never any sect of them)
ihat held these doctrines on tlie other side the Alps. Seward.
This note cobfirms, we think, instead of s)iaking the text.
Duch.
WOMEN PLEAS'D.
[Act 3. Scene 4^
JDiicL To the duke's healtb, and all the
joys I wish him ! [sic ?
Let no man miss this cap. Have we no mu-
Duke. Your noble favoars still jfou heap
upon me ! [feast.
But wherc's my virtuous mistress? such a
And not her sparkling beauty here to bless it?
Methinks it should not t>e ; it shews not
fully.
DucA. Young ladies, sir, are long aud cu-
rious [goes,
In putting on their trims ^°, forget how day
And then'tis their good-4norrow when they're
ready.— [hither;
Go some and call lier, and wait upon her
Tell her the dukeand I desireher company. —
I warrant you, a hundred dressings now
She hassurvey'd; this and that fashion looked
on, [jewels
For ruiTs and gowns ; cast this away, these
Suited to these and these knots: O' my life,
sir, [else. —
She fears your curious eye will soon discover
"Why stand ye still ? why gape ye on one ano-
ther?
Did I not bid ye go, and tell my daughter?
Arc you nail'df here? Nor stir, nor speak?
And who are you ? [Who am I?
1 Lord. Pardon me, gracious lady! [of,
The fear to tell you that you would not hear
Makes us all dumb: the princess is gone,
madam. [fellow answer me !
Duck. Gone? whither gone? Some wiser
St Lord. We sought the court all over;
aud, believe, lady, [hence.
No news of where she is, nor how conveyed
Duch. It cannot be, it must not be!
1 Lord. Tis true, madam; [thro* it.
Ko room in air the court, but we seai-ch'd
Her women found her want first, and they
cried to us. [dishonoured.
Duck. Gone? stol'n away? I am abus'd,
Duke. Tis I that am abus*d, 'tis I dis-
honoured! [me?
Is this your welcome? this your favour to
To foist a trick upon me? this trick too,
To cheat me of my love? Am I not worthy?
Or, since I was your guest, am I grown
odious?
Duch. Your grace mistakes me; as I have
a life, sir — [this,
Duke. And I another, I will ne\'er bear
Never endure this dor** !
Duch. But hear me patiently!
Duke. Give me my love !
Duch. As soon as care can find her;
And all care shall be us'd.
Dluke. And all my care too, [rank ;
To be revcng'd : I smell the trick ; 'tis too
Fy, how it smells o' th' motJier !
Duch. You wrong me, duke.
Duke. For this disgrace, ten thousand
Florentines
Shall pay their dearest bloods, and dying
curse you!
And so I turn away your mortal ^em y !
[Ejrit.
Duch, Since you're so high and hot, sir,
you've half arm'd us.
Be careful of the town, of all the castles^
And see supplies of soldiers every where.
And musters for the field when he invites us;
For he shall know, 'tis not high words can
fright us. [me ^
My daughter gone? Has she so finely co2en.'d
This is for Silvio's sake sure ; oh, cunning
false one 1
Publish a proclamation thro* the dukedom.
That whosoe'er can bring to the court young
Silvio,
Alive or dead, beside our tJianks and favour.
Shall have two thousand ducats for his labour !
See it dispatch'd and sent in haste. Oh, base
one! [Exeunt,
SCENE IV.
Enter Jschella, and Penurio with a light.
Isab, Wast thou with Rugio ?
Fen. Yes, marry was 1, closely »
Isab. And does he still remember his poor
Does he desire to see me? [mistress?
Fen. Yes, and presently; [mory;
Puts oif all business else ; lives in that me*
And will be here according to directions.
Isab. But where's thy master ?
Fen. Where ja. coxcomb should be ;
VVaiting at court with his jewels; safe for
This night, I warrant you.
Isab. I am bound to thee. [tie you.
Fen. I would you v^ ere, as close as I could
Isab. Thou art my best, my truest friend-—
Fen. I labour,
I moil and toil for you; I am yourhacknej.
Isab, If ever I be able —
Fen. Steal the great cheese, mistress^
Was sent him out o' th* country.
Isab. Any thing —
Fen. That's meat; 'tis lawful, mistress.
Where's the castle-custard.
He got at court ?
Isab. He has lock'd it in his study.
Fen. Get a warrant
To search for counterfeit gold.
Isab. Give me thy candle;
I'll find a time to be tliy careful cajfj^r.
Fen. And many a time I'll find to be his
cook, [sauce, mistress !
And dress his calf's head to the sweetest
Isab. To bed, Penurio! go; tl;e rest is
I'll keep the watch out [my charge j
*® Triws.'l In our ancient writers, trim almost always signifies dress. It plainly does so
here, and in another passage in act v. So, in Shakespeare's King John, a bride undrat is
called an unt rimmed bride. See act iii. scene 1.
*' Dor.'\ See note 35 on Love's Pilgrimage,
R.
Fen.
Act 5. Scene 4]
WOMEN PLEAS'D.
4f
• Pen. Now if you spare him-^ lExit.
Lab, Peace, fool!— [me.
I hope my Ru^o will not foil * 'twould vex
Xiow to my stnng ! so ; sore he camiot miss
now;
And this end to my £nger. FIl He down,
For on a sadden I am wondrous heavy ;
Tis very late too ; if he come and find this,
And pull it, tho* it be with easy motion,
I sbafl soon waken, and as soon be with him.
Enter Lopez,
Lopez, Thon secret friend ^% how am I
bound to love thee !
And how to hug thee for thy private service !
Thou art the star all my suspicions sail by,
The fixed point my wronged honour turns to :
By thee I shall know all, find all the subtilties
W devilish women, that torment me /laily :
Thoa artrnv conjurer, my spell, my spirit!—
Alfs httsfa'd and still, no sound of any stir-
ring, [stUl;
No tread of living thing ! The light is in
And there's my wife ^ hnw prettily the fool
iies, [too !
How sweetand handsomely; and in hercloaths
Waiting for me, upon my life ! her fondness
Would not admit her rest till I came to her :
Oh, careful fool, why am I angry with thee ?
Why do I think tlion hat'st thy loving husband?
I am an ass, an over-^loting coxcomb ;
And this sweet soul the mirror of perfection.
How admirable lair and delicate ! [requiem.
And how it stirs me I 1*11 sing thy sweets a
But will not waken thee.
SONG.
Oh, fair sweet face, oh, eyes celestial bright,
Twin stars in Heav'n, tliat now adorn the
night; ^
Oh, fruitful lips, where cherries ever grow.
And damask cheeks^ where all sweet beauties
blow; ^
Oh thou, from head to foot divinely fair !
Cupid's most cunning net's made of that hair;
And, as he weaves himself for curious eyes.
Oh me, oh me, Fm caught myseU^ he cries:
Sweet rest about thee^ sweetand golden sleep,
Soft peaceful thoughts, your hourly watches
teep.
Whilst I in wonder sing this sacrifice.
To beauty sacred, and tliose angel-eyes!
Kow will I steal a kiss, a dear kiss from her,
And suck the rosy breath of this bright
beauty. —
What a devil's this ? tied to her finger too ?
A string, a damned string, to give intelligence !
Oh, my loT'd key, how t^u^y hast thou aerv*d
me! [goes,
ni follow this: soft, soft! to th' door it
And thro' to th^ other side ! a daran'd string
'tis!
I am abus'd, topt, cuckolded, fool'd, jaded.
Ridden to deadi, to madness ! Stay, thit
helps not ;
Stay, stay] and now invention help me!
rU sit down by her, take this from her easily,
And thus upon mine own. Dog, I shall catch
you; [y^^
With all vour cunning, sir, I shall light on
I felt it pull sure ; yes, but wondrous softly;
'Tis there again, and harder now : have at you !
Now an thou scap'st, the devil's thy ehostlv
father! [Exd.
Itah. Sure 'twas my husband's voice I The
rJ^^}^ 6one too ; (betra/d,
H has found the trick on't! Tm undone.
And if he meet my friend, he perishes;
What fortune follows me, what spiteful forr
Hoa, Jaquenet ! [tune !
Enter Jaquenet,
Jaq, Here, mistress; do you call me?
I$ab, Did'st thou hear no noise?
Jac, I hear my master mad yonder.
And swears and nhafpx^
laab, Dar'st thou do one thing for me?
One thing concerns mine honour? all is lost.
Jaq, Name what you will. [else,
l»ab. It can bring but a beating.
Which I will recompense so largely-^
Jaq. Name it.
Itah. Sit here as if thou wert asleep.
Jaq, Is that all! [unto thee,
liab. When he comes in, whatever he do
(The worst will be but beating) speak not a
Not one word, as thou lov'st me. [word
J«9. I'll run thro* it. '
hub, I'll carry away the candle. [Exit.
Jaq, And I the blows, mistress. ^ .
Enter Lopez.
Lopez, Have you put your light out? I
shall stumble to you, [your rogue too s
1 ou whore, you cunniue whore ! I sliall catch
li' has light legs, else I had so ferretrclaw*d
OK r rr A ,^[^eep still, whore?
Uh, have I found you? Do you play at dog-
D you think that can protect you? Yes, 1*1
kill thee ; [lainies.
But first rU bring thy friends to view thy vil-
Thy whorish villainies : and first I'll beat thee,
Beat thee to pin-dust, thou salt whore, thou
varlet, [i„g yig^^g j
Scratch out thine eyes : I'll spoil your tempt-
Are you so patient? Til put my naiis in
deeper.
Is it good whoring? whoring, ye base rascal?
Is It good tempting men with strings to ride
y*^V^ [whore;
So! ril fetch your kindred, and your friend^
And auch a justice I will act upon thee
lExik
Enter Isabella.
' Isah, What, is he gone?
Jaq. The devil go with him, laistrcss I
** ITiott secret frieiid.] Hi& private key. Sampson,
H'haa
48
WOMEN PLEASED.
[Act a. Scene 4.
H'has harrow'd me^ plougVd land was ne*er
so harrow'd;
I'd the most ado to save mine eyes.
Itab. H' has paid thee ; [net
But rU heal all a^in with good gold, Jaque-
H* has damned nails. [tress ;
Jaq. They're tenpenny nails, I think, mis-
Ill undertake be shall strike 'em thro' an inch
board. [matum;
l9ttb. Go up and wash thyself; takpmypo-
And now let me alone to end the tragedy.
Jaq. You'd best beware.
Itab. I shall deal stoutly with him;
Reach me my book, and see the door made
fast, wench ; [litick !
And so, good night ! Now to the matter po-
[Lopez knocks within.
Lopes, [within] You shall see what she is,
what a sweet iewel.
Itab. Who's there ? what madman knocks?
is this an hour.
And in mine husband's absence ?
Lopez, [within^ Will you open?
You know my voice, you whore! I am that
husband. [her ;
D^you mark her subtilty? But I have paid
I have so ferk'd her face — Here's the blood,
gentlemen! [ty;
Ecce signutn ! I have spoil'd her goatish beau-
Observe her how she looks now, how she's
painted ! [most treacherous —
Oh, 'tis the most wicked'^st whore *3, and the
JE^nter Lopez, Bartello, Gentlanen, and two
CentUaomen.
Gent. Here walks my cousin, full of me-
Arm'd with religious thoughts. [ditadon,
Bart. Is this the monster? [you talk'd of,
1 Gentlew. Is this the subject of that rage
That naughty woman you had puU'd a-pieces?
Bart. Here's no such thing. [beaut)r I
1 Gentlew. How have you wrong'd this
Are you not mad, my friend ? What time o'
th' moon is't?
Have not you ma^ots in your brains ?
Lopez. Tie she sure I
Gent. Where's the scratch'd face you
spoke of, the torn garments.
And all tlie hair pluck'd off her head ?
Bart, Believe me, [pebbles,
'Twere better far you'd lost ^our pair of
Than she the least ailomment of that sweet-
Lopez. Is not this blood ? [ness.
1 Gentiew. This is a monstrous folly,
A base abuse!
Itab. Thus he docs ever use me,
And sticks me up a wonder, not a woman :
Nothing I do, hut's subject to suspicion ;
Nothing I can do, able to content liim.
*' QA, 'tis the most wicked'st whore,'] The putting the sign of the superlative degree, to
the superlative degree itself, as the comparative sign to the comparative degree a little
above, is a practice in which our authors are not sin'^uiar, Sj/mpson.
*♦ Flaws.] This word, in our authors' time, signihed stornis, or gusts. Several instances
might be produced. R,
t Gentlew.
Bart. Lopez, you must not use this.
2 Gentlew. 'Twere not amiss, sir, [ly—
To give ye sauce t' your meat ; and sudden-
1 Gentlew, You that dare wrong a wo-
man of her goodness — [to thee.
Thou have a wife ! thou have a bear tied
To scratch thy jealous itch! Were all o' my
mind, [then yoa
I mean all women, we would soon disbur-
Of that that breeds these fits, these dog«
flaws** in ye;
A sow-gelder should trim you.
Bart. A rare cure, lady, [ter ! —
And one as fit for him as a thief for a hal-
You see this youth; will you not cry lum
quittance?
Body o' me, I'd pine, but I would pepper him;
I'll come anon.^-£Le, hang him, ipoor pout*
pillion ! [laay*—*
How hke a wench bepist he looks 1 — i'U canoe
Lopez, the law must teach you what a wife is.
A good, a virtuous wife —
Itab. I'll ne'er live with him ! [cause,
I crave your loves aU to make known my
That so tair a divorce may pass between us :
I'm weary of my life; in danger hourly.
Bart. You see how rude you are— I will
not miss you —
Unsufferable rude— I'll pay him soundly —
You should be whipt in Bedlam— I'll reward
him —
S Gentlew. Whippings tao ^d— •
Lopez. I think I am alive stiU,
And m my wits 1
Bart. I'll put a trick upon him— ['em*
And get his goods confiscate; you shall have
I will not &il at nine —
Lopez. I think I'm here too ; {napping.
And once I would have sworn I'd ta'en her
I tliink my name is Lopez.
Gent. Fy for shame, sir! [her;
You see you have abus'd her, foully wronged
Hung scandalous and coarse opinions on her.
Which now you find but children of suspicion r
Ask her forgiveness, shew a penitence !
She is my kinswoman ; and what she sufifera
Under so base and beastly jealousies,
I will redress, else I'll seek satisiaction.
Bart. Why every boy 'i th' town will piss
Lopez. I'm sorry for't— « [upon thee.
1 Gentlew, Down o' your marrow-bones !
Lopez. E'en sorry from my heart: for*
give me, sweet wife ! [you;
Here I confess most freely I have wrong'il
As freely here I beg a pardon of you I
From this hour no debate, no cros5> suspi-
cion— [wife's part,
Isah, To shew you, sir, I understand a
Thus I asbure my love, and seal your pardon.
Id 4. Scene 1.]
WOMEN PLEASE.
S Genilem. Tis tvett doae: bow to bed,
and there confina it !
Cotf. And so good ni^t !
BarL Aware relapses/Lopez. [Exeunt.
Lovez. Now Isabella, tell me truth, and
saadenljy
And do not jug^e with me, nor dissemble,
(For, as I have a life, you die then ! tm not
(Nor does the deyil work opon my weakness)
Tell me the trick of this, and tell me freely.
liob. Will then that satisfy yon?
Lopez. If you deal ingenuously, [freely.
Lib, m tell you all, and tell you true and
Butetto was the end of all this jealousy ;
His often visitations brought by )roii, first
Bred all these fits, and tfa^ suspicions ;
I knew yoor fidse key, and accordingly
1 6am'd my plot, to have you take him finely.
Too poor a penance for the wrong his wife
Wan,
His worthy virtuous wife ! I felt it sensibly.
When you took off the string, and was much
pleasMin't, [well;
Because I wish*d his importunate dotage oaid
And had you staid two minutes more y had
had him.
Lopez. This sounds like truth.
I$ab. Because this 3hail be certain.
Next time he comes (as long he cannot tarry)
Yourself sliall see, and hear, his lewd temp-
tations, [prove true,
Lopez. Till then I'm satisfied : and if this
Henceforward mistress of yourself I give you.
And I to serve you. For my lusty captain,
ril make himciance, and make him think the
devil [him.
Claws at his breech, and yet I will not hurt
Come now to bed; and prove but constant
this way,
ril prove the man you ever wish'd.
Itabi You've blest me. lExeunL
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Enter Silvio.
Si/. 'IX7HAT labour and what travel have I
"" mnthro*, \
And thro* what cities, to absolve this riddle !
IKviners, dreamers, schoolmen, deep magi-
dans, [ings,
AU have I tried ; and all give several mean-
And from all hope of any future happiness :
To Uusplace am I come at length, the country;
The people simple^ plain, and harmless witty.
Whose honest labours Heav'n rewards with
plenty [thankful
Of com, wine, oil, which they again, as
Todttir new crops new pastimes celebrate,
And crown their joyful harvests with new
voices.
By a rich farmer here Fm entertain'd,
And raok'd among the number -of his sen-
▼ants, [me.
^ot guessing what I am, but what he*d have
aere may be so much wit(tho' much I fear it)
T' oodo this knotty question; and Vouid to
Heav'n—
Enter Soto, with a Proclamation.
% fortunes had been hatched with tljeirs,
as innocent, [ness!
^ never known a pitch above their plain-
Sd/o. That it is, that it is. What^s this
^isapla^uy word, that it is ; [word now?
*»«>fl,tiiatitis,reflioii. By your leave, [sir;
*f.Soto, by your leave, yon are too quick,
Asere'j a strange parlous T befbre the reason^
A very tall T, which makes the word higk-^
treason. . [understand himself^
Sil. What treason's tha,t? does this fellow
Soto, Pitch will infect; I'll meddle no more
• with this ^eer.-^ [low?
What a devd ails tliis fellow; this fqolish fel-
Being admitted to be one oi^ us too, [ino;^
That are the masters of the -sports proceed-
Thus to appear before me too, unmorris*d?
D' you know me, friend ?
oil. You are my master's son, sir.
Soto. And do vou know what sports are
now in season r
Sil. 1 hear there are some a-footl
Soto. Where are your bells then?
Your rings, your ribbands, friend ? and your
clean napkins? flhere
Your nosegay in your hat, pinned up r An'C
My father*s eldest'sou ? and at this time, sir,
I would ha\>e you know it, though you be ten
tiifkes his servant, [harvest, sir;
A better man than my father far, lord of tliis
And shall a man of my place want attend-
ance ? [^uty, bred this ;
Sil. Twas want of knowledge, sir, not
rd have made suit else for your lordship's
service. [mend your manners !
Soto. In some sort I am satisfied now;
But thou art a melancholy fellow, vengeance
melancholy, [us i
And that may breed an insurrection amongst
Go to ! I'll lay the best part of two pots now
Thoii art in love, and I can guess with whom
too;. [at thee,
I saw .the wench that twir^d^^ ax«i twinkled
Twir^d.] So Ben Jonson in his Sad Shepherd, act ii. scene 3.
xj^, , Which maids will twirc ai thro' their fiiiaera,
VOL UL I£ *
Sj/mpson*
The
60
WOMEN PLEAS'D.
[Aot4. S€CDe 1.
The other dny; the wencb that's new come
The Young smug wench. [hither,
Sit. You know more than I feel, sir.
Soto. Go to! m be thy friend. 111 spenk
a good word for thee, [to her.
And^houfthait have my lordshio's countenance
May be JVe had a snap myself; may be ay,
may be no;
We lords are allowed a little more.
SiL Tisfit, sir: [derofmc.
I humbly thank you! you're too, too ten-
But tvhat, sir, I beseecli you, was that paper,
Your lordship was so studiously employed in.
When you came out a-doors ?
Soto. Thou meanest this paper?
SiL That, sir, I think.
Soto. Why, 'tis a proclamation,
A notable piece of villainy, as ever thou
heard'st in thy life ;
By mine honour 'tis.
SiL How, sir, or what concerns it ?/
Soto. It comes you from the duchess, a
plaguy wise woman, '^
To apprehend the body of one Silvio, [post)
(As arrant a rascal as ever piss'd asamst a
And this same Silvio, or this foresaid rascal,
To bring before her, live or dead; for which
good service [ducats :
The man that brmgs him has two tLousand
Is not this notable matter nowP
SiL Tis so indeed'. —
Tins proclanuition bears my bane about it I
Can no rest find me, no pnvate place secure
me, [toe ?
But still my miseries like blood-hounds haunt
Unfortunate young man, which way now
guides thee, [round for thee.
Guides thee from death? the country's laid
Oh, Claudio, now I feel thy blood upon me;
Now it speaks loudly here, I'm sure, against
me; [claim'd it.
Time now has found it out, and truth pro-
And justice now cries out, I mast die for it.
Soto. Hastthoureadit?
SiL Yes.
Soto. And dost thou know that SiKio f
SiJ. I never saw him, sir.
Soto. I have, and know him too, [ter ;
I know him as well as I know thee, and bet-
And, if I light upon^him, for a trick he play 'd
me once, • [him !
A certain kind of dog-trick, Fll so fiddle
Two thousand ducats? 1*11 so pepper him!
. And with that money I'll turn gentleman,
Worth a brown baker*sd(izen of such Silvios.
SiL There is no staying here; this rogue
will know me.
And for the money's sake betray me too:
I must bethink me suddenly and safely.
Enter Morris-dancers.
Stfto. Mine own dear lady, have at thy ho-
neycomb ! . [trace sweetly \
Now, for die honour of our town, bqys,
{Cry within qf^ Avm^ arm !
What a veageanoe aib thb wbobub? pox re-
fuse em! [here?
Cannot they let's dance in our own defence
Enter Farmer and Captain.
Copt, Arm, honest friends, arm suddenly
and bravely, [me •
And with your ancient resolutions follow
Look how the beacons shew like cocaets;
your poor neighbours
Run maddingly affrighted thro' the villages;
Sienna's duke is up, bums all before hina.
And with his sword makes thousand mothers
cliildless.
Soto. What's this to our morri*Klancers?
m. This
May serve my turn.
Soto, There's ne'er a dake in chnsteadom
But loves a May-game,
Capt. At a horse
You were always cess'd ; put your son on him.
And arm him well! i' th' state's name, I cojur*
mand you :
And tliey that dare go Toluntary shall
Receive reward.
Soto, I dai-e go no way, sir.
This is strange, master captain^ [here^
You cannot be content to spoil our sport
(Which I dont thiiJt your worship's able to
answer)
But you mast set ms together by the earsy
With I know not who too ? We are for
The bodily part o'th' dance.
CapU Ann him suddenly ! [elae
(This is no time to fool) I shall return you
A rebel to the general state, and duchess ^
And how you'll answer then —
Farmer. I've no more sons, sir ;
This is my only boy; I beseech you, master
captain— [truth, sir;
Soto. Fm a rank coward too, to say the
I never hud good luck at buBets neither.
Farmer. Here's vorty sliillings, spare the
child.
Capt. I cannot. [a May-lord ?
Soto. Arc you a man? will you cast awaj
^Shall all the wenches in the country curse
you ? [his person ;
SiL An't please you, captain. 111 supply
CTis pity their old custom should be frighted)
Let me have horse, and good arms, I'll serve
willinirly, [liie !
And, if I shrink ft foot of ground, hell take
Capt. A promising aspect, face full of
courage.
, I'll take tliis man, and thank you too —
Farmer. There's for thee ;
'Tis in a clout, but good old gold.
SiL I thank you, sir. [feather on too^
Farmer. Go, saddle my forehorse, put his
(He'll praunce it bravely, friend; he fears no
colours) [dizeu'd.
And take the armour down, and sec him
Soto. Farewell ! asd if thou cacriest thyself
Well in \U\% matter— I s^y no more, but this
'I here
WOMEN PLEASD.
U
Act 4b Sonfe s*j
There most be mora MttJ-^n1% «nd I know
Are fit. [who
SiL Danee you ; Fll fig^t, sir.
Cap/. Away, away I
SU, Farewell ! I'm for the captain ^^
[EseunL
Formfr. Now to this matter again^ my
honest fellows !
For, if this go not forward, I foresee, friends,
Tlus war wul fii^t our neighboars out o'
• th* villages : [news, boys.
Cheer up your hearts ! we shall hear better
Bomhy, Surely Til dance no more*^, 'tis
most ridiculous :
I find ray wife's instructions now mere ve-
rities,
Mj learned wife's; ^e often hath pronounced
to me [damnM else.'
Mjaafety: <Boraby, defy these siJorts; thou'rt
IliiB beast of Babylon I will ne'er back
igwn,
ms pace is nue prophane, and lus lewd
The song! of Hymyn*' and Gymyn, in the
vildemeit, [again^'f
Farmer* Fy, iieithbourBomby, in vour fits
Tour zeal sweats. This is not carcRu, neigl>
bour;
Tli^ hobby-horse n a seemly hobby-horse— ^
Soto, And as pcetty a beast on's inches, ^
tho* I say it— [lewd beast,
Bomby. The beast is an unseemly and a
And got at Rome by the pope's coach-horses ;
His mother was the mare of Ignorance.
8(^0, Cobler, thou llest, an thou wert a
thousand coblers ! [of good credit ;
His mother was an honest mare, and a mare
I know the mare, and^ if need be, can bring
witness;
And, in the way of honesty I tell thee,
Scom'd any coach-horse the pope had; thou'rt
foolish, [beast,
And diy blind zeal makes thee abuse the
Bombtf, I do defy thee, and thy foot-cloth
too;
And tell thee to thy iace, this prophane riding,
** Tm for the cimtainJ] Theobald's margin says, for thee, captain,
*' Hob. Surely PU dance, ^c] As there is no such name as Hob in the dromatig perumS,
"od as he is call^, and calls himself here and through the scene, by the name of Boniby;
nethinks we ought to displace this nonsensical Hoby and iuscrt Bomby in its place. Stfmpson.
*• The sons ^ 4"^,] Corrected by Theobald.
** • in your Jit$ again.
Your zeai sweats,] For the want only of a single hyphen, how difficult is it to under-
'Ind &e humour of the Farmer here f Sure ^e should write thus,
your fits again^
Your leal-sweats? Sympson,
The old reading is most easy and natural.
^I^hobby-horse.].Among8tthecountry May-games there was an hMy^hor$ey which,
♦hen the puritanical humour of those times opposed, and discredited these games, was
htooght by the poets and ballad-makers as an instance of the ridiculous zeal of tVm,
ketones: firom the.se ballads Hamlet quotes a line or two. Warburton,
In the hat edition of Shakespeare, Mr. Sieevens produces some quotations (among tba
*« our present text) which prove the truth, of Warburton's explanation.
. !! fi** V«S^'} Corrected by Sympson,
H % Agau}9(
(I feel it in my conscience^ abd I dare speidc it)
This unredihed ambling, hack brought a
scourge upon us ;
This hobby-norse Sincerity we H?'d in, [it,
War, and the sword of Slaughter : I renounce
And put the beast off, thus, the beast polluted.
And now no more shall Hope-on-high Bomby
Follow the painted pipes of woridly pleasures,
And, with the wicked, dance tlie devil's
measures.
Away, thou pamper d jade of vanity,
Stand at the livery of lewd delights now,
And eat the provender of prick-ear'd folly !
My dance shall be to th' pipe of persecution.
Farmer, Will you dance no more, neigh-
Boniby, Surely, no : [hour ?
Carry the beast to his crib; I have renonnc'd
And all his works. [him,
Soto. Shall th' hobby-horse beforgotthen^°^
The hopeful hobby-horse, shall he lie foun-
der'd? [coWer.
If thou dost this, thou'rt but acast^-away
My anger'sup; think wisely,and think quickly.
And look upon the ^iioiuiiiffi beast of pleasure!
If thou dost this (mark me, thou serious
sowter,
Thou bench-whistlep> of the old tribe of toe-
pieces !) [mending ;
If thott dost this, there shall be no more shoe-
Every man shall have a special care of his
own soal.
And in his pocket carry his t%vo confessors,
His lingeP', and his nawl. If thou dost
this—
Farmer, Hell dance again, for certain.
Bomby, I cry ouv on't f [tilt-stavefr
'Twas the fore-running sin brought in those
They brandish Against the church, the devil
calls May-poles. [him to ye,
Soto, Take up your horse again, and girth
And girth him handsomely, good neii^hbour
Bomby, I spit at him ! [Bomby !
Soto, Spit in the horse' face, cobler ?
Thou out-of-tune, psalm-singing slave ! Spit
in his visnomy } [him,
Bomby, I spit again ; and thus I rise against
6t
WOMEN PLEAS'D.
[Aut 4, SoeM %'
Against this beast, (liatfigiiified destruction ^*,
lore-shew'd falle of monarchies.
Soto, rth'faceorhim?
Sjiit such another spit, by this hand, eohkr,
ril make ye set a new piece o' your nose there.
Take't up, I say, and dance without more
bidding, [excellent.
And dance as you were wont; you nave been
And art still, but for this new nicety.
And your wife's learned lectures: take up
th* hobby-horse ! [heart, Bomby,
Come, 'tis a thing th'hast lov*d with all thy
And wouldst do still but for the round-
breech'd brothers: [I say;
You were not thus i'th' morning. Take't up,
Do not delay, but do't ! You know Fm officer;
And I know 'tis unfit all these good fellows
Should wait the cooling of your zealous
porridge. [execute :
Chuse whether you will dance, or have me
ni clap your neck i'th' stocks, and there I'll
make ye [night too.
Dance a whole day, and dance with these at
You mend old shoes i^ell, mend your old
manners better; [ness.
And suddenly see you leave off this sincere-
This new hot batch, borrow'd from some
brown baker, [for't^^ —
Some learned brotheri or 111 so bait you
Take *t quickly up.
Bomby. I take my persecution, [thren.
And thus I'm forcM, a bye-word to my bre-
5oto. Strike up, strike up, strike merrily !
Farmtr, To't roundly.
Now to the harvest-feast ; then sport again,
boys! [Exeunt^
SCENE II.
Enter Silvio, amCd,
Sil. What shall I do ? Live thus unknown,
and base still,
Or thrust myself into the head o'th^ battle^
And there, like that I am, a gentleman,
And one that never fear'd tlie face of danger,
(So in her angry e^«s she carried honour)
l^ight nobly, and (to end my cares) die
nobly ?
SONG [withinl
Sihrio, go on, and raise thy noble mind
To noble ends; fling coarse base thoughts
behind!
Silvio, thou son of erer-tiving feme,
Now aim at virtue, and a noble name.
Silvio, consider, honour is not wen, [done.
Nor virtue reach*d, 'till some brave thing be
Thy country calls thee now, she bums and
bleeds.
Now raise thyself, ^oungman, to noble decdi !
Into the battle, Silvio! there seek forth
Danger, and blood ; by them stands sacred
worth. [lows me?
iSi7. What heav'nly voice is this that fbl-
This is the second time 't has waited on me„
Since I was arm'd, and ready for the battle:
It names me ofben, steels my heart vrith
courage.
Enter BehiderCf drformed.
And in a thousand sweet notes comforts me.
What beldam's this ? How old she is, and
Why does she follow me ? [^^y -
BeL Be. not disma/d, son ;
I wait upon thee for thy good and honour :
Twas I that now sung to thee, stirr'd thy
mind up.
And rais'd thy spirits to the pitch of nobleness.
SU. Tho' she be old, and of a ccooked
carcase.
Her ^oice is like the harmony of angels.
Bel- Thou art my darling; all my love-
dwells on thee,
The son of virtue] therefore I attend thee.
Enquire not what I am ; I come to serve thee ;
For if thou be'st inquisitive, th^hast lost me.
A thousand long miles hence my dwelling is.
Deep in a cave^ where, but mine own, no
foot treads; [Silvio^
There, by mine art, I fQnnd what danger.
And deep distress of heart, thou wert grown
into;
A thousand leagues I've cut thro' empty air.
Far swifter than the sailing rack 3^, that
gallops
Upon the wings of angry winds, to seek thee.
Sometimes o'er a swelling tide.
On a dolphin's back 1 ride ;
Sometimes pass the earth below,
And thro' tn unmov'd center go ;
Sometimes in aflame of fire,
Like a meteor I aspire ;
JSometimes in mine own shape, thcu^
When I help the virtuous:
'* — — ngnifffd destruction, *
Forershew^d i^th- falU of monarchies,
Soto. Tth* face qf him.'] The,»W ^n the second line is evidently crept in fronx
the third, and spoils both sense and measure, for the third line completes the secqnd verse,
•^udibras took several hints from this passage. Seward.
** This new hot hatch, borrowed from some brgtitn baker.
Or ril so bait ye /or'f— -— J I don't discard the word bait, but to preserve that
playing upon the woras here, which the poet seems to have design'd, I suspect we ought te^
Tcad,
> or Fll so bake you for't,
^is scarce worth observing, that the Brownists are the people, against whom the satire here
was principally levell'd. Sympsmi.
^^ ^c/c.] See note 78 on the Faithfia) Shepherdess.
Men
Aet4toiie3.}
WOMEN PLEASD.
^
3fen of hoQoomble mindcy
Commaad loy art in aU his kinds :
Punne the noble thought of war;
from thy guaitl 111 not be far.
Get thee worship on thy foe;
Lasting fame is gotten so.
Single Sienna*s duke alone;
Hear thy friends, thy conotr^ groaOy
AaA with thy manly ann stnke sune ;
Then th'hast wrought thine own free Qure*
&L Some sibil sure^ some soul Heav*n
lavesy and favours, [wonders !
And lends her their free powers to work their
JSbw she incites my courage !
BeL Silvio,
I knew thee many di^ ago ;
Porcsaw thy love to Belvidere,
The duchess' daoghter, and l)er heir;
Knew she loVd thee, and know what past.
When you were foand i' th' castle fast
In one another's arms; foresaw
The taking of you, and the law;
And «o thy innocence I lov'd,
Tlie deepest of my skill I prov'd i
Be niFd by me ; for, to this hour,
Fve dwelt about thee with my power, [thee ;
SiL I will, and in the course of all observe
For thon art sure an angel good sent to me.
Bel. Get thee gone then to the fight!
Longer stay but robs thy right:
When thoH grow'st weary, I'll be near ;
Then think on beauteous Belvidere!
For every precious thought of her
"WiU lend thine honour a new spur'^ ;
"When all is done, meet here at night;
Go, and be happy in the fi^ht! [Exit.
SiL I certainly believe i shall do nobly ;
JLnd that I'll bravely reach at too, or die.
[Exeunt.
SCENE m.
Enter Claudlo and Penurio^
Clau. Is she so loving still ?
Pen. She's mad with love.
As mad as ever unworm'd dog was, signor;
And does so weep, and curse, for your pre-
vention,
Tonr crosses in your love — It fi:ets me too;
I'm fall'n away to nothing, to a spindle.
Grown a mere man of n^at, no soul within
roe:
Pox o' mymaster ! Sir, will that content you ?
CUiu, This rogue but cozens me, and she
nc^ects me ; [sters.
Upon my life, there are some other game-
Kearer the wind than I, apd that prevents
. me. — [her?
Is there no other holds acquaintance with
(Prithee be true, be honest; do not mock me ;
Thon know'st her heart) no former interest
Sfa' has vow'd ^ favour to, and cannot hand*
somelv
Go oS, bQt by regainii^ such afiriendsliip?
There arc a tliousaDdhandfomemea^ 7oaig,t
wealthy,
That will not' stick at any rate, nor danger.
To gain so sweet a prize; nor can I blame her.
If, where she finds a comfort^ she deal cun<-
I am a stranger yet. [ningly :
Pen. You re all she looks for ;
And, if there be any other, she neglects all.
And all for you: I would you saw bow griev-
ously
And \vith what hourly lamentations—
Clau, 1 know thou flatter'st ipe ; tell me«
bujt truth— [dukcdoiu.
Look here, look well; the best meat in tiie
The rarest, and the choicest of all diets !
This will I give thee, but to satisfy me
(That is, pot to dissemble), this rare lobster.
This pheasant of the sea, this dish for princes.
And all this thou shalt enjoy, eat all thyself;
Have good Greek wine, or any thing belongs
A wench, if it desire one. [tot,
Pen, All this, signor?
Clau. All, and a greater far than this —
Pen. A greater?
Clau. If thou deserve by telling truth.
Pen. A wench too? [knave now,
C/flw. Or any thing; but if you play the
The cozening knave, besides the loss of thift^
(In which th' hast parted with a paradise),
I ne'er will give thee meat more, not a morsel;
No smell of meat, by my means, sliall come
near thee.
Nor name of any thing that's nourishing;
But to thy old part, Tantalus, again
Thou shalt return, and there snap at a shadow?
Pen. Upon this point, had I intended
treason,
Or, any thin^ might call my life in question.
Followed with all the tortures time could
think on
(Give me hut tim^ to eat this lovely lobster.
This alderman o' th' sea, and give me wiiie
to him'),
Fd reveal all ; and if that all were too little.
More tlian I know. &artelio holds in with her.
The captain of the citadel; but you need
not fear him, [ries.
His tongue's the stiffest weapon that he car-
He's oldand out of use: there are some other,
Men young enough, handsome, and bold
enough, [but they want, sir,
Co^ld they come but to make theirgame once;
They want the unde guare, tlieyVe laid by
then.
Enter Bartello,
You only are the man sliall knock the nail
Bart. Hownow,Penurio? [in —
Pen. Yoiir worship's fairly met, sir. —
You shall hear further from me : steal aside,
sir.
Clau. Remember your master for those,
chains. [ExU.
f 5 rU lend thine honour.'] The variation proposed 1^ Sympson,
Pen.
WOMEN PLEAffD.
[Act 4. 8o«ie S.
Ten. TlevVe fMd /» fir.
J5«r^ What young thing*^ ^s? By bis
babltbe's a merchant; ^ [fishy
I fear he trades my way too. — ^Yoa dried do^
What bait was that?
Fen, Who, sir? the thing went hence now?
A notable young whelp —
' Bart. To what end, sirrah? The married;
' Pc7t. Came to buy chains and rings, is to
An ass^ a coxcomb I h'has nothing in his
bouse, sir. [tress ?
I warrant, you think he came to see my mis-
BarU I doubt it shrewdly.
Pen. Away, away, 'tis foolish! [man;
B' bas not the face to look upon a gen tie wo-
A poor skimm'd thing! bis mother's maids
are fain, sir, [married.
To teach him how to kiss; and, Against he's
To shew him on which side the stirrop stands.
Bart^ That is a fine youth.
' Fen. Thou wouldst hang thyself.
That thou hadst half his power, thou empty
potgiin.
Bari, Am I come fit, Feunrio?
Pen. As fit as a fiddle;
Itfy master's now abroad about his business.
Bart. When thou
Cam'st to me home to-day, I half suspected
My wife was jealous, that she whisper'd to
thee. [no sucii matter;
Fen, Yoo deserve well the whilst. There's
She talk'd about some toys my master must
Yon must not know of. [bring to her,
Bart, ni take no note, Penurio.
* Fen, No, nor you shall not, 'till you have it
soundly.
This is the bravest eapitanopompof
Enter hahelia.
But I shall pump you anon, sir.
'.Jsab, Oh,myBartello! [you sweet rogue !
Bart. You pretty rogue, yon little rogue,
Away, Penurio; go and walk i' th'Horse-niir.
Ist^, Yon don't love me.
• Bart, Thou liest, thon Kttlc rascal !
There, sirrah; to your centry!
Pen. How the colt itches!
m help you to a curry-comb shall claw yon.
Isab, And how much dost thou love me?
Bart, Let's go in quickly ;
Pll tell thee presently, I'll measure't to thee.
JsbA.^No busses first? Sit o* my^knee, my
brave boy, • me ;
My valiant boy! Don't look so fiercely on
Thou'lt fright me with thy face. Come^ buss
i^ain, chick!
Smile in my face, you mad thing ?
Bart. I'm mad indeed, wench !
precious? I'm all o* fire.
Isab. I'll warm thee better. [bellows:
Bart, Pll warm thee too, or Til blow outmy
Ha, you sweet rogoe, yoa loriog rogoel %
boy now,
A soldier I will get, jbail prove a fellow*
Enter Jaquenet and Fenurio.
Jag. Mistress, 4ook to yourseli^ my mas-
ter's coming !
Bart, The devil come and go with him !
Pen. Tbe devil's come indeed ; he briogii.
your wife, sir.
liab. We are undone, undone then !
Bart. My wife with him ?
Why, this is a dismal day.
Fen. They Ve hard by too, sir.
Bart, I must not, dare not see her.
Jjab, Nor my husband,
For twenty thousand pound.
Bart. That I were a cat now.
Or anything could run into a bench-hole !
Saint Anthony's fire upon the rogue ha*
brought her ! [matter i
Where shall I be?«— Just ia the nick o' th'
When I had her at my mercy ! — ^Tbink, for
Heav'n's sake I
My wife ? All the wild furies bell ha»—
Fen, Up the chimney ! [seutlj.
Bart. They'll smoke me out there pre^
Isab. There, there, it must be there,
We're all undone else; 'it must be up the
Bart. Give me a ladder. [chimaey. .
^ Isab. You must use your art, siri
Alas, we have no ladders.
Bart. Pox o' thy husband !
Does he ne'er mend his house ?
Fen. No, nor himself neither.
Up nimbly, sir, up nimbly !
Bart. Ttiou know'st I am fet.
Thou merciless lean rogue.
Fen. WiUyoubekili'd?
For if he take you —
Bart. Lend me thy shoulder.
Fen. Soft, sir! \ [elso.
You'll tread my slioulder-boncs into my sides
Have you fast hold o' th' bars?
Bart. A vengeance bar 'em !
Isab, Patiepee. ^ood captain, patience;
quickly, quickly ! v.
Bart. D*you think t% made of smoke?
Fen. Nqw he talks of ^loke.
What if my master sliould call for filre?
Bart. VVill you martyr me ?
Isah. He must needs have it
Bart, Will you make me bacon ?
Isab. We'll do the best we can. Are all
things ready?
Fen. All, all; I have 'em all.
Isab. Go let 'cm in then^^. [Exit Peru
Not a word now on your life !
Bart, I han|; like a meteor.
Enter Lopeg and Bodope.
lapez. You^re welcome, lady.
gm
^ Bar. Go kt 'em in, &c.] The clnnge of the speakers here is from Mr. Theobald's maiw
The readdr will easily see the necessity of it. Syinpeon.
Mod.
Aci4. Scenes.]
WOMEN PLEASU
Rfi, Yott afe too, too coii^rteous;
Bttt I shall make amends. Fair IsabelUh—
hak Welcome, my worthy iriciid, most
kindly welcome ! [foolery.
Rod, I hear on% and Fll fit him for his
Lopes, Some sweet^meata^ wile; tome
sweet-meats presently !
Bart, Oh, my sour sanoe !
Lopez, Away quick, Isabella. [Exit liob.
Did y hear Uim?
Rod, Yes, yes, perfectly; proceed, sir.
Lopei, Speak load enough.— Dare you at
length imt pitjr me ? [sons to me,
Rod, 'Faith, sir, yonVe osTd so many rea-
And those to poweniilly-^
Lopez, Keep this kiss for me.
Bart, And do I stand and hear this?
Rod, This for me, sir. [band —
This is some comfoit now: alas, my ht»-
Bat why do I think of so poor a ftUow,
So wretched, so debauch'd ?
Bart. Thatfsl: I'm bound
To hear It.
Rod, I dare n't lie with him| he is
So rank a whore-mastef^-*
Lapez, And that's
A dangerous point.
Rod, Upon my oonscienoe, sir,
He^d srck a thousand base diseases on me.
JBlsr And now must I say nothing!
Lopet, Fm sound, lady.
Mod, That's it that makes me love you.
Lopez. Let's kiss again then!
Rod, Do, do!
Bart. Do? the devil
And the grand pox do with you !
Lopez, Do you hear him? well*«
Enter Penurio and haheUa,
How, what's the news with yon ?
Pen, The sound of war, sir, [city;
Comes still along: the duke will charge the
We've lost, they say.
Lopez, What shall become of me then,
And my poor wealth ?
Bart, Even hang'd, J hope. [what
Rod, Remove your jewels presently, and
Yoa have of wealthy into the citadel;
There all's secure.
Lopez, I humbly thank you, lady.
Penurio, get me some can climb the chimney,
For there my jewels are, my best, my richest;
I hid 'em, fearing such a blow.
Pen, Mostliappily [nies;
I have two boys, that use to sweep foul chiin-
Tnily, I brought 'em, sir, to moclc your wor-
kup.
For the great fires you keep, and the full diet.
Ijopez, I forgive thee, tnave^ Where are
Pen. Here, sir, here. [they?
Moosieur Black, will your small worship
mount?
Enter two Boyt.
1 Boy, Madam, ^ be com to creep^ op into
your chimney, and make you [Bo^ $mg9^
Cleane, as any liidy ia dewoiid: ma liUa,
Chanta, frere, chanta. [litla frera, and h.
Pen, Come, monsieur, mounts, mounts I
mount, monsieur Mu!^ard-pot! [Boy singu
1 Boy. Monsieur, ^ have dis for votra
barbcu pie ta vou, monsieur.
Pen, Mounts, monsieur^ mounts ; dere be
some fine tin^— [sieur.
1 Boy. Me will creep like de ferret, moo*
Pen. Dere in de chimnev.
[The 6qy above $inging,
1 Boy, Here be de sheilde due shason, msf
dam, [Boy goes in behind the Arras,
Pen. Therc^s a bird's nest; I would have
you climb it, monsieur^ [monsieur I
Up, my fine singing monsieur. That's a fine
Lopez, Watch hiro, he do not steaL
Pen, I warrant you, sir.
L(^>ez, These boys are knavi^
Pen, riHook to him tightlv.
Boy [within], Madam^here be de rat,de nl,
madam!
Enter Bartelh, with the Boy singing on hk
shoulder,
Lopez, Lord! what comes here?
A walking apparition ?
I$ab. Saint Christopher !
Rod. Mercy o' me, what is it ?
How like my husband it looks !
Bart. Get you down, devil; [chimniedf
Fll break your neck else. Was e'er man thus
Lopez, Go, pay the boys well ; see them
satisfied. {blackberries !
Pen. Come, monsieur Devils; come, my
Fll butter you o^ both sides.
Boy. Adieu, madame ! adieu, madame !
[Ex^,
Isab, -Nay, even look, sir« Are you cooi'd
now, captain? [tool-
far/. I am cuckolded, aqd fooFd to ooo^
Fool'd fearfiiliy, fool'd shamefully.
Lopez. YouTe welcome, sir.
Fm glad I've any thing within these doors, ur.
To make you merry. You love my wife, I
You've sliew'd your love. [thank you ;
Bart. Wife, am I this? this odd matter^
Tliis monstrous thing ?
Rod. You ought, but yet you are not :
Fve been bold with you, sir, but vet not
As I luive fi#tb, I have not. foasely ;
Lopez. Sir, believe it. [trespass t
Twas all meant but to make you feel youn
We knew your hour, and all this iashion'd
Bart. Were you o'th'plot too? [for it«
Isab. Yes, by my troth, vftteX. captain*
Bart. You will forgive me^ wife ?
Rod. You will deser\'e it ?
Bart. Put that to th' venture.
Rod, Thus am I firiends again then; [you.
And, as you ne er had gone astray, thus\is»
Bart. And Fll kbs you; and you too ask
forgiveness. [bei.
Kiss v^y wife, Lopee; 'tis but in jest, remem-
Ajid &0W, nil ikiczftds together to my castle.
Where
^6
WOMEN PLEAMI.
[Act 5. Scene 1/
Where treH all dine, and there discourse
these stories ;
And let him be chimney-swept, in's lost that
glories! [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. ^
Enter Silvio and Belviderey teoerally,
Sil, Hail, reverend dajne! Heav'n wait
upon thy studies ! [battle ended ?
Bel. You are well met, son. What, is the
Sil. Mother, 'tis done.
Bel. How has thy honour prospered ?
Sil. The duchess has the day; Sienna's
prisoner ; . [mounted him,
Ann*d with tliy powerful art, this arm dis-
Recciv'd him then on foot, and in fair valour
Forc'd him mine own : this jewel I took from
(It hung upon his casque), the victor's tri-
umph;
And to the duchess now a prisoner [mother.
I've rendered him; come (^ again unknown,
Bel. lis well done: let me see the jewel,
son!
Tis a rich one, curious set.
Fit a prince's burgonet^'.
This rich token late was sent
By the duchess, with intent
The marri^e next day to begin.
Dost thou know wliat's hid within ?
Wipe thine eyes, and then come near;
See the beauteous Belvidere !
Now behold it.
Sil. Oh, my saint!
Bel. Wear it nobly ; do not faint.
Sil. How blest ami in this rich spoil, this
picture !
For ever will I keep it here, here, mother.
For ever honour it: how oft, how chastly
Have I «mbrac'd the life of this, and kiss'd it?
Bel. The day draws on that thou must
home return, [tion ;
And make thy answer to the duchess' ques-
I know it troubles thee; for if thou fail irft-^
SU. Oh, I must die!
Bel. Fear not, fear not; Tllbenig^!
Cast thy trouble on my back!
Art nor cunning shall not lack.
To preserve thee, still to keep
What thv envious foemen seek.
Go boldly home, and let thy mind
No distrustful crosses find ! i
All shall happen for the best;
Souls walk thro' sorrows that are blest«.
iSt7. Then I go confidenL
BeL But first, my son, '
A thankful service must be done :
The good old woman for her pain,
Wlien evf ry thing stands fair again.
Must ask a [)oor boon, and that granting.
There's nothing to thy journey wanting.
SU. Except the tnal of my soul to niis-
chief, . [nour.
And, as I am a knight, and love mine ho-
I grant it, whatsoever —
BeL Thy pure soul
Shall never smk for me, nor faowL
Sil. Then any thing.
Be/. When I shall ask, remember! [me!
SiL If I forget. Heaven's goodness forget
Bel. On thy journey then awhile !
To the next cross-way and stile
rU conduct thee ; keej) thee true.
To thy mistress and thy vow.
And, let ail their envies fall !
I'll be with thee, and quench all. lExeunt*
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Enter Ducheu, Duke of Sienna, and Lords.
Duke. T ADY, the stubborn war's more
■" mild than you are,
Thft allows ransom, and the prisoner taken —
Ditch. We must not be too hasty: remem-
ber, Mr, .
The wrong and violence you've offered us;
Burnt up our frontier towns, made prey be-
ibreyou [subjects;
3oth ot our beasts and corn ; slain our dear
Open'd the fountain eyes of thousand widows,
Tnat daily fling their curses on your fury:
Wliat ordinary satisfaction can salve this?
What hasty-thongbt-ou ransom give a re-
medy? [counsel:
You must excuse ns yet; we'll take more
In the mean time, not as a prisoner.
But as a noble prince, we entertain you.
Duke. I^ at your mercy, lady; 'tis my
fortune, [have me;
My stubborn fate! the day is yours, you
The valour of one single man has cross'd nie,
Cross'd me and ail my hope ; for when the
battles
Were at the hottest game of all their furies
(And conquest ready then to crown me vic-
tor), [virtue,
One single man broke in, one sword, one
(And by his great example thousands fbl-
' low'd) [me!
Oh, how I shame to think on't ! how it shaken
Nor could our strongest head then stop hiS
fury,
But, like a tempest, bore the field before him.
^ A princes&e burgonet."] Corrected by Sympson,
Till
Act 5. Scene 1<]
WOMEN PLEAS'D^
57
^1 he arrived at me; with me he hackled;
Awhile I held him play; at length bis vio-
lence [su*d me ;
Beat me from my saddle, then on foot pur-
Tliere triomphM once again, then took me
prisoners
When I was gone, a fear possessed my people.
Duek, One single aim, in a just cause,
Heav'n prospers. —
Is not this stranger-knight as yet discovered.
That we may give his virtue a due honour ?
Lord, Not yet, that we hear, madam; but
to that purpose
Two days ago we published proclamations.
Ento' Sato tcitk a Trumpet, and Silvio.
Soto, Oh, dainty duchess, here I bring
that knight
Before thy framnt &cev that wariike wight.
He that Sienna's duke, and all his louts,
Beat (ob the proverb seepaly says) to clouts;
He tint nnhora'd the man o' fiime to boot.
And bootless taught his grace to walk afoot;
He diat yonr writings, pack'd to every pillar,
Pramis'd promotion to, and store of siller;
That veiy man I set before thy grace,
AjxI once again pronounce, this man it was.
Buck, A pretty foolish squire ! what must
the knight be ?
Duke, Some juggler, or some mad-man.
SiL I was not so, - — f me ;
Wheu thy faint troops in flocks I beat before
When, thro'tlie thickest of thy warlike lK>rse,
I shot myself e'en to thy standard, duke.
And there found tliee, there singled thee,
there sbew'd thee [stood'st me.
The temper of my sword. Tis true, 'thou
And like a noble soldier bidst me welcome ;
And tins HI say, more honour^ ^ in that arm
I found and tried, than all thy aimy carried;
What follows, th^ imprisonment can tell thee,
^tt^. His fair relation carries truth and
virtue;
And by those arms I see (for such were his,
So old, 80 rusty), this may be he that forc'd
me. [casque I rent it,
SU, D'yon know this jewel? from your
I felt his strokes, and felt him take it from
me;
I wore it in my cas(jue. Take it again, sir ;
You won it nobly, *tis the prize of lionour.
Sot04 My father and myself are made for
ever ! [knight first I raise you;
Duck, Kneel down, brave sir. Thus, my
(Gird on a sword) ; next, general of my army
(Give him a staff); last, one in counsel near
me<
Now, make us happy with your sight. — How !
Silvio? lDiscover$ himself*
Have I on thee bestowed this love, Uiis ho«
nour? [favours?
The treasons thou hast wrought set off with
Unarm him presently I — Oh, £ou foul traitor,
Traitor to me, mine honour, and my country.
Thou kindler of these wars —
SU, Mistake not, madami
DttcA. Away with him to prison, [sirrah.
See him safe kept. — ^The law shall shortly.
Find fitter titles for you than I gave you.
Soto, This is the youth that kill'd me ; TJl
be quit with him. [him !
What a blind rogue was I, I could ne*er know
An't please your grace, I claim the benefit
O' th' proclamation that proclaim*d him trai-
I brought him in. [tor;
Duch, Thou slialt have thy reward for't.
Soto. Let him be hangM, or drown'd then.
Duch, Away with him ! [you're tied to it,
SiL Madam, I crave your promise first;
YotiVe pass'd yonr princely word*
Duch, Pi*ove it, and take it.
SiL This is the day appointed,
Appointed by your grace, for my appearance,
To answer to the question.
DttcA. I remember it.
SiL I claim it then.
Duch, If you perfonn it not.
The Oenalty you claim too.
Sit, I not repent it.
If I absolve the words —
Dttch. Your life is free then, [wishes,
You've drawn a speedy course above my
To my revenge : be sure you hit it right.
Or 111 be sure you shall not scape the danger.
'SiL My rest is up now, madam 3'.
Duch, Then pla/t cunningly.
SiL Now, where s the hag? where now are
all her promises [me ?
She would be with me, strenirtlien me, imbnn
My death will now be duuble death, ridicu-
lous.
She was wont still to be near, to feel n^
miseries,
^^ Mart hononr in that arm*] Sympson (thinking the arm an improper situation for ho*
*MrJ would substitute valour for honour y which we think quite unnecessary.
^' My rest is «p.J From the duchess's answer, this appears to be a j^hrase used at some
nod of game. So m Churchyard*s Challenge, p. G€, ' On wliich resolution tlie sonldier sets
' ^p his rest, and commonly hazards the winning or loosing of as great a thing as life may
he worth, &c' AHiin, p. 115,
' Spoyle brings home plagues to wife and children both,
__ ' When husbwkd hath at plajset up his rest,* R,
VOL. m. /^ 1 And
B^'en as I dos'd, and foic'd you fr«an ^our
ly YOU now remember me?
Ihike, This is the valour,
"om Vi
[sacfd
Idle:
Madam; for certain, he; it must be he;
That day I wore this jewel : you remember it.
Buck, Yes, very well: not long before, I
•eat it
Buke, That day I lost this jewel, in fight I I
kwtit; I
5d
WOMEN PLEA.9D.
[Act 5. Scene 1.
And with her art^I see her no where now !
What have I undertaken ? Now she fails me ;
No comfort now I find ; how my soul stag«
gersl
[me:
TjH this hour never fear nor doubt possessed
She cannot come, she will not come, sh' has
fool'd me, , [ruin,
(Sure she's the devil) has drawn me on to
And now to deatli bequeaths me in my dan-
cer. • [changes.
jDuke, He stands distracted, and his colour
Duch, I've given him that will make his
Shortly liis life. [blood forsake him,
Duke, His hands and contemplation
Have motion still; the rest is earth already.
' Duch, Come, will you speak, or pray?
Your time grows out, sir.
How ev'ry where he looks ! He's at last cast
Enter Belvidere, who secretly gives kim a pa-
pery and exit,
Duke, His colour comes again fresh.
Duch, Tis a flash, sir, [answer ?
Before the flame burns out. Can you yet
SU, Yes, madam, now I can.
Duch, I fear you'll fail in't.
SiL And do not think my silence a presage,
Or omen to my end ; you shall not find it;
I'm bred a soldier, not an orator, [for me.
Madam, peruse this scrawl; let that speak
And, as you're royal^ wrong not the construc-
tion 1
Duch, By Heav'n, you shall have fair play !
Sil, IshaUlookfor't.
QUESTION.
Tell me what is that only thing,
For which all women long ;
Yet having what they most desire,
To have it does tliem wrong?
ANSWER.
Tis not to be chaste, nor fair,
(Such gifts malice may impair)
Richly trimm'd"^, to walk or ride,
Or to wanton unespied ;
To preserve ah honest name,
And so to give it up to fame;
These are toys. In good or ill,
They desire to have their will :
Yet, when they have it, they abuse it.
For they knownot-^how to use it.
Duch. You've answei'd right, and gahi'd
your life ; I give it. [madam,
Sil, Oh, happy hag! — But my most gracious
Your promise ued a nobler favour to me.
Duch. Tis true; my daughter too.
Sil, I hone you'll keep it.
Duch, Tis not in my power now : she's
long since wandcr*d, [have not
Stol'n from the court and me; and vhat I
I cannot give. No man can tell me '^ f ner.
Nor no search find her out; and if not Silvio,
Which strongly I believe —
Sil, Mock me not, lady !
For, a« I am a servant to her Tirtue,
Since my first hour of exile, I ne'er saw her !
Lord, That she b gone, 'tis too; too true,
and lamentable :
Our last hope was in you.
iSi/. What do I here then, [honour ?
And wherefore have/ I life bestow*d and
To what end do I walk? for men to wo^er
at ? [honours from me.
And fight, and fool? Pray you take jour
(My sorrows a):e not fit companions for ^em)
And, when you please, niy life. — Art thou
gone, mistress? (vow I make thee.
And wander'st Heav'n knows where — This
That 'till I find thee out, and see those fair
eyes, [into me.
Those eyes that elied their lights and life
Never to know a friend, to seek a kindred;
To rest where pleasure dwells, and painted
glory ; [wander.
But thro' the world, the wide world, thus to
The wretched world, alone, no comfort v«-ith
me;
But the mere meditations of ^y goodness !
Honour and greatness, thus adieu !
Enter Belvidere.
Bel Stay, Silvio!
And, lady, sit again ! I come for justice.
5i7. W'hat would she now ?
Bel, To claim thy promise, Silvio;
The boon thou sworst to give mc.
Duke. What may this be?
A woman or a devil?
Dwf A. Tis a witch sure; [riddle.
And by her means he came t' untwist this
iSi7. That Fm bound to her for my life,
mine honour.
And many other tliousand ways for comfort,
I here confess ; confess a promise too, [vours.
That what she'd ask me to requite these fa*
Within th' endeavour of my lite to grant,
I would ; and here I stand, my word's full
master [with me:
Bel. I wish no more ! Great lady, witness
The boon I crave for all my service to thee.
Is now to be thy wife, to grant me marriage.
SU. How! for to marry tliee? Ask again,
Thou wilful woman, ask again ! [woman;
Bel, No more, sir.
SU. Ask land, and hfe!
Bel, I ask thee, for a husband, [powder;
Soto. Marry her, and beat her into gun-
$lie*d make rare crackers.
Sil, Ask a better fisrtune;
Thou art too old to marry ; J a soldier.
And always married to mv sword.
Bel. Thy word, tool ! ' [yet!
Break that, and I'll break all thy fortunes
Duch, He shall not;
Fm witness to hrs faith, and I'll compel it.
Duke, Tis fit yen hold your word^ sir.
^ Biddy trimnCd,] i. c. Sickly drctfd* Sec note 20, p. 46 of this vol.
Sil
Act& Scenes.]
WOMEN PLEASD.
^
SiL Ohy most wielchcd ! [wishes;
DueL This was a fortune npw bejoad my
For DOW my daughter's free, if e'er I find her.
Duke. But not fronfme.
Duck, You're sharer in this happinesi^
Myself will wait upon this marriage,
Aad do th' old woman ail the honour possible.
Duke, ril lead the knight; and what
there wants in dalliance, -
Well tfldce it out in drink.
SiL Oh, wretched SUvio ! [Exeunt.
SCENE n.
Enter Lopez and Isabella,
Lopez. Hast thou sent for him?
hob. Yes.
Lopez. A young man, sayst thou ?
I»b. Yes, very young, and very amorous.
Li^€X. And handsome ?
hab. As the town aftbrds.
Lspet. And dar'st thou
Be so far good, and mistress of thine honour.
To slight these ?
J;mb. YoT my husband's sake, to curse 'em :
And, since you've made me mistress of my
fortune, 4
Never to point at any joy, but husband.
I could have cozen'd you ; but so much I
love you.
And now so much I weigh the estunation
Of an unspotted wife —
Lopez. I dare believe thee ; [spirit.
And never more shall doubt torment my
Enter Fenurio,
Jjo&. How now, Penurio?
Fen. The thing's coming, mistress,
Lopez. Ill take my standing. [Ezit.
Fen. Do, and FU take mine.
Lai. Where didst thou leave him?
Pen. I left him in a cellar, [mistress ;
Where he has paid me tightly, paid me home,
WeM an hundred and filly healths to you,
sweet mistress, [master.
And threescore and ten damnations tojny
liifltress, shall I speak a fbolisli word to you?
hab. What's that, Penurio? The fellow's
drunki.
Fen. I would feign know your bodv.
Lab. How's that? how's that, prithee?
Pea. I would know it carnally; I would
cQiitfkitinate.
ItaL The reason, sinrah ?
Pea. Lobster, sweet mistress^ lobster !
Jsak Thv master hears.
Fen. Lobster, sweet master, lobster!
isoA. Thon art the most precious rogue.
Enter ClauduK
Pen. Mo6t precious lobster !
hob. lyvou see who's here? Go sleep,
you drunken rascal !
Pa. Remember you refuse xoe, Mtu'd in
W»ter! [Ejfit.
hab. Oh, my lost Rugto ! welcome, wel-
come' welcome !
A thousand welcomes here I'll seal.
Clau, Pray you stay, lady: [fit now,
D' you love me ever at this rate ? -or is the
By reason of some wrong done by your
More fervent on you ? [husbana,
luih. Can I chuse but love thee ? [me.
Thou art my martyr ; thou hast suffered for
My sweet, sweet Rugiol
Cla^i. Do you do this seriously?
Tis true, I would be eotertain'd thus.
Isub. These are nothing,
No kisses, no embraces, no endearments^
To those—
Clau. Do what you will.
liab. Those that shall follow, [you?
Those I will crown our love withal. Why sigh
Whv look you sad, my dear one ?
Clau. Nay, faith, nothing ; [to me.
But me thinks so sweeta beauty as yours shews
And such an innocence as you may make it,
Should hold a longer siege.
liob. Ha ! you speak truth, sir.
Clau. I would not have it so.
Isab. And now methinks,
Now I consider truly what becomes me,
I have been cozen'd, fearfully abus'd,
My reason blinded^— -
Clau. Nay, I did but jest with you.
hab. I'll take you at your word, and thank
you for't, sir ;
And now, I see no sweetness in that person,
Nothing to stir me to abuse a husband,
To ruin my fair fame
Clau* Good Isabella! [dote on;
hah. No handsome man, no any tiling to
No face, no tongue to catch me ; poor at all
And I an ass I [points,
Clau. Why do you wrong me, lady?
If I were thus, and had no youth upon me;
My service of so mean a way to wm you ;
(Wliich you yourself are conscious must
deserve you, [reach yoli)
If y* had thrice the beauty you possess, must
If m my tongue your fame lay wreck'd, and
ruin'd
With every cup I drink; if in opinion
I were a lost, defam'd man — But^tisconmion,
Where we love most, where most we stake
Qur fortunes, [you well !
There teast and basest we're rewarded ! Fare
Know now, I hate you too as much, contemn
you.
And weigh mv credit at as high a value-*-
Isab. May be I did but jest.
Clau. You are a woman; [follies,
And now I see your wants, and mine own
And^task myself vrith indiscretion.
For doting on a face so poor !
Isab. Say you so, sir? [you,
I must not lose my end. — ^I did but jest witli
Only fool'd thus to try your&ith: my Kugio,
D'you think I could foiget?
Clau. Nay, 'tis no matter.
I « hah.
60
WOMEN PLEASED.
liob. Is't possible I should forsake a con-
So strong, so good, so sweet? [stancjr,
Clau, A subtle woman ! [try you:
Isab, You shall forgive me ; 'twas a trick to
And, were I sure you loVd' me— ^
r Clau. Do you doubt how? [profess this,
Isab, 1 do not doubt; but he that would
And bear that full affection you make show
Should do — [of,
CUtu. What should I do?
Isab. I cannot shew you. [ye, lady !
Clau. ril try thee, damned^t devi 1 ! — Hark
No man shall dare do more, no service top
ril marry you. )["*?5
Isab. How, sir?
Clau. Your husband's sentenced.
And he shall die-^
Isab. Die?
Clau. Die for ever to you;
The danger is mine own.
Isab, Die, did you tell me?
Clau. He shall die ; I liave east the way.
Isab, Oh, foul man.
Malicious, bloody man !
Enter Lopez,
, LopeM. When shall he die, sir ?
By whom, and how?
Clau. Hast thou betray'd me, woman?
Isab. Base man, thou wouldst have ruin'd
me, my name too, [mory !
And, like a toad, poisoned my virtuous me-
Further than all this, dost thou see this
friend here, [thec^
This onlv friend ? (Shame take thy lust and
And shake thy soul !) his life, tlie life I love
thus.
My life in him, my only life, thou aimfst at!
Clau, Am I catch*d thus ?
Lopez. The law shall catch you better.
Isab, You make a trade of betraying
women's honours.
And think it noble in you to be lustful !
Report of me heroafter— '
. Clau, Fool'd tnus-ftnely? pustice;
Lopez, I must entreat ;^ou walk, sir, to the
Where, if he'll "bid you kill me —
Clau, Pray stay a while, sir;
I must use a pkiyer's shift. Do you know
me now, lady?
Lopez. Your brotlier Claudio^ sure !
hab. 0\l me, 'tis he, sir f
Ob, my best brother!
Clau, My best sister now too ! [you,
Tve tried you, found you so; f^nd now I love
Love you so truly, nobly—
Lopez. Sir, I thank yuu;
youVe made me a most happy man. .
Clau. Thank lier, sir;
And from this hour preserve that happiness;
Be no more fooFd with jealousy !
Lopez. I've lost it ;
And take me now^ new-bom again, new-
natur'd!
(Act 5. Scene 3.
Isab. I dQ; and to that promise tie this
faith, [virtue.
Never to have a false thought tempt my
Lopez. Enough, enough! I must desire
your presence ; [us :
My cousin Rodope has sent in all haste for
I'm sure you will be welcome.
Clau. I'll wait on you.
Lopez. What the project is—
Isab, We shall know when we're there,
sir. [Exeunt,
SCE^^E III.
E^er Duehessy Siennuy Lords, and Silvio,
Duck. Joy to you, Silvio, and your younc
fair bride ! [wooe, sir I
Ybu've stol'n a day upon's; you cauuot
Sil. The joys of he)l hang over me : oh,
mischief!
To what a fortune has the devil driv'n me !
Am I reserv'd for this ?
Duke. Beshrew me, sir, [fellow;
But you liave gotten yon a right mir bed*
Let you alone to chuse !
Sil. 1 beseech yoiir grace —
'TIS misery enough t'liave met the devil.
Not men's reproaches too.
Duke, How old is she?
Duch. A very girl; her eye delivers it.
Duke. Her teeth are scarce come^ yet.
Lord, What goodly children
Will they two l^ve now ! She's rarely made
to breed on ;
What a sweet-timber'd body!
Duch. Knotty i'th' back; [nose!
But will hold out the stronger, what a
Duke, Ay, mairy, such a nose, so rarely
mounted f [on.
Upon my coiiscience, 'twas the part he doted
Duch, And that nne little eye to't, like
an elephant?s f [her ears sachels —
Lord. Yes, if her feet were round, and
Duke. For any thing we know—'
Sil, Have ye no mercy?
No pity in your bloods, to use a wretch thus?
You princes, in whose hearts the best com-
passions, [places.
Nearest to those in Heav'n, should find fit
Why d'you mock at misery? fling scorns and
baseness [rows?
Upon his broken neck, that sinks with sop-
Heav'n may reward you too ; and an hour
come, [cuiousy
When all your great designs shall shew ridi-
And your hearts pinch'd Tike mine^ —
[Muzic in diviers places,.
Duch. Fy, sir! so angry
Upon your wedding-day? go smug yourself;
The maid will come anon. What music's
this? [tion.
Duke. I warrant you some noble prepara-
Duch, Let's take our places then.
SiL More of these devil's dumps?
Must I be ever haunted with these witch->
crafts?
Enter
Aa 5. Scene 3 J
WOMEN PLEAS'D.
'6i
Enter a Mutqua-adt of $everal Mkapa^ and
dances; after which. Enter Behidere and
dUftenes tkem^ J^wer twa Presenters;
then the Masken^f among which are
Bartelloy I/fpe^, ClaudiOy Iscicllaf Bodope,
Suto, Penuno, and Jaquenet,
iPre. Room, room for merry spirits^ room !
Hither on command we come;
From the good old beldam sent.
Cues and sorrows to prevent.
2 Prf. liook up, Silvio, smile, and sing !
After winter comes a spring. «
1 Pre, Fear not, faint fool, what may follow ;
Eyes, that now are sank and hollow.
By her art may quick return
To their flames again, and bum,
S Pre. Art commands all youth and blood ;
Strength and beauty it makes ^od.
1 Pre. Fear not then, despair not, sing,
Kound about as we do spring ;
Cares and sorrows cast away!
This is th' old wives holiday.
[Dance here, then enter Behidere*
Dueh. Who's this?
DuJ^. The shape of Bclvidere !
BeL Now, Silvio,
How dost thou like me now ?
SU. Thus I kneel to thee, [me well too;
BeL Stand up, and come no nearer; mark
For if tliou troublest me, I vanish instantly:
Now chuse wisely, or chuse never,
One thou must enjoy for ever!
post thou love me thus f
SU. Most dearly. [neariy.
Bel. Take heed, fool! it concerns thee
If thou It have me young and bright,
Pleasing to thine eye and sight,
Courtly, and admird of all,
Take heed, lest thy fiune do fall!
I shall then be full of scorn,
Wanton, proud, (beware the horn!)
Hating wnat I lov'd before.
Flattery apt to fall before.
All consuming, nothing getting;
Thus thy fair name comes to setting!—
Boc if old, and free from these.
Thou shalt chuse me, I shall please;
I iball then maintain thee still,
With my virtue and my skill,
Still encrease and build thy name;
Chose me now, Silvio ! here I am.
&L I know not what to say, which way to
tumme;
Into thy sovereign will I put my answer.
BeL I thank you, sir, and my will thus
rewards you ; [Silvio I
Take your old love, your best, your oearest,
No more spells now, por further shapes tu
alter me ;
I am thy Belvidere indeed. Dear mother.
There is no altering t^s, Heav'n's hand is
with it; [won me.
And now you ought to give me; he has fairiy
SiL But why that hag P
BeL In that shape most secure still,
I follow'd all your fortunes, served, and
counseled you. [wench ;
I met you at the farmei's first, a country*
Where fearing to be known, I took th^t habit.
And, to make you laughing-sport at this
nuul marriage.
By secret aid of my fnend Rodope,
We sot this masque.
Su. And I am sure I have you ?
BeL For ever now, for ever.
Duch. You see it must be;
The wheel of destiny hath tuni*d it round so.
Duke. It must, it is ; and curs'd be he that
breaks it! [my prisoner-—
Duch. Ill put a choide t^ypu, sir: you are
Duke. I am so, and I must be so, till't
please you — [ransom
Duch, Chuse one of these; either to pay a
At what rate I shall set it, (which shall be
high enough)
And so return a firee-man, and a bachelor;
Or give me leave to give you a fit wife.
In honour ev'ry way your grace's equal.
And so your ransonr s paid.
Duke. You say naost nobly! [me.
Silvio's example's mine ; pray chuse you for
Duch. I thank you, sir! IVe got the
mast'ry too ; [freedom :
And here I give your grace a husband's
Give me your hand, my husband !
Duke. You much honour me ;
And I shall ever serve you for this favour.
Bart. Come, Lopez, let's give o«r wives
the breeches too !
For they will have 'em.
Lopez. Whilst they rule with virtue,
111 give 'em, skin and all. ^
Lab. We'll scratch it off else.
SiL [turning to Claudio]. I'm glad you
live ; more glad you live to honour ;
And from this hour a stronger love dwell with
Pray you take your man a^n. ^ [us !
Clau. He knows my house, sir. [loves:
Duch. Tis sin to keep you longer from your
We'll lead the way. Aiid you, young men,
that know not
How to preserve a wife, and keep her &ir.
Give 'em their sovereign wills, andpleasTd
thqy are. [Exeunt.
^' Btfore the masken^ enter two pretcnters, among which^ 4rc*] So the fonner editions.
THE
THE NIGHT-WALKER;
oi.
THE LITTLE THIEF.
A COMEDY.
The iirst edition oPthis Play, in 1640, has the name of Fletcher alone to it, and it was pro.
bably therefore his production, without any assistance from lus partner Beaumont^ It
used to be acted frequently in the last century ; but we have not heard of any alteration
or representation of it these many years.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Mex.
ToK LuRCUERy a wildtfoung Man, Brother
toAlatke.
Jack Wildbrain, Nephew to the Ladt/,
Justice Alcripe, married to Maria,
Frauk Heartlove, enamoured of Maria,
Toby, Coachman to the iMdy.
Gentlemen.
Servants.
Sexton.
Bell-Rincers.
Women.
Lady, Mother to Maria,
Marta, in lave with Heartlove.
Ala THE, contracted to Algripe, disguised at
a Boy,
Nurse.
Mistress Newlove.
Women.
Mistress, a Courtezan to Lurcher.
ACT I.
Enter Lurcher and Wik^ain,
!««. TACK! [hither?
** ^^'ddb. What wind brought thee
In what old hollow tree, or rotten wall,
Htst thou been, like a swallow, all this win-
Where hast thou been, man? [ter?
Larc,' Following the plough.
Wddh. What plough? Thou hast no land ;
stealingjs tliy own purchase.
lure The best inheritance.
Wildb, Not in my opinion ;
Tboa hadst five hundred pound a year.
Lsrc, rrisgone: -
Pridi6e,no more on't ! Have I not told thee.
And oftentimes, Nature made all men equal.
Her distribution to each child alike;
l^ill labour came and thrust a new will in,
Which I allow not: ^till men won a privilege
Bj that they call cndeavQur, wiiich mdeed
Is nothing but a lawful cozenage, [neighbour.
An allowM way to cheat ? Why should my
That hath no more soul than his horsekeepcr.
Nor bounteous faculties above a broom-man^
Have forty thousand pounds, and I four
Why should he keep it ? [groats ?
nildb. Thy old opinion still.
Lure, Why should that scriv'ncr, [thing
That ne'er writ reason in his life, nor any
That time e*er gloried in ; that never knew
How to keep any courtesy conceal'd,
But noverint umversi must proclaim it.
Purchase perpetually, and I a rascal ? per
Con&ider this; why should that moijJdycobi
Marry his daugliter to a wealthy merchant.
And give five thousand pounds? is tliis good
justice ?
Because he has a tougher constitution.
Can feed upon old songs, and save his money,
Therefore must I go l^g ?
* Wild6.
64
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE LITTLE THIEF.
[Act 1.
WUdh. What's this to thee ? [min'd
Thou canst not mend it: if thou be'ist deter-
To rob ail, like a tyrant, yet take heed
A keener justice do not overtake tliee.
And catch you in a noose.
Lure. I am no woodcock ; [foolery,
He that shall sit down frighted with that
Is not worth pity; let me alone to shuffle!
Thou art for wenchine;.
Wildb* For beauty I, a safe course j
No halter hangs in my way ; I defy it.
Lure, But a worse fate, a wilful poverty ;
For where thou gain'st by one that indeed
loves thee, [destiny !
A thousand will draw from thee ; 'tis thy
One is a kind of weeping cross, Jack,
A gentle purgatory: do not fling at all ; -
Youll pay the box so often, 'till you perish.
Wildb, Take you no care for that, sir, 'tis
my pleasure :
I will employ my wits a great deal faster
Than you shall do your fingers ; and my loves.
If I mistake not, shall prove riper harvest
And handsomer, and come within less dan-
Where's thy young sister ? [ger.
Lure. I know not where she is; she's not
worth caring for, [her !
She has no wit. Oh, you'd be nibbling with
She*s far enough, I hope; I know not where;
She*s not worui caring for, a sullen thing,
She would not take my counsel. Jack ; and so
I parted from her.
Wildb, Leave her to her wants ?
Xtirc. I gave her a little money, what I
could spare ;
She had a mind to th' country; she is tum'd,
By this, some farmer's dairy-maid'; I may
meet her [sers* ;
Riding from market one day, 'twixt her dor-
If I do, by this hand I wo' not spare
Her butter-pence.
Wildb. Thou wilt not rob thy sister ?
Lure. She shall account me for her eggs
and cheeses Hove ber ?
Wildb, A pretty girl. — Did not old iUgripe
A very pretty girl she was.
Lure, Some such tiling ;
But he was too wise to fasten. Let her pass.
Wildb, Then where's thy mistress?
Lure, Where you sha' not find her.
Nor know what sttt£f slie is made on; no, in-
deed, sir,
t chose her not for your use.
Wilb, Sure she's handsome, [handsome ;
Lure. Yes, indeed is she; she is very
But that's all one.
Wildb. You'll come to th* marriage?
Lure, Is it
To-day ? [church now.
Wildb, Now, now, they are come from
Zttrc. Any great preparation?
Does justice Algripe shew his power?
Wildb. Very glorious.
And glorious people there.
Lure. I may meet with him
Yet ere I die, as cunning as he is. [marriage ;
Wildb. You may do good, Tom, at 5ie
We've plate and dainty things.
Lure. Do you no harm, sir ; [be marr'd
For yet methinks the marris^c should be
If thou may'st have thy will : farewell ! say
nothiiig f [Exit,
Enter Gentlemen.
Wildb. You're welcome, noble friends.
1 Gent. I thank you, sir. — [brain,
Nephew to the old lad]^; his name's Wild-*
And wild his best condition.
3 Gent, I have heard of him. —
I pray you tell me, sir, is young Maria merry
After her marriage-rites ? Does she look lively?
How does she like her man?
Wildb. Very scurvily;
And as nntowardly she prepares herself:
But it is mine aunt's will, that this dull me-
tal [someness.
Must be mix'd with her, to allay her hand-
1 Gent. Had Heartlove no fast friends?
Wildb, His means are liltle;
And where those littles are, as little comfoijts
Ever keep company: I- know she loves him,'
His memory beyond the hopes of-*
Beyond the Inifies in his mouldy cabinets ;
But 'tis her unhandsome fate —
Enter Heartlove.
1 Cent. I'm sorry for't. [start not, sir!
Here comes poor Frank.-^Nay, we're friends;
We see your willow, and arc sorry fbr't ;
And, tho' it be a wedding, we're half mourn-
ers, [my fortunes:
Heartl. Good gentlemen, remember not
They arc not to be help'd with words.
Wildb, Look up, man ! [a wench f
A proper sensible fellow, and shrink for a
Are there no more? or is she all the hand-
Heartl, Pritliee,leave fooling. ^ [someness?
Wildb. Prithee, leave thou whining !
Have maids forgot to love ?
Heartl. You are injurious. [low thee.
Wildb. Let 'em alone a while, they'll fol-
1 Gent, Come, good Frank,
Forget now, since there is no remedy, [do.
And shew a merry face, as wise men would
2 Gent. Be a free guest, and think not of
those passages.
Wildb. Think how to nick him home; thou
know'st she dotes on thee;
Graft me a daintjr medlar on his crabstock ;
Pay me the dreaming puppy.
' Some farrier's dairy maid.'] That this is sense, and may be true, f won't dispute; but I
can't yet help thinking that the better reading is,
Afarmer^i dairy maid. Sympson,
* Dorsen.'] L e. Panniers, Sec Johnson's Dictionary.
HeartL
Act!.]
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OE, THE LITTLE THIEF,
65
Heard, Well, make your mirtb, the whilst
I bear my misery :
Honest m){fds would have better thoaghts.
WildbJ I am her kinsman,
And love her well, am tender of her youth;
Yet, honest Frank, before I'd have that stink-
ard, [head —
That walking rotten tomb, enjoy her maiden-
HeartL Prithee, leave mocking !
Wildb. Prithee, Frank, believe me ;
Go to, consider. Hark, they knock to dinner !
[Knock within.
Come, wo't thoQ go ?
9 Gent. I prithee, Frank, go with us,
And laugh and dance as we do.
Hearil. You're light, gentlemen, [leave !
Nothing to weigh your hearts; pray give me
ril come and see, and take my leave.
Wildb. We'll look for you.
' Do not despair; I have a trick yet.
[Exit.
UeartL Yes, ^* [j^cts..
When Fm mischievous 111 believe your pro-
Siie'sgone, for ever gone^ (I cannot help it)
Mr hopes and all my happiness gone with
her, [jollity
Gone like a pleasing dream ! What mirth and
Beigns round about this house ! how every
office
Sweats withnew joys ! Can she be metry too ?
Is all this pleasure set by her appointment?
Sore sh'has a false heart then. Stdi they grow
louder. [her,
The old man's god, his gold, has won upon
(£j|^ht-hearted, cordial gold!) and all my ser*
I vices,
I That offered naked truth, are clean forcotten :
I Yet if slie were compell'd — but it can t be —
I If I could but imagine her will mine,
Altho' he bad her body—
Enter Lady and Wildlfrain.
Lady, He shall come in ! ■ [enemy.
Walk without doors o'this day? Tho' an
ft must not be.
WUdb, You must compel him, madam.
Lady. JEfOy she shall fetch him in, nephew;
it shall be so.
WUdb. It will be fittest. [ Exit with Ludy,
HeartL Can fair Maria took again upon
me? [ness?
Can there be so much impudence in sweet-
Enter Maria.
Or has she got a strong heart to defy me?
She comes herself: how rich she is in jewels!
Methinks they shew like frozen isicles.
Cold winter had hung on her. How the roses,
That (ept continual spring within her cheeks,
Are wither'd with theold man's dullembraces !
She would speak to me. — I can sigh too lady ;
But from a sounder heart : yes, and can weep
But 'tis for you, that ever I believ'd you, [too ;
Tears of more pious value than your marriage!
You would encase yourself^, and I must cre-
dit you,
So much my old obedience compels from me I
Go, and forget me, and my poverty —
I need notbid you, you're too perfect that way :
But still remember that I iovrd, Maria, fine !
Lov'd with a loyal love. Nay, turn notTrom
I will not ask a tear more, you arc bountiful ;
Go, and rejoice, and I will wait upon you
That little of mv life left!
Maria. Good sir, hear me I [obedience
What has been done, was th' act of my
And not my will, forc'd from me by my pa-
rents :
Now 'tis done; do as I do,bear ithandsomely ;
And if there can be more society,
Without dishonour to my tie of marriage.
Or place for noble love, 1 shall love you still.
You had the first; the last, had my will pro*-
per'd.
You talk of little time of life, dear Frank ;
Certain, I am not married for eternity:
The joy my marriage brings, tells nie Fm
mortal, [seruble;
And shorter-liv'd than you, else I were mi-
Nor can the gold and case his age hath
brought me
Add what I coveted, content Go with me;
They seek a day of joy; prithee let's shew it,
Tho it be forc'd ; and, by this kiss believe me.
However I must live at his command now,
I'lUdie at yours.
HeartL I have enough; 111 honour you!
[Eidunt.
Enter Lurcher.
Lure. Here are my trinkets, and this lusty
marriage
I mean to visit; I have shifts of all sorts,
And here are thousand wheels to set 'em
working.
I'm very merry, for I know this wedding
Will yield me lusty pillage : if mad Wildgoose,
That debauch'd rogue, keep but his ancieot
revels,
And breed a hubbub in the house, I'm happy.
Enter Alathe.
Now, \^hat are you?
Alathe. A poor distressed boy, sir, [treat
Friendless and comfortless, that would en-
Some charity and kindness from your worship,
I would fain serve, sir, and as fain endeavour
With duteous labour to deserve the love
Of that good gentleman shall entertain me.
Lure. A pretty boy, but of too mild a
brceding,
Too tender, and too basliful a behaviour.
What canst thou do?
' You would encase yourself."] Sympson supposes encase a corruption, and would substitute
einte. We think encase may be geuuinc, and used in the sense uf defend, arm yourbclf
^ith an excuse.
VOL.IU. K • Alathe.
65
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE LITTLE THIEr.
[Act 1.
Alathe, I can learn any thing [master.
That's good and honest, and f^hall please a
Lure. He blushet as he speaks, abd that
I like not;
I love a bold and secure confidence, [now,
An impudence that one may trust: this boy
Had I instructed him« had been a jewel,
A treasure for my use. Thou canst not lie ?
Ahithe. I would not willingly.
Lure. Nor thou hast no wit
To dissemble neatly \
Alathe. Do you love such bovs, sir ?
Litre. Oh, mainly, mainly; I'd have my
boy impudent,
Out-face all truth, yet do it piously ;
Like Proteus, cast Limsclf into all forms,
As sudden and as nimble as his thoughts ;
Blench at no danger, tiio' it be the gallows,
Nor make no conscience of a cozenage,
Though'tbe i' th' church. Your soft, demure,
still children
Are good for nothing, but to get long graces,
And sing songs to dull tunes : I would keep
Uiee, , [lity,
And cherish thee, liadst thou any active qua-
And be a tender master to thy knavery;
But thou art not for my use. .
Alathe^ Do you speak this seriously ?
lAirc. Yes, indeed do I.
Atotke* Would you have your boy, sir.
Read in these moral mischieA>?
Lure. Now thou mov'st me. [activities?
Alathe. And be a well-train'd youth in all
Jjure. By any means.
Alathe. Or do you this to try me.
Fearing a proneness ?
Lure. I speak this to make tliee.
Ataihe. Then take me, sir, and cherish me,
and love me ; [sir,
You have me what you would : believe me,
I can do any thing for your advHUbige.
I guess at what you mean ; I can lie naturally.
As easily as I can sleep, sir, and securely ;
As naturally I can steal too —
Lure, That Fm glad on, fthouVt excellent.
Right heartily glad on; bold thee there,
Alathe, Steal any thing from any body liv-
Lurch, Not from thy miister? [ing.
Alathe. Tiuit is mine own body.
And must not be.
Lure, The boy mends mightily.
Alathe. A rich man, that like snow heaps
up his monies,
I have a kind of pioui zeal to meet still;
A fool, that not deserves em, I tiike pity on.
For fear he should run mad, and so I ease
him. [me !
Lure. Excellent boy, and able to instruct
Of mine own nature just !
Aiutltr. I scorn all hazard.
And on the edge of danger I do best, sir.
I have a thousand faces to deceive, [ter:
And, to those, twice so many tongues to flat-
An impudence, no bniss was ever tougher;
And for my conscience —
Lure. Peace! I've found a jewel,
A jewel all the Indies cannot match !
And thou shalt feel —
Alathe. This tittle, and Fve done, sir:
I never can confess, Fve that spell on me;
And such rare modesties before- a magistrate.
Such innocence to catch a judge, such igno-
rance— [Come, boy !
Lure. I'll learn of thee; thou art mine own*
I'll give thee action presently.
Alathe. Have at you!
Lure. What must I call thee ?
Alathe. Snap, sir.
Lure. 'Tis most natural ;
A name born to thee: sure thou art a fiiiry !
Shew but thy skill^^ and I shall make thee
happy. [Exeunt,
Enter Lady^ NursCy Mrs.Newhve, and Toby,
Lady. Where be these knaves ? who strewa
up all the liveries?
Is the bride's bed made?
Tobi/. Yes, madam, and a bell
Hung under it artificially.
7 ady. Out, knave, out!
Must we have larums now ?
2'oby. A little warning, [healths, madam.
That we may know when to begin our
The justice is a kind of old jade, madam,
That will go merriest with a bell.
Lady. All the house drunk?
Toby. This is a day of jubilee. .
Lady. Are the best hangings up? and the
plate set out?
Who makes the posset. Nurse?
Nurse. The dairy-maid, [p^r. —
And she will put that in will make lum ca-
Weli, madam, well, you might ha' chose ano-
A handsomer, for her years*. [^ber.
Lady, Peace! he is rich, Nurse;
He's rich, and tiiat is beauty.
Nurse. I am sure he's rotten; [saw her* ?
'Would h'had been hang'd when he first
Lady. Termagant ! [looks to Iiim ?
What an angry quean is this ! Where, who
Ibby, He's very merry, madam; mascer
Wildbrain
Has him in hand, i'th' bottom o'the cellar;
He sighs and tipples —
Nurse. Alas, good gentleman!
My heart's sore for tljee. [rah,
Lad^. Sorrow must have his course. Sir-
Give him some sack to dry up his remem-
brance, [him.
How does the bridegroom ? I am afraid of
* A handsomer for your years."] The amendment proposed by Sympson.
^ Wlten he first saw her. Termagant.] The word termagant lias hitherto been, ronde a
partoftlic iV</r»e'< speech. It undoubtedly (as Sympson supposes) belongs to the Ladyi
though he would omit the words angry qu€<m- in the next line^ «nd put termagant in their
place. Nurse
Actl.]
THE NIGHT-WALKER; Oil, THE LITTLE THIEF.
67
Nunc. He's a trim youth to be tender of,
llemp take him ! [winter
Must my sweet newblown rose find such a
Before lier spring be near?
Ladtf. Peace, peace ! thou'rt foolish.
Tohf, And dances like a town-top^, and
reels and hobbles. [wine.
Alas, good gentlemen ! give him not much
Toby, He sihall ha' none by my consent.
Ladjf. Are the women comfortingmy daugh-
Mrt. NewL Yes, yes, madam, [ter?
And reading to her a pattern of true patience;
They read, and pray for her too.
Avrse. They had need f s [deal ;
You had better marry her to her grave a great
There will be peace and rest. Alas, poor
gentlewoman I [ness ?
Most she become a nurse, now in her tender-
Well, madam, well ! my heart bleeds !
Lady. Thou'rt a fool still—
A'ttrse. Pray Heav'n I be !
Lady, And an old fool, to be vex'd thus !
Tis late ; she must to bed. Go knave ; be
menr;
Driiik ibr a boy : away to all your chaiges !
[Exeunt.
Enter Wildhrain and Heartlove,
Wildb, Do as thou wo't; but, if thou dost
refuse it, [arguing ;
Thou art the stupidest ass — ^There's no long
Time is too precious, Frank.
Had slie not swooned if I had not caught her?
Canst thou have more ?
Heart L I must confess all this.
Wiidb, Do not stand prating, and mis*
doubting, casting!
If she go- from thee now, she's lost for ever;
Now, now she's going, she that loves thee.
She whom thou lov'st— [g<jing-
Heartt Pray let me think a little.
Wildb. There is no leisure; think when
th' hast embrac'd her.
Can she imagine thou didst ever honour her?
Ever believe thy oaths, that tamely sutfer'st
An old dry ham of horse-flesh to enjoy her.
Enjoy her maidenhead ? Take but tha t from her.
That we may tell posterity a man had it,
A handsome man, a gentleman, a young man.
To save the honour of our bouse, the credit!
Tis no great matter I desire.
• Heart L I hear you.
Wildb, Free us both from the fear*" of
breeding fools [long.
And oafs, got by this shadow : we talk too
Heart i. She's going now to-bed, amongithe
women ;
What opportunity can I have to meet her?
Wildb. Let me alone ! Hast thou a Will?
speak soundly, [somely;
Speak discretely, speak home and hand-
Is't not pity, nay misery, nay infamy, to leave
So rare a pie to be cut up by a rascal ?
HcartL I will go presently ; now^ now, I
stay thee^.
Wildb, Such a dainty doe to be taken
By one that knows not neck-beef from a
pheasant,
Nor cannot relish braggat from ambrosia' ?
Is it not conscience ?
HeartL I'm hot with wine^
And apt now to believe ; but if thou dost this
Out of a villainy, to make me wrong her.
As tlK>u art prone enough —
Wildb. Does she not love thee? [with thee?
Did she not cry down-right, e'en now, to part
^ Nurse. And dances like a tmvrt'top.'] The putting this line in the Nur»e*s mouth is
seainst all sense and reason, and confounds the discourse : I suspect these words belong to
'Tabyy whose speech at sighs and tipples being interrupted by the Lady and. the Nurse, is
here resumed and finished. Sympson,
' Frank. I trill go, &c.] Sympson supposes we should both alter and divide tliis speech,
making Wildbrain say.
Now, now, I say.
* If or cannot relish hm^t from ambrosia.] Braggat, t. e, mead and ale sweetened with
hottc^. Our authors in this place have receded from the common acceptation of ambrosia^
makmg that the liquor here, which the general nm of the classics call tlie meat of the gods.
But they are not destitute of good authority for so doing. Thus in Atiien«us, b. ii. c. ft.
Anaxandrides introduces one saying, that he eats nectar and drinks ambrosia, &c. And
Sappho too to the same purpose, a little lower, says in one of her pOems,
A bowl ambrosial was mixed.
Apuleius, b. vi. among the Latins, takes tlie same hberty, when Psyche is to be made inu>
mortal. Mercury holds out a cup of ambrosia to her, and bids her drmk of it, &c.
After I had wrote tliis, I found the same observation had been made by Le Clere, in his
notes upon Hesiod's Theogony, verse 640. Neither are our authors the only English poets
who make ambrosia the ^ds drink ; Taylor, the Water-poet, has done tiie same in his
PeonylesB Pilgrimage,
And I intreat you take these words for no-lies;
I had good aqtM'>vita, rosa so-lies,
With sweet ambrosia (the gods* own drink)
Most excellent geere for moftals as I tliink.
But bow this person' came by the knowledge of such a thing, I have neither will nor leisure
to examine at present. Sympson,
K 9 Heartl.
68
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE LITTLE THIEF.
[Actl.
Hearth Yes, yes; now I feel it.
Wildb, A meritorious thing?
Heart L Good father Wildgoose,
I do confess it.
Wildh, Come then, follow me, [privately,
And pluck a man's heart up; FU lock thee
Where she alone shall presently pass by,
None near to interrupt thee : but be sure —
Hearth I shall be sure enough; lead on,
and crown me.
Wildh. No wringings in your mind now,
as you love me ! [Exeunt.
Enter Lady, Maria, Af gripe, Genilacovien,
jSiurse, and Mrs. Newlove.
Lady, rris time you were a-bed.
Al^, 1 prithee, sweetheart.
Consider my necessity ! — Why art sad ?
I must tell you a tale in your ear anon-—
Ntirse. Of Tom Thumb;
I believe that will prove your stifTest story,
Mrs. Neul. I pity the young wench !
1 Gentiew. And so do I too.
2 Gentiew, Come, old sticks take fire.
1 Gentiew. But the plague is, he'll burn out
Give him another cup. [instantly.
2 Gentleic. Those are but flashes ;
A ton of sack won't set him high enough. —
Will you to bed ?
Maria. I must.
1 Gentiew. Coine, have a good heart,
And win him like a bowl to lie close to you^;
Make your best use !
Alg. Nay, prithee, duck, go instantly :
Y1X dance a jig or two to warm my body.
Enter Wildhrain.
Wildh. 'Tis almost midnight.
Ijidy. Prithee to bed, Maria. [follow,
Wiidh. Go you afore, and let the ladies
And leave her to her thoughts awhile; there
must be
A time of taking leave of tliese same fooleries.
Bewailing o* their maidenheads'^.
Lady. Come then,
We'll wait i' th' next room.
Alg. Do not tarry ; for if
Thou dost, by my troth I shall fall asleep,
Mall. [Exeunt.
Wildh. Do, do, and dream of dottrels ! —
Get you to-bed quickly.
And lets ha* no more stir; come, no crying!
TTis too late now; carry yourself discretely :
The old thief loves thee dearly, that's the be-
nefit; [Nay, not that way !
Por the rest, you must make your own play.
They'll pull you all to-pieces for your whim-
whains,
Your garters and your gloves; go modestly,
And privately steal to bcS; 'tis very late, Mall;
i or if you go by them, such a new larum —
Maria. I know not whicli way to avoid 'em.
Wildb. This way,
This thro' the cloisters, and so steal to-bed !
When you are there once, all will separate,
And give you rest : I came out of my pity
To shew you this.
Maria. I thank you.
Wildh. Here's the keys ; [yoa.
Go presently, and lock the doors fast suter
That none shall follow.
Maria. Good night!
Wildb, Good night, sweet cousin !
A good and sweet night — or Til curse thee,
I^rank. ' [Exeunt,
Enter Heartlcroe.
Hearth She stays long: sure young Wild*
goose has abus'd mc, [&g<uiV
H' has made sport wi' me. I may yet get out
And I may see his face once more: I ha' fool
intentions ;
But they are drawn on by a fouler dealing.
Enter Maria,
Hark, hark ! it was the door ! [stealing !
Something comes this way, wondrous still and
May be, some walking spirit to afiVight me.
Maria. Oh, Heav'n, my fortune !
Hearth 'Tis her voice I stay.
Maria. Save roe,
Bless me, you better powers I
Hearth I'm no devil. [now.
Maria. You're little better, to disturb me
Hearth My name is Heartlove.
Maria, Fy, fy, worthy friend I
Fy, noble sir !
Hearth I must talk further with you :
You know my feir affection —
Maria. So preserve it; "[ci viler!
You know I'm married now. For shame, be
Not all the earth shall make me —
Hearth Pray walk this way;
And if you ever lov'd mc —
Maria. Take heed, Frank, [prithee.
How you divert that love to hate: go home,
Hearth Shall he enjoy that sweet —
Maria. Nay, pray unhand me.
Hearth He that never felt what love was?
Maria. Then I cliarge you
Stand further dff!
Hearth I'm tame; but let me walk w* you;
Talk but a minute.
Maria. So your talk be honest,
And mv untainted honour suffer uot^
ril walk a turn or two.
Hearth Give me your hand then. [Exeunt,
Enter Wildhrain, Algripe, Lady, Nurie^
^ Gentlewomen, apd Mrs, Newlove^
Alg. She is not in her chamber. .
Lwiy. She's not here.
^ And win him like a howh"] A single letter seems wanting here.
And wind him like a bowi. Sympson,
*° Bezeailing others maiden heads.] Corrected in 1750.
Wildb,
A«tl.]
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE LITTLE THIEF.
€9
Wildb. And Til tell you what I dream'd—
Alg, Give me a torch !
1 Gentlew, Be not too hasty, sir,
Wildb. Nay, let him go;
For if my dream be true he must be speedy;
He will be trickt, and biaz'd else**.
^«rse. As I am a woman,
I cannot blame her if she take her liberty!
'Would she would make tliee cuckold, thou
old bully,
A notorious cuckold, for tormenting her !
Lady. Vi\ hang her then.
Nurse. I'll bless her then ! she does justice :
Is this old stinking dogs-flesh for her diet ?
Wildb. Prithee, honest Nurse, do not fret
too much ;
For fear I dream you'll hang yourself too.
JJ^. The cloister? [Wudl. whispers Alg.
Wudb. Such was my fancy ; I don't say
'tis true.
Nor do I bid you be too confident.
Alg. Where are the keys? the keys, I say!
Wildb. I dream'd she
Had *em to lock herself in.
Kurse, What a devil
Do you mean ?
Enter Servant*
Wildb. No harm; good nurse, be patient !
Serv. They are not in the window, where
they use to be.
Wildb, What foolish dreams are these !
Alg. I'm mad.
mldb. I hope so; [you.
If you ben*t mad, III do my best to make
1 Gentlew. This is some trick.
S Gentlew. I smell tlie Wildgoose.
Alg. Come, gentlemen ; come quickly, I
beseech you, [gentlemen.
Quick as you can ! this may be your case,
And bring some lights, some lights ! [Exit,
WUdb. Move faster, faster! you*il come
too late else.
FD stay beliind and pray for you. I had rather
She were dishonest than' thou shouldst have
her. [Ejfeunt.
Enter Maria and Heartlaoe,
Maria. You're most unmanly! Yet I have
some breath left, [me !
And this steel to defend me : come not neaf
For if you oflfer but another violence,
As I have life Fll kill you ! if I miss that,
Upon my own heart will I execute,
And let that fair belief out, I had of you.
Heartl. Most virtuous maid, I've done:
forgive my follies ; [ness.
Pardon, oh, pardon ! I now see my wicked-
And what a monstrous shape it puts upon me.
On your fair hand I seal.
Alg, [within'] Down with the door !
Maria. We are betray'd! Oh, Frank,
Heartl. Vi\ die for you ; [Frank !
Rather than you shall suffer, I'll —
Enter Algripe^ Lady^ Sfc,
Alg. Now enter, [eyes !
Enter, sweet gentlemen. Mine eyes^ mine
Oh, how my head aches !
1 Gentlew. Is it possible?
2 Gentlew. Hold her ; she sinks.
' Maria. A plot upon my honour!
To poison my fair name, a studied villainy !
Farewell ! As I have hope of peace, I'm ho-
nest, [brains, they bud sure.
Alg. My brains, my brains, my monstrous
Nursed She's gone, she's gone !
Alg, A handsome riddance o/her.
'Would I could as easiJy lose her memory ?
Nurse. Is this the sweet of marriage ? have
For this reward ? f I bred thee
1 Gentlew. Hold, hold ! He's dtbperate too«
Alg. Be sure you hold him fast! we'll
bind lihn over [him.
To the next sessions, and, if I can, III hang
Heartl. Na^ then, I'll live to- be a terror
to thee.-^— [beauty,.
Sweet virgin rose, farewell ! Heiiv'n has thy
That's only fit for Heav'n. I'll live a little.
To find the villain out that wrou ght this in«
jury, [thee.
And then, most blessed soul, Fll climb up to
Farewell! I feel myself another creature, .
[ExU,
Lady. Oh, misery of miseries !
Nurse. I told you, madam. jrportion?
Lady. Carry her in. You will pay hacklier
Al^. No, not a penny : pay me back my
And I'll condition wi' ye. [credit^
Lady. A sad wedding ! ^
Her grave must be her bridal-bed. O.b, Mall,
'Would 1 had wed thee to thy own content!
Then I had had thee still.
Alg. Vm mad ! Farewell !
Anotiber wanton wife will prove a he! I.
[JExcwnf.
" Trickt, and blai'd.]^ IHcking is drawing any person's arms, with pen and ink ; llazonr
ing them is to set tfaem torth in their proper colours. Sympson.
ACT
THE NIGHT-WAIiUBR; OR, THE IJTTLE THIEF.
(Actft
ACT 11.
Inter Lurcher and Alathe.
Xtrrc. TXTHAT hast thou done ?
▼ ▼ Alathe. I've walk'd thro* aU the
lodgings :
A filcnce, as if death dwelt there, inhabits.
Lure. What hast thou seen?
Alathe, Nought but a sad confusion;
£very thing left in such a loose disorder.
That, were there twenty thieves, they would
be laden. ['tis strange
Lure. Tis very well ; I like thy care : but
A we<fding-night should be so solitary.
Alathe, Certainly there's some cause;
some death or sickness
Is falien suddenly upon some friend,
Or some strange news is come.
Lure. Are they all a-bed? [it be
Alcthe. I think so,aiid sound asleep, unless
Some women thatkeop watch in a lov. parlour,
And drink, and weep, I know not to what end.
Lure. Where's all the plate?
Alathe, Why, lock'd up in that room :
I saw th' old lady, ere she went to bed,
I'Dt up her plate, and some of the rich
hangings, [are there too :
In a small long chest ; her chains and rings
It stands close by the table, on a form.
Lure. Twas a good notice; didst thou
see the men f [tlusir leaves ;
Alathe. 1 saw them sad too, and all take
BqC what they said I was too far to hear, sir.
Lure, 'TIS daintily discover'd; we shall
certainly
Have a roost prosp'roas nigfat. Which way?
Alathe, A close one,
A back-door, that the women have left open,
To go in and out to fetch necessaries,
Close on the gai*dcn side.
Lure, I love tliy diligence:
Wert tliou not fearful ?
Alaihe, Fearful ? Ill be hang'd first.
Lure, Say they had spied thee ?
Alathe. 1 was tlien detennin'd
T' have cried downright too, and have kept
'em company,
As one that had ah interest in their sadness;
Or made an errand to I know not whom, sir.
Lure. My dainty boy ! Let us dischai]ge ;
tliat plate
Makes a perpetual motion in my fingers
^fill I have fast hold of iL [ben't greedy;
Alathe, Pray be wise, air; do t handsomely,
Let*s handle it with such an excellence
As if we would bring Uiieving into honour:
We must disguise, to flight these reverend
Lure, Still my blest boy! [watches —
Alaihe, And clear die room of drunken
jealousies. [make
The chest ii of some weiglit, and we may
Such noise i'th' carriage we may be
snap'd.
Lure. Come, open : here's a devil's fiice.
Alathe. No, no, sir, we'll have no shi^
so terrible;
We will not do the devil so much pleasure
To have him face our plot.
Lure, A winding-sheet then !
Alathe, That*s too cold a shifl,
I would not wear the reward of my wickedness :
I wonder you 're an old thief, and no cunnioger.
Where's the long cloak? • •
Lure. Here, here.
Alathe. Give me the turbant [this way !
And the false beard. I hear some coming
Stoop, stoop, and let me sit upon your
shoulders,
And now as I direct — Stay, let them enter.
And when I touch move forward ; make no
noise!
Enter Nurse and Toby.
Nurse, Oh, 'tis a sad time ! All the bnmt
wine*s drunk, Nick.
Ihby. We may thank your dry chaps fbr*t.
The canary's gone too ; [upon ;
No substance for a sorrowful mind to work
I cannot mourn in beer: if she should walk
now.
As discontented spirits are wont to dO'—
Nurse, And meet us in the cellar?
Toby, What fence have we with single
beer against her?
What heart can we defy the devil with?
Nurse, The March beer's open. [well;
Toby. A fortification of March beer will do
I must confess 'tis a most mighty annoar.
For I presume I cannot pray.
Nurse, Why, Nicholas ?
Toby. We coachmen have such tumbling '
faitus, nu prayers
Can go an even pace.
Nurse. Hold up your candle.
Toby, Verily, Nurse, I have cried so mudi
For my young mistress that is mortified.
That if 1 have not more sack to support me,
I shall e'en sleep: hey ho, for another
fiaggon ! [ful'st mattery
These burials and christnxngs are the monm-
And they ask more drink-—
Nurse. Drink to a sad heart's needfol.
Toby, Mine's ever sad, for I. am ever dry^
Nurse. fpritliee snuff it }
Nurse, Methinks the light bums bine ; I
There's a thief in 't, I think.
jf b^. There may be one near it.
Nurse, What's that that moves tliere^
i'th* name of — ^Nicliolas?
That thing that walks?
Toby. 'Would I had a ladder to behold it>
Mercy
Actl]
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OB, THE UTTLE THIEF.
n
Mercy upon me, the gbost of one of the
goard sure ; [brimstone ;
Tis the devil bj his chtwa, he smells of
Sore he fiuts fire, what an earthquake I have
in me!
Oot with thy prayer-hook. Nurse! [eat it.
Nune. It fell i'th' frying-pan, and the cats
Tobtf, I have no power to pray ! It grows
still longCfT, [Nurse.
*Tu steeple-high now ; ^and it sails away.
Let's call the butler up, for^ speaks Latin ",
And thatvrill daunt the devil.' I am blasted;
My belly's grown to nothine.
Nurse, iSy, fly, Toby ! \Esit with Tobj/.
Akthe. So, let them go ! And whilst they
are asconish'd.
Let's presentlyupon the rest now, suddenly.
Lure OSj off, and up again when we're
near tlie parlour !
Alt sure thou know'st the chest ?
Alathe. Tho* it were i'th' dark, sir,
I can go to it.
Lure On then, and be Imppy. [Exainl,
Enter Toby.
Tobi/. How my haunciies quake! Is the
Aing here still f [own trade;
Now can I out-do any button-maker at his
I hare fifteen fits of an ague. Nurse ! 'tis
gone, I hope : [Nurse !
The hard-hearted woman has left roe alone.
And she knows too I ha* but a lean con-
science to keep me company.
^ iNoise witfUn,
The deviPs among 'em in the pariour sure,
The ghost diree stories high, he has the
Nurse sure, [she whistles !
He's boiling of her bones now; hark, how
There's gentlewomen within tooj; how will
they do?
I'll to the cook, ibr he was drunk last night,
And now he's valiant; he's a-kin to ch' devil
And fears no fire. [too,
Enter Lurcher and Alaihe, with a Coffin,
Lure. No light?
Almthe. None left, sir; [*em.
The^'^re gone, and carried all the candles with
Their fright is infinite; let's make good use
on't: [rise else.
We must be quick, sir, quick, or th' house will
Lure. Was this the chest?
Alathe. Yes, yes.
Iftrc« There were two of 'em.
Or I mistake.
Alathe. I know the right No stay, sir,
N<ir no discourse, but to our labour lustily !
Pnt-toyour strength, and make as little noise— ^
Then presently out at the back door. j
lure. Come, boy; |
'^ He 9peuks Latin.] Tlie wonderful efiect of speaking Latin to ghosts, and other super*
astora! bein^, hath at all times uuiforinly been the prevailing notion of the common
people. In like manner, the honest Butler, in Mr. Addison's Drummer, recommends that
Ihe ^ward shall speak Latin to the ghost in that play. A.
For
Come, happy child, and let me hog thy
excellence ! [fiminl.
Enter Wildhndn.
Wildb. What thousand noises pass tliro*
all the rooms ! [drunk.
What cries and hurries! Sure tlie devil's
And tumbles thro' the house. My villainiea^
That never made me apprehend before
Danger or fear, a little now molest me :
My cousin's death sits heavy o' my con-
science; [mer'dit!
'Would I 'd been lialf-hang'd when I ham*
I aim'd at a liviug divorce, not a burial.
That Frank might have had some liope.
Hark! still
In every room confusion ; they're all mad.
Most certain all stark-mad within tlie house;
A punishment inflicted for my lewdness.
That I might have the more sense of my
mischief, [hang'd sure.
And run the more mad too. My aunt is
Sure hang'd herself or else the fiend has
fetch'd her.
I heard a hundred cries, ' the devil, the devil T
Then roaring, and then tumbling; all tb«
chambers
Are a mere Babel, or another Bedlam.
What, should I think? I shake myself toos
can the
Devil fiiid no time, but when we are merry?
Here's something comes.
Enter Mrt. Newhve,
NewL Oh, that I had some -company,
(I care not what they were) to ease wtf
To comfort me ! [misery.
Wildb. Who's that?
NewL Again? Nay tlicn, reoeiTe—
Wildb. Hold, hold ! I am no fury.—
The merchant's wife ! [be !
NeicL Are you a man ? Pray Heav'n you
Wildb. lam.
NewL Alas, I have met, sir.
The strangest things to-night.
Wildb. Why do you stare? [candle out;
NewL Pray comfort me, aiid pot your
For if I see tlie spirit again I die for't.
And hold me fast, for I shall shake to pieces
else.
Wildb. I'll warrant you, I'll hold you.
Hold you as tenderly — I've put the light put;
Ketire into my chamber, there I'll watch wi'ye,
ni keep you from all frights.
NewL And will you keep me?
Wildb. Keep you as secure, lady-*-
NewL You must not wrong me; then th#
devil will have t)s. [will. fear us|
Wildb. No, no, I'll love you; then the devil
n
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE UTTLE THIEF.
[Act «.
Alg. Fool, to ask that question!
To keep out women. I expect her mother
Will visit me with her clamours : Oh, I hate
Their noise, and do abhor the whole sex
heartily ! ^ rstudy
They are all walking devils^ harpies: I will
A week together how to rail sufficiently
Upon 'cm all : and, that I may be furnish'd,
Ihou shaltbuy all the railing books and bat>
lads . • I
That malice hath invented against women ;
I will read nothing else, and practise 'em, 1
Till I grow fat with curses, . |
Sero. If you'll go [books !—
To th* charge, let me alone to find, you
What's tliat? They come near us''.
Alg, Where? hold up the torch, knave!
Sero. Did you hear nothing? 'tis a— »
Alg, Why dost make a stand?
Scrv, What's that?
Alg, Where, where? dost sec any thing?
We are hard by th* church-yard, and I was
never
Valiant at midnight in such irksome places*®;
They say ghosts walk sometimes. Hark ! d'ye
hear nothing?
Enter Lurcher ^ Alathe, and J^fistress,
Mistress. No further; dig here, and lay her
in quickly. fbe discover'd !
Lure, What light is that, Doy? we shall
Set the coffin up an end, and get behind me;
There's no avoiding.
Alathe. Oh I
Al^. Where is that groan?
I begm to be afraid.
Sere. What shall we do, sir?
Aig. We are almost at home now; thou
must go forward;
Perhaps 'twas niv imagination.
Lure, 'Tis he !
Aluthe, I know him too; let me alone ! '
Serv, Oh, sir, ~ .
A ghost, the very ghost of mistress bride!
I have no power to run away. [me !
Alg. Curst ghust ! bless me ! preserve
I do comii:and tliee, whatsoe'er thou art,
1 do conjure thee, leave me; do not fright me.
If thou be*st a devil, vex me not so soon,
If thou be'st — the spirit of my wife—
A f (I the. Thy wife.
Ali;. I shall be tormented!
Aluthe, Thy abused wife,
That cannot peaceably enjoy her death*
Thou hast an evil conscience.
Alg, I know it. [thy soul,
Aiathe, Among thy other sins which black
Call to thy mind thy' vow made to another.
Whom thou bast wrongfd, and make ber sa-
tis&ction
Now I am dead, thou peijnrM man I or else
Athousand black tormcntorsshall pursue the«.
Until thou leap into eternal flames ;
Where gold, wnich thou adorest here on earth.
Melted, tlie fiends shall pour into thy throat f
For this time, pass ; go home and tlunk upon
Lure, Away ! [me I
Serv, There are more spirits I
Alg, Thank you, dear wife !
Ill bestow twentynoblesonatomb for thee;
Thou shalt not walk and catch cold after
death. [Theif go backward in.
Lure, So, so ;^ they're gone ; 'twas my in*
genious rascal !
But how dost know he made vows to another?
Aiathe, I overhearci the women talk to-
night on't; [bury
But now let's lose no time, sir ! pray let's
l*his gentlewoman. Where*s my mistress ?
Enter JB^Iistress,
Mistress, Here; I durst not tarry.
Lure, We ha' so cozen'd the old forty i'th'
hundred [grimage;
An the devil hinder hhn not, he'll go a pil-
But come, about our business! set her down
Maria, Oh! [again.
Lure, She groans! ha! ^
Maria, Oh !
Lure. Again! she stirs! [in pieces.
Mistress, Let's fly, or el&e wc shall be torn
Lure, An you be good at that, bury your-
Or let the sexton take you for liis fee. [self.
Away, boy ! ' \Ejctunt,
Maria, I am very cold, dead-cola !
Where am I? wiiat's this? a coffin? where
have I been?
Mercy defend me ! Ha! I do remember
I wusbctray'd, and swooned. My heart aches;
Fuiwoud^rous hungry too: dead bodies cat
not:
Sure I was meant for burial; I am frozen;
Death, like a cake of ice, dwells round about
me ; [what path ?
Darkness spreads o'er the world too. \V hiM-c ?
Best Pro\ idencc, direct me *' ! [E^^t»
'5* Just. They cotne near us.9
StTV. Mhat^s that f] So the fonncr editions.
'^ Irksom..' pfaces,'\ Probably we should read, darksome^
** iics/.] Ferhups the original exhibited lltst.
ACT'
Acts.]
THE NIGHT-WALKER;
HEF.
75
ACT III.
Inter Lady^ Wildbrain^ Women, and Toby,
Lady.nr^OV art the most unfortunate fel-
-■• Wildb. Why, aunt, riow—
What have I done?
Lady, Tlie most malicious varlct— [ing
Thy wicked head never at rest, but hammeiv.
And batching hellish things, and to no pur-
60 thou mayst have thy base will. fpose,
Wildb. Why do you rail thus ?
Cannot a scurvy accident fall out.
But I must be at one end on*t?
Lady. Thou art at both ends, the fools,
Wiidb. Cannot young sullen wenches play
And marry, and die, but I must be the agent?
All that I did (and if that be aa injury, [her.
Let the world judge it) was but to persuade
(And, as I take it, I was bound to*t too)
To make the reverend coxcomb her husband
cuckold: [harm i* this?
What elae could I advise her? was there
You are of years, and have run thro' experi-
^nce; [again,
would yoa be content, if you were young
To have a continual cough grow to your pil-
low ?|
A rottenness, that vaults are perfumes to.
Hang in your roof, and like a fog infect you?
Anointed hams, to keep his hinges turning.
Reek ever in your nose, and twenty night-
With twenty several sweats? [caps,
To^. Come Jew, some justice, [madam;
A thousand heathen-smells, to say truth,
And would ^u mallow my young pretty mis-
If such a mi&pken ? [ tress
iMdy. Sirrah,
Where is the body of my girl?
Wildb. I know not;
I am no conjurer: you may look tlie body!
I was like to be stol n ^way myself; the spirit
Had like to ha* surpriz'd me in the shape of
a woman, [dangerous.
Of a young woman, and you know those are
Toby. Sq had I, madam, simply tho'I stand
here,
I had been ravish'd too: I had twenty spirits;
In every corner of the house a fiend met me.
Lady. You lie like rascals! Was mistress
Newlove such
A ipirit, sir, to fright your worship? Well,
I discharge you, sir; you are now at liberty;
"ve where you please, and do what pranks
yoa fancy ; [niy nephew,
loa know your substance: iho* you are
lam no way bound, sir, to protect your mis-
So, fere you well ! [chief:
Wildb. Farewell, good aunt ! I tljank you !
" Automedon.] Automedon wag the charioteer of Achillea, and is now a name applied to
*»ery one 01 that caUing.
^ « EnUr
Adieu, honest Nick! The devil, if h*have
power, [ria«;e.
Will persecute yoor old bones for this mai-
Farewell, mistress Win !
Toby. And sliall we part with dry lips ?
Shall we, that have been fellow-devils together.
Flinch for an old woman*s fart?
Wildb. Tis a fine time o* night too; but
we must part, Nick. [the tenor,
loby. Shall we never ring again ? ne'er toss
And roll the changes in a cup of claret? [on
You shjdl not want ; whate'er Hay my hands
(As I am sure Automedon the coachman**)
Shall be distributed: bear up, I say, lian^ sor-
row! . [sure.
Give me that bird, abroad that lives at plea-
Sam the butler's true, the cook a reverend
Trojan ; [they were rotten ;
The falkuer shall sell his liavvks, and swear
There be some wandring spoons, they may
be met with; [sentences!
I'll pawn a coach-horse. Peace, utter no
The harness shall be us'd in our wars also;
Or shall I drive her (tell me but your will now;
Say but the word) over some rotten bridge.
Or by a marl-pit side? she may slip in da in-
Let me alone for myself! [tily;
Wildb. No, no; farewell, Toby !
Farewell, spiny Nicholas! no such thing;
There be ways i'th* world — If you sec me
A day or two hence, mrCy be we'll crack a
quart vet, « • [hold!
And pull a bell. Commend me to the hous-
Nay, cry not, Toby; 'twill make thy head
Toby, Sweet master Wildbrain! [giddy.
Wildb. No more, Toby; go.
The times may ajjter. —
But Where's the corse of my dead cousin,
(If she be dead)? 1 hop'd'thad but dissembled:
That sits heavy here. Toby, honest Toby,
Lend me thy lanthorn; I foi-got 'twas dark;
I had need look to my ways now.
Toby. Take a lodging with me to-ni^ht in
the stable, [hor«es.
And ride away to-morrow with one of the
Next your heart, pray do !
Wildb. No. [wander;
Good night, good neighbour Toby! I will
I scorn to submit myselt; ere I have ram-
bled— [terial;
But whither, or Avith what? that's more ma-
No matter; and, the worst come, 'tis but
stealing, [credir;
And my aunt won't see me hang'd, for her own
And farewell iu a halter costs, me noiliing.
[Exeunt.
76
THE NIGHT-W^VLKER; OR, THE LITTLE THiEf.
[Act S'
Enter Heartlote.
Hearth The night, and all the evils the
night covers, [darkncbs,
The goblins, hags, and the black spawn of
Cannot fright me. No, Death, I dare thy
cruelty !
For I am weary both of life and light too.
Keep my wits, Heav'n ! They say spirits ap-
pear
To melancholy minds, and the graves open :
I would fain see the ^ir Maria's shadow,
But speak unto her spirit, ere I died,
But ask upon ray knees a mercy from her.
I was a villain; but her wretched kinsman,
That set this plot, shall with his heart-blood
satisfy [this?
Her injur'd life and honour. — ^What light's
Enter WUdbrain with a Lanthom,
Wildb. It is but melancholy walking thus ;
The tavern-doors are barricado'd too, [tion ;
Where I might drink *till morn, in expecta-
I cannot meet the watch neither; nothing in
The likeness of a constable, whom I might.
In my distress, abuse, and so be carried,
Por want of other lodging, to the Counter.
HeartL *Tis his voice ; Fate, I thank thee!
Wildb. Ha ! who is tliat ? An thou be'st
a man, speak:
Frank lieartlove? then I bear my destinies!
Thou art the man of all the world I wish'd
for:
My aunt has tum*d mcouta-doors; she has,
At this unchristian hour; and I do walk
Methinks like Guido Vaux, with my dark
lanthorn,
Stealing to set the town o' iirc ; i' th' country
I should be ta*en for William o' th* Wisp,
Or Robin Good-Pillow. And how dost,
Ilrartl, The worse for you ! [Frank?
Wildb. Come, thouVt a fool. Art going to
thy lodging?
I'll he with thee to-night, and tell thee stories,
How many devils we ha' met withal ;
Our house is haunted, Frank, whole ie^^ions —
I saw fifty for my share.
limrtt. Didst not fright *em ?
yS'ildb, How ! fright 'em? Ko, they frighted
me sufficiently. [make tliem stare,
Hearif, Thou hadst wickedness enough to
And be afraid o'thee, malicious devil !
And draw thy sword ; for, by Maria's soul,
I will not let thee scape, to do more mischief.
Wildh. Thou art mad ; what dost mean ?
Heart I. Tw kill thee; nothing else will
ease my anger;
The injury is fresh I bleed withal ; [in't,
Mor can that word express it, there*s no peace
Nor must it be forpvcn, but in death :
Therefore call up thy valour, if th' hast any*
And summon up thy spirits to defend thee !
Thy heart must suflter for thy damned prac-
tices
Against thy noble cousin, and my innocence.
Wildb. Hold ! hear a word ! did I do any
thing [her?
But for your good? That you mifj^t bare
That in that desp'rate time I might redeem
Altho* with show of loss ? [her,
HeartL Out, ugly villain!
Fling on her the most hated name of w?ufre
To tne world's eye, and face it out in couri-
tesy? [tempt it?
Bring him to see't, and make me drunk t' at-
Enter Maria.
Maria. 1 hear some voices this way.
HeartL No more 1 if you can pray,
Do't as you fight.
Maria, What new frights oppose me ?
I have heard that tongue.
Wildb. Tis my fortune :
You could not take me in abetter time, sir;
I have nothing to lose, but the love I lent thee.
My life my sword protect ! [their ruins,
Maria. I know 'em both; but, to prevent
Must not discover — Stay, men most desp'-
rate!
The mischief you are forward to commit
Will keep me from my grave ; and tie my
To endless troubles else. [spint
Wildb. Hal 'tis her ghost !
HeartL Maria? [make
Maria. Hear me both ! Each wound you
Runs thro' my soul, and is a new death to
me;
Each threatning danger will affright my rest.
Look on me, lieartlove, and, my kinsman,
view me !
Was I not late, in my unhappy marriage.
Sufficient miserable, full of all misfortunes.
But ycKi must add, witli your most impious
angers.
Unto my sleeping dust this insolence?
Would you teach Time to speak eternally
Of my disgraces? make records to kcep'emy
Keep them in brass ? Fight then^ and kill my
honour ! [swords.
Fight deadly both; and let your bloody
Thro* my reviv'd and reeking infamy, [ruins!
(That never shall be purg'd) find your own
lieartlove, I lov'd thee once ; and hop'd again
In a more bkssed love to meet thy spirit:
If thou kiirst him, thou art a mundercr ;
And murder never shall inherit Heav'u*' :
My time is come, my conceal'd grave expects
me:
*5 And murder shall never inherit Heaven.]
Theobald reads, And murderers shall ne'er inherit Heaven;
And Sympson, And a murderer shall ne'er inherit Heavers.
For the ease of the verse, we' have made a small transposition ; though it is not improbable
that the old line is genuine.
Farewell,
Acts.]
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE LJTTLE THIER
TT
Farewell) and follow not! your feet arc
blood V, [melted :
A&d will pollute my peace.— I hope they are
This is my way sure. [Exit,
HeartL Stay, blesfiiM soul !
Wiidb. 'Would she had
Come sooner, f^d ha' sav'd some blood !
HeartL Dost bleed ? [feel it.
Wildb, Yes, certainly; lean both see and
HeartL Now I well hope it is not dan-
gerous, [me,
Give me thy hand ; as far as honour guides
I will know thee again. (Exit,
WUdb. I thank thee heartily !
I know not where to get a surgeon.
This vision troubles me ; sure she is living,
And I was foolish blind, I could not ^nd it.
I bleed apace still, and my heart grows
bfiavy;
If I go far I faint; Til knock at this house.
They may be charitable. 'Would 'twere per-
fect day!
Enter Mistress,
Ji>Jhtre$u Tis not he. — What would you,
sir?
WiUb, I would crave a little rest, lady,
And for my hurte some surgery ; I am
A gentleman that fortune of a fight —
Mistress. A handsome gentleman !
Alas, he bleeds; a very handsome gentleman!
Wildb, A sweet young wench ! beshrew
my heart, a fair one !
Fortune has made me some recompense.
Mistress. Pray, come in ; the air is hurt-
ful for you; fpresently;
Prav, let me lead you ; Vfi have a bed for you
III be your suigeon too. Alas, sweet gentle-
man ! [too fast now.
WiM. I feel no hurts; the morning comes
Mistress. Softly, I beseech you ! [Exeunt.
Enter Lady and Toby,
Toby. He is not up yet, madam; what
To come forth sq early ? [mpant 'you
lady. You blockhead !
Toor eyes are sow'd up still ; they cannot see
When It is day. Oh, my poor Maria !
Where be the women ?
Toby. They said they would follow us.
Lady. He shall not laugh thus at my
misery;
And kill my child, and steal away her body.
And keep her portion too.
Toby. Let hun be haog'd for't ;
Yoa have my voice.
Lady. These women not come yet?
*♦ Sanncc-^/2.] Sanctus-heW, wont to be run» when the priest said, Sanctus, Sanctvs,
SanciuSy Daminus, Deus Sabbaoth. Coles's English Dictionary, 8vo. J 677.
*' My daughter that thou kiWdst."] Sympson would make this a question, and r^ad,
Whert^s my daughter, &c.
fiot sorely the poet meant she shoqld demand her daughter, which is much better than iV
^tirogatitig.
EntfT
A son-in-law ! I'll keep a conjurer,
But ni find out his knavery.
Toby, Do, and I'll help him. [jure him;
And if he were here, tliis whip should con-
Here's a capiaty an it catch hold on's breech,
I'd make him sion believe the devil were
Lady. An old usurer ! [there.
Toby, He married the money; that is all
he iook'd for;
For your daughter, let her sink or swim.
Lady. I'll swim him !
This is his house : I wonder they stay thus.
That we might rail hito out on's wits !
Toby, They'll come, P^m,
Fear not, madam, and bring clappers with
Or some have lost their old wont : I hav«
heard [o* their tongues
(No disparagement to your ladyship) some
Like Toro-ar Lincoln, three miles on.
Lady, Oh fy !
How tedious are they !
Toby, What an we lost no time ? [him.
You and I shall make a shift to begin with
And tune our instruments 'till th' consort come
To make up the full noise : I'll knock.
Alg. [above'] Who is that raps so saucily ?
Toby, 'lis I ; [down.
Toby : come down, or else we'll fetch you
Alas, this is but the sance-bell**; here's «
gentlewoman
Will ring y' another peal : come down, I say !
Aig, ^me new fortifications ! look to my
doors !
Put double bars»! I will not hare her enter.
Nor any of her tribe: they come to terrify me.
Keep out her tongue too, if you can!
iMdy, I hear you, [ship ;
A nd I will send my toneue up to your wox^
The echo of it shall fly o er the street.
My daughter, that thou kill'dst with kind-
ness*5, Jew, [Jew,
Tliat thou betray'dst to death, thou double
And after stol'st her body !
Toby, Jew's too good for him.
Ais, I defy you both ! [me,
Thy daughter play'd the villain, and betray'd
fictray'd my honour.
Lady. Honour, rascal? [tliee.
And let that bear an action, FU try't with
Honour?
Toby. Oh, reprobate!
Lady, Thou musty justice,
Buy an lionourable halter, and hang thyself!
Tobv* A worshipful rope's end is too good
for him. [dog else.
Lady, Get honour that way ; thou wot die a
I'oby. Come, and be whipt first!
Lady. Where's her portion ?
rd
Enter Nurse and Women,
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE LITTLE THIEF. [Act 5.
Lady. Fll buy that
Lure. A little, very little book,
Of good and godly women, a very little olie.
So little you may put it in a nutshell !
2'oby- With a small print that no body can
read it.
Nurse. Peace, sirrah, or I'll tear your books.
Alg. Open the door and let him in; I love
him.
Lure, A book of evil magistrates!
Ladi/. Ay, maijy!
D'ye hear that, justice?
Lure, And their evillcr wives.
That wear their places in their petticoats !
Alg. D'ye hear that, lady? [dancing,
Ainthe. A book new printed against playing.
Masking, May-poles; a zeiUous brother's
book,
And full of fables ! [women.
Lure. Another book of women, of mad
Women that were born in March !
[EjlU uithAlatkc.
Lady. Are you cot in ? [This fellow
We would ha*" pull d your knave s hide else !
Was sent t' abuse us; but we shall have time
To talk more with this justice.
Alg, Farewell, madam !
As you like this,. come visit me again.
You and your treble-strings. Now scold
your hearts out!
Worn. Shall he carry 't tlms away?
Nurse. Go to the judge.
And what you'll have us swear —
Lady. I thank ye heartily;
Fll keep that for the last, I will go hom«.
And leave him to his conscience for a
while;
If it sleep long, Fll wake it with a ven-
geance J [Exeunt*
Alg. Where
ril keep it safely. ^
Nurse, Traitor, thou shaVt keep it!
Alg. More of the kennel ? Put more bolts
to th* doors there, [upon us.
And arm yourselves! Hell is broke loose
Toby. I am glad ye're conic ; we'll blow
the house down.
Lady. Oh, Nurse, I have such cause—
Women. Villain, viper !—
Altho' you bad no cause, we're bound to help.
Nurse. Yes, and believe, we come not
here t' examine ;
And, if you please, well fire the house.
Alg. Call the constable ! {fortable.
Tolm. A cliaritable motion! fire is com-
Lady. No, no ; weUl only let him know
our minds ;
We. Will commit no outrage ; he's a lawyer.
Alg. Give me my mus<^uct!N
Lady. Where's my daughter's body,
Tfhat I may bury it?
Women. Speak, or well bury thee !
Nurse. Alive we'll bury thee; speak, old
iniquitv! [testimony.
Toby. Bury him alive by all means, for a
Alg. Their voices make my house reel ;
oh, for officers !
Tm in a dream ! Thy daughter's spirit walks
A-nights, and troubles jUI the neighbours:
Hire a conjurer; I'll say no more. [go
Lady. The law shall say more!
Women. Nurse. We are wiuiesscs;
And, if thou be'st not hang'd—
Enter Lurcher and Alathe.
Lure. Buy a book of good manuers,
A slK>rt book of good manners.
Alathe. Buy a ballad,
A ballad of the maid was got with child !
Tohy. That might ha* been ray case last
Whate'er it cost me. [night; Fll ha't,
Alathe. A ballad of the witches hang'd at
Toby. Ill have that too ; [Ludlow !
There was an aunt of mine, I think, amongst
'em;
I would be glad to hear her testament.
Lure. A new book of women! [him!
Alg. The thunder's laid ; how they stare at
Lure. A new book of fools, a strange
book.
Very strange fools ! [thou art.
Alg, Fll owe thee a good turn, whate'er
Lure. A book of walking spirits !
Alg. That I like not. [morris.
Toby. Nor I; they walk'd me tlie fools'
Lure. A book of wicked women !
Alg. That's well thought on. [women,
Lure. Of rude, malicious women, of proud
Of scolding women!— We shall ne'ei get
in.
Alathe, A ballad of wrong'd maids!
Enter Servants,
1 Sere. What book has he given thee ?
2 Serv. A dainty book; a book of tb#
great navy.
Of fifteen hundred ships of cannon-proof^
Built upon whales to keep'tlieir keels £rom
sinking.
And dragons in 'em, that spit fire ten mile.
And elephants that carry goodly castles.
1 Serv., Dost thou believe it?
2 Serv. Shall we not believe books in print?
1 Serv, I have John Taylor's book of
hempseed too, «
Which, for two lineslhappen'd on by chance,
I reverence.
2 Serv. I prithee what are they ?
1 Serv. They are so pat upon the time,
as if
He studied to answer the late Ilistriomastix ;
Talking of change and transformations.
That wittily and learnedly he bangs him;
* So may a Puritan's ruft, tho' stare h'd, in
print,
* Be turn'd to paper, and a play writ in't,'
And
Acts.]
THE NIGHT-WilLKER; OR, THE liTTLE THIEP.
Tjl
And confute Horace with « Water-Poet*^:
A plaj in the Puritan's ruff? I'll buy liis
works for't.
What hast there ? a ballad too ?
2&n?. This? This is -
A piece of poetry indeed ! — What noise is
that ? [He iir^i; Algripe cries within,
1 Serv, Some cry i W streets : prithee sing
on! iSing again.
iServ, Agsun! dost not hear? 'lis i'th*
house certainly. [o'th' justice.
1 Serv. Tis a strange noise ! and has a tang
2 Sero. Let's see? [Ejceunt.
Re-enter Servants, bringing in their Master
bound and gagged,
1 Serv. Unty his feet ; pull out his gag,
He will choak else ! What desp'rate rogues
were these !
S Serv, Give him fresh air.
Alg, m never study books more !
lam uiidone ; these villains have undone me !
fiifled my desk; they have undone, me,
learnedly !
A flro take all their books ! I'll bum my study.
Where were you, rascals, when the villains
You could not hear ? [bound me,
1 Serv. He gave us books, sir, da'uity
books to busy us; [brewhouse.
And we were i-eading, in that which was the
A great way off ; we were singing ballads too,
And coald not hear.
Alg. Thi; was a precious thief;
A subtle trick to keep mv servants safe !
2 Serv. What ha' you lost, sir ?
Alg. They ransack'd all bt'fore my face,
and threatened »
To kill me if I cough'd; they have a chain,
My rings, my box of casting gold, my purse
too. [most grieves me,
ITiey robb'd jne miserably; but that which
They took away some writings ; 'twas a rogue
That knew me, and set on by the old Lady;
I will indite her for^t.
1 Serv* Shall we pursue 'em ?
Alg. Run, run, cursed rascals !
I am out of my wits ! Let not a creature in.
No, not with necessaries !
2 jS^. We shall be starv'd. [pass by,
Alg, 111 buy my meat at window, as diey
(I wonot trust myscnv*ner,lie has books too)
And bread I'll ha' ffung up : I charge ye all
Bum all the book? i'th' house !
1 Serv. Your little prayer book ?
Alg, ni never pray again! I'll have my doors
Made up, notliing but walls, and tliick ones
too:
No sound sliaU tempt pae again ! Remember,!
Have forswore books. [.V^^ ^'^th f
2 Serv. If you should be cali'd to take
Alg. 1 will forswear all oaths, ratlier thao
see
A thing but in the likeness of a book ;
An I were condemn'd, I'll rather chuse to
hang [places ;
Tlian read again. Come in, and search all
They may be about the house : were the
doors lock'd ? [be gone,
1 Serv. But the keys in 'em ; and if they
They could not want wit to lock us in, sir.
Alg. Never was man so miserably midoue;
I'd lose a limb, to see their ros^ueships
totter ?_ [Exeunt.
Enter Ladjf and Nurse,
Lady. Thy brother's daughter, say'st, and
bora in Wales ? [and I hope
JNurse. I have long timedesir'd to see lier.
Your ladyship will not be offended.
Ladif. No, no. [semcenble
Nurse. I should be happy, if she might be
To you, madam. [me much,
Jbadi/. Beshrew me, but at first she touk
Is she not like Maria^^ I setting aside
Her language, very like her ! and I love her
The better for't. I prithee call her hitlier.
She speaks feat English, [mah, Guennith !
Nurse. Why, Guennith, Guennith ! duhuui-
** & may a Puritan's ruff^ &c.] Our poets, here, wrote by memory, without having
lecoorse to Taylor's book, where the lines run thus,
' Tims may a Brownish s zealous ruff, in print,
* Be tura*d to paper, and a play writ in't.'
But this is not the only fault ; the two lines that follow seem to have suffer'd a change of
places, as well as undergone the loss of a speaker; for 'tis plain, And confute Horace, SfC.
oas no connection with the preceding lines of Taylor. To set the place right, I suppose
the 2d Servant's speech to end full with the Water-Poet's lines, winch strikes the 1st Ser«
vant so smartly, that- he cries out,
1 Serv, A play in a Puritan's ruff? I'll buy his works for't,
And confute Horace with a Water-Poet. Sympson.
We think no change is necessary, except placing inverted commas before Taylor's lines,
to which the Servant archly connects,
And confute Horace with a Water-Poet;
then comments on the passage quoted, A ptay in a Puritan*s ruff'? — Even were a trans-
position advi:$able, no additioiuil speaker is requisite.
*' Is she not like Maria?] I wou'd propose putting the words that follow these, in the
Nurit*9 mouth, otherwise the Xo^y will ask the question, and give herself the at.aw.T.
Hympson,
Which is extremely natural, and much better than the proposed alteratis/n.
She
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE UTTLE THIEP.
80
She is coarse, madam, after her country guise;
And were she in fine cloaths —
Lady, 1*11 have her handsome,
'Enter Maria.
What part of Wales were yon born in?
JAaria, In Ahehundis, madams.
JVurse. She speaks that name in Welsh,
which we call Brecknock.
Xflrfy. What can you do? [know not
Maria, Her was toe many tings in Walls;
The fashion in Londons. Her was milk the
cows.
Make seeze and buttery and spin very well
The Welsh freeze; her was cookc to te
mountain cots, [good ales
And sing very fine Pritdsh tunes; was mage
And breds; and her know to dance on Sun-
Marge you now, madams! iA^y^
Lady. A pretty innocence!
I do like her infiwtely, Nurse ; and if I live —
Enter Servant.
Serv. Here's Mr. Heartlove, madam, como
to see yon. [mit him.
Lady, Alas, poor gentleman ! Pnthee ad-
Enter Heart lave and Gentlemen,
Heart!. Madam, I'm come to take my last
Lady. How^sir! [leave —
HeartL Of all my home affections, and my
friends:
For th* interest you had once in Maria,
I would acquaint you when I leave the king-
dom, [poor power
Lady, ^ould there were any thing m my
That might divert your will, and make you
happy ! [pardon
Fm sure Fve wrong'd her too; but let your
Assure me you are charitable: she is dead^
Which makes us both sad. What do you
look on?
1 Gent. The likest face**— [tilman
Maria. Pless us awle ! why doe^ tliat sen-
Make such undets and mazements at her?
I know her not.
HeartL Be not offended, maid!
Lady, How the wench blushes!
She represents Maria's loss to him.
Maria, Will the sentilman hurt her? Pray
you be her defences !
Was have mad phisnomies; is her troubled
With lunatics in her praiii-pans? Pless us
awlc !
HeartL Where had you this face? [her.
Maria. Her faces be our nowne, I warrant
[Act 8«
HeartL I wonot hurt you. — All the Hnea^
ments [beauties^
Tliat built Maria up, all those springinf;
Dwell on this thing; change bather tongue,
I know her.
Let me see your hand ! [and robberies ;
Maria, JDuGuin^^/ Was never thieves
Here is no sindge in lier hands, waiVant her.
HeartL Trust me, the self-same white
And sofbness ! Prithee speak our English dia*
lect. [hard urds to her,
Maria, Ha leges? what, does her speage
To make poor Guennith ridicles? was do
Sentilman to abuse her. [mannerly
HeartL Bjr the love,
Tliat everlasting love I bear Maria—
Maria, Maria? her name was Guennith;
and good names; [fine kanags.
Was poor else, oman maid ; her have no
To mage her tricsy ; yet in her own cuntries^
Was held a fine ense, her can tell her, and
honest
Ense too, mai^g you dat now: her can keep
Her little legs close enou^ warrant her.
Lady. How prettily this anger shews!
1 Gent. She gabbles innocently.
HeartL Madam, farewell; and all goocf
fortune dwell wi'ye!
With me my own affections ! Fiu«well,maid,
Fair gentle maid!
2 Gent, She siglis.
Maria, Du cut a whee^^! [me back*
HeartL I cannot go; there's somewhatcalls
Maria, Poor Frank,
How gladly would I entertain thy love.
And meet tliy worthy flame^ but shame for*
bids me! [Aside.,
If please her ladyships, dwell here with
Guennith, [nels.
And learn to spin and card ull, to mage flan«
And Hnseyes-ulseis, sal tawge cood urds
To her ladyships urships for her.
J]The tean flow from him,
ection \ woe is me !
Oh, cursed love, thatglories in maids' miseries.
And true men's broken hearts !
Lady, Alas, I pity him!
'he wench "
give her.
i pit
ude,
The wench is rude, and knows you not! for-
Maria. Wipe your nyes, pray you ! tho*
was born in Walls, [heart is soft :
'Mong craggy rocks and mountains, yet
Look you, hur can weep too, when hur see
men mage
Prinie tears and lamentations.
Htarti. liow hard she holds me !
*• The likest face—] This, as it here st"|ids, is the end of the Lady's speech; but sure it
can't be so, as the least attention will make evident. I suspect with Air. Iheobaid, that.
Frank Heartlove's name ought to be prefix'd here, or else write with the oldest quarto,
which Mr. Theobald overlook'd, thiis,
1 Gent. Tlie likest face. Sympson.
*' Bit Gtfin.] The very ingenious editor of 1750 varies, tacitlt/, to Guennith vtu never,
fitc. The reader is requested to consult note 48 on Monsieur Thomas.
>° jDm cat a ukee,] See note 4 on Monsieur Thomas.
Just
Act 4]
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE LITTLE THIEP.
81
Jmt as Maria did; weeps the same drops,
Now, as I have a living soul, her sigh too !
What shall i think ? Is not your name Maria?
If it be not, delude me with so much charity
To say it is. [deal in love
Maria, Upon her life, vou was mighiv
With some podies; your pate seekcs and hol-
low nyes,
And pantingsupon herposom, know very well.
Because, look you, her think her honest scn-
You sail call her Maria. [tilman,
HeartL Good madam, think not ill I am
thus saucy. [the wench.
Lady, On, no, sir ; be you not angry with
HeartL I am most pleas'd.
1 Gent. Let's interrupt him; he'll be mad
outright else.
8 Gent. Observe a little more, [beg a kiss !
HeartL 'Would I could in ^our language
Biaria. If her have necessities of a kiss,
'Dere is one in sarities ^' ! . [look you>
HeartL Let me suffer death,
If in my apfirebension two twinned cherries
Be more a-kin, than her lips to Maria's :
And, if this harsh illusion would but leave her,
She were the same. Good madam, shall I
Your consent now — [have
La^. To what?
HeartL To give this virgin
To me. [woman,
Loify, She is not mine; this is her kins-
Asd has more power to dispose.-^-Alas, I
pity him!
Pray, gentlemen, prevail with him to go ;
More that I wish his comfort than his absence.
HeartL Yon have been always kind to me;
will you
Deny me your fair cousin?
Nurse. 'Twere fit you first obtain'd her own
consent. [departure;
HeartL He is no friend that washes my
I do not trouble you !
1 Gent. Tis not Maria. [with that.
HeartL Her shadow is enough; I'll dwell
Pursue your own ways ! Shall we live toge*
ther? [tauge to her,
Maria. If her will come to-morrow and
Her will tell her more of her meanings; and
then
If her be melancholy, her will sing her
A Welsh song too, to make her merries: but
Guennith
Was very honest; her was never love
But one sentilman, and he was bear her
Great teal of good-ills too. Was marry one
day : [gloves
St Davy ! her give her five pair of white
If her will dance at her weddines. ^
HeartL All I'm worth, [forsake hei^
And all my hopes, this strange voice would
For then she should be — Prithee stay a little!
Hark in thine ear ! dissemble not, but tell iue.
And save my life: I know you are Maria:
Speak but as I do, ten words to confirm me.
You have an English soul ; do not disguise it
From me with these stnuige accents — She
pinch'd hard
Again, and sigh'd. [Exit Maria,
Latfy. What ails the wench? [Exit.
Nurse. Why, Guennith !
HeartL She is gone too !
S Gent. Come, leave this dream.
HeartL A dream? I tliink so;
But 'twas a pleasing one. Now I'll obey,
And forget all these wonders; lead the way!
[Exeunt.
4CT IV.
Enter WUdbrmn and T<Ay,
Wildb. -LTONESTToby! [glad
-"■ Toby. Sweet Mr. Wildbrainl I'm
I ha met w'ye.
WHdb/ Vfhy} did my aunt send for me?
Toby. Your aunt's a mortal; and thinks
For aneht I can perceive. [not on you,
Wil&. Is my cousin
Alive again?
Toby. Neither; and yet we do not
Hear that she's buried.
Wiidb. What should make thee glad then ?
T^ty, What should make me glad? Have
• I not caose? [thus,
To see your princely body well, and walk
Look blithe and bonny, and your wardrobe
whole still ! [a mine,
Wildb, The case is clear; and I ha' found
A perfect Indie, since my aunt cashiei^dme:
what think'st of this ? [Chinking money,
Tobv. Oh, delicate beUs!
Wildb. Thou puttest me in mind, [thee:
We are to ring anon ; I meant to send for
Meet me at the old parish-churoh.
Toby. Say no more. [conspir'd
Wildb. When thy lady is a-bed, we h»*
A midnight peal, for joy.
Toby. If I fail.
Hang me i'th* bell-ropes !
Wildb. And how? and how
Does my aunt?
Ihby. She's up to th* ears in law:
I do so whirl her to the counsellors' chambers.
And back again, and bounce her for more
money, [her.
And to again — I know not what they do with
VOL. ra.
^* Jn sarities.] f . e. In charity. Sympson,
M
But
■HIE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE LITTLE THIEF.
[Act 4.
But she's the merriest thing among these law-
drivers,
And in their studies half a day together.
If they do get her with Magna Ckaria, she
By all th' ability of her old body, [swears.
She will so claw the justice — she will sell
The tiles of th' house, she vows, and sack out
o' th' cellar, [him.
(That she worships to idolatry) but she'll hang
Wildb. I would she could] But hark thee,
honest Toby !
If a man have a mistress, may we not,
Without my aunt's leaver borrow now and then
A coach to tumble in, toward th' Exchange,
And so forth?
Tobif. A mistress ?
Wildb. She may be thine when we are
married.
Toby. Command, Til carry ye both in pomp;
And let my lady go a-foot a law-catching.
And exercise her corns. Where is she, mas-
Wildb. 'Sha't see her. [ter John ?
Tobv. Shall we ring for her ?
Witdb. And drink her health.
Toby, Drink stiffly for five hours?
Wildb. We'll drink fifteen. [then,
Toby, To-night ? We will ha' twenty torches
And thro* the streets drive on triumphantly,
Triumphantly we'll drive : by my lady's door,
As I'm a Christian coachman,! will rattle you,
And urine in her porch, and she shall fearme.
If jou say more, I shall run mad outright I
I will drink sack, and sucfeit instantly ;
I know not where I am now !
[Exit.
Enter Lurcher.
Wildb. Hold, for thy buttons' sake ! The
knave's transported.
Lure. Jack Wildbrain ?
' Wildb. Honest Tom, how thrives
The felonious world with thee now ?
Lure. Yon look and talk as you were much
exalted. [tell thee: first,
Wildb. Thou art i' th' right, Tom. I will
I ha* shook off my aunt, and yet I live still.
And drink, and sing; her house had like to
ba' spoil'd me;
I keep no hours now ; nor need any false key
To the old woman's cabinets; I ha' money
Upon my word, and pawn no oaths to th*
butler ;
No matrimonial protestations
For sack-possets, to the chambermaid; I
praise [Tom.
My fete, there be more ways to th' wood.
Lure. Prithee
Release my wonder.
Wildb. I'll encrease it : wipe thine eyes;
Here is <a chain worth money, an some man
had it,
A foolish diamond, and other trifles —
Lure. Tlie very same ! Oh, gipsey ! infidel !
All that I sweat, and ventur'd my neck for,
H' has got already : who would trust a strum-
pet ? [sesb
Wildb. This ? this is nothing to wliat I pos-
At home.
Lure. Wliat home ?
Wildb, A house that shall be nameless.
The mistress of it mine too ; such a piece
Of flesh and blood [ added to that so loving !
Lmtc. Is she married ?
Wildb. I know not, nor I care not :
But such a prize, so mounting, so delicious !
Thou wilt run mad : I'll tell thee more here-
Lure, Nay, prithee a word more, [after.
WUdb. I took
No pains to find out all this Paradise ;
My destiny threw me upon't i'th'dark; I
Wanting a lodging too. [found it^
Lure. No old acquaintance ?
Wildb. Never, never saw her :
But these things happen not in ev'ry age.
I cannot stay ; if thou wilt meet anon
At my own rendezvous, (thou know'st the
tavern)
We'll sup toeether ; after that, a company
Of merry lads have made a match to ring.
L%ire. You keep your exercise i' th* old
Ift/</ft. No other ; [church?
There is no music to tlie bells : we -would
Have bonfires, if we durst. An thou would
come, [iiig.
It shall cost thee nothins;, Tom: hang pilfer-
And keep me company \ In time I may
Shew thee my wench too. [there ?
Lure. I cannot promise; but you will be
Wildb, We'll toss the bells, and make the
steeple roar, boy :
But come to supper then !
Lure, My liand ; and expect me.
{ExU Wildb.
Yes, I will come or send, and to some pur-
Art come, boy? [pose.
Enter Alathe^ with Gown, Beard, and Con"
itable't Staff. '
Excellent knave ! How didst thou purchase
these ? [a sleeping constable;
Alathe, The staff I stole last night from
The rest I borrow'd by my acquamtance with
The players* boys. You were best to lose no
time, sir. ' [do I not look
Lure, So, so; help, boy ! tis very well ;
Like one tliat breaks the king's peace with
authority ? [somely.
You know your charge; prepare things hand-
My diligent boy, and leave me to my office.
Alathe, There wants nothing'*; all ready:
but I fly, sir. [Exit,
Lure. Now, Fortune, prove no slut, and
I'll adore thee ! [Knockt,
Serv, [within] Who's there ? justice.
Lure. A friend would speak with master
Serv. Who are you?
•* I%ere wants nothing already*] So the former copies. Sympson proposes, all's reod^.
Lure.
Act 4.]
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE LITTLE THIEF.
srr
Xvrr. Fm the constable. [business.
Serr. My master's not at leisure to hear
Lure, How ! not at leisure to do the
king service ? Fworship,
Take heed wliat you say, sir ! I kdow his
If he knew my business, would make no ex-
cuse, ffissure you
Sen. You must go to anotherjustice; 111
My master is not well in health.
Lure, I know not ;
But if your worshipful be not at leisure
To do nimself a benefit — I am gone, sir —
Ad infinite benefit, and the state shall thank
him for't; [an officer,
Thank him, and think on him too. I am
And know my place ; but I do love the jus-
I honour any authority above me : [tice ;
Beside, ue is my neighbour, and I worship
him. [Mr. Constable,
Sera. You have no books, nor ballads.
About you ? [it become
Xorc VVliat should I do with books ? does
A man of my place to understand such mat-
ters? fme,
Pray call your master; if he please to follow
I shall discover to him such a plot, [for't,
Shall get him everlastine fiime : I'll be hang'd
An be be not knighted instantly, and for
Reward have some of the malefactors' lands
111 bring him to ; but I can't dally time !
Aig,[wUhin] Who's that?
Sen, A constable, sir,
Would speak about some business, he says
Will bring you fame, and mighty profit.
Lure, please [f'^PPy:
Your worship come down, i will make you
The notablest piece of villainy I have in
hand, sir.
And you shall find it out: I ha* made choice
To brii^ your worship to the first know-
ledge, and [wards.
Thank me, as you find the good on t aftei^
Alg, What is it? treason? [I've lodg'd
Lure, Tis little better, I can tell you ;
A crew of the most rank and d^perate vil-
lains— ['em.
They talk of robberies, and ways they did
And how they left men bound in their studies.
Aig, With books and ballads ?
IttTC. That, sir, that, and murders,
And thousand knaveries more ; they're very
rich, sir, [more
lu money, jewels, chains, and a hundred
Devices.
J/^. Happy, happy constable ! [knaves!
ril meet vou at the back door. . Get ready.
Lure. Not a man, I beseech you !
Pve prii'ately-^ppointed strength about me :
They cannot start; your men would breed
suspicion:
All my desire is, you would come alone, *
That you might have tiie hope o' th' enter-
prise, [ceed, sir.
That yon might hear 'em first, and then pro-
Aig^ 1 come, I come !
Lvrc, Tis '.ery well. [tiling late.
Afg, Keep all my doors fiist. It is some-
Lurc. So, so! An please your worship,
I'll direct you. [Exeunt.
Enter Alaihe.
Alatht, My master stays; I doubt his
lime-twigs catch not :
If tliey do, all's provided. But I all
This while foiget my own state : fair Maria
Is certainly alive ; I met her in
Another habit, with her Nurse ; 'twas she !
There is some trick in't: but when this is over
I'll find it out. This project for tlie usurer
May have good effect; however, 'twill be sport
Enter Lurcher.
To mortify him a little. He is come without
Have you fail'd, sir? [him:
Lure, Prosper'd, my little engineer: away !
He is i' th' next room; be not you seen,
sirrah ! j^Exit,
Alathe, Tlie pit-fiiU's ready ; never justice
Was caught in such a noose : ere he get out.
He shall run thro' a'scouring purgatory,
Shall purge him to the quick. Tis night
already. [Retires,
/ Enter Algripe and Lurcher,
Lure, Come softly; yet, sir, softly ! ar'n't
you weary? [choly place ;
Aig. Th' bast brought me into a melan-
I see no creature.
Lure. 1 his is, sir, their den, [faint
Where they suppose themselves secure. I'm
With makmg haste; but I must be thus
troubled,
And tFierefore never go without a cordial ;
Without this I should die : how it refreshes
me [Seems to drink.
Already! Will't please your worship-^I
might have had '
The manners to ha' let you drink before me.
Now am I lusty.
Aig. 'T lias a good taste.
Lure. Taste ? [it not !
How d'you find tlie virtue ? Nay, sir, spare
My wife has the receipt. Does it not stir
Your worship's body ? When you come t' ex-
amine.
Twill make you speak like thunder.
^%. Hoy he! [He yawns.
Lure. It works already, [than I tliooght*
Aig. Is there ne'er a chair? I was wearier
But who shall we have to take *em, Mr. Con-
stable ? [watch-word.
Lure. Let me alone ! when I but give the
We will ha\e men enough to surprize an
nrmy. [chair ?
Aig. I begin to be sleepy : what, hast a
Enter another ipith a Chair,
Lure. They do not dream of us. — Tis
early rising, [men
Care, care, and early rising! commonwealth's
M 2 iVre
84
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE LTITLE THIEF.
[Act 4.
Are ^er subjects to the nods: -sitdowiiy sir;
A short nap is not much amiss.— So, so ! he's
fast, [der
Fast as a fish i* th' net; h6 has winking pow-
Shall work upon him to our wish. Remove
him !
Nay, we may cut him into collops now,
And he ne'er feel. Have you prepared the
vault, sirrah?
Alathe. Yes, yes, sir; evVytlungin*s place.
Lure, When we have placed nim, you and
I, boy, must
About another project hard bv : his potion
Will bind^ liim sure enough 'till we return.
This villainy weighs mainly ; but we'll purge
you. [Exeunt,
Enter Sexton. [BelU ring].
Sexton. Now for mine ears ! mine ears,
be constant to me !
They ring a wager, and I must deal justly ;
Ha, boys!
Enter Lurcher and Alathe,
Lure. Dost hear 'em ? hark ! these be the
ringers.
Alathe. Are you sure the same? [cleai;:
Lure. Or my directions fail. The coast is
How the beUs go ! how daintily they tumMe!
And methinks they seem to say, Fine fools,
I'll fit you ! [tljat was naught.
Sexton. Excellent again, good boys ! — Oh,
Lure. Who's that? [Hark !
Alathe. Be you coBceal'dby any means yet.
They stop: I hope they'll to*t again. Close,
fdr!
Enter Wildbrain, Tohyy and Ringers.
Wildb. Apalpable knock !
Ringer. Twas none !
Toffy, fiejudg'd by th' Sexton then !
If I have cars —
. Sexton. A knock, a knock, a gross one !
Toby. Carman, your gallon of wine ! you
ring most impiously !
Art thou o' th' worslupful company of
The knights o' th' West, and handle a bell
with no more [street,
Dexterity ? You think you are in Tnaines-
Jusding the carts: oh, a clean hand^s a jewel !
AUtihe. Good speed t6 your good exercise !
Toby. You*re welcome ! [neighbour
Alathe. I come, sir, from a gentleman, and
Hard by, one that loves your music well —
Toby. He may liave more on't. —
Handle a bell as you were haling timber ?
Gross, gro^s, and base, absurd f
Ringer. I'll mend it next peal.
Alathe. T' entreat a knowledge of you,
whether it be fth' eye ;
By th* ear you ring thus cunningly, or by
For, to be plain, he has laid ten pounds upon't.
Wildb. But which way has he laid ?
Alathe. That your ear guides you^
And not your eye.
Toby. H' has won, h' has woo ; the eai^s
Our only instrument.
Alathe. But how shall we
Be sure on't^
Toby. Put all the lights out; to what end
Serve our eyes then ?
Wildb. A plain case !
Alathe. You say true. [sure !
Tis a fine cunning thine to ring by th' ear
And can you ring i' th* dark so ?
Wildb. All night long, boy.
Alathe. Tis wonderful I Let this be cer-
tain, ffcntlemen.
And half his wager he allows among ye :
Is'tpossible you should ring so?
JUy. Possible? [druok.
Thou art a child ! I'll ring when I'm dead*
Out with the lights ! no twinkling of a candle!
I know my rope too, as I know my nose.
And can bang it soundly in the dark, I vrar-
rant you.
Wildb. Come, let's confirm him straight,
and win the wager ! [Exeunt.
Alathe. Let me hear, to strengthen me;
and, when ye^e rung,
111 bring the money to you.
Lure. So, so, follow 'em: [Exit Alathe.
They shall have a cool reward ; one hath
gold of mine.
Good store in's pocket ; [R^ng*
But this will be reveng'd in a short warning.
Tliey Vc at it lustily : hey, how wantonly
They ring away their cloaths ! how it delights
me!
Enter Alathe toith Cloaths.
Alathe. Here, here, sir!
Lure. HastWildbrain's?
Alathe. His whole
Case, sir; I felt it out; aud, by the guards.
This should be the coachman's ; anodier suit
too. [usureij
Lure. Away, boy, quickly now to th'
His hour to wake approaches. .
Alathe. That once finish'd.
You'll give me leave to play, sir. Here they
come. [Exeunt.
' Enter Wildbrain, Toby, and Ringers.
Wildb. Fm monstrous weai^ !
7b^. Fy, how I sweat ! Keach me my
cloak to cover me. [peal!
I run to oil, like a porpoise! Twas a brave
Sexton. Let me light my candle, first;
then I'll wait on you. [Exit Sexton.
Wildb. A very brave peal !
Tohf. Carman, you came in close now,
Wildb. Sure 'tis past midnight.
Ringer. No stirring in the streets I hear.
Toby. Walk further!
Was that a pillar ? 'tis harder than my nose.
Where's the boy promis'd us five pounds ?
Wildb. Room .r I sweat Still;
Come, come, my cloak ! I shall take cold*
Enter
Act 4]
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE LITTLE THIEF.
85
Enitr Sexton.
Sexton, Where lies it?'
Wildk Here, here, and all our cloaths.
Sexton, Where, where?
Eingei-. V th' comer. ■ [the bottle !
Tcby, Is thy candle blind toor Gi^e me
I can drink like a fish now, like an elephant.
Sexton, Here are the corners, but here are
Yes, here's a cuff. [no cloaths;
WUdb, A cuff? give me the candle !
Caflb wo'not cover me. — I smell a knavery.
Toby. Is*t come to a cuff? my whole suit
tnra'd to a button ? ['twere Christmas,
WM, Now am I as cold again as tho*
Cold vrtth my fear; Fll never ring by tli' car
Toby, My new cloaths vanish'd? [more.
Wm, All my cloaths, Toby !
Rmger, Here's none. |u> adorn me ?
7*069. Not one of my dragon's wings left
Have I mew'd all my feathers'^ ?
WUdb, Cheated by th' ear; a plot to put
out the candle ! [the gold !
I could be mad ! my chain, my rings, the gold,
Toby. The cold, the cold, I cry, and I cry
truly ; [me !
Not one sleeve, nor a gape of a cloak to warm
Wildb, What miserable fools were we !
Toby, We had e'en best, gentlemen,
£?ery man chuse his rope again, and fsLSten it,
And take a short turn to a better fortune.
To be bawds to our miseries, and put our
own lights out ! [thy house,
WUdb, Prithee, Sexton, let's have a fire at
A gpod fire ; we'll pay thee some way for't;
I am stone-cold. [gentlemen.
Sexton, Alas, I pity you ! Come auickly,
WUdb, Sore I've been in a dream ! I had
nomistresB,
Nor gold, uor cloaths, but am a ringing rascal.
Tqify. Fellows in affliction, let us take
bands all!
Now are we fit for tumblers. [Exeunt,
Emter Lurcher and others, bringing in Alf
gripe.
Lure, So, so ! Presently [upon him :
His sleep will leave him, and wonder seize
Bid 'em within be ready.
Alg. What sound's this?
WInt horrid din? Wliat dismal place is this
I never, saw before ? and now behold it
But by the half-light of a lamp, that bums
bere?
Mj spirits shake^ and tremble thro' my body.
2nter two Fiiries with black Tapers,
Help, help!' Mercy protect^iae! my soul
quakes.
What dreadful apparitions! How I shudder!
l^^Fury, Algripe!
Alg. What are you?
1 tmry. We are helUhoonds, heli«hounds,
That have commission from the prince of
darkness.
To fetch thy black soul to him.
Alg, Am I not alive still?
1 Fury, Thou art; but we have brought
thee instruments
Will quickly rid thy miserable hfe.
Stab!
2 Fury, Poison !
1 Fury, Hang thyself! thischoice isoflfer'd.
2 Fury. Thou canst not hope for Heaven;
thy base soul is
Lost to all hope of mercy.
* 1 Fury. Quickly, quickly !
The torments cool.
8 Fwy, And all the fiends expect thee.
Come with us to that pit of endless horror.
Or we will force thee.
Alg, Oh, oh, oh! [ravisher,
1 Fufy. Groans are too late: sooner the
Whose soul is huri'd into eternal firest.
Stung with the force of twenty thousand
winters,
To Dunish the distempers of his blood.
Shall hope to get from thence, than thou avoid
The certainty of meeting hell where he is.
Shall murderers be there for ever dying,
Their souls shot thro' with adders, torn on
engines.
Dying as many deaths for killing one,
(Could any imagination number them)
As there be moments in eternity ; [slain.
And shall that justice spare thee, that hast
Murdefd by thy extortion, so many ?
Alg. Oh, oh! [carry thee
2 Fury. Do execution quickly ! or we'll
Alive to hell. [me
Al^. Gently, gentle devils ! do not force
To kill myself, nor do not you do't for me !
Oh, let me live ! I'll make amends for all.
1 Furif, Tell us of thy repentance ? per-
jur'd villain ! [and whipt.
Pinch off his flesh ! he must be whipt, salted
Alg, Oh, misery of miseries! [Kecorders,
1 4^ 2 Fury. Tear his accurs'd limbs, to
hell with him — Ha !
A mischief on that innocent face ! away!
[Creep in.
Enter Alathe like bh AngeU
Alathe, Malicious furies, hence! choak
Of holy penitence. [not the seeds
Alg. This must be an angel:
^riow at his presence the fiends crawl away !
Here is some light of mercy. ;
Alathe. Be thou wise,
And entertain it, wretched, wretched man !
What poor defence hath all thy wealth been
What says thy conscience now ? [to thee !
^^.'Be my good angel, here I promise
thee [lainy :
To become honest, and renounce all vil-
33
Ham I muted all my feathers.] Corrected from Theobald's suggestion.
EnjoiQ
86
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE LTTTLE THIEF. [Act 4.
Enter Lady^ Nurse, and Maria,
Lady. Didst think, Maria^ this poor out-*
side, and ^
Dissembling of thy voice, could hide thee from
A mother's searching eye, tho' too mudi fear.
Lest thou wert not the same, might blind a
lover, [Maria,
Tliat thought thee dead too ? Oh, my dear
I hardly kept my joys in from betraying thee :
Welcome again to life ! We shall find out
The mystery of thy absence. Conceal [thee)
Thy person still (ror Algripe must not know
And exercise this pretty dia.lect:
If there be any course in law to free thee.
Thou shalt not be so miserable. Be silent,
Good Nurse ! [madnm ;
Nurse. You shall not need to fear me,
I do not love the usuring Jew so well ;
Beside, 'twas my trick to disguise her so.-
Lady, Be not dejected, Mall.
Maria. Your care may comfort me ;
But I despair of happiness. —
Heartlove ? I dare not see him.
Nurse, We'll withdraw. [too.
Lady, I shall but grieve to see his passions
Since there's no possibility to relieve him.
[Eaeunt.
Enter Heartlaoe.
Hearil, The world's a labyrinth, where
unguided men
Walk up and down to find their weariness :
No sooner have we measur'd with much toil
One crooked path, with hope to gain our
freedom,
But it betrays us to a new afifliction.
What a strange mockery will man become
Shortly to all the creatures! Oh, Maria!
If thou be'st dead, why does thy shadow
fright me ?
Sure 'tis because I live : were I but certain
To meet thee in one grave, and that our dust
Might have the privilege to mix in silence.
How ouickly should my soul shake off this
burthen !
Enter Alathe,
Alathe, Thus far my wishes have success r
ril lose [love ?
No time. Sir, are not you call'd Mr. Ilean-
Pardon my rudeness '♦!
Hearth What docs that concern tliee }
Boy, 'tis a name cannot advantage thee;
And I am weary on't.
Alathe. Had yon conceai'd.
Or I forgot it, sir, so lai^e were my
Directions, that you could not speak this
language.
But I should know you by your sorrow.
Heart L Thou [your business?
Wert well inform'd, it seems. Well, what's
3^ Thus far, &c.] This speech is made a continuation of Heartlace's in every edition
but tlie first.
Aiathe.
Enjoin me any nenance ; FU build churches,
A whole city ot hospitals.
AUuhe. Take heed !
There is no dallying ; nor are these imposed.
Alg, Name any thing witliin my power,
sweet angel ;
And, if I do not faithfully perform it, [nnte,
Then whip me every day, burn me each mi-
Wbele years together let roe freeze to isicles !
Alathe. V th'number of thy foul oppressions.
Thou hast undone a faithful gentleman.
By taking forfeit of his land.
Alg. Young Lurcher !
I do confess.
Alathe. He lives most miserable,
And in despair may bans or drown himself :
Prevent his ruin ! or his blood will be
More sin in thy account. Hast thou forgotten
He had a sister ? *
Aif. 1 do well remember it.
AuLthe. Couldst thou for Mammon break
thy solemn vow
Made once to tliat unhappy maid, that weeps
A thousand tears a-day for thy unkindness?
Was not thy faith contracted, and thy heart?
And couldst thou marry another ?
Alg. But she's dead ;
And I will make true satisfaction.
Alathe. What do I instance these, that lias
To all the world ? [been false
Alg. I know it, and will henceforth [an8;el !
Practise repentance. Do not frown, sweet
I will restore all mortgages, forswear
Abomin^^ble usury, live chaste ;
For I've been wanton in my shroud, my age :
And if that poor innocent maid, I so abu&'d.
Be living, I will marry her, and spend
IVIy days to come religiously.
Alathe. I was commanded but a messenger
To tell thee this, and rescue thee from those
Whose malice would have dragg'd thee quick
to hell:
If thou abuse this mercy, and repent not,
Double damnation will expect thee for it;
But if thy life be virtuous hereafter,
A blessedness shall reward thy good example.
Thy fright hatli much distracted thy weak
senses;
Drink of this viol, and renew thy spirits I
I ha' done my office; think on't, and be happy!
Enter Lurcher,
Lure, So, so! He gapes already; nowhe^s
fast.
Th'hast acted rarely; but this is not all:
First, help to convey him out o' th' vault.
Alathe, You will
Dispense with me now, as you promis'd, sir ?
Lure. We will make shift without U^iee ;
th' hast done well.
By our device, this bandog may 'scape hell.
[Exeunt,
Act 4.]
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE LITTLE TIHEF.
BT
Alatht. I come to briog you comfort.
HeartL Is Maria
Alive again? that's somewhat; and yet not
£ooagh to make my expectation rise to
Past half a blessing; since we cannot meet
To make it up a full one ! ThouVt mistaken.
Alathe. When you have heard me, you'll
diink otherwise:
In rain I should report jMaria living ;
The ccMiifort that I bring you must depend
Upou her death.
UeurtL Thou'rt a dissembhng boy!
Some one lias sent thee to mock me; tho'my
anger
Stoop not to punish thy green years, unripe
P'or malice, flid I kntiw what persou seoi thee
To tempt my sorrow thu»^% I siiouid re-
venge it. [charitable,
Alathe, Indeed I've no thought so un-
Nor am I sent to grieve you ; let mc suffer
More puniithment than ever boy deserv'd.
If you do iind me false ! £ serve a mistress
Would rather die tlian play with your mis-
' Then, good sir, hear me out ! [fortunes;
HeartL Who is your mistress?
Aiaihe, Before I name her, give me some
encoaragement,
That jTOu'll receive her message : she is one
Tliat's full acquainted mth yoUr misery.
And can bring such a portion of her sorrow.
In every circumstance so like your own,
You'll love and pity her, and wish yourgriefs
Might marry one anothers*.
HeartL Thou art wild :
I Canst thou bring comfort from so sad a
crenture ?
Her Diisemble story can, at best,
But swell my volume, large enough already.
Alathe, She was late belov'd, as you were;
promis'd faith,
And marriage; and ^vas worthy of a better
Than he, that stole Maria's heart.
HeartL How is that ? [fection,
Alathe. Just as Maria dealt with your af-
Did hethatmarried her deal with my mistress;
When, careless both of honour and religion, '
They cruelly gave away their hearts to
strangers. [prithee, boy,
HeartL Part of this truth I know; but
Proceed to tliat thou cam'st for ! thou didst
promise
Something, thy language cannot hitherto
£ncoar!ige me to hope for.
Aialke. That I come to :
My mistress thus unkindly dealt withal.
Yon may imagine, wanted no affliction ;
And Ijad, ere this, wept herself dry as marble,
Had not your fortune come to her relief.
And, twin to her own sorrow, brought her
comfort. [equal,
HeartL Could the condition of my fate so
Lessen her sufferings ?
• Alatke, I know not how,
Companions in grief sometimes diminish
And make tlie pressure easy : by de>j.rees
She tlu"ew her troubles off, reuiembruig yours;
And, fir«m her pity of your wrongs, there grew
Affection to your person ; this encreas'd.
And, witl) it, conhdeuce that those whom
nature
Had made so even in their weight of sorrow.
Could not but love as equally one anotlier,
Were things hut well prepar'd : this gave her
T* employ me thus far. [boldness
HeartL A strange message, boy j [love,
Alathe, If you incline to meet my mistress'
It may beget your comtbrts : besides that,
'Tis some revenge that you, above their scorn
And pride, can laugh at them, whose perjury
Hath made you happy, and undone themselves.
HeartL Have you done, boy ?
AUitlie. Only this little more,
Wlien you but see, and know my mistress well.
You wdl forgive my tediousness ; she's fair.
Fair as Maria was —
HeartL i'ii hear no more!
Go, foolish boy, and tell thy fonder mistress
She has no second faith to give away ;
And mine was given to Maria. Iho' her
death
Allow me freedom — See the picture of her !,
Enter JMaria and Nurse.
I'd give ten thousand empires for tlie sub-
stance: ' «
Yet, for Maria's sake, whose divine figure
That rude ir^mie carries, I will love this
counterfeit [all
Above all the world ; and had thy mistress
The grace and blossom of her sex, now she
Is gone, that was a walking spring of beauty,
I would not look upon her.
Alathe, Sir, your pardon !
L have but done a message, as becomes
A servant; nor did she on whose commands
I gladly waited, bid me urge her love
To your disquiet ; she would chide my diligence
If I should make you angry.
HeartL Pretty boy !
Alathe, Indeed I fear I have offended you ;
Pray, If I have, enjoin me any penance tor't :
I have perform'd one duty, and could as
willingly, [yo">
To purge my fault, and shew I suffer with
Plead your cause to another.
HeartL And I'll take thee [giiage :
At thy word, boy ; thou hast a movmg laa-
That pretty innocent copy of Mada
Is all I love ; I know not how to speak ;
Win her to think well of me, and I will
Reward thee to thy wishes.
Alathe. I undertake
Nothing for gain; but since you have resolv'd
To love no other, I'll be faithful to you;
'^ To tempt my stfrrow thus.] Sympson would substitute tauTU for tertqit ; but the text is
very good, more elegit tiian the variation; and requires no change.
And
88
THE NIGHT-WALKERi OR, THE LITTLE THIEF.
[^ct 5.
And my prophetic thoughts bid axe already
Sayl shsll prosper.
Heart L Thou wert sent to bless roe!
Alathe. Pray give as opportunity.
HeartL Be happy! [ExiU
Nurte. He*sgone.
Alathe, With your fair leave, mistress!
Maria. Have you pusiness with her, pray
you?
Alathe. I have a message from a gentleman ;
Please you vouchsafe your ear more private !
Nurie. You
Shall have my absence, niece. [Exit.
Maria, Was the sentleman
Afeard to declare his matters openly ?
Here was no podies was not very honest:
If her like not her errands the petter, was
wist
To keep her preaths to cool her porridges.
Can tell her that now, for aule her private
And tawgings. | hearings
Alathe. You may, if please you, find
another languajge;
And with less pains be understood.
Maria. What is her meaning ?
Alathe, Come,pray speak your ownEnglish.
Maria. Have poys lost ner itts andme-
mories ? Pless us aule ! [you are
Alathe. I must be plain then: come, I know
Maria; this thin veil cannot obscure you:
1*11 teU the world you live. I have not lost you,
Since first, with gnef and shame to be surpnz'd,
A violent trance took away show pf life :
I could discover by what accident
You were conveyed away at midnight, in
Your coffin; could declare the place and
minute
When you reviv'd ; and what you have done
since, as perfectly —
Maria. Alas, I am betrayed to new mis*
fortunes! [I'll be duml>
Alathe. You are not, for my knowledge;
For ever, rather than be such a traitor.
Indeed I pity you; and bring no thoughts.
But full of peace. Call home your modest
blood!
Pale hath too long usurp'd upon your face:
Think upon love again, and the possession
Of full-blown joys, now ready to salute you t
Maria. These words undo me more than
my own griefs. [with yoo,
Alathe, I see how fear would play the tyrant
But ril remove suspicion : have you in
Your heart an entertainment for his love
To v^rbom your virgin faith made the first
promise? [wound me still !
Maria. Ifthoumean'stHeartlove, thou dost
I have no life without his memory.
Nor with it any hope to keep it long.
Thou seest I walk m dairkness, like a thief^
That fears to see the world in his own shape;
My very shadow frights me; 'tis a death
To live thus, and not look day in the face.
Away, I know thee not! [me, lady :
Alathe. You shall hereafter know, and thank
I'll bring you a discharge at my next visit.
Of all your fears : be content, rair Maria !
Tis worth your wonder.
Maria. Impossible! [self^:
Alathe. Be wise, alid silent'! Dress your-
You shall be what you wish.
Maria. Do this, and be
My better angel !
Alathe, All your cares on me I [Exeunt.
ACT V,
Enter Lurcher and Alathe.
JLurc. T MUST applaud thy diligence.
■^ Alathe. It had been nothing-
V have left him in the porch. I call*d his
servants; fpretended
With wonders they acknowledged him; I
It was some spice sure of the falling sick-
ness,
And that 'twas diaritv to bring him home;
They rubb'd and chaf'd him, plied him with
strong-water; [wake him;
Still he was senseless, clamours could not
I wished 'cm then get him to bed ; they did so,
^* Dress yourtelf,
You shall he what you wiah.'\ Dreu here seems to confound the sense greatly, and I
propose reading, if tlie place is wrong, rest yourself—X. e. rest and repose yourself, and all
your cares on me. Sympton.
Dresi is right; and, accordingly, she comes in (p. 92) dressed as Maria.
^7 I watched 'em till he uaKdJ] The variation proposed by Symps6n.
How
And almost smother'd him with rugs and
pillows; ' [pect me.
And, 'cause they should have no cause to sub-
I watch'd him 'till he wak'd ^\
Lure. 'T was excellent! [stretch himself,
Alathe. When his time came to yawn, and
I bid 'em not be hasty to discover
How he was brought home; his eyes fully
open,
With trembling he began to call his servants.
And told 'em he had seen strange visions,
That should convert him from his heathen
courses ; [prcach'd
They wonder'd, and were silent; there he
Acts.]
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE LITTLE THIEF;
How sweet the air of a contented conscience
Smelt in his nose now, ask'd 'em all for-
giveness fhlm;
For their hard pasture since they liv'awith
fiid 'em believe, and fetch out the cold sur>
bin, [.joyin't;
Pierce the strong hecr^ and let the neighbours
The conceal'd moskadme should now lie open
To every mouth; that he would give to th'
poor, [be
Anid mend their wages ; that his doors should
Open to every miserable suitor.
Lure, What said his servants then ?
Alathe. They durst not speak, [that had
Bat bless'd themselves, and the strange means
Made him a Christian : in this over-joy
I took my leave, and bad 'em say their
prayers.
And Qumoor him, lest he tum*d Jew (^ain.
Lure, Enough, enough ! — Who's this ?
Enter Toby.
"Tis one of my ringers, (titand close !) my
lady's coachman !
,Tatm, Bay a mat for a bed, buy a mat!
n^oufd I were at rack and manger among
mv horses!
We nave divided tlie sexton's houshold^stuff
Among us; one has the rug, and he's turned
Irish;
Another has a blanket, and he must beg in't;
The sheets serve another for a frock.
And with the bed^cord he may pass for a
porter; [which,
Nothing but the mat would fell to my share.
With the help of a tunfe, and a hassock out
o' th' church.
May disguise me 'till I get home. A pox
0* bell-nnging by the ear ! if any man
Take me at it again, let him pull mine
To the pillory. I could wish I had lost
Mine eard, so I had my cloaths again : the
weather.
Wo' not allow this fashion; I do look
for an ague besides.
Lure. How the rascal shakes !
Tobif. Here are company !
Boy a mat for a bed, buy a mat ! [sweet !
A hassock for your feet, or a piss clean and
Boy a nmt for a bed, buy a mat !
Ringing, I renounce thee ! I'll never come
to church more.
Lure. You with a mat !
Toby, I'm callU If any one [I in !
Should offer to buy my mat, what a case were
Oh, that I were in my oa)>tub with a horse-
loaf.
Something to hearten me 1 1 dare not hear 'em.
Bay a mat for a bed, buy a mat I
iMrc. He's deaf.
Toby. 1 Qfa glad I am : buy amat for a bed !
Lure. How the rascal sweats ! what a
pickle he is in ! [torment.
Every street he goes thro' will be a new
Toby. If ever X meet at midnight more
a-jangling—
I am cold, and yet I drop. Buy a mat for
a bed, buy a mat !
Lure. He has punishment enous;h.
(Exit toby.
Enter Wildhrain.
Who's this? my t'other youth? he is tiiru'd
bear. [poor shift
Wildb. I am half afraid df myself: this
I got o*th' sexton, to convey me handsomely
To some harbour; the wench will hardly
know me; [parish.
They'll take me for some watchman of tlie
I lia' ne'er a penny left me, that's one com«
fort ;
And ringing has begot a monstrous stomach,
And that's another mischief: I were best go
home,
For every thing will scorn me in this habit.
Besides/ 1 am so full of these young bell*
ringers — [oouutry.
If I get in ardoors, not the power o'ta
Nor all my aunt's curses, shall disembogue
me.
Lure. Bid her come hither presently*
Hum I *tis he. [Exit Servant.
Wildb. Vm betray'd to one that will
eternally laugh at me ! [death.
Three of these rogues will jeer a horse to '
Lure. *Tis Mr. Wildbrain sure; and yet,
methinks, [mah !
His fushion*s strangely alter'd. Sirrah, watcli-
You ragamuffin ! turn, you lousy bear*s skin.
You with the bed-rid bill !
Wildb. IV has found me out ;
There's no avoiding him : I'd rather now
Be arraigii'd at Newgate for a robbery,
Than answer to his articles. Your will, sir?
I am in haste.
Lure. Nay, then I will make bold wi'ye.
A watchman, and asham'd to shew his coun*
tenance, [physiognomy:
His face of authority? — I have seen that
Were you never in prison for pilfering ?
Wildb. How the rogue worries me I
Lure. Why may not this
Be th' villain robb'd my house hist night.
And walks disguis*d'in this malignant rug,
Arm'd with a ton of iron? I will have you
Before a magistrate.
Wildb. What will become of me I
Lure. What art thou? speak!
Wildb. I am the Wandering Jew^', an't
please your worship.
Lure.
" The Wandering Jew.] The following very entertaining passage is extracted from Dr,
Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry, vol. ii. p. 2P5, Sf seg.
* The story of the Wandering Jem is of considerable antiquity: it had obtained full eredit
V0L.1IL N «m
§0
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE LTITLE THtEt.
lA6i^
Lure, By your leave, rabbi, I will shew you
then
A synagogue, yclept Bridewell, where you,
Thider correction, may rest yourself.
You have brought a bill to guard you ; there
be dog-whips
To, firk such rugg'd curs, whips. without bells
Indeed.
Wildb, Bells?
Lurc^ How he sweats ! [Now jeer on,
Wildb. I must be known; as good at first. —
But do not anger me too impudently;
The nibbi will be mov'd then.
Lure. How! Jack VVildbrain? [bells
What time o'th' moon, man, ha? What strange
Ihmt in thy brains?
Wildb. No more bells,
No more bells ! they ring backwards.
Lure, Why, where's the wench, the
blessing that befel thee ? [Jack ?
The unexpected happiness? where's that.
Where are thy golden days ? [lousy !
Wildb, It was his trick, as sure as I am
But how p be reveng'd —
Lure, Fy, fy. Jack ! marry [with a
A watchn^an's widow in thy young days.
Revenue of old iron and a rug?
Is this the paragon, the dainty piece,
The delicate divine n^ue?
Wildb. Tis enough f I am undone,
^lark'd for a misery, and so leave pmtii^.
Gi%-e me my bill.
Lure, You need not ask your taylor*s,
Unless you had better linings. It may be,
To avoid suspicion, you are going thus
Disguised to your fair mistress.
Wildb, Mock no further,
Or, as I live, 111 lay my bill o' thy pate ;
111 take a watchman's fury into my fingers^
To ha' no judgment to distinguish persons.
And knock thee down.
Lure, Come, I ha' done ; and now
Will speak some comfort to thee: I wifi
lead thee
Now to my mistress, hitherto conceal'd.
She shall take pity on thee too ; she loves
A handsome man ; thy misery mvites me
To do thee good: 111 not be jealous, Jack;
Her beauty shall commend itself: but do not.
When I have brought you into grace, Bap»-
plant me ! [^^^ —
Wildb, Art thou in earnest ? by this cold
Lure. No oaths; I am not costive. Here
she comes.
Enter Misireit.
Sweetheart, I have brought a gentlemair,
A friend of mine, to be acquainted with yoo;
He*s other than he seems. Why do ye stare
thus ?
Mistress. Oh, sir, forgive me! I have done
you wrong. [lb Lurcher,
Lure. What is the matter? didst e'er see
her afore, Jack ? [thou hast
Wildb, Prithee do what thou wot wi' me; if
A mind, hang me up quickly! [rather:
Lure, Never despair ; I'll give thee my share
Take her ; I hope she loves thee at first si^ht,
Sh'has petticoats will patch thee up a suit;
I resign all, only I'll keep these trifles;
I took some pains for 'em, I take it. Jack.
What tlunk you, pink of beauty? Come, let
me
Counsel you both to many; ah' has a trede.
If you've audacity to hook in gamesters :
Let's ha' a wedding I You'll be wondrous ricb;
^ in tliis part of the world before the year 1228, as we learn from Mat. Parie. For ift that
* year, it seems, there came an Armenian archbishop uito England, to visit the shrines and
* reliques preseiTed in our churches; who being entertained at the monastery of St. Albans^
* was asked several questions relating to his country, &:c. Among the rebt a monk, who
^ sat near liim, inquired ' if he had ever seeu or heard of the famous person named Joseph,
** that was so much talked of; who was present at our Lord's crucifixion and conversed
** with him, and who was still alive in confirmation of the Cluristian faith?' The archbishop
< answered. That the fact was true. And alierwards one of his train, who was well known
* to a -servant of the abbot's, interpreting his master's words, told them in French, *" That
* his lord knew the person they spoke of very well : that he had dined at his table but a
* little while before he left tlie East : that he had been Pontius Pilate's porter, by name
* Cartaphilus ; who, when they were dragging Jesus out of the door of the Judgment-hall,
' struck him with his fist on the back, saying, * Go faster, Jesus, go faster ; why dost thou
*' linger?' Upon which Jesus looked at hmi with a frown and said, * I indeed am going, but
•' thou sljalt tarry jill I coiue.' Soon after he was converted, and baptized by the name of
* Joseph. He lives for ever, but at the end of every hundred years tails into an incunible
' illness, and at len&tli into a fit or ecstasy, out of which when he recovers, he returns to the
' same state of youth he was in when Jesus bulVertd, being tben about 30 years of i^. He
' remembers all the circumstances of' the death and resurrection of Christ, the saints that
• * arose with hiro, the composing of the apostU s ci-eed, tiieir preachjDfr, aud dispersion ; aad
* is himself a very grave and holy person.' Thjs is the bubstance of Matthew Paris's
^ account, who was himself a monk of St. ^Xlbans, and was liviug at the time wlieu tliis
* Armenian archbishop made Uie above relation.
,• * Since his time several impostors have appeared at intervals under the name and cha-
' ractcr of the Wandering Jew; whose se\eral histories may Le settu iu Cakuet's Diclioi.ary
^ of tho Bible. See also the Turkifth Spy, vol. ii. book iii. let. 1.'
For
^ctS.]
TH£ NIGHT-WALKER; 0R» THE LTITLE THIEF.
Tor she is impodent, and thou art miserable;
Twill be a rare match. [redeem all.
His^fiess. As you're a man, forgive me 1 1*1 1
Xtirc. You wo'not to thisgeer of marriage
iheu? [watch for
WUdb. No, nOy I thank jou, Tom! I can
A groat a-nighty and be evVy gentleman's
Lure. Rise, and be good ; keep home, and
tend Toor business? [Exit Mistreu,
Wildb. Th' hast done*t to purpose. Give
me thy hand, Tom : [I*m in ;
^all we be friends? Thou see'st what state
ril undertake this penance to my aunt.
Just as I am, and openly 1*11 go ;
Where, if I be received again for current.
And Fortune smile once more —
Lure* Nay, nay, I'm satisfied ;
So, farewell, honest, lousy Jack !
WUdb, 1 caimot fnies.
Help it; some men meet with strange desti*
1/ toiims go right, thou mayst be hang*d.
May live to see't, and purchase thy apparel :
SOf fiirewel^ Tom! Commend me to thy
pokat 1 [Ejeeunt.
Enter Lady f Nurde^ and Servant.
Lady, Now, that I liave my counsel ready,
and my cause ripe;
The judges aU informed of the abuses;
Now that he should be gone —
Nana. No man knows whither; [stable
And yet they talk he went forth with a con-
TJuit told him of strange business, that would
bring him [but they
Money uid lands, and Heav'n knows what;
Have searched, and cannot find out such an
officer:
And as a secret, madam, they told your man
Nidu>las, whom you sent thither as a spv,
Tiuy had a shrewd suspicion *twas the devil
rth^likenesBof a constable, that has teitipted
him [been men,
By this time to strange things: there have
As rich as he, have met convenient rivers.
And so forth; many trees have borne strange
fiuits;
I>*ye tiui^k he has not hang'd himself?
Lady. If he
Be faang*d, who has his ^oods f
Nurse. They are forfeited.
They say. [then.
Lady. He has hang'd himself for certain
Only to coxen me of my girl's portion.
Nune. Very likely! [to some prison?
Lady* Or did not th' constable carry him
Nune. They thought on that too, and
searched every where. [executed.
Xa^. He may be close for treason, perhaps
Nurte. Nay, they did look among the
<|aarter» too,
And moster'd all the bridge-house for his I
night-cap, I
Einter Servant*
Serv. Madam, here is the gentleman again^
Lady, What gentleman?
Serv. He that lov'd mv young mistress.
Ludy. Alas, 'tis Heartlove; 'twill but feed
his melancholy
To let him see Maria, since we dare not
Yet tell the world she lives; and certainly,
Did not the violence of his passion blind him.
He would see past her borrowed tongue nnd
habit. [inadaiii.
Nurse. Please you entertain him awhile,
111 cast about for something with your daugh«
ter. [Ileartloye enter..
Lady. Do what thou wo't! — Pray Mr.
[Rreunt Servant and Nurse severaUy, *
Enter Heartlove^
Hearth Madam,! come to ask your gentle
pardon. [me.
Lady. Pardon? for wliat ? yon ne'er offended
HeurtL Yes, if you be the motlier of Maria.
Lady. I was her mother, but that word is
canceU*d, #
And buried with her -. in tliat very minute
Her soul fied from her, we lost both our names
Of mother and of daughter.
HeartL Alas, madam.
If your relation did consist but in
Those naked terms, I had a title nearer,
Since Love unites more than the tie of bloody
No matter for the empty voice of mother !
Your nature still is lef^ which in her absence
Must love Maria, and not see her ashes
And memory polluted.
Lady* You amaze mc !
By whom?
HeartL By me ; I am the vile profaner.
Lady, Why do you speak thusiudiscreteiy.
You ever honour'd her. [sir?
HeartL I did, ali^e ;
But, since she died, I W been a villain to her*
Lady* I do beseech you say not so ; ail this
Is but to make me know how much I sinu'd.
In forcing her to marry.
HeartL Do not mock me,
I charge you by the virgin you have wept for;
For I have done an impious ace against her,
A deed able to fright her from her sleep,
And thro' her marble ought to be reveng'd;
A wickedness, that, if I should be silent.
You as a witness must accuse me for't,
Lady. Was I a witness?
HeartL Yes ; you knew I lov'd
Maria once; or, grant vou did but think so,
By what I ha' profess'd, or h\\e has told you,
Was't not a fault unpardonable in me,
When I should drop my tears upon her grave;
Yes, and proof sutticient-^
Lady. To what? [vows
HeartL That I, forgetful of my fame and
To fair Maria, ere the worm could pierce
Her tender shrowd^ had chaug'd lu;r for an-
other.
N2 Did.
^
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OH, THE UTTLE THIEP/
[Act 5»
Did you not blush to see me turn a rebel ?
80 soon to court a shadow, a strange thing,
Without a name? Did you not curse my
levity,
Or think upon her death with the less sorrow,
That she had 'scap'd a punishment more
kilting?
Oh, how I shame to think on't !
Lady. Sir, in my
Opinion, 'twas an argument of love
To your Maria, for whose sake you could
Affect one that but carried her small likeness.
HeartL No more ! you are too charitable :
but [never
I know my guilt, and will from henceforth
Change words with that strange maid, whose
innocent face,
Like your Maria's, won so late upon me:
My passions are corrected, and I can
Look on her now, and woman-kind, without
Love in a thought. Tis this I came to tell you ;
If, after this acknowledgment, youll be
So kind to shew me in what silent grave
You have ^pos'd your daughter, I will ask
Forgiveneaof her dust, and never leave,
Till, with a loud confession of my shame,
I wake her ghost, and that pronounce my
pardon.
Will you deny this favour? Then, farewell!
I'll never see you more. Ha ! f
Enter Nurse, and Maria in her own apparel
After some show oj wonder^ Heart love goes
towards her.
Lady, Be not deluded, sir ! ujjon mv life,
This is the soul whom you but thought Maria,
In my daughter's habit. What did you mean.
Nurse? [like now?
I l^new she would but cozen you : is she not
Heart L One dew unto another is not
nearer^'. [and that
Nurse. She thinks she is a gentlewoman ;
Imagination has so taken her,
She scorns to speak. How handsomely she
carries it.
As if she were a well-bred thing, her body!
And, I warrant you, what looks !
Ladi/. Pray, be not foolish. [a word,
HeartL I disturb nobody. Speak but half
And I am satisfied! But wW needs that?
1*11 swear 'tis she.
Ladtf, But do not, I beseech you;
For, trust me, sir, you know not what I know.
Heartl Peace "then, [with me.
And let me pray ! She holds up her hands
Lady, This wfll betray alL
Heartl. Love, ever honoured.
And ever young, thou sovereign of all hearts.
Of all our sorrows the sweet ease — She weeps
Does she still cozen me? [now^ !
Nurse. Youll see anon.
Twas her desire ; expect the issue, madam.
Heartl. My souVs so big, I cannot pray I
Tisshe!
I will go nearer.
Enter Algripe, Lurcher^ and Alathe,
Nurse. Here is Mr. Algripe,
And other strangers, madam.
Alg. Here, good lady;
Upon my knees, I ask thy worship's pardon !
Here's tJie whole sum I had with thy fair-
daughter: [peace too,
'Would she were living, I might have hep
And yield her up again to her old liberty !
I had a wife before, and could not marry :
My penance shall be, on that man that
To confer some land. [honoured he^
iMdy. This is incredible !
Alg. Tis truth.
Lure. Do you know me, sir ?
Alg. Ha! the gentleman I deceived?
Lure. My name is Lurcher.
Alg. Sha t have thy mortgage.
Lure. I ha' that already;
No matter for th^ deed, if you release iL
Algi I'll do't before thy witness.
Butwhere's thy sister? ^fshe live, I'm happy,
Tho' I conceaf'd our contract**, which was
stol'n from me
With the evidence of this land.
Alathe goes to Maria, and gives her a paper;
she nonders, and smiles upon Heartlaoe;
he, amaz^dy approaches her; afterwards sha
shews it her Mother, and then gtoes it to,
Heartlove.
Nurse. Your daughter smiles. [tell, sir.
Lure. I hope she lives; but where I cannd
Alat/ie. E'en here, an please you, sir.
Alg. How!
Alathe. Nay, 'tis she.
To work thv fair way, I pre^erv'd you, brotherj^
That would (lave lost me willingly, and
serv'd you
Thus like a boy: I sen''d you foitlifuUy,
And cast your plots but to preserve your
credit;
Your foul ones I diverted to fair uses,
So fieu: as you would hearken to my couDsel.
39
— f« she not like now f
One dew unto another is not nearer.'] Mr. Theobald saw with me, that Frank Htartn
love\ name was dropthere, which I have made no scruple to insert in the text. Synipton,
^ Of all our sorrows the sweet ease. She weeps now.] Mr. Theobald says in his
margin, 5^^ weeps now, which is here only made a stage direction, must be part of the text.
However, I have not dar'd to follow his opinion, as it either might or might hot have been,
so the reader is left to his own judgment either to admit or reject it. Sympson.
The measure and sense both declaring for it, we have inserted the words in the text.
♦» J%o' I conceal <wr con*racr.] So former .editions,
Thut
Aet5.]
THE NIGHT-WALKER; OR, THE UTILE THIEF.
93
ThBt all the worid may know how much you
owe me. [Alathe !
Alg, Welcome, entirely ! welcome, my dear
And, when I lose thee again, blessing for-
sake me!
Kar, let me kiss thee in these cloaths !
Litre, And I too.
And bless the time I had so wise a sister!
Wert thott the Little Thief?
Alathe, I stole the contract,
I most confess, and kept it to myself;
It most concem'd me.
Heart L Contracted? this destroys
His after-marriage.
Maria, Dare yon give this hand [it.
To this young gentleman ? my heart goes wicli
A^, Maria alive? how my heart's exalted !
Tis my duty: [all joys
Take her, Frank Heartlove, take her; and
With her; besides some land t' advance her
jointure ! [blessings crown ye !
Jjudy. What I have is your own; and
Hearti, Give roe room.
And fresh air to consider, gentlemex^
JIf y hopes are too high. ^
"Maria, Be more temperate.
Or rii be Welsh again !
Alg, A day of wonder!
Alathe, Lady, your love ! I ha' kept my
word; there was [hate you,
A time, when my much suffering made me
And to that end I did my best to cross you;
And hearing you were dead, I stole your coffin,
That you might never more usurp my office.
Nany more knacks I did, wluch at the
weddings
Shall be to)d of as harmless tales ^\
[Shout tcithin.
Enter Wildbram.
Wildb, Hollow your tliroatsapieces! Fm
at home ;
If yon can roar me out again —
Liufy. What thing is this?
Lure, A continent of fleas : room for the
pageant!
Make room afore there! Your kinsman,
madam.
Lady, My kinsman ? let me wonder !
Wildb, Do, and
111 wonder too, to see this company
At peace one with another.
Maria, Tis not worth
Your admiration ; I was never dead yet*',
Wildb. YouVe merry, aunt, I see, and all
your company :
If ye be not, I'll fool up, and provoke ye ;
I will do any thing to get your love again :
I'll forswear midnight, taverns, and tempta*
tions ; [maids
Give good example tQ your grooms; the
Shall go to bed, and take their rest this year;
None shall appear with blistersin their bellies.
Lure, And, when youll fool again, you
may go ring.
Wildb, Madam, have mercy !
Lady, Your submission, sir,
I gladfy take (we ^%'ill %
Enquire the reason of this habit aftcrwards%
Now you are soundly sham'd; well, we
restorcyou.
Where's Toby? where's the coachman?
JVurs^. He sa-bed, madam.
And has an ague, he says.
Lure. I'll be his physician.
Lady, We must afoot then.
Lure, Ere the priest ha' done,
Toby shall wait upon you with his coach.
And make your I landers mares dance back
again wi' ye,
I warrant you, madam.— You are mortified;
Your suit shall be granted too.
Wildb. Make, make room af(9rc there !
Lady, Home forward with elad hearts!
Maria, 1 wait you. [home, child,
Hcartl, On joyfully ! — ^The cure of all our
grief,
Is owing to this pretty Little Tliief.
[Exeunt omnet^
*•* Lady, your lone, 6cc.] This speech has been hitherto given to Lurcher; tho' the
circamstances recited in it prove that it belongs to Alathe, The fourth line of it, however,
Teqoires some amendment : we should either read. And hearing you were dead, or, And
fearingyou wem't dead. We prefer the former.
« *jii not worth
Your admiration; I was never dead yet,} These words (though so obyioosly belonging
(o Maria) have hitherto stood as part of Wildbrain*9 speech.
TH£
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
A TRAGI-COMEDY.
The Commendatory Verses b j Gardiner attribute this Play wholly to Fletcher. Its first |mb«
licadon was in the folio of 1647. In the year 1687^ Tate made some alterations in this
piece^ with which it was printed; and Peter Motteoz, about ten years aftcrwardi^brooghl
it forward as an Opert, under the title of ^ The Island Princess, or the Gencroui
* Portngnese.'
Mbv.
SmtantoQui'
KnroofTidore.
KiKO of Bakam^
PaiHCs of Syana,
GoTERxoK of Ternata, j
'?ttimtM,Mepkem to Buy Dia$.
fcnuEL, \ friend* to Jfmma.
pLT'""' l^riend^toFinUro.
PERSONS REPRESENTED,
Moors.
Guard.
Captain.
Citizens.
Townsmen,
Women.
QuiSARAy the Ishmd Princess, SUter to tU
• Kingo/Tidore.
QuiSANAy Aunt to the Princeu»
Panura, Waitm^Woman to the Princmi
QumrtL
Citizens^ Wives.
SCENE, India.
ACT L
. A bell rmgu
Enter PinierOf Christophero^ and Pedro,
Puuero.f\VES the ports, and see the watch
^^ reHev'd,
And let tlie guards be careful of their business.
Their vigilant eyes fi&*d on these islanders !
They're false and desp'rate people; when
tliey find
The lea&t occasion open to encouragement,
Cruel and cratty souls. Believe me, gentle-
- men, [us.
Their late attempt, wliich is too fresh amongst
Id which, against all arms and honesty,
The guvenior of Ternata made surprize
Ot'our confederate*, the king of Tidore,
(As for liis recreation he was rowing
^ Governor of Tema, &c.] Ternata (or Ternate, as Milton calls it), Tidore, and Bakan
sr JBocAoM, are three ut thv Molucco islands. i>j,mpion.
As
Between both lands) bidi ns be wise and di"
cumspect.
Chrit, It was a mischief suddenly imagin'd^
And as soon done: that governor is a herce
knave ; [ing.
Unfaithful as he*s fierce too; tliere'sno trust-
But I wonder much, how such poor and base
pleasures
As tueging at an oar, or skill in steerage,
Shouldbecome princes.
Pin. Base breedings love base pleasures
They take as much delight in a baratto,
(A little scurvy boat) to row l»er tightly,
And have the art to turn and wind her niajh
bly,
Think it as noble too, tho' it be slavish,
And a dull labour that declines a gentleman)
96
THE ISLAND PRINCESS^
[Act 14
As we Portogals, or th' Spaniards, do in riding,
In managing a great horse, (which is princely)
The French in courtship*, or the dancing
English
In carrying a fair presence. .
Pedro. He was strangely taVen ;
But where no faith is, there's no trust; h'has
paid for't.
His sister yet, the fair and great Quisara,
Has shewed a noble mind, and much love in't
To her afflicted brother; and the nobler
Still it appears, and seasons of more tender*
ness.
Because his ruin stiles her absolute,
And his imprisonment adds to her profit*
Feeling all this, which makes all men admire
her, [her,
The warm beams of this fortune that fall on
Yet she has made divers and noble treaties.
And propositions for lier brother's freedom.
If wealth or honour —
Tin, Peace, peace ! you are fool'd, sir:
Things of these natures have sti-ange outsides,
Pedro,
And canning shadovirg, set 'em far from us;
Draw 'em but near, the/re gross, and they
abuse us : [ture,
Tiievthat observe her close shall find herna-
Whicb, I doubt mainly, will not prove so ex-
cellent.*
She i» a princess, and she must be fair.
That's the prerogative of being royal ;
Let her want eyes and nose, she must be
beauteous.
And she most know it too, and the use of it,
And people must believe it, they are damn'd
else: ^ [her.
Why, all the neighbour princes are mad for
Chris, Is she not fair then?
Tin, But her hopes are fairer.
And there's a haughty master, the king of Ba-
kam,
That lofty sir, that speaks far more and loUder,
In his own commendations, than a cannon;
He is strucken dun^b with her.
• Pedro, Beshrew me, she is a sweet one.
Tin, And there's that hopeful man of Sy-
ana.
That sprightly fellow, he that's wise and tonJ'
He is a lover too. [penite^
Chris, 'V\'onld I were worth her loekiag!
For, by my life, I hold her a complete one :
The very sun, I think, aflfects her sweetneas.
And dares not, as he does to all else, dye it
Into his tawny livery.
Tin, She dares not see him.
But keeps herself at distance from his kisses.
And her complexion in a case ' : let him but
like it * [a lion*
A week^, or two, or three, she would look like
But the main sport on't is, or rather wonder.
The governor of Temata, her mortal enemy^
He that has catch'd her brother-king, is struck
too,
And is arrivM under safe conduct also.
And hostages of worth delivered for him ;
And he brought a letter from his prisoner ',
(Whether compelled, or willingly deliver'd)
From the poor king; or whatelsedare be in*t —
Chris, So it be honourable, any thing, 'tis
all one ;
For I dare think she'll do the best.
Tin, Tis certain
He has admittance, and solicits hourly.
Now if we have the trick-^
Pedro, What trick?
Tin, The true one, f^owling^
To take her too: if he be but skill'd in ba^
And lime his bush right —
Chris, rU be hangM when thathits ;
For 'tis not a compellVi or forcM affection
' Tliat must take her: I guess lier stout and
virtuous. (tain.
But \\ here*s your uncle, sir, our valiant cap-
The brave Ruy Dias, all this while ?
Tin. Ay, marry.
He is amongst 'em too*
Tedro. A lover?
Tin, Nay,
I know not that; but sure he stands in fa*
vour, [else.
Or would stand stiffly; he's no Portugal
Chris, The voice says in good favour; in
the list too
Of the privy wooers. How canningly of late
(I have observ'd him) and how privately
^ TA6 French in courtship^ or the dancing English.] If the English were as fbnd i}£ dancing
in the tune of the Poets, as they are now, the common lection is right; otherwise I should
chuse to read so.
The French in courtship, dancing, or the English^ &c. S^pdon,
3 And her complexion,] First folio and Sympson read.
And wears her complexion, &c.
♦ Let him but like it, 4-c.] The editors of 1750 propose varying to, let him but lick it ; or,
let him hut kissif; or^ let him but look on't: ' So, (says Sympson) in Solomon's Song; Look
* not upon me because i am blacky because the Sun hath look'd upon me J
' And he brought, &c.l I read and point the latter part of tnis speech tlms :
And he hath brought a letter from his prisoner.
Whether compeH'cl, or willingly deliver'd
From the poor king : and what else be in't—
The add t ion ofamonos-yllable m the first line, and the change of the points, is required by
the sense and the measure : The or in the third got there from the line above, and excluded
the proper inonosyiiabb. Seward,
H'has
Att 1.]
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
W
IT has stolen at all boun from us, and how
readily [well
H* has feignM a business to bid the fort fare-
For five or six days, or a month together !
Sore there is something —
Pin. Yes^yes, there's a thing in% fflfterit,
A thix^ would make the best on's all dance
A dainty thing ! Lord, how this uncle ofraine
lias read to me, and rated me for wenchini:,
And told me in what desperate case 'twould
leave me.
And how 'twould stew my bones--
Pedro. You car'd not for it. [easily,
Pin. Pikitb, not much; I ventured on stitl
And took my chance; danger's a soldier*s
honour. ^ [Dias,
But that this man, this herb of grace, Ruy
This father of our fnculties, should slip thus !
(For sure he is a-ferreting) that he [rit.
That would drink nothing, to depress the spi-
Bat milk and water, eat nothing but thin air,
To make his blood obedient ; that his youth,
In spite of all his temperance, should tickle.
And have a love-man^e on him —
Chis, Tis in him, sir, [rank too.
But honourable courtship, anil becomes his
Ptn. In nie it were abominable lechery, or
would be ; [their level,
For when our thoughts are on't*i and miss
We must hit something.
Pedro. Well, he's a noble gentleman ;
And, if he be a suitor, may he speed in't !
Pin. Let him alone; our family ne^er failed
yet. [niero.
Chris. Our mad lieutenant still, merry Pi-
Thus would he do, if the surgeon were searcli-
ingofhim. [shot him.
Pedro. Especially if a warm wench had
Pin. But hark, Christophero; come hither,
Pedro; [sia,
When saw you our brave countryman, Armu-
He that's arrived here lately, and his gallants.?
A goodly fellow, and a brave companion
Methink he is, and no doubt truly valiant;
For he that dares come hither dares figlit any
where. ^ [tlemau
Chris. I saw him not of late. A sober gen-
Fm sure he is ; and no doubt bravely sprung,
And promises much nobleness.
Pin. I love him, [him.
And by my troth woald fain be inward with
Pray let's go seek him.
Pedro, We'll attend you, sir.
Pin. By that time, we shall hear the burst
of business. \Exeunt.
Enter Ruy DiaSy Quisara, Quisana, and Pa-
nura.
Q»isar. Auut| I much thank you for your
coartesy.
And the fair liberty you still allonir me,
Both of your house and service. Tho' I he
A princess, and by that prerogative stand
4ee
From the poor malice of opinion,
And no ways bound to render up my actions.
Because no povver above me can examine me;
Yet, my dear brother being btill a priboner.
And many wand ring eyes upon my ways,
Being left alone a sea-mark, it behoves ine
To use a little caution, and be circumspect-
Quisan. You're wise and noble, lady.
Quisar. Oflen, aunt,
I resort hither, and privately to see you.
It may be to converse with some I fevour:
I would not have it known as oft, nor con-^
It stands not with my care. [stru'd;
Quisan. You speak most fairly;
For ev'n Out pure devotions are examinM.
Quisar. So mad are men's minds now.
Rfii/. Or rather monstrous;
They're thick dreams bred in fogs, that know
no fairness. [yours, (pray use mc)
Quisan. Madam, the house is yours, I'm
And at your service all I have lies prostrate;
My care shall ever be to yield you honour.
And, when your fame fallshere,*tis my faulty
lady;
A poor and simple banquet I've provided,
Which if you please to honour with your pre-^
sence — [yoU instandy.
Quisar. I thank you, aunt! I shall be with
A few words with this gentleman !
Quisan. 1*11 leave you ; [youi
And when you please retire. Til wait upon
[Exeunt Quisa7i. and Pan.
Qvisar. Why, how now, captain? what,
afraid to speak to me?
A man of arms, and daunted with a lady?
Commanded have the power to parle with
princes. [showr'd on me,
Jiuy. Madam, the fevours you have still
(Which are so high above ray means of meritj
So infinite, that nought can vahie *em
But their own goodness; no eyes look up
to 'em
But those that are of equal light and lustre) .
Strike me thus mute 1 You are my royal mis-
tress,
And all my services, that aim at honour.
Take life from you, the saiiitof ray devotions.
Pardon my wish ! it is a fair ambition,
And well becomes the man that honours you ;
I would I were of worth, of something near
YOU,
Of such a royal piece' ! a king I would be,
A mighty king that might Command affection ^4
And bring a youth upon me might bewitch
youj
And you a sweet-sour d Christian.
Quisor^
* Our thoughts are on't.] Sympson would read.
Our thoughts arc out.
^ Of such a royal piece.] Seward proposes, royal price.
' " command ajfection,
And bring a youth upon me mght bevitch you.] To wish to bring a youth updn him, is an
VOL. III. 0 expression,
98
THE ISLANl) PRINCESS.
tAcl Is
Quisar. Now you talk, sir! [diers,
You Portugals, though you he rueged sol-
Yct, when you list to flatter, you're plain
courtiers. Bias ?
And couldyoQ wish roe Christian, brave Ruy
Rtty. At all the danger of my life, great
At all my hopes, at all — [l^dy,
Quisar. Pray you stay a little;
To what end runs your wish?
Ruy. Oh, glorious lady,
That 1 might— But I dare not speak.
Quisar, I dare then; [blush not;
That you might hope to marry me: nay.
An honourable end needs no excuse.
And would you love me then ?
Ruy, My soul not dearer.
Quisar, Do some brave thing that may
entice me that way,
Something of such a meritorious goodness,-
Of buch an unmatchM nobleness, that I may
know [30U.
You have a power beyond ours that preserves
Tis not the person, nor the royal title.
Nor wealth, nor glory, that I Took upon ;
That inward man I love tliat's lin'd with vir-
tne,
That wcll-deser^ing soul works out a favour.
V\c many princes suitors, many great ones,
Yet above these I love you; you are valiant,
An active man, able to build a fortune:
I do not say I dote, nor mean to marry ;
Only the hope is, something may be done
That may compel my faith, and ask my free*
And leave opinion fair. [dom,
Rvy* Command, dear lady !
And let the danger be as deep as hell^
As direful to attempt —
Quisar. You are too sadden ;
I must be rul'd by you : find out a fortune,
Wisely and handsomely; examine time,
And court occasion that she may be ready!
A thousand uses for your forward spirit
Yon may find daily ; be sure you take a good
one ! [you !
A brave and worthy one, that may advance
Forc*d smiles reward poor dangers: you're a
soldier,
(I'd not talk so else) ancl I love a soldier,
And that that speaks him true and gretft, his
valour : [lies.
Yet for all these, which are but women's fol-
You may do what you please ; I sliall still
know you.
And, tbo' you wear no sword—
Rvi^, Excellent lady !
When I grow so cold, and disgrace my nation,
Tliat from their hardy nurses suck adventures,
Twere fit I wore a tombstone. YouVe ireMl
to me
The story of your favour : if I mistake it^
Or grow a truant in the study of it,
A great correction, lady —
Quisar, Let's to th' banquet, [court.
And have some merrier talk, and tlien tt>
Where I give audience to my general suitors I
Pray lieav'n my woman's wit hold ! There,
brave captain, [startle you i
You may perchance meet somethmg that may
I'll say no more: come, be not sad ! I love
you. [Exeunt,
Enter Piniero, Armmia, Soxa, Chrisiopkero,
and Emanuel,
Pin. Yov're welcome, gentlemen, most
worthy welcome I [scr\'e ye.
And know, there's nothing in our power may
But you may frcely challenge.
Arm. Sir, \^e thank you.
And rest your ser\'ants too.
Pitt. YeVc worthy Portugals; fspiritis.
You shew the bravery of your minds and
The nature of our country too, that brings
fbr.th V
Stirring nnwearied souls to seek adventures^
Minds never satisfied with search of honour:
Where time is, and the sun gives light, brave
countrymen, [their riches^
Our names are known ; new worlds disclose
Their beauties and their prides, to our em*
braces.
And we the first of nations find these wonders.
Arm, These noble tlioughts, sir, -have en-
tic'd us forward, [racles.
And minds unapt for ease, to see these mi*
In which we find report a poor relater :
We are arriv'd among the blessed islands.
Where every wind that rises blows perfimies.
And every breath of air is like an incense;
The treasure of the sun dwells here ; each
As if it envied the old Paradise, [tree^
Strives to bring forth inunortai fruit; tlie
spices
Renewing nature, tho' not deifying ; [earth.
And when tliat falls by time, scorning the
The sullen earth, should taint or suck their
beauties;
But as we dream'd, for ever so preserve as:
Nothing we see, but breeds an admiration;
The very rivers, as we float along, [court u&;
Throw up their pearls, and curl their heads to
The boweb of the earth swell with the births
Of thousand unknown gems, and thousand
riches; [sure.
Nothing that bears a life, but brings a treap
expression, I fancy, nor easily to be exam pled. To preserve the delicacy, as well as pro*
pnety of the sentiment here intended, I suspect the passage once run thus,
— a king I would be,
A mighty king iDiat might command aflection,
A spring cf'ywik upon me migiit bewitch ye, &c. Sympson,
This is a happy emendation: and we think meets confirmation from a passage in the
Night- Walker, (p. 87; where ileartlove, speaking of Maria, calls her « walking spring cf
* The
Aetl.]
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
99
The people tliey shew brave too, civil maiw
ner'd,
Proportion'd like tlie masters of great minds;
The women, which I wonder at —
Fin* You speak well. [beauteous.
Arm, Of aelicate aspects, fair, clearly
And, to that admiration, sweet and courteous.
Fin. And is not that a good thing? Brave
Armusia,
You never saiv the court before ?
Am. No, certain;
But tiiat I see a wonder too, all excellent.
The government exact —
Ch-U. YuQ shall 9/te anon [beauties.
That tliat will make you start indeed ! such
Such riches, and such form —
Enter Bakam, Sj/ana, and Governor.
Soza, We're fire already ;
The wealthy magazine of Aatore sure
Inhabita here.
Arm. These sure are all islanders, [lovers.
Jf^'n. Yes, and great princes too, and lusty
Arm. They're goodly persons. What might
he be, siguor,
That bears so proud a state?
Pin. King of Bakam,
A fellow tliat farts terror.
Eman. He looks highly;
Sore he was b^ot o'th' top of a steeple.
Ckris. It may well be ;
For you shall hear him ring anon.
Fin. That is Syana, [liant.
And a brave-teinper'd fellow, and more va-
Soza. What rugged face is that?
Fin. That's the great governor, [him.
The man surpriz'd our fhend ; I told you of
Ann. H' has dangerous eyes.
Fin. A perilous tliiefV and subtle !
Chris. And, to that subtilty, a heart of iron.
Fin. Yet the young lady makes it melt.
Arm. They start all,
And thander in the eyes.
Bakam. Away, ye poor ones !
Am I in competition with such bubbles?
My virtue and my name rank*d with such
Svana. You speak loud. [trifles ?
Joakam. Young man, I will speak louder !
Can any man but I deserve her favour,
You petty princes ?
Pin. He will put 'em all in's pocket.
[Princes Jly at one another.
Syana. Thou pj'oud mad thing, be not so
So full of vanity! [tuU of glory,
Bakam. How ! I contemn tliee.
And time fort-keeping fellow !
Vin. How the dog looks.
The bandog governor !
Gov. Ha! Why?
Bakam. Away, thing, [royalty !
And keep your rank with those that fit your
Cull out the princess^.
Gov. Dost thou know me, bladder.
Thou insolent imposthume?
Bakam. I despise tlice. "^ [baby ?
Gov. Art thou acquainted with ray nature,
With my revenge for injuries? Dur'st tliou
hold me
So far behind rhy file, I cannot reach thee ?
WImt canst thou merit?
Bakam. Merit? I'm above it;
Tm equal w itli all honours, all atchievements,
And what is great and worthy; the best doer
I keep at my cummand ; Fortune's my servant :
Tisiftray power now to despisesuch wretches.
To look upon ye slightly, and neglect ye ;
And, but she deigns at some hours to re-
member ye.
And people have bestow'd some titles on ye,
I should ft>rget your nanieSk
Syana. Mercy of ine !
What a blown tool luis self-affection [mother
Made of this fellow ! Did not the queen your
Long for bellows and bagpipes when she was
great with you.
She brou)j:ht torth such a windy birth ?
Gov. 'Tis ten to one
She eat a drum, and was delivered of alarum;
Or else lie was swaddled in an old sail when
he was young'^. [ditations :
Sj/ana. He swells too mainly with his me*
Faith, talk a littl^ handsomer, ride softly
'I'hat we may be able to hold way with you !
^VeVe princes ; [wiser !
Hut those are but poor things to you: ttilk
'Vwill welfbecomc your mightiness : talkiess,
Jl'hat men may think you can do more !
Gov. Talk truth, [lieve you !
That met) mav think you're honest, and be-
Oi; talk yourself asleep, for I am weary of you,
Bakam. Why, I can talk and do—
Girv, That would do excellent, [princess,*
Bakam. And tell you, only I deserve the
And make good a/i/y 7, if you dare; you, sir;
Or you, Syana*s prince !
Pin. Here's a storm toward ;
Methinks it sings already. To him, governor !
Gov. Here lies my proof. [Draw.
Sj/ana. And mine.
Gov. I'll he short with you;
For these long argumenis i was ne'er good at.
Pin, How wliite the boaster looks !
' Call out the princess.] Tis possible this place may seem intire in the judgment of my
readers, and so any correction or attempt towards one needless; yet, I own, I don't think
so, but imagine the line once run thus,
Cull out Uie princess,
t. e. Do you pick out the princess to tlisgrace her with the love of a person so ev*ry way ua«
worthy of her as you are? Syntpson. —
'° Or else — ] Syana should begin here, and too in the second line should be so, Seward.
We cannot think so.
O « Enter
100
THE ISLAND PRINCESS;
[Acll.
JE^nter Uuy Bias, QuUaray Ctuisana^ and
Panura,
Arm. I see he Ucks faith.
Ryi/. For shame, forbear, great princes;
rule your angers !
You violate the freedom of this placft,
The state and royalty —
Gov. He's well contented,
It seems; and &o I've done.
Arm. Is this she, signor?
Fin. This ib the princess, sir.
Arm. She's sweet find goodly.
An admirable fonn; theyVe cause to justle.
Quiiar. Ye wrong me and my court, ye
fro ward princes I
Comrs your love wrapt in violence to seek us?
Is't ti», tho' you be great, my presence should
be
Stain'd and polluted with^/our bloody rages?
My privacies affrighted wfth your swords?
He that Iov«b me, loves my command : be
temper'd,
Or be no more what ye profess, my servants !
Omnes. We're calm as peace.
Arm. What command she carries !
And what a sparkling majesty flies from her!
Quimr. Is U ye love to do? Ye shall find
danier,
And danger that shall start your resolutions?*
But not tins way. ^is not contention who
loves
Me xxi my face best, or who can flatter most,
Can carry me : he tliat deserves my favour.
And will enjoy what I bring/ love and ma-
jesty, Fine,
Must win mc with his worth, must travel for
. Must put his hasty rage ofl^ and put on
A welj-coqlinn'd, a temperate, and true va-
Omnes. But shew the way. [lour.
Quiwr^ And will ; and tlien shew you
A will to tread the way, I'll say ye're worthy!
Pin. What task nqw will she turn'em to?
These hot youths [eyes„
I fear will find a cooling card : I read m her
Somethinii; that has some swinge must fly
amongst 'em :
By this hand, I love her a little now !
Quisar. 'Tis not unkiiown to you
I had a royal brother, now miserable, [tious.
And prisoner to that man : if I were ambir
Gap'd f(M' that «!;Iory was ne'er born with me.
There he should lie, i)is miseries upon him;
If I were covetous, and my heart set
On riches, and those base effects that follow
On pleasures uncontrord, or safe revenges,
t^ Thejc he should die, his death would give
me all these ;
For then stood I up absolute to do all :
Yet all these flatteriag shows of dignity.
These golden dreams of greatness, cannot
force me
To forget nature and roy fair affection :
Therefore, that man tliat woald be known
my lo\"er fhim.
Must be known his redeemer, and must oring
Either alive or dead, to my embraces
(For e'en his bones I scorn shall feel suck
slavery),
Or seek another mistress. Twill be hard
To do tliis, wondrous hard, a great adventure.
Fit for a spirit of an equal £;reatness !
But being done, the reward is worthy of it.
Chris. How the^ stand gaping all !
Quisar. Ruy Dias cold! [me:
Not fly like fire into it? May be, you doubt
He that shall do this is my husband, prince' ',
By tlie bright heavens, he is! by whose jus»
I openly proclaim it: if I lie, [tice
Or seek to set you on with subtilty, [hood!
Let tliat meet with me, and reward my &1»-
No stirring yet? no start into a braverjr?
Ru^. Madam, it may be; but being ft
main danger, [u^e.
Your grace must give me leave to look about
And take a little time : the cause will ask it;
Great acts require great counsels.
Quisar, Take your pleasure !
I fear the Portugal.
Bakam. Fll raise an anny
That shall bring back his island, fort aod all.
And fix it here.
Gov. How long will this be doing? [days.
You should have begun in your grand lather's
S^ana. What niay be, [lady —
And wh.tt my power can promise, noblest
My will I'm sure stands fair.
Quisar. Fair be your fortune !
Few promises are best, and fair performance.
G(/o. These cannot do ; their power and
arts are weak ones ! [ther,
Tis' in my will; I have this king your bro»
He is roy prisoner; I accept your proffer,
And bless the fair occasion tliat atchiev*d him :
I love you, and I honour you. But speak,
Whetljcr alive or dead he shall be render'd.
And see how readily, how in an instant.
Quick as your wishes, lady —
Quisar. No; I scorn you,
You and your courtesy ! I hate your love, sir ;
And ere I would so basely win his liberty,
rd study to forget he was my brother.
By force he was ta'en ; he that shall enjoy
mc, [me.
Shall fetch him back by forced orneverkuow
Pin. As I live, a rare wench !
Arm. She has a noble spirit.
Gov. By force?
" Is my husband prince.] Ruy Dias appears only to have been the general of the Portu-
gals, not a prince: this speech therefore is made to all xhe suitors, and should run.
Is my husband, princes. Scicard.
The whole speech is apparently addressed to Ruy Dias; and Quisara certainly meansi,
though perhaps not very correctly, to call him/;ri7?cc.
Quisar^
Aett]
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
101
Qfttsar, Yes, ait, by ibrce^ and make you
To let him gQ. [glad too
Gov. U w! You may look nobler on me,
Aod think me no such boy : by force he must
For your love much may be. [not ;
Q^itar» Put up your passion,
Aodfiack you home! I say, byforce, and
suddenly;
He lies there till he rots else ! Tho' I love him
Most tendorly and dearly, as a brother^
Ajid out of these respects wouid joy to see liim ,
j Yet, to re«^eive him as thy courtesy, [him,
i With all the honour thou couldst add unto
' From his hands that most hates him, I bad
rather
i (Tbo* no condition were propounded for Um)
' See him far sunk i* th' earth, and there forget
him!
I Pin, Your hopes are gelt, good governor.
I Arm, A rare woman !
I Gov, Lady,
ni pfdl this pride, Fll quench this bravery,
And turn your glorious scorn to tears and
bowlings;
' I will, proud princess! This neglect of me
I Shall make thy brother-king most miserable,
; Shall tarn him into curses 'gainst thy cruelty :
I For where before I us'd him like a king,
And did those royal offices unto him,
Now he shall lie a sad lump in a dungeon,
Loaden with chains and fetters; cold and
hunger, ^ [nions.
I Darkness, and lingring death, for his compa-
And let me see who dare attempt his rescue,
What desp'rate fool look toward it! Farewell,
And when thou know'st him thus, lament
I thy follies!
I Nay, I will make thee kneel to take my offer:
' Once more farewell, and put thy trust m pup-
fils! [Exit.
Quimr. If none dare undertake*t, 111 live
Bakam. You cannot want. [a mourner.
Smna. You must not.
Huy, Tis most dangerous^ [counsel;
And wise men would proceed with care ahd
Yet some way 'would I knew. Walk with
me, gentlemen! [Exeunt*
Manent Armusia and his Companions,
Arm, How do you like her spirit?
Soza. 'Tis a clear one, [honour.
Clogg'd with no dirty stuff; she's all pure
Eman^ The bravest wench I ever look'd upon,
And of the strongest parts! She is most fair;
Yet her mind such a mirror —
Arm, What an action {^^^Jt
Would this be to put forward on, what a
And what an everlasting wealth to end it!
Methinks my soul is strangely rais'd.
Soza, To step into't, [terraiu'd.
Just while they think ; and, ere they liave de-
To bring the king off!
Arm. Things have been done as dangerous.
Eman. And prospered best, when they
were least considerd. [friends, assist me !
Arm, Bless in^?, my hopes ! and you, my
None but our companions —
Soza, You deal wisely, [with us!
A4|d, if we shrink, tlie name of slaves die
jSman, Stay not for second thoughts.
Arm, I am detenninM : [ant.
And, tho' I lose, it shall be sung, I was vali-. .
And my brave offer shall be turn'd to story.
Worthy the princess* tongue. A boat! that's
all [chants!
That's unprovided; and habits like to m<^r»
The rest wc'l! counsel as we go,
Soza. Away then ! [win her.
Fortune looks fair on those make haste to
[Exeunt,
ACT II.
Enter Keeper and two or three Moors.
Keeper. T HAVE kept many a man, and
'- many a great one.
Yet, I confess, I never saw before
A man of such a sufferance : he lies now
Where I'd not lay my dog (for sure 'twould
kill him;, [him.
Where neither light or comfort can come near
Nor air nor earth that's wholesome. It
grieves me
To see a mighty king, with all his glory,
Sank o*th' sudden to the bottom of a dungeon.
Whither should We descend, that are poor
rascals.
If we had our deserts^
1 Afoor. 'TIS a strange wonder ! [tempts,
I^^ad him with irons^ oppress him ]/vith cou-
(Which are the governor's commands) give
him nothing,
Or so little, to sustain life, 'tis next nothing.
They stir not him ; he smiles upon his mise-
ries, [nature
And bears 'em with such strength as if his
Had been nurs'd up and fostcr'd with cala-
mities, [repines not,
2 Jlioor. He gives no ill words, curses, nor
Blames nothing, hopes in nothing, we can
hear of; [nothing.
And, in the midst of all these frights, fears
Keeper, Fll be sworn
He fears not; for e'en when I shake for him,
(As many times my pity will compel me)
When other souls^ that bear not half his bur-
' den, [oppressions.
Shrink in their poi^-crs^ and burst with their
Tlien
lOS
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
[Act 2.
Hien will he sin^ wooe his afflictions,
AimI court ^em in sad airs, as if he would
wed 'em. [y^> ^^ *<* only
1 Moor. That's more than we have heard
Appointed for his guard, but not so near him :
If we CQuld hear that wonder —
Keeper. Many times
I fear the ^vemor should come to know it;
For his voice su affects me, so delights me,
Tliat when I find his hour, Fve music ready,
And it stirs roe infinitely. Be but still and
And you may chan ce to hear. [private,
[King appears loaden with ciaifU, his
head and arms only above.
5 Moor. We will not stir, sir. [blame it?
Tliis is a sudden change; but who dares
Keeper. Now hark end melt! for I am sure
I shall.
Stand silent ! what stubborn weight of chains—
1 Moor. Yet he looks temperately.
, 2 Moor. His eyes not sunk, and his com-
plexion finn still,
No wildness, no distempered touch upon him :
How constantly he smues, and how undaunt-
ed! :
Witli what a majesty he heaves his head up!
[Music.
Keeper. Now, mark! I know hell sing; do
not disturb him. — [it were morefipir,
Your allowance firom the governor ! 'Would
Or in my power to make it handsomer !
King. Do not transgress thy charge ! I take
liis bounty.
And, Fortune, whilst I bear a mind contented.
Not leaven'd with the glory I am fallen from.
Nor hang upon vain hopes that may corrupt
me,
Thou art my slave, and I appear above thee '^ I
Enter Governor.
Keeper. The governor himself!
[service?
JKi'jt^. Mock, mopk! it mores not me, si|^
Thy mirths, as do thy mischiefii, fly behind me.
Uov. Yon carr/t handsomely. But teU
me, patience.
Do not yon curse the brave and royal hdr.
Your gracious sister ? don't yon damn herpity^
Damn twenty times a-day, and damn it se^
riously?
Do not you swear aloud too, cry and kickF
The very soul sweat in thee with the agony
Of her contempt of me? Couldst not thou
eat her
• For being so injurious to thy fortune.
Thy lair and happy fortune? Couldst not
thou wish her [her,
A bastard, or a whore Fame might proclaim
Black ugly Fame, or that th'hadst no sister?
Snitting the general name out, and the nature,
Blaspheming Heav'n for roalung such a mis-
chief.
For ^vine power to pride, and will to woman?
Ktn0. No, tyrant, no 1 I bless and love her
for It:
And, tho* her scorn of thee had laid up forme
As many plagues as the corrupted air breeds,
As many miscliiefs as the hours have minutes,
As many forms of death as doubt can figure;
Tet I should love her more still, and more ho-
nour her.
All thou canst lay upon me cannot bend me;
No, not the stroke of death, that I despise too;
For if fear could possess me, thou hadst won
me: ^
As little finom this hour I prize thy flatteries.
And less than those thy prayers, tho' thou
wouldst kneel to me !
And if she be not mistress of this nature.
She's none of mine, no kin, and I contemnher.
. Gov. Are you so valiant, sir?
King, Yes, and so fortunate ;
For he that holds his constancy, still conquers.
Hadst thou preserv'xi me as a noble enemy.
And, as at first,, made my restraint seem to
But only as the shadow of captivity, [me
I had still spoke thee noble, still declared thee
A valiant, great, and worthy man, still lov'd
thee.
And still preferred thy fair love to my sister;
But to compel this from me with a misery,
A most inhuman and unhandsome slavery —
Gov. You will relent, for all this talk, I
And put your wits a-work again, [fear not.
Gov. What, at your banoaet?
And in such state, and witli bUch cliange of
King. Nature's no glutton, sir; a little
serves her.
Gov. This diet's wholesome then ?
King. 1 beg no better. [less next ;
Gov. A calm contented mind I Give him
These full meals will oppress his health; his
grace
Is of a tender and pure constitution ;
And such repletions—
'* King. Do not transgreu thy charge, I take his bounty,
Andjortune, whilst I bear a mind contented.
Not leaven'dwith the glory I am fallen from.
Nor hang upon vain hopes, that may corrupt me.
Enter Governor. "
Gov. Thou art my slave, and I appear above thee.] The editors of 1750 propose different
vamtions in the speech of tlie King; but they need no recital when the real cause of tl«
obscurity is discovered, which is, tliat the Governor has been hitherto set down to speak the
last line of the King's apostrophe to JForfiine.— What a contemptible boast does this lin«
appear when commg from the Governor, (who is in no other place held forth as aJhoL
tliough a tyrant) but how finely does it conclude the unfortunate monarch's address ! jr. N.
King,
id 9.]
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
loa
JGtf. You're oozen'd:
Or, if I were so weak to be wrought to it,
5o feuiiil to give way to so much poverty,
Hoirlafaoold curse berhear^if she consented !
God, You shall write, and entreat, or —
Kmg, Do thy utmost, [thee.
AsdeVa in au tliy tortures, ni laugh at
m tittuk thee no more valiant, but a vfllain ;
NoduDg thou hast done hrave, but like a thief,
Atcbiev'd by craft, and kept by cruelty;
Nothing tliou canst deserve, thou art unho-
Dest; [barous.
Nor no way live to build a name, thou'rt bar-
Gon. Down widi him low enoc^h, there
let him murmur !
And see his diet be so light and little, [you,
He erow not thus hieh^hearted on*t ! Ill cool
And make you cry for mercy, and be ready
To work my ends and willingly: and your
sister ta'eo down.
Your scornful, cruel sister, shall repent too,
And sue to me for grace. Give him no liberty.
Bat let his bands be doubled, his ease lessen'd,
Notfaioe bis heart desires, but vex and tor-
tare bim! [ture
let him not sleep; nothing that's dear to na-
let him enjoy ; yet take heed thi^ he die not;
Keep him as near death, and as willing to em-<
hraceit,
latsee be arrive not at it ! I will humbte him.
And her stout heart that stands on such de-
fiance: . [ture,
And let me s^ her champions that dare ven-
Her high aaSbiighty wooers ! Keep your
I goards close,
I And as you love your lives, be diligent,
I And what I chai«;e obser\e !
Onm. We shall be dutiful.
. Gov, III pull your courage, king, and all
your bravery! . ]^ExU.
' XMoor. Mwcertain he's resolv'd, nothing
cin stir him;
f For, if he had but any part about him [thus,
! Cave way to fear or hope, he durst not talk
And do thus stoutly too: as willingly,
Aod quietly he sunk down to his sorrows,
A$ some men to their sleeps.
' J^iUper, Yesj and sleeps with 'em,
(80 little he regards thera, there's the wonder)
And often soundly sleeps. 'Would I durst
pity him, [vants,
■ Or 'would 'twere in my will — But we are ser-
And tied anto command.
8 Moor, I wish him belter,
Bntmuch I fear h' has found hib tomb already.
"C must observe our guards.
I ^foor. He cannot lust long;
And when he's dead, lie's free.
^per. That's the most cruelty,
TlatVe must keep him living.
*' Than ifxce led our armks!\ As these are private adventurers, not generals of armies,
^ seeiaj a flattening e;spletive, and was probably' a mistake for o'er, they having croto'd
*«5ca. Seword.
^^e have varied our to ouf, wliich we do not doubt is genuine.
The
S Moor. That's as he please;
For that man that resolves needs no physi-
cian. [JSrcttnf.
Enter ArrnimOy Soza, and Emanuel, like Mer*
' chant9, am! d underneath.
Arm, Our prosperous passage was an omen
A lucky and a fair omen. [to us^
Onrnes. We believe it.
Arm, The sea and wind strove who should
most befriend us;
And, as they farour'd our design, and lovM us.
So lead us forth — ^Where lies the boat that
brought us? [the castle,
Soza, Safe lodg'd within the reeds, close by
That no eye can suspect, nor thought come
near it.
Eman, But where ha*^ou been, brave sir ?
Arm, l\e broke the ice, boys, [it !
I have begun the game ; fair fortune guide
Suspectless have T travell'dvall the town thro'.
And in this merchant's shape won much ac-
quaintance, [befriend us,
Snrvey'd each strengdi and place that may
ViewM all his magazines, got perfect know-
ledge [it.
Of where the prison is, and what powerguards
Soza. These will be strong attempts.
Arm, Courage is strong :
WHit we began with policy, ii^ dear friends.
Let's end with manly force I There's no re-*
Unless It be with shi^ne. [tiring,
Eman. Shame's his that hopes it. .
Arm, Better a few, and clearer fione will
follow us, [ries,
However, lose or win, and speak our memo-
Thau if we led out armies'-' : things done thus.
And of this noble weight, will stile us worthies.
Soza. Direct, and we have done; bring us
And if wc flinch, or fail— [to execute.
Arm. I'm sure ye dare not : [us
Then furtlier know, and let no ear be near
That may be fiUse —
Eman. ' Speak boldly on ; we*re honest.
Our lives and fortunes yours.
ArtH. Hard by the place then [men,
Where alibis treasure lies, his arms, his wo-
Close by the prison too where he keeps tlie
king, ^
I've hir'd a lodging, as a trading merchant;
A cellar to that too, to stow ray wares in.
The very wall of which joins to his storehouse.
Soza. What of all this?
Arm. Yfc*re dull, if y' apprehend not.
Into that cellar, elected friends, I have con-
vey'd,
And unsuspected too, that that will do it,
Tliat that will make all shake, and smoke too.
Eman. Ha! [my practice:
Arm. My thoughts have not oeea idle, nur
104
TBE ISLAND PBINCBSS.
[Act%
The fire I brought here with me shall do
8oinethin|, [ones,
Shall burst into material flames, and bright
That all the island shall stand wondring at it,
As if they had been stricken with a comet.
Powder is ready, and enough, to work it;
The match is left a-fire, all, all hush'd^ and
lock'd close.
No man suspecting what I am, but merchant.
An hour lieuce, my brave friends^ look for
the fury,
, The fire to light bs to our honour'd purpose ;
For by that time 'twill take!
Soza, What are our duties?
Arm, When all are full of fear and firight,
thegovemor
Out of his wits, to see the flames so iniperious^
Ready to turn to ashes all he \Yorships,
And all the people there to stop these ruins^
No man regarding auy private office.
Then fly we to the prison suddenly !
Here's one has found the way, and dares di-
rect us. \l long for it.
Eman. Then to our swords ana good hearts!
Arm, Certain we shall not find much op-
But what is, must be forc'd. [position;
Soza, Tis bravely cast, sir;
And surely too, I hope.
Arm, It the fire fail not, [presently.
And powder hold his nature. Some must
Upon the first cry of th' amazed people,
(For nothing will be mark'd then, but the
misery)
Be ready with the boat upon an instant;
And then all's right and fair.
Efnan, Bless us, dear Fortune!
Arm. Let us be worthy of it in our cou-
rage, [sever;
And Fortune must befriend us. Come, all
But keep still within sight t when the fltame
Let's meet, and either do, or die ! [rises,
Soza, So be it! [Exeunt,
Enter Governor and Captain,
Gov. No, captain, for those troops, we
need 'em not; [furies:
The town is strong enougn to stand their
I'd see them come, and ofler to do some-
They're high in words. [thing.
Capt. 'Tis safer, sir, than doing.
Gov. Dost think they dare attempt?
Capt. May be by treaty, [ward.
But sure by force they will not prove so for-
Gov. No, faith,
I warrant thee, they know mc well enough,
And know they have no child in hand to play
with. [of em,
Thev know my nature too ; I have bit some
And to the bones; tiiey've reason to remem-
ber me.
It makes me laugh to think how glorious
The fooU are in their promises, and how preg-
nant
Their wits and powers are to brmg things to
pass:
Am I not grown lean with loss of sleep, anii
care
To prevent these threatnings, captain?
Capt. You look well, sir:
Upon my conscience, youre not like to sickeri
Upoivany such conceit.
Gov. 1 hope I shall not. — [have her^
Well, 'would I had this wench! for I must
She must be mine: and there's another chai^ge,
captain; [thing '«;
What betwixt love and brawling, 1 gel no-
AIL goes in maintenance — ^Hark! What was
that, [The train taktt.
That noise there ? It went with a violence.
Capt. Some old wall belike, sir^
That had no neighbour^help to hold it Dp,
Is fisillen suddenly.
Gov. I must discard these rascafs.
That are not able to maintain their buildings;
They blur the beauty of the town.
Within, Fire, fire!
Gov, I hear another tune, good captain !
It comes on fresher still ;^ 'tis loud and fearful.
Look up into the town; how bright the air
shews! [too?
I^pon my life, some sudden fire! The bell
[Exit Captain, Beil rings.
I hear the noise more clear.
Enter Citizens,
Cit, Fire, fire ! .
Gov. Where? where? # [sir.
Cit, Suddenly taken in amerdiant'shouse.
Fearful and high it blazes. Help, tood peo-
ple! [smother!
Gap. Pox o' their paper-houses ! how they
They light like candles! How the roar still
rises!
Enter Captain.
Capt. Your magazine's a-fire, sir ; heFp,
help suddenly !
Tlie castle too is in danger, in much danger:
All will be lost ! Get the people presently.
And ail that are your guard.' and all help,
all hands, sir ! [town pcrish'd.
Your wealth, your strength, is burnt else, the
The castle now begins to flame.
Gov. My soul siiakes!
Capt. A merchant's house next joining?
Shame light on him !
That ever such a neighbour, such a villain—
Gov. llai.se all the garrison, and bring
'em up,
Enter other Citizens,
And beat the people forward !--0h, Fvc
lost all [citizens,
In one house, all my hopes. Good worthy
Follow roe all, and all your powers give to
me!
I will reward you all. Oh ! cursed fi:>rtQnc!
*♦ I got nothing.] Corrected by Sympson*
The
Act 8.]
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
t05
Put your l^a
The flame^s more violent f^ A ri9t!^StilI
help, help, citizens ! foh, follow !
Freedamand wealth to him that helps ! Follow,
fling wine, or any thing; 1*11 sec it recOm-
penft'd.
Backets^ more buckets ! Fire, fire, fire !
[Exeunt cnrntt.
Enter Armusia and his Compimy.
Arm, IdBi it flame on i a comely light it
To our discovery. [e^vea ap
Sua. Hark, [ward fairly!
What a merry erf these hounds make! For-
We are not seem iW mist, we are not noted.
Away, asray ! Now if we lose our fortune —
[Exeunt,
Enter Captain and Citizens,
Capt. Up, soldiers, up, and deal like men !
Cit, More water, more water ! all is con«
sum'd else. ~ . fstmight ;
Ctq)t, All's t(one, unless you undertake it
Yov wealth too, that must preserve, and
* pay your labour '^.
Bnvely. Up, up, away! [Exeunt,
Enter Armmia and his Company, breaking
open a door.
Arm, So, tliou arc open. Keep the miy
clear behind still !
Now for the place !
Sold. Tis here, sir.
Arm. Surq this is it.
Force ope^he door! — A miserable creature !
Yet, by his manly face — [The king discovered.
King, Why stare ve on me ?
You cannot pnt on nces to affright me ;
In death I am a king still, and contemn ye.
Where is that goveraor? Methinks his man-
hood
Should be well pleased to see my tragedy.
And come to oathe his stem eyes in my
BQRowrc [with him^
I dare him tb the sight ; bring his scorns
Asd all his ragged threats.* Here's a throat,
soldiers:
Come, see who can strike deepest !
£iiaii. Break the chain there.
Wmg, What does this mean ?
Amu Come, talk of no more governors !
'^ The flames more violent; arise stilly help, &c.] This appears to be a very confus'd pas-^
sage, what is Arise still, help f To set the place right, I propose reading, by only dashing out
an apostrophe mid removing a semicolon, thus;
The fLunes more violent arise still; help, help,—
And then the whole appears easy and natural. Sympson,
We think the present punctuation obviates every ditiiculty.
'• straight; .
Your wealth too, that must preserve and pay your labour — ] Tis evident at first sight,
diat this passage is r.onsense : ' All's consumed and gone, says the Captain, unless you
' undertake the extinEuishiiig of tlic fire ; nay your wealth too is perislixi, which must pre-
' serve and pay your labour.' " Your, wealth that must preserve your labour.'' The poets
•extaioly never wrote so, but possibly might express themselves thus, •
Your wealth too, that preserved must pay your labours. Sytnpson,
'^ Tkdu liesty I think abominably, ^ Amended in 1759.
VOL.IIL P . Beea
H'has other busintity
forward.
And eather up your courage, like a man I
We'll Gsurry off your head else. We ara
friendsy
And come to give your soirowt ease.
Soza. On bravely.''
Delays may lose again.
Enter Guard,
Arm, I'he guard I
Soz^ Upon 'em I
Arm, Make speedy and sure work.
Eman. They fly.
ilrm. Up withhim, ^ [speedy!
And to the boat. Stand fast! Now bo
When this heat's past, we'll sing our history.
Away, like thoughts ! sudden as desires,
friends !
Now, sacred chance, be ours !
Soza. Pray when we've done, sir.
[Exeunt,
Enter three or four Citizens severally,
1 Cit, Wliat, is the fire aUa/d?
2 Cit, Tis out, 'tis out.
Or past the worst. I never did so stoutly,
I'll assure you, neighbours, since I was a man:
I have been burnt at both ends like a squib;
I liv'd two hours i' th' fire. Twas a hideous
matter;
But when men of understanding come about
it, ^ [over,
Men that judge of things— My wife gave me
And took her leave a hundred times; I bore
And toss'd the buckets, boys ! [up stilly
3 Cit, We're all mere martins. (nurry,
1 Cit, I heard a voice at latter end o' th'
(Or else I dream'd I heard it) that said
2 Cit, Tis like enough [treason.
It might cry murder too; for there were many
Wit]K>ut a joint: but what is that to us?
Let's home and Aright our wives ! for we look
Like devils.
Enter three Women,
3 Cit, Here com^ some of 'em to fright us.
1 Worn, Mine's' alive, neighbour. — Oh,
sweet honey husband ! £tliou hadst
2 Cit, Thou liest ! I stink abonunably ' ^ : an
106
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
Been in my place, thou wouldst have stunk
at both ends. [drink,
Get me sotne drink, gite me whole tuns of
Vf^4)ole cisterns! for I have four dozen of fine
firebrands Jthan would
In my belly: I havejnore smoke in my mouth
Biote a hundred herrings.
- 2 Worn. Art thou come safe again ?
3 Worn, I pray you what became of my
man? Is he welP^f [well, neighbour:
2 Cit. At heart's ease in a well; is very
We left him drinking of a new dozen of
buckets. fn asted,
Thy husband's happy, he was thorough
And now he's basting of himself at all points:
The clerk and he are cooling their peri-
craniums. [codpiece.
Bodyo' me, neighbours, there's hre mmy
t WoiTL filcss my husband !
2 Cit. Blow it out, wife ! Blow, blow, the
gable end o' th' story-house !
Women. Some water, water, water !
3 Cit. Peace ! 'tis hut a sparkle ;
Raise not the town again ; 'twill be a great
hindrance. [lolt —
I'm glad 'tis out; an't had ta'en in my hay-
What frights are these**? marry. Heaven
bless thy modicum ! [put me
. 3 WomJ But is a drown'd outright^ pray
Out of fear, neighbour.
2 Cit. Thou wonldst have it so;
But after a hundred fii-cs more, he'll live to
see thee
Burnt for brewing musty liquor.
1 Cit, Come, let's go, neighbour!
2 Cit. For I would very fein turn down
this liquor.
Come, come ; I fry like a burnt marrowbone.
Women, ^et you afore, and. draw upon us!
Run, wenches, run, and let your taps run
with ye ;
Run as the fire were in your tails, cry ale, ale !
Won,en, Away; lets nourish the poor
wretches !
2 Cit, We'll rally up the rest of the burnt
regiment. [Exeunt,
Enter Governor, Captainy Soldiers, and
Guard,
Gov, The fire's qucnch'd, captain, but the
mischief hangs still :
The king's redeem'd, and gone too ! A trick,
a damn'd one !
*0h, I am overtaken poorly, tamely!
Cnpt, Where were the guard that waited
upon the prison ? [and they deliver.
Sold. Most of 'em slain; yet some scap'd,sir,
{Act 2.
They saw a little boat ready to receive him.
And those redeem'd him, making such haste
and fighl^Dg,
Fighting beyond the force of men-^
Gov, I'm lost, captain, [scorn me;
And all the world will laugh at this, and
Count me a heavy sleepy fool, a cowaitl,
A coward past recovery, aconfinn'd coward.
One without carriage, or common sense !
Sold. He's gone, sir.
And put to sea amain, past our recovery;
Not a boat ready to pursue : if there were
any,
The people stand amaz'd so at their valour, '
And the sudden flight of fire, none knows to
execute. [my hoys' brains
Gov. Oh, I could tear my umbs, and knock
'Gainst every post I meet f FoolM with a fire?
Capt, It was a crafty trick.
Gov, No, I was lazy.
Confident, sluggish lazy : had I but met 'em.
And chane'd a dozen blows,! had forgiv'n "em.
By both uiese hands held up^ and by that
brightness [worships,
That ^ilds the world with light, by all our
The hidden ebbs and flows of the blue ocean,
I will not rest, no mirth shall dwell upon me,
^fjj^c touch my mguth, nor any thing refresh
The,
'Till I be wholly quit of this dishonour I
Make ready my barratos instantly.
And what 1 shall intend —
Capt. We are your servants. [Exeunt,
Enter Quisara and Ruy Bias.
Quisar. Never tell me! you never car'd
to win me;
Never, for my sake, to attempt a deed
Might draw me to a thought you sought my
favour:
[f not for love of me, for love of anns, sir.
For that cause you profess, for love of honour,
Of which you stile yourself the mighty master.
You might have stept out nobly, and made
an ouer,
(As if you had intended something excellent)
Put on a forward face —
Ruy. Dear lady, hold me— [servant.
Quisar, 1 hold you, as I find you, a faint
Ruy. By Heaven, I dare do~-
Quisar, In a lady's chamber,
I dare believe you; there's no mortal danger:
Give me the man that dares do, to deser\e
that I [wonders,
I thoueht you Portugals had been rare
Men of those haughty courages and credits
.** 3 Worn. I pray whaVs become of! my husband? is hem & well?! The pleasant answer
which the man makes to this question, evidently supposes it to have been wrote thus,
Wlwt's become of my husband ? Is he wellf
2 Cii. At heart's ease in a tvdt, is very well neighbour. ' Sympton.
*• What frights art theset'] Mr. Seward suspects that this line belongs to the first woman,
and that the dialogue will then be more natural. Sympson.
We tliink it much best as it stands.
That
Act 2.]
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
tor
That all thinf^ were coniin'd witliin your
promises;
The lords of fate and fortune I believ'd you;
Bat well I see 1 am deceiv'd, Roy Dias,
And blame, too late, mv much belief!
Ruy, I am asham'd, lady,
I was so dull, so stupid to your offer:
Now you have once more school'd me, I am
right,
And soniething shall be thought on suddenly,
And put in act as soon, some preparation —
Quisar. And give it out ?
Rtt V. Yes, lady, and so great too ;
In which***, the noise of all my countrymen —
Quitar. Those %viil do well, for they are
all approved ones,
And, tho* he be restored alive^'—
Ruy. I have you.
Quisar. For then we are both servants.
Ruy, I conceive you ; [fancies.
Good madam, give roe leave to turn my
Quitar. Do, and make all things fit, and
tlien ni visit you**. [ExU.
Rtty, Myself, my cousin, and the garrison,
The neighbours of the out-isles of our nation,
^jruiaVstrength, (for I can humour hiiu)
And proud nokamus, I shall deceive his
glory — [A th^.
What ringing sound of joy is this? whence
comes it?
May be, the princes are in sport.
Enter Finiero and Chr'utophero.
Pin. Where are you ? [seek me ?
Ruy. Now, Piniero, what's the haste you
Pin. Do you know tliis sign, sir ?
Ruy. Ha!
Pin, Do you know this emblem ?
Your nose is bor'd.
Ruy, fior'd? what is that?
Pin. You're topt, sir i
The kiug*s come home again, the king*^ I
Bjuy\ The devil ! [lK)roe ;
Pin» Nay, sure he came a GodV name
He*s return'd, sir.
Chris. And all this joy you iiear^
JRtty. Who durst attempt him ?
The princes are all here.
Ckrii. They're wortliy princes, [ounces.
They're special princes ! all they, love by
Believe it, sir, 'tis done, and done most bravely
And easily. What fortune have you lost, sir !
What justice have you now unto this lady*^?
Pin. How stands your claim? Tliat e'er
man should be foord so, [protesting.
When he should do and prosper! stand
Kissing the hand, and farting for a favour.
When he should be about his business sweat-
ing! [pose,
She bid you go, and pick'd you out a pur-
To make yourself a fortune by, a lady,
A lady, and a lusty one, a lovely,
That now you nuiygo look: she pointed you,
Knowing you were a man of wortii and merit,
And bid you fly : you've made a fair flight on't ;
YouVe caught a goose.
Ruy. How dare you thus molest me ?
' [A shout.
It cannot be !
Chris. Hark' how the general joy rings !
Pin, Have you your hearing left ? is not
tliat drunk too ? [sure.
For, if you had been sober, vou'd been wise,
JRuy. Done ? who d^ires do ?
Pin. It seems an honest fellow,
That has ended his market before you be up.
Chris. The shame on't, is a stranger too.
Pin. Tis no shame ;
He took her at her word, and tied the bargain.
Dealt like a man indeed, stood not de-
murring,
*® In which, the noise of all my countrymen^ Instead of noise, Mr. Seward supposes
choice, or with equal probability, as I imagiue, voice, i. e. approhation, consent^ &c. was
originally wrote in our poets' manuscript. Sympton, "
*' And though he he restored alive.] A negative seems evidently lost here, which makes
the hint very plain.
And though he hen*t restored alive.
The mixture of character in Quisara is finely drawn, and from great insight into human
nature. Seward.
** Quisar. Do, and make all things Jit, and then Fll visit you.'l As we oft have no iwmee
where they ought to be, so here we have probably one more than there is occasion for.
The princess hardly can be supposed to make iierself so cheap, as to say, that she would
visit or wait upon "Rjiy Dias; no surely, tliat duty was owing to her from him. And I can't
for thi*> reason help thinking, but Quisara'a n^me has been inadvertently put before Do, and
make, &c. and that the whole ran formerly thus.
Good nxadam, give me leave to turn my fiincies.
Do, and make all things fit ; and then I'll vibit you, [Exit.
Ruy Dias, solus.
My self, &c. Sympson.
*^ J%e king's come home, the kkng^^
Rity. The devilf] The poets might possibly, with more emphasis^ kaye wrote thus,
The king's come home—
Ruy. The king? the devil^ Sympson.
i* Justice.'l i. e. Right, clainh or pretence. Syfr^son*
P9 ltt»
loa
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
[Act a.
But clapt dose to th' canse> m he will do to
th' lady:
'Is a fellow of that speed and handsomeness.
He'll get her with child too, ere you shall
come to know him.
Is it not hrave, a gentleman scarce landed^
Scarce eating of the air here, not acquainted,
No circumstance of love depending on him,
Nor no command to shew him, must start
-At th' first sight too — [forth,
Ruy. Vm undone !
Pin. like an oyster. —
She neither taking view, nor value of him,
Unto such deeds as these ? — Pox o' tliese,
These wise delayings ! they make men cow-
ards, [egg,
Yon're undone, as a man would undo an
A hundred shames about you !
Enter QuisarOf Panura, and Train.
Quisar, Can it he possible ? [yet,
A stranger that I have not known, not s^n
A man Inevergrac'd? Oh, captain, captain.
What shall I do ? I am betrayM by fortune ;
It cannot be, it must not be.
Pin. It is, lady;
And, by my iaitl^ a handsome gentleman !
'Tis his poor scholar's prize.
Quisar. Must I be given
Unto a man I never saw, ne'er spoke with,
I know not of what nation f
Pin. He*s a Portugal, [you, lady.
And of as good a pitctv—He'll b^ given to
For he*s given much to handsome ilesh.
Quisar. Oh, Ruy Dias, [Ruy Dias !
This was your sloth, your sloth, your sloth.
Pin. Your love-&loth, uncle ; do you find
it now ?
You should have done at first, and faithfully,
!A shout.
or you.
Madam, the general joy comes.
Quisar, We must meet it ;
But with what comfort }
Enter Citizens carrying Baughy Bays sing-^
ing after them; then King, Armusia, SozOy
Emanuel; the Princes and Train following.
Quisar. Oh, my dear brother, what a joy
runs thro' me.
To see you safe again, yourself, and mighty !
What a blest day is this !
King. Rise up, fair sister ! [me.
I am not welcome 'till you have embrac'd
Rtiy. A general gladness, sir, flies thro'
the city, [riv'd.
And mirth possesses all to see your erace ar-
Thus happily arriv'd again, and fairly.
*5 Something set off to beautify it.] Amended by Seward.
*<s But this many princess.] The editors of 1760 sagely con;«c<ttre that wc should read
princes for princess. The first folio exhibits that lection !
^' My countenance, it shames me.] To make Ruy Dias, or any one else, to protest by
his countenance^ is seemingly odd; I would propose my conscience, as a more natural and
sensible rending. Sympson.
Pot
Twas a brave yentnre, whosoever nnt for it,
A high and noble one, worthy much honour;
And had it fail'd. We had not fail'd, great sir.
And in short time too, to have forc'd the
governor.
In spite of all his threats-
Jung. I thank ye, gentlemen*
Ruy. And all his subtilties, to set you finee.
With all his heart and will too.
King. I know ye love me. [done before it.
Pin. This had been good, with something
Something to set it oflP', to beautify it :
Now it sounds empty, like a barber's bason.
Pox, there's no metal in% nc^ noble mar*
row ! [governor,
Bakam. I have an army, sir (but that the
The foohsh fellow, was a little provident.
And wise in letting slip no time, became him
too) [confines;
That would have scoured him else, and all his
That would have rung him such a peal —
Pin. Yes, backwani, [^^g;
T«) make dogs howl. I know thte to a far-
Thy army's good [in it.
For hawks ; there's nothing but sheep's hearts
Syana. I have done nothing, sir; therefore
I think it
Convenient I say little what I purpos'd.
And what mv love intended.
King. I like your modesty, [griev'd yre
And, thank ye, royal friends ! T know it
To know my misery: but this man, princes^^,
I must thank heartily, indeed, and truly.
For this man saw me in it, and redeem*d me:
He look'd upon me sinking, and then caught
me.
This, sister, this, this all man, this all valour.
This pious m^n —
Ruy. My countenance, it shames me^^ !
One scarce arriv'd, not harden'd ^et, not read
In dangers and great deeds, sea-sick, not sea-
Oh, I have boy'd myself! [son'd —
King. This noble bulwark, [dom.
This lance and honour of our age and Jting-
This that I never can rewi^rd, nor hope
To beK>nce worthy of the name of friend to,
This, this man from the bowels of my sor-
rows , " [made me!
Has new-begot my name, and jonoe more
Oh, sister, if there may be thanks for tliis.
Or any thing near recompense invented —
Arm. You are too noble, sir ; there is re*
Above my action too by millions: [ward,
A recompense so rich and glorious, [mis'd ;
I durst not dream it mine, but that 'twas pro*
But that it was propounded, sworn, and seai'd
Before the foce ofHeav'n, I durst not hope
Act 5.]
For notfaiDg in the Hie of man or merit
(It is so traly great) can else embrace it,
Eimg, Oh, speak it, speak it; bless mine
ears to hear it !
Make me a happy man, to know it may be !
For still methinks I am a prisoner,
And ieel no liberty before I find it.
Amu Then know, it is your sister; she is
mine, sir;
I daim her by her own word, and her honour.
It was her open promise to that man
That durst redeem you : beauty set me on,
And fortune crowns me fair, if she receive
me. [so backward ?
King, Receive you, sir? — Wny, sister! ha!
Stand aa yoo knew me not? nor what h' has
My dearest sister ! [ventured ?
Arm. Good sir, pardon me !
There is a blushing modesty becomes her,
That holds her back: women are nice to
wooe, sir. [liberty !
I would not have her forc'd ; give her fair
For things compell'd and frighted, of sof^ na-
tures.
Turn into fears, and fly from their own wishes.
King, Look on lum, my Quisara: such
another,
(Oh, all ye powers!) so excellent in nature.
In hononr so abundant—
Qmiar, I confess, sir ; [chas'd :
Confess my word is ymt too; he has pur-
Yet, good sir, give me leave to think, but
time
To be acquainted with his worth and person;
To make me fit to know it: we*re both
strangers,
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
109
And how we should believe so suddenly.
Or come to fasten our affections —
Alas, Love has his compliments.
King. Be sudden * [doubles^
And certain in your way; no woman's
Nor coy delays! you're his, and so assure it,
Or cast from me and my remembrance ever.
Respect your word ! I know you will. Come,
sister,
Let's see what welcome ^on can giv^ a pri-
soner.
And what fair looks a friend.<*-Ob, my most
noble
Princes, no discontents, but all be lusty !
He that frowns this day is an open enemy.
Thus in my arms, my dear !
Arm. You make me blush, sir.
King. And now, lead on
Our whole court crown'd with pleasure !
Ruy. Madam, despair not; some tiling
shall be done yet.
And suddenly, and wisely.
Quitar. On, Ruy Diss!
[Exeunt King^ SfC.
Pin. Well, he*s a brave fellow, and h'has
deserv'd her richly. [gentlemen.
And you have had your hands full I dare swear,
Soza. We have done something, sir, if it
hit right. [no honesty ;
Chris, The woman has no eyes else, nor
So much I tliijik.
Fin, Come, let's go bounce amongst 'em.
To the King's health, and my brave country-
man's ! "
My uncle looks as tho' he were sick o* th'
worms, friends. [Exeunt.
ACT III.
Enter Piniero.
Pin.lUiY uncle haunts me up and down,
-*•""*• looks melancholy, [swears.
Wondrous proof- melancholy; sometimes
Then whistles^ starts, cries, and groans as if
h*had the hots,
(As, to say truth, I think h'has little better j.
And would fain speak; bids me ^;ood mor-
row at midnight, [thing hovers
And good night whtfn 'tis noon : h'has some-
About his brains that would fain find an issue.
Bat cannot out, or daa^ not. Still he follows.
Enter Ruy Diae.
How he looks still, and how he beats about,
Like an old dog at a dead scent !-^Ay marry,
There was a si|fa would set a ship arsailing !
These vriads of love and honour blow at all
ends.
Nowspeaky an't be thy will. — Good morrow,
nnclel
Ruy. Good morrow, sir !
Pin, This is a new salute !
Sure h' has forgot me ; this is purblind Cupid !
Ruy, My nephew ?
Pin. Yes, sir, if I be not chaag'd.
Ruy. I would fain speak witli you.
Pin. I would fain have yon, sir;
For to that end I stay.
Rum, You know I love you.
And i have lov'd you long, my dear Piniero,
Bred and supplied you —
Pin. Whither walks this preamble ?
Ruy, You may remember, tho' I am but
your uncle,
I sure had a fatlier's care, a father's tender*
Pin. Sure he would wrap me into some*
thing now suddenly,
He doubts my nature in (for mine is honest).
He winds about me so.
Ruy. A fotber's diligence. *
My
110
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
My private benefits I bave forgot, sir**,
But those yoa niight lay claim to as my fol-
lower ;
Yet some men would remember —
Pin. I do' daily.
Rutf, The place [one:
Whicli I have put you in, which is no weak
Next to myself you stand in all employments.
Your counsels, cares, assignments with me
' equal ;
So is my study still to plant your person :
I'bese are small testimonies I've not forgot
Nor would not be forgotten. [y^^?
Pin. Sure yon cannot.
Rut/, Oh, Piniero—
Piti. Sir, what liangs upon you ? [lost
What heavy weight oppresses you ? You've
(I must confess, in tliose tliat understand yon)
Some little of your credit; but time will cure
The best may slip sometimes. [that;
Ruy. Oh, my best nephew — [turbs you).
Pin. It may be, you fear her too (that dis-
That she may fall herself, or be forced from
you. [ever !
Ruif. She's ever true, but I undone for
Oh, that Armusia, that new thing, that
stranger.
That flag stuck up to rob me of mine honour,
That murd'ring chain shot at me from my
country, [me !
That goodly plague that I must court to kill
Pin. Now it comes flowing from him ! I
fear*d this.
Knew, he that durst be idle durst be ill too. —
Has he not done a brave thing? [allow it :
Ruy. I must confess it, nephew, mux
But that brave thing has undone me, has
sunk me, [^i^gy
Has trod me, like a name in sand, to no-
Hangs betwixt hope and me, and threatens
my ruin ; [tune !
And, if he rise and blaze, farewell my for-
And when that's set, whcre*s thy advance-
ment, cousin? [man.
That were a friend, that weie a noble kins-
That would consider these : that men were
grateful ; . [love me.
And he that durst do sometliing here, durst
Pin, You say true ; 'tis worth considera-
tion; [uncle,
Your reasons are of weight: and, mark me,
^' My private benefitt 1 hoeoeforgot^ «r.
But those you might lay claim to as my follower;
Yet some men wtmld remember^ The bene6ts Ruy Dias means here, seem to be pub"
lick ones, which he had conferred upon Piniero in his publick capacity as governor of the
fort, and for diis cause one should think the place should be read thus.
My pttblick bene6t8 I have forgot,
Be it those you might lay claim to as, &c.
The meaning is, ^ My publick benefits (viz. the places you hold under roe) I omit to men-
* tion. Say that being my follower gives you a sort of right to 'em ; yet for all that, a grate-"
* ful man would remember how carefiil I nave been of your interests ; that I have plac*d you
* next myself in rank and power, and that your assignments are equal with mine.' I must
confess the change here made is great enough, but, seemingly, it appears no more than is
aeoessary. Syn^pton.
And
[Act 3.
(For 111 be sudden, and to th' purpose with
you)
Say this Armusia then were taken off
(As*t may be easily done).
How stands tlie woman ?
Ruy. She is mine for ever;
For she contemns his deed and him.
Pin. Pox on him !
Or if the single pox be not sufficient, [him ! —
The hog's, the dog's, and devii*a pox possess
Faith, this Armusia stumbles me; 'tis a
brave fellow ;
And if he could he spared, uncle —
Ruy. I must perish :
Had he set up at any rest but this,.
Done any thing but what concem'd my cre-
dit.
The everlasting losing of my worth —
Pin. I understand you now, who set you
on too;
I had a reasonable good opinion of the devil
*TiU this hour; and I see he is a knave in-
deed, [him.—
All arrant, stinking knave, for now I smell
I'll see what may be done then ; you shall
know
You have a kinsman (but no villain, unoie,
Nor no betrayer of fair fiime, I scorn it ;
I love and honour virtue). I must have
Access unto the lady, to know her mind too:
A good word firom her mouth you know may
stir me ;
A lady's look at setting-on —
Ruy, You say well [
Here, cousin, here's a letter ready for you,
And you shall see how nobly sheHl receive
And with what care direct. [you,
Pin, Farewell then, uncle ! [vant —
After I've talk'd with her, I am your sei^
T6 make you honest, if I can, else hate
you.— [busy.
* Pray vou no more compliments ! my head is
Heaven bless me, [Exit Ruy Dias.
What a malicious soul does this man carry !
And to what scurvy things this love converts
us, [become us !
What stinking things; and how sweetly they
Murder's a moral virtue with these lovers,
A special piece of divinity, I take it.
I may be mad, or violently drunk, [covetous^
Which is a whelp of that litter; or I may be
Act 5.]
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
Ill
Andleani to murder men's estates, that's
base too;
Or proud, bat that's a paradise to this ;
Or eat ious, and sit eatmg of myself
At others' fortuues ; 1 may lie, and damnably,
Beyond the patience ot an honest hearer;
Cozen, cut purses, sit i' tli' stocks for apples :
But when I am a hiver. Lord have mercy !
These are poor pelting sins, or ratl^er
plagues-5»;
Love and Ambition draw the deviFs coach.
Ent^r Quisana and Panura,
Uow now ! who are these ? Oh, my great
lady's followers,
Her riddle-founders, and her fortune-tellers,
Iler rcadersof her love-lectures, her inflamers.
These doors I must pass thro^; I hope they're
Hide. [itto'em!
Good day to your beauties ! How they take
As if they were fair indeed !
Quisen. Good morrow to you, sir I
Pin, That's the old hen, tlie brood*bird ;
how she brusles^^ !
How like an inventory of lechery she looks !
Many a good piece of iniquity [you,
Ha^ past her hands, I warrant her.— I beseech
Is tlie fair princess stirring?
Pan, Yes, marry is she, sir, [with her?
Bot somewhat private: have you a business
Pin. Yy, forsooth have I, and a serious
Pan, May not we know ? [business.
Pin, Yes, when you can keep counsel.
Pan, How prettily he looks 1 he's a soldier
sure.
His rudeness sits so handsomely upon him.
Quisan, A good blunt gentleman !
Pin, Yes, marry am I : [you —
Yet, for a push or two at sharp, an please
Pan, My honest friend, you know not who
you speak to;
Ims is the princess' aunt.
Pin. I like her the better ; [mother,
An she were her mother, lady, or her grand-
Tin not so bashful, but I can buckle with her.
Pan, Of what size is your business ?
Pin, O* th' long sixteens,
And will make way, I warrant you.
Pan. How fine he talks ! [lady;
Pin. Nay, in troth I talk but coarsely.
But I hold It comfortable for the understand-
ing.—
How fain they'd draw me into ribaldry !
These weuclics that live easily, live higli.
Love these broad discourses, as they love
possets ;
These dry delights serve for preparatives.
Pan. Wljy do you look so on me?
Pi/i, I am fruessing,
By the cast of your face, what the property
of your place should be ;
For I presume you turn a key, sweet beauty;
And you anoUier, gravity, under the princess :
And, by my soul, I warrant you good places.
Comely commodious seats i
Quisun. Prithee let him talk still.
For methinks he talks handsomely !
Pin, -^ind truly.
As near as my understanding shall enable ms^
You look as if you kept my lady's secrets.
Nay, do not laugh! for I mean honestly.—
How these young things tattle, when they
get a toy by th* end I [for't !
And how their hearts go pit-arpat, and look
Would it not dance too, if it had a fiddle?
Your gravity, I guess, to take the petitions.
And hear the lingring suits in love dispos'd.
Their sighs and sorrows in their proper place:
You keep the Ah-meothce^'.
Qmtan. Prithee suffer him.
For, as I live, he is a pretty fellow ! [us;
I love to hear sometimes what men think of
And thus delivered freely, 'tis no malice.
Proceed, good honest man !
Pin. I will, good madam.
According to men's states and dignities,
Monies and moveables, you rate their dreams,
And cast the nativity of their desires.
If he reward well, all he thinks is prosperous;
And if he promise place, his dreams are
oracles ; [coveries,
Xour ancient practique art too in these dis-
^' But when lama loveTf Lord have tnercyj
I'ke^ are poor pelting sins, or rather plagues.] To make way for a pretty bold emen-
dation, the reader will please to observe, that tliere is a fine sentiment aim'd at here but
notcompleated. Lard have mercy, in the first line, refers to the writing over the doors of
houses mfected by the plague; the former sins therefore are compared to common diseases,
and when love, in comparison of rfiem, should be called the plague, the metophor is spoilt
by caUmg them plague^. It is highly probable that this has happened by an error either of
fnnaenber or pnnter, and as the sense may be easily restored, though wehave no trace to
tod us to any certainty of the true words, yet I think we should venture tochanee the text
mber than suffer so beautiful a passage to remain so mangled. I propose, therefore, eitheJ
Tliese are poor pelting sins, but that the plague;
Or,
**rhesc ere poor pelting sins, the other plagues,
. Love and Ambition, draw the devil's^ach.
Tbs latter^being n^rer the trace of the letters than the former, bids &irest for havine been
« ongmaL Seward. . . ^
^^ Bow she busies J So the former copies.
" i^y-me offiu,^ So former copies.
Who
lie
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
[Acta.
Who loves at such a length, who a ipan far-
ther, [profit;
And who draws home, yields you no little
For tliese you milk by circumstance.
Quuan. You^re cunning. [your spindle,
Fin, And as they oil you, and advance
So you draw out the lines of love. Your
doore too, [thro*:
The doors of destiny, that men must pass
These are fair places !
Pan. He knows all.
Pin. Your trap-doors,
To pop fools in at, that have no providence;
Your little wickets, to work wise men, like
wires, thro* at, [webs ;
And draw their states and bodies into cob-
Your postern doors, to catch those that are
cautelous, [tlieir knaveries ;
And would not have the world's eye find
Your dooiB of dan};er (some men hate a plear
sure, [doors :
Unless that may be full of fears) your hope-
And those are fine commodities, where fools
pay
For every new encouragement a new custom :
You have your doors of honour, and of plea-
sure; [nities,
But those are for great princes, glorious va-
That travel to be famous thro' diseases.
There be the doors of poverty and death too,
But these you do the best you can to dam up.
For then your gain goes out.
Quiian. This is a rare lecture!
Pin, Read to them that understand.
Pan. Beshrew me, [keen, sir,
X dans not venture on you; you cut too
Enter Quisara,
Quisan* We thank you, sir, for your good
mirth;
Yoa are a good companion. [business.
Here comes the princess now ; attend^our
Quimr. Is tliere no remedy, no hopes can
helprae?
No wit to set me free? — Who's there, ho?
Quisan. Troubled? [princess?
Her looks are almost wild: what ails the
I know nothing she wants.
Quisar, Who's that there with you?
Oh, Siguier jPiniero, you're most welcome!
How does your noble uncle?
Put. ^ as you are, madam :
Bat be commends his service, and this letter.
Qui$ar, Go off; attend within. -» Fair, sir,
I thank you: [come;
Pray be no stranger, for indeed you're weU
For your own virtues, welcome.
Quisan, We're mistaken;
This is some brave fellow sure.
Pan, I'm sure he's a bold fellow;
But if she hold him so, we must believe iL
[HxeunU
Quimr, Do you know of this, fiur sir?
Pin, I guess it madam.
And whitMr it intends: I had not bionght it
else. [koning.
Quisar, It is a busmess of no common reo
Pin. The handsomer for him that goes
about it ;
Siijght actions are rewarded witli slight thanks:
Give me a matter of some weight to wade in !
Quisar, And can you love your uncle so
directly,
So seriously and so full^ to undertake this?
Can there be such a fhitli?
Pin. Dare you say cy to it'%
And set me on? Tis no matter for my uncle.
Or what I owe to him, dare you but wish it ?
Quisar. I would fain—
Pin. Have it done? Say but so, lady.
Quisar, Conceive it so.
Pin. I will; 'tis that I'm bound to:
Your will that must command me, and your
pleasure, [rect me.
The fair aspects of those eyes tliat must di-
I am no uncle's agent; I'm mine own, lady;
I scorn my able youth should plow for others,
Or my ambition serve for pay : I aim^
Altho' I never hit, as high as any man.
And the reward I reach at shall jke equal.
And what love spurs me on to : tiiis desire
Makes me forget an honest man, a brave man,
A valiant and a virtuous mai:, my country-
man^
Armusia, the delight of all, the minion^':
This love of you, doting upon your beauty.
The admiration of your excellence,
Make me but servant to the poorest smile.
Or the least grace you liave bestow'd on
others.
And see how soddenlv FU work your safety.
And sec your thoughts at peace ! I am no
flatterer, [gers;
To promise infinitely, and out-dream dan-
To he a-bed, and swear men into fevers,
like some of your trim suitors ; when I pro-
mise.
The light is not more constant to the world
Than I am to my word. — She turns, for mil-
lions! [coujvge.
Quisar. I have not seen a braver confirm'd
Pin. For a tun of crowns she turns ! she
is a woma^;
And, much I fear, a worse than I expected.—
You are the object, lady, you're the eye
In wliich all excellence appears, all wonder.
From which all hearts take fire, all hands
their valour:
3* Dare you say ay to it f] Tis not impossible but this might come from our poets* pen,
but the general wore on such occasions is mostly atm, as the reader can't but remember in
several places in these plays, and so I conjecture they wrote here. Sympson.
33 Armusioy the delight of all the minions.] The addition of a point, and omission of a letter,
seem greatly to improve this Line, and we do not doubt are genuine.
And
Act 3.]
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
113
And when he stands disputing, When you bid
him.
Or bot thinks of his estate, father, mother.
Friends, wife, and children, is a fool, and I
scorn him ; [ard.
An't be but to make clean his sword, a cow-
Men bare forgot their fealty to beauty !
Had I the place in your affections.
My most unworthy uncle's fit to fell from,
lir'd in- those blessed eyes, and read the sto-
Of everlasting pleasures figur'd there, [ries
Pd find out your commands before you
thought 'em, fof 'em .
And bring 'em to you done, ere you dream'd
Qttisar, I admire his boldness !
Pta. This, or any thing; [man's,
Yoar brother's death, mine uncle's, any
No state that stands secure, if you frown on
it. [you)
Look on my youth, (I bring no blastings to
The first flower of my strength, my faith.
Quisar. No more, sir !
I am too willing to believe : rest satisfied.
If vou dare do for me, I shall be thankful,
Toa area handsome gentleman, a fair one;
M^ servant if you please ; I seal it thus, sir.
No more, till you deserve more. [Exit,
Pin. I'm rewarded.
This woman's cunning, but she's bloody too :
Altho' she pulls her talons in, she's mischie-
vous ; [transparent.
Form'd like the face of Heaven, clear and
I must pretend still, bear 'em both in hopes,
For fear some bloody slave thrust in indeed,
Fashion'd and flesh'd to what they wish.
Wett uncle, [nour
What will become of this, and what disho-
Follow this fatal shaft, if shot, let time tell !
lean but only fear, and strive to cross it'*.
[Exit.
Enter Armuna^ Emanuel^ and Soza.
Eman. Why are you thus sad ? What can
grieve or vex you,
Tmt have the pleasures of the world, the pro-
fits,
The honour, and the loves at your disposes?
Why should a man that wants nothing want
his quiet ? [content ;
Arm. I want what beggars are above me in,
I want llie grace I've merited, the favour.
The due res|.ect.
Soza. Does not the king allow it? [ask.
Arm. Yes, and all honours else, all Lean
. That be has power to give; but from his
sister,
The scornful cruelty, (forgive "me, beauty,
That I transgress) from her that should look
on me.
That should a little smile upon my service.
And foster my deserts for her own faith's
sake; [to me —
That should at least acknowledge me, speak
Soza. And you go whining up and aown
for this, sir ?
Lamenting and disputing of your grievances ?
Sighing and sobbing, like a sullen school-bovy
And cursing good-wife Fortune for this fa-
vour?
Arm. What would you have me do?
Soza. Do what you should do, [man.
What a man would do in this case, a wise
An understanding man that knows a woman,
Knows her and jJl her tricks, her scorns, and
all her trifles ; [shake her;
Go to her, and take her in your arms, and
Take her and toss her like a bar !
Eman. But be sure you pitch her upon a
feather-bed> [shake
Shake her between a pair of sheets, sir; there
These sullen fits out of her, spare her not
there! [bone, sir.
There you may break her will, and bruise no
Soza. Go to her —
Eman. That's the way.
Soza. And tell her, and boldly, [yourself,
And do not mince the matter, nor mock
With being too indulgent to her pride ;
Let her hear roundly from you, what you are.
And what you have deserved, and what she
must be. > [fellow,
Eman. And be not put off, like a common
With* The princess would be private;'
Or, that sh' has taken physic, and admits none:
I would talk to her any where.
Arm. It makes me smile!
Eman. Now you look handsomely :
Had I a wench to win, I would so flutter her !
They love a man that crushes 'em to verjuice ;
A woman held at hard meat is your spaniel.
Soza. Pray take our counsel, sir.
Ann. I shall do something;
But not your way; it shews too boisterous;
For my affections are as fair and gentle
As her they serve.
Enter King.
Soza. The king !
King. Why, how now, friend?
Why do you rob me of the company
I love so dearly, sir ? I have been seeking you.
For when I want you, I want all my pleasure.
^ And strive to cross it.] The reader may be surprised to find this line run otherwise in
the 1647 edition.
■ and croxs to cross it.
For though strive be the sense of the place here cited, and cross to cross it be but an odd ex-
pression, yet I fancy the original word, of which cross is but a corruption^ might be once
wrote thus,
I can but only fear, and course —
i. e. run, strive, endeavour to cross it. Svmpson,
VOL. Ill, "^Q Why
IH
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
[Act 3.
Why sad ? thus sad still, man ? I wiU not have it;
I must not see the face I love thus shadow*d.
Eman, A n't please your grace, methinks
it ill becomes him ;
A soldier should be jovial, high and lusty.
King, He shall be so: come, come, I
know your reason; [have her :
It shall be none to cross/ you; you shall
Take my word, ('tis a king's word) you shall
have her;
She shall be yours or nothing. Pray be merry !
Arm* Your grace has given me cause ; I
sliall be, sir.
And ever your poor servant.
King. Me myself, sir, [dcnly.
My better self. I shall find time, and sud-
To gratify your loves too, gentlemen,
And make you know how much I stand
bound to you. [compliment!
Nay, *tis not worth your thanks ; no further
Will you go witi) me, friend?
Arm. 1 beseech your grace.
Spare me an hour or two, I shall wait on you :
S(jme little private business with myself^ sir.
Tor such a time.
King. Ill hinder no devotion, [gentlemen.
For I know you're regular, riltake you,
Because he shall have notliing to disturb him.
I shall look for you, friend. [Exeunt.
Manet Armusia. Enter Tanura.
Arm. 1 dare nop fail, sir.
What shall I do to make her know my misery?
To make her sensible? — This is her woman:
J have a toy come to me suddenly ; [me,
It may work for the best ; she can but scorn
And lower than I am I cannot tumble;
I'll try, whate'er my fate be. — Good ev'n
fair one! [night to you, sir!
Paw. Tis the brave stranger.— A good
Now, by my lady*s hand, a goodly gentleman I
How happy shall she be in such a husband!
'Would I were so provided too!
Arm. Good pretty one.
Shall I keep you com j)any for an hour or two ?
I want employment for this evening:
I am an honest man.
Pflw. I dare believe you; [matter;
Or, if you were not, sir, there's no great
We take men*s promises. Would you stay
with me, sir ? [ucauainted ;
Arm. So it please you; pray]et*sbe better
[ know you arc the princcss'^^gentlewoman^
And wait upon her near —
Pan, 'TIS like I do so. [fair courtesies.
Arm. And may befriend a man, do him
If he have business your way-
Pan. I understand you. [a gentleman
Arm. So kind an otfice, that you may bind
Hereafter to be yours, and your way too :
And you may bless the hour you did this be-
nefit : [teous minds,
Sweet handsome faces should -have cout'^
And ready faculties.
Pan. lell me your business: *
Yet if, I think, it be to her, yourself, sir,
(For I know what you are, and what we hold
you, [condy
Aud in what grace you stand) without a se*
(For that but darkens you) would doit better ;
The princess must be pleas'd with your ac-
Tm sure I should. [cesses ;
Arm. I want a courtier's boldness,
And am yet but a stranger : I'd fain speak
with her. [sleep, sic*
Pan. 'Tis very late, and upon her hour of
Arm. PrajT you wear this, and believe my
meaning civil, [Groes her a jewel*
My business of that fair respect and carriage.
This for our more acquaintance ! [sible
Pail. How close he kisses! and how sen-
The passings of his lips are ! I must do it,
An I were to hang now, and I will do't :
He may do as much for me ; that's all I aim
at: [do it.
And come what will on't, life or death, I'll
For ten such kisses more, an 'twere high-
treason.
Arm. I would be private with her.
Pan. So you shall ; it is [quick.
Not worth thanks else. You must dispatch
Arm. Suddenly. Tsir,
Pan. And I must leave you in my chamoer,
Where you must lock yourself, tliat none
may sec you ; [trance,
'Tis close to her's. You cannot miss the evt-
When she comes down to bed.
Arm. I understand you,
And once more thank you, lady.
Pan. Thank me but thus.
Arm. Jf I fail thee —
Pan. Come close then '' ! [£wan^
Enter Quisara and Quisana.
Quisar. Tis late ; good aunt, to bed ! I'm
e'en unready:
My woman won't he long away.
Quisan. I*d have you
A little merrier first: let me sit by you.
And read or discourse something that you
Or takd* my instrument. [fancy;
Quisar. No, no, I thank you;
I shall sleep witiiout these. I wrong your age,
aunt, [you !
To make you wait thus; pray let me entreat
To-morrow I will see you; I know you're
^eepy, [not,
And rest will be a welcome guest: you shall
Indeed you shall not stay. Oh, liere's my
woman !
"Arm. Jflfailthe^
me clwe ihen.'\ Mr. Seward supposes with me, that Panura^s name is unhap-
pily dropt here; for who canimagine these words could be spoke with the le^st propriety
by Armusia f St/mpson,
Enter
Acta]
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
115
Enter Panura,
Good nighty good night! and good rest, aant,
attend you !
Quitan' Sleep dwell upon your eyes, and
ikir dreams court you [
Quitar. Come, where have you been,
wmch? Make me unready;
I slept but ill last night.
Pm. You'll sleep the better
I hope to-night, madam.
QMitar. A little rest contents me ; «
Tboa lovV thy bed, Panura.
Pan. I'm not in love, lady,.
Nor seldom dream of devils; I sleep soundly.
QatMr. I'll swear thou dost; thy husband
would not take't so well.
If thou wert married, wench.
Fan. Let him take, madam.
The way to waken me ! I am no dormouse :
Husbands have larum -bells, if they but ring
once.
Quitar, Tboo art a merry wench.
Pan. 1 sliall live the longer.
Qtttsor. Prithee fetch my book I
Pen. I'm glad of that.
Quisar. Fll read a while before I sleep.
Pan. I will, madam. [importunate,
Quisar. And if Ruy Dias meet you, and be
He may come in.
Pan. I have a better fare for you.
Xow least in sight play L [Exit,
Enter Armusia, locks the door,
Quisar. Why should I love him?
yfhj should I dote upon a man deserves not,
Nor has no will to work it? — Who's there,
wench ? —
What are you ? or wlience come you ?
Amu You may know me :
I bring not such amazement, noble lady.
Qiritar. Who let you in ?
Arm. My restless love, that serves you.
Quisar. This is an impudence I have not
beard o^
A radeness that becomes a thief or rnffian ;
Nor shall my brother's love protect this
boldne5!t, [sanctuaries.
Yon build so strongly on : my rooms are
And with that reverence, they that seek my
favours, [proaches.
And humble fears, shall render their ap-
Arm. Mine are no less.
Quisar. I'm mistress of myself, sir.
And will be so : I will not be thus visited,
These fears and dangers thrust into my privacy.
Stand further off! I'll cry out else.
Arm. Oh, dear lady !
Quisar. I see dishonour in your eyes.
Ann. There's none:
By all that beauty, th^y are innocent!
Pray you tremble not ! you have no cause.
Quisar. Ill die first;
Before you have your will, be torn in pieces.
The little strength IVeleft me to resist you.
The gods will give me more, before I'm forc'd
To that I hate, or sufier — ^
Arm. You wrong my duty.
Quisar. So baae a violation of my liberty!
I know you're bent unnobly; Fll take to me
The spirit of a man, borrow his boldness,
And force my woman's fears into a madness.
And ere you arrive at what you aim at —
Arm. Lafly,
If there be in you any woman's pity.
And if your fears have not proclaimed me
monstrous.
Look on me, and believe me ! Is this violence?
Is it, to fall thus prostrate to your beauty,
A ruffian's boldness? is humility a rudeness?
The griefit and sorrows tbat grow here, an
impudence ? [with me.
These forcings, and these fears I bnng along
These impudent abuses offer'd you ?
And thus high has your brother's favour
blown me. '
Alas, dear lady of my life, I came not
With any purpose rough or desperate,
With any thought that was not smooth and
gentle
As your fair hand, with any doubt or danger ;
Far be it from my heart to fright ^our quiet !
A heavy curse light on't, when I intend it !
Quisar, Now I dare hear you.
Arm. If I had been mischievous,
As then I must be mad, or were a monster,
If any such base thought had harbour'd here.
Or violeuce that became not man 3^,
You have a thousand bulwarks to assure you.
The holy powers bear sliields to defend
chastity; [armours.
Your honour and your virtues are such
Your clear thoughts such defences. If you
misdoubt still.
And yet retain a fear I am not honest,
Come with impure thoughts to this place,
Take this, and sheath it here; be your own
pnfety; ^
Be wise, and rid your fears, and let me pensh !
How willing shall I sleep to satisfy you!
Quisar. No; I believe now, you speak
What came you then for? [worthily :
Arm. To complain me, beauty;
But modestly.
Quisar. Of what?
Arm. Of your fierce cruelty;
(For, th(/ I die, I will not blame the doer)
Humbly to tell your grace you had fprgot me;
** If any such base thought had harbour'd here.
Or violence that became not man."] It has been often observ'd, that words belonging
to one line have been repeated in that above or below, but here the reverse has hap-
pened; for when the same adjective should have been repeated, it was in the second line
tmitted. Seward.
Q 2 A little
116
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
[Act 4.
A little to have toucliM at, not accus*d,
(For that I dare not do) your Mcorns: pray
pardon lae,
And be not angry that I use the liberty
To urge that word ! A little to have shew'd
you [you,
AVhat I have been, and what done to deserve
If any thing that love commands may reach
you;
To Imvc remember*d you, (but I*ra unworthy,
And to that misery falls all my fortunes)
To have told you, and by my life you may
believe me,
That I am honest, and will only marry
You or your memory: pmy be not ani;ry !
Quisar, I thank you, sir; and let me tell
you seriously, [^'^^»
You have taken now tlie right way to befriend
And to beget a fair and clear opmion.
Yet, to try your obedience —
^717]. I stand ready, lady,
Without presuming to ask any thing ^^.
Quisar, Or at this time to hope for furtlier
favour;
Or to remember services or smiles ;
Dangers you have past thro\ and rewards
due to cm ;
Xx>ves or despairs ; but, leaving all to me.
Quit this place presently.
Arm, 1 shall obey you.
Enter Kuy Dias,
Ruy, Ha!
AtiTi. Who's this ? What art thou ?
Jitty, A gentleman. [Ruy I^i«8 :
Arm, Thou art no more, I'm sure. Oh, 'tis
IIow high he looks, and harsh !
Bwy. Is there not 3oor enough.
You tiike such elbow-room?
Ann. If I take it. Til carry it.
Huy, Does this become you, princess?
Arm. The captain's jealous.
Jealous of that he never durst deserve yet.
Go freely, go ! I'll give thee leave.
Ruy, Your leave, sir?
Arm, Yes, my leave, sir. I'll not be
troubled neither, [jealous,
Nor shall my heart ache, or my head be
Nor strange suspicious tlioughts reign in my
memory ;
00 on, and do thy worst, I'll smile at thee.
1 kiss your fair hand first; tlien, farewell,
captain ! [Exii.
Quisar, What a pure soul inherits here I
what innocence !
Sure I was blind when I first lov'd this fellow.
And long to live in that fog still : bow he
• blusters ! [flatteries
Huy. Am I your property? or those your
The banquets that you bid me to, the trust
I build my goodly hopes on ?
Quitar, Be more temperate !
jRttV. Are these the snows of your respect
andf favour? [with you?
What did he here, what language had he
Did you invite him? could you stay no longer?
Is he so gracious in your eye?
Quitar. You are too forward.
Huy, Why at these private hours ?
Quisar, You are too saucy,
Too impudent, to task me with those errors.
Do you know what I am, sir? and my
prerogative? [of friend,
Tho' you be a thing I've call'd by th' name
I never taught you to dispose my liberty;
IIow durst you touch mine honour? blot my
meanings ?
And name an action, and of mine, but noble?
Thou poor unworthy tiling, how ha\e I
grac'd thee ! [hourly !
IIow have I nourish'd thee, and rais'd thee
Are these the gratitudes you bring, Ruy Dias ?
The thanks? the services? I'm fairly paid !
\\'ab't not enough I saw thou wert a coward.
And bhadow'd thee? no noble spark in thee?
Daily provok'd thee, and still fotfnd thee
coward ? [at ;
Rais'd noble causes for thee, strangers started
Yet still, still, still a coward, ever coward !
And, with those taints, dost thou upbraid
my virtues?
Jluy. I was to blame, lady.
Quisar. So blindly bold [look
To touch at my behaviour ? Durst thou but
Amiss at my allowance ? — If thou hadst
Been a brave fellow, thou hadst had some
licence,
Some hberty; I might have then allow'd thee.
For thy good face, some scope to have
aligned with me;
But being notliing but a sound, a shape.
The mere sign of a soldier, of a lover
The dregs and drafi'y part, disgrace and jea*
I scorn Uiee, and contemn thee ! [lousy,
Ruy, Dearest lady.
If I have been too free —
Quisar, Th'hast been too foolish;
And go on still; I'll study to forget thee.
I would I could ! and yet I pity thee. [Exit,
Ryy. I am not worth it; if I were, that's
misery !
The next door is but death ; I must aim at
it- [JEM.
3^ J stand ready, lady,
JVitfiout presuming to ask any thing.] This second hne evidently belongs to the
princess, or ehe he r speech will not be grammar. Si,Mpson.
It will be grammar, supposing her to Uke up the sense of what he has said, which it is
plain slie does.
ACT
Act 4.]
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
iir
ACT IV.
Ejiter King, and Governor like a Moor^
Priest,
Kiag, QO &r and truly you've discovered
^ to me
The fonnpr currents of my life and fortune,
That I am bound t' acknowledge you most
And certainly to credit your predictions
Of what are yet to come.
Gov. I am no liar. — [neighbour:
Tis strange I should, and live so near a
Bat tliese are not my ends.
King. Pray you sit, good fattier !
Certain a reverend man, and most-religious.
Gov. Ay, that belief's well now; and let
mc work then,
m make you curse religion ere I leave you. —
Fve liv'd a long time, son, a mew'd-up man^
Sequester'd by the special hand of Heaven
From the world's vanities, bid farewell to
lollies, [pleasures.
And shook hands with.all heats of youth and
As in a dream, these twenty years I've slum-
ber'd;
Many a cold moon have I, in meditation
And searching out the hidden wills of Hea-
ven,
Iain shaking under; many a burning sun
Has seared my body, and boiPd up my blood,
Feebled my knees, and stamp*d ameagreness
Upon my figure, all to find out knowledge ;
Which I have now attain'd to, thanks to
Heaven, [vision,
All for my country's good too: and many a
Many a mystic vision, have I seen, son.
And many a sight from Heav'n which has
been terrible,
therein the goods and evils of these islands
Were lively shadow'd ; many a charge I've
had too.
Still as the time grew ripe to reveal these.
To travel and discover : now Fm eome, son.
The hour's now appointed, my tongue's
And now I speak. [touch'd.
King, Do, holy man ! I'll hear yon. ['em !
Gov, Beware these Portugals, I say beware
These smooth-fac'd strangers, have an eye
upon 'em ! [king !
The cause is now the gods ! hear, and believe.
King. I do hear; but^ before I ghre rash
credit, or
Hang too light on belief, which is a sin, father.
Know I have found 'em gentle, faithful, va-
liant,
And am in my particular bound to ^em,
I mean to some, for my most strange deli-
verance, [serve me),
Gov. Oh, son, the future aims of men (ob-
Above their present actions, and their glory,
Are to be look'd at : the stars show many
turnings.
If you could see, mark but^ with my eyes,
pupil.
These men came hither, as my vision tells
me, [feebled,
Poor, weather-beaten, almost lost, starv'd,
Their vessels like themselves, most miserable ;
Made a long suit for traffick, and for com-
fort, [eases:
To vent their children's toys, cure their dis-
They had their suit, they landed, and to th'
rate [freedom
Grew rich and powerful, suck'd the fat and
Of this most blessed is4e, taught her to trem*
ble, ^
Witness the castle here, the citadel.
They've dapt upon the neck of your Tidore
(This happy town, 'till that she knew these
strangers),
To check hevwhen she's jolly.
King, They have so indeed, father.
Gov. Take heed, take heed ! I find your
fair delivery,
(Tho' you be pleas'd to glorify that fortune,
And think these strangers gods, take heed^
I say!)
I find It but a handsome preparation,
A fair-fac'd prologue to a further miscliief :
Mark but the end, good king, the pin he
shoots at!
That was the man delivered you, the mirror;
: wha "
heir, sir.
Your sister is his due: what's she? your
And what is he a-kin then to the kingdom }
But heirs are not ambitious; who then sufiers f
What rev'rence shall the gods have^ and
what justice
The miserable people ? what shall they do ?
King, He points at truth directly.
Gov. Think of these, son !
The person, nor the manner I mislike not
Of your preserver, nor the whole man to«
gether.
Were he but season'd in the faith we are^
In our devotions leam'd.
King, You say right, father. [religion ^
Gov. To change our worships now, and our
To be traitor to our gods ?
King. You've well advis'd me.
And I will seriously consider, father.
r th' mean time, you shall have your fair ac«
cess
Unto my sister, advise her to vour purpose,
And let me still know how the gods deter-
mine, [vise
Gov, I will. — But my main end is to ad-
The destruction of you all, a general ruin;
And then I am reveng'd, let the gods whistle !
[Exeunt.
Entert
118
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
Enter Ruy Dias and Piniero.
Ruy. Indeed; I am right glad you were
not greedy,
And sudden in performing what I wilFd you.
Upon the fersQu of Ammsia;
I was afraid, for I well knew your valour,
And love to me —
Pin, Twas not a fair thin^ uncle ;
It shew'd not handsome; carried no man in it.
JRtty. I must confess 'twas ill, and I abhor
Only this good has risen from this evil,
I've tried your honesty, 4ind find it proof,
A constancy that will not be corrupted,
And I much honour it.
Fin. This bell sofinds better. [suffer'd,
JRuy. My anger now, and that disgrace I've
Shall be more manly vented, and wip*d off,
And my sick honour cur'd the right and
straight way :
My sword's in my hand now, nephew, my
cause upon it,
And man to man, one valoar lo another.
My hope to his —
Fin, Why, this is like Ruy Dias ! [it,
This carries something of some substance in
Some mettle and some man ; this sounds a
gentleman ; [you :
And now methinks you utter what becomes
To kill men scurvily, 'tis sue h a dog«trick,
Such a rat-catcher's occupation —
Ruy, Tis ne better.
But, Piniero, now —
Fin. Now you do bravely, [by, forgotten,
Ruy. The difTrcnoe of our states flung
The full opinion I have won in service.
And such respects that may not shew us
equal,
Laid handsomely aside, only our fortunes.
And single manhoods--
Pi/ij. In a service, sir,
Of this most noble nature, all I am.
If I had ten lives more, those and my for-
tunes
Are ready for you. I bad thought you had
Forsworn fightmg, or banish'd those brave
thoughts
Were wont to wait upon you ; I am glad
To see 'em call'd home again.
Ruy. They are, nephew, [them:
>nd thou shalt see what fire they carry in
Here, you guess what this means ?
[Shcvs a challenge.
Pin. Yes, Vjery well, sir. A portion of
scripture
That puzzles many an interpreter.
Ruy. As soon as you can find him —
Fin. Thut will not be lone, uncle ;
And, o'my conscience, hell be ready as
quickly. [Carry't so,
Ruy. I makp no doubt, good nepliew.
If you can possible, that we may fight-
Pin. Nay, you shall fight, assure yourself.
Ruy. Pray you hear mc ! —
[Act 4.
In some such place where it may be possible
The princess may behold us.
Fin. I conceive you :
Upon the sand behind the castle, ^r; [dows
A place remote enough, and there be win-
Out of her lodgings too, or I'm mistaken.
Ruy. You're i'tli' right; if you can work
that handsomely — [par*d
Fin. Let me alone ! and pray be you pre*
Some three hours hence.
Ruy. rU not fail.
Fin. Get you home ;
And if you have any thing^s to dispose of.
Or a few light prayers that may befriend you.
Run 'em over quickly ! I warrant I'll bring
him on.
Ruy. Farewell, nephew j
And, when we meet again — [Ejeit.
Pin, Ay, ay, fight handsomely : [you;
Take a good draught or two of wine to settle
'Ti^ an ei^celLent armour for an ill conscience,
uncle.
I am glad to see this man's conversion ;
I was afraid fair honour had been bed-rid,
Or beaten out o* th' island, soldiers, and good
ones, [now,
Intended such base courses. He will fi^lit
And I believe too bravely ; I have seen him
Curry a fellow's carcase handsomely;
And i' th'head of a troop, stand as if he had
Been rooted there, dealing large doles of
death. — [drawn I
What a rascal was I, I did not see his will
Enter Quisara.
What does she here ? If there be any mis-
chief towards, [business
A woman makes one still: now what new
Is for me ?
Quisar. I was sending for you, but since
We've met so fair, youVe sav'd that labour :
Entreat you, sir — [I must
Pin. Any thing, madam ; your wills
Are my commands.
Quisar. YouVe nobly courteous.
Upon my better thoughts, signor Piniero,
Aud my more peaceable considerations,
(Which now I find the richer ornaments)
I would desire you to attempt no iUrther
Against the person of the noble stranger,
(In truth, I am asham'd of my share in it)
Nor be incited further by your uncle ;
I see it will sit ill upon your person.
I have considered, and it will shew ugly,
Carried at best, a most uhheard-of cruc^lty :
Good sir, desist !
Pin. You speak now like a wonum.
And wondrous well this tenderness becomes
you:
But this you must remember, your command
Was laid on with a kiss; and seriously
It must be taken off tlie same way, madam,
Or I stand bound still.
Quisar. That shall not endanger you:
Look you, fair sir, thus I take off tlmt duty.
Pi«.
Act 4.1
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
no
Pin. By tb' mftsd, 'twas soft and sweet!
Some bloods would bound now, [beauty,
And nm a-tilt. Do not you think, bright
YoaVedone me, in this kiss, a mighty favour,
And tliat I stand bound, by virtue of this ho- '
nour, '^
To do whatever you command me ?
Quiutn I think, sir,
From me these are unusual courtesies,
And ought to be respected so : there are some,
And men of no mean rank, would hold them-
selves
Nor poorly blcss'd to taste of such a bounty.
Pin, I know there are, that would do
many unjust things
For such a kiss, (and yet I hold this modest)
All villainies, body and soul dispense with ;
For such a provocation, kill their kindred,
Demolish the fair credits of their parents;
Those kisses I am not acquainted with :
Most certain, madam, [voke me
Th* appurtenance of this kiss would not pro*
To do a mischief; 'tis the devil's own dance
To be kissM into cruelty.
'Qirnar. Vm glad you make that use, sir.
Pin. I am eladder
That you made me believe you were cruel ^*;
For, by this hand, I know I am so honest.
However I deceived you, ('twas high time too;
Some common slave tnight have been set
upon it else)
That willingly I would not kill a dog
That could but fetch and carry for a woman;
She must be a good woman made me kick
him.
And that will be hard to 6nd : to kill a man ?
If you will give me leave to get another,
Or toy she that pla/d the best game at it.
And 'fore a woman's anger, prefer her ^ncy —
Quisar. I take it in you well.
Pin, I thank you, lady ;
And I shall study to confirm it
Quisar, Do, sir ;
For this time, aad this present cause, I al-
low it. [Exit Pin.
Host holy sir!
Enter Governor, Quuanoy and Panura.
God. Bless yon, my royal daughter!
And j in you, bless tliis island, Heav*n!
Qiosar. Good aunt.
What think yoa of this man ?
Qiaum. Sure he's a wise man, [pen'd
And a religions : he tells us tilings have hap-
So many years ago, almost forgotten.
As reaclily as if they were done this hour.
Qnmr. Does he not meet with your sharp I
tongue ? I
Pan, He tells me, madam, [tamer.
Marriage and mouldy cheese will make me
Gov, A stubborn keeper,, and worse fape.
An open stable, and cold care.
Will tame a jade, may be your share.
Pan. ByV lady, a shai-p prophet ! Wlien
this proves good,
111 bequeath you a skin to make you a hood.
Gov. Lady, Fd talk with you.
Quisar. Do, reverend sir ! ^
Gov. And for your good, for that that must
concern you;
And give ear wisely to me !
Quisftr. I shall, father. [lence.
Gov. You are a princess of tlmt excel-
Sweetness and grace, that angel-like £ur fea-
ture,
(Nay, do not blush, I do not flatter you.
Nor do I dote in telling this) I am amazed 3',
lady.
And as I think the gods bestowM these on you,
The gods that love you —
Quimr. I confess their bounty. fnour.
Gov. Apply it then to their use, to their ho-
To them, and to their service give this sweet*
ness ! [ness;
They have an instant great use of your good-
You areasaint eeteem'd here for your beauty,
And many a longing heart—-
Qtttsar. I seek no fealty; fme;
Nor wilt I blemish that Heaven has sealed on
I know my worth. Indeed the Portugals
I have at those commands, and their last ser*
vices, [someness,
Nay e'en tbei r lives, so much I think my hand-
That what I shall enjoin—
Gov. Use it discretely!
(For I perceive you understand me rightly)
For here the gods regard your help and sud-
denly: [lady)
The Portugals, like sharp thorns (mark me.
Stick in our sides; like razors, wound reli-
gion; [blood follows;
Drawn deep they wound, until the life
Our gods they spurn at, and their worships
scorn, [ment:
A mighty hand diey bear upon our govern-
These are the men yourmiracle mustwork on.
Your heavenly form, either to root them out,
(Which, as you may endeavour, will be easy.
Remember whose great cause you have to
execute)^ [more,
To nip their memory, that may not spring ^
Or fairly bring 'em home to our devotions;
Which wiU te blessed, and for which you
sainted.
But cannot be, and they go ; let me bustle !
Qttuar. Go up with me.
^* Thai you made me believe you were cruel.] I read this line so^
You made me but believe that you were cruel. Setvard.
^^ lam amazed, /oify— r] Amazement at beauty, tho' it does not necessarily imply dotage,
jet often both foreruns and accompanies it, and would certainly be rather a cause why be
sittoki not dote: the most natural reason for him to give is,
Nor do I dote in telling this, I am aged, lady. Seward.
Where
ISO
THE ISLAND PIONCESS.
[Act *.
Where well converse more privately :
I'll shew yoa shortly hoiv I hold their temper,
And in what chain their souls.
Gov. Keep fast that hold still! [in it,
And either bring that chain, ahd those bound
And link it to our gods and their fair wor-
ships, [it.
Or, daughter, pinch their hearts a^^pieces with
111 wait upon your grace.
Quisar, Come, reverend father! —
Wait you below. [Exe. Quisar. and Gov.
Pan, If this prophet were a young thing,
I should suspect him now, he cleaves so close,
to her;
These holy coats are long, and hide iniquities.
Quisan, Away, away, fool ! a poor wretch !
. Pan. These poor ones,
Warm but their stomachs once—
Quisan. Come in; thou'rt foolish.
[Exeunt.
Enter Armuda, Emanuel, and Piniero.
Arm. Vm sorry, sir, my fortune is so stub-
bom.
To court my sword against my countryman :
I love my nation well; and where I find
A Portugal of noble name and virtue,
I am his humble servant. Signer Piniero,
Your person, nor your uncle's, am I angry
with;
You're both fair gentlemen in my opinion,
And, [ protest, Fd rather use my sword
In your defences than against your safeties :
It IS, methinks, a strange dearth of enemies,
When we seek foes among ourselves.
Etnan. You're injur'd, [readiest —
And you must make the best on't now, and
Arm. You see i*ra ready in the place, and
arm'd
To his desire that call'd me.
Pin. You speak honestly, [friendly;
And I could wish you'd met on terms more
Bat it can't now be so.
Enter JRuy Dias.
Eman. Turn, sir, and see !
Pttt. I have kept my word with you, uncle :
The gentleman is ready.
Enter Gaoemor and Quisara above.
Arm. Ye are welcome.
Jitty. Bid those fools welcome that affect
your courtesy I [me ;
I come not to use compliment: you*ve wrong'd
^ Quisar. No more, be quiet yet.] Possibly these words belong to the Governor,
Syn^son,
♦* Gov. Pot sorry for*t.
Eman. But since youHl have it so — ^1 The same cause of complaint returns upon us
again which was mentToned above, viz. the multiplication of names, for here the Governor
has nothing to do. But these lines belong to Emanuel, sorry that the seconds are not per-
mitted to ^;ht ; or both to Armusia, for the unliappy necessity he lay under of fighting with
bis coantryman. If it was lef^ to me, I believe I should determine in favour of Emanuel.
Sympson.
The old books surely are right : the Governor avows his sorrow that they are to stand idle.
Pin.
And you shall feel, proud man, ere I part
from you,
Th* effects of that : if Fortnne do not fool me.
Thy life is mine, and no hope shall redeem
thee. [feith can justify.
Arm. That's a proud word; more than your
Quisar, Sure they will fight !
Ruy. She is there ; I am happy. [ther;
Gov. Let 'em alone ! let 'era kill one ano-
These are the main posts; if they fall, the
Will tumble quickly. [buildings
Quisar. How temperate Armusia I
Gov. No more; be quiet yet'°.
Arm. I am not bloody.
Nor do not feel such mortal malice in me;
But since we cannot both enjoy the princess,
I am resolvM to fight.
Ruy. Fight home, Armusia !
For, if thou faint'st or fall'st —
Arm. D'you make all vantages?
Ruy. All ways, unto thy life: I will not
spare thee.
Nor look not for thy mercy.
Amu I am arm'd then.
Ruy. Stand still, I charge you, nephew, as
you honour me !
Arm. And, good Emanuel, stir not.
Pin. Ye speak fitly;
For we had not stood idle else.
Gov. I'm sorry for't**.
Eman. But since you'll have it so~
Ruy. Come, sir I
Arm. I wait you.
Pin. Ay, marry, this looks handsomely !
This is warm work I
Gov. Both fall, au't be thy will!
[Ruy falls.
Pin, My uncle dead !
Eman. §tand still, or my sword's in —
Arm, Now, brave Ruy Dias,
Now, Where's y our confidience? Your prayers,
quickly !
Your own spite has condemn'd you%
Quisar. Hold, Armusia !
Arm. Most happy lady!
Quisar. Hold, and let him rise ;
Spare him forme!
Arm. A long life may he, enjoy, lady ?
Gov. What ha'you done? Tis better they'd
all perish'd. [Armusia,
Qutsar. Peace, fiither ! I work for the best.
Be in the garden an hour hence.
[Exeunt Quisar. and Gob.
Arm. I shall, madam.
Ac(4}
tES, ISLAND PRINCESS.
Itl
Fin. Now, as I live, a gentleman at all
inches!
80 hrave a mingled temper saw I never.
Arm. Why are you sad, sir? How would
this have grieved you.
If ;oa had MCn under a profess^ enemy?
Under one had taken vantage of your smune
too ? [wronging you,
Frey you be at peace! I am so far from
Or gb^ing in the pride of such a victorvy
That X desire to serve you: pray look
cfaearfolly !
Pim. Do you hear this, nr ?
This love, sir? Do you see this gentleman.
How he courts you? Why do you hold your
head down?
Ti$ no high-treason, I take it, to be equall'd;
To have a slip i'th' £eld, no sin that's
mortal:
Come, come ; thank fortune and your friend !
Arm, It may be
YoD think my tongue may prove your enemy,
And tho' restrained, sometimes, out of a
bravery, .
May take a licence to disable you^^:
Beheve me, sir, so much I hate that liberty,
That in a stranger^s tongue 'twill prove an
And I shall right you in't. [injury ;
Pin» Can you have more, uncle?
Ruy. Sir, vou have beat me both ways;
yet so nobly,
Huit I shall ever love the hand that did it :
Fortune may make me worthy of some title
That may be near your firiend.
Amu Sir, I must leave you, [fident.
Bat with so hearty love — ^And pray be con-
I cany nothing from this place shall wrong
you. [Exe. Amu and Eman,
Fm, Come, come; you're right ag^in, sir:
love your honour, [purposes,
And love your friend; take heed of bloody
And unjust ends! good Heav'n is angry with
'em;
Make your fair virtues and yoiit &me your
mistress;
And let these trinkets eo !
Utty. You teach weU, nephew: [man+%
Now to be honourable even with this gentle-
Shall be my business, and my euds his.
[Egeunt.
Enter Qovemor and King,
GffD, Sir, sir!
You must do something suddenly, to atop
His pride, so great and high he is shot up ;
Upon his person too, your state is sunk else:
You must not stana now upon terms of
gratitude.
And let a simple tenderness besot you. '
111 bring you suddenly where you shall see
him,
Attempting your brave sister, privately;
Mark but his high beliaviour then.
King. I will, rather. [too.
Gov. And with scorn; I fear, contempt
Xing. I hope not**.
Gov, 1 will not name a lust; it may b^
that also.
A little force most be applied upon' him,
Now, now applied, a litde force to humble
him: [wanton.
These sweet entreaties do but make him
King. Take heed, you wrong him not !
Gov. Take heed to your safety! [me,
I but forewarn you, king; if you mistrust
Or think I come unsent—
King* No, ril go with you. lExeunt.
Enter Arnnma and Quitora,
Arm. Madam, you see there*s nothing I,
can reach at,
Either in my obedience, or my service,
That may deserve your lovoi or win a
liking,
^ To disable you.'] Sympson objects to the word disable; for which we see no reason, as
Usable is frequently used in the sense of disparage.
*^ Now to be honourable even with this gentlemun.'] I have I believe shewn before, that
oor authors take the same liberty in our language that the Greeks and Latins do in iheirs,
vis. of using an adjective adverbially; so at tlie end almost of tins play we have the same
licence took again.'
Quisar. Which way you go, sir,
I must follow necessary, i. e. necessarily* Sympson*
^ A^nd with scorn, I fear contempt too.
King. I hope not.
Gov, I will not name a lust;
Jt fnay be that also.] This odd passage I would reform thus,
Gofo. And with what scorn I fear too —
King. I hope not.
Gov. I will not name a lust ; it may be that also.
That what is drojpt in the first line seems evident ; but how comes contempt to be inserted
after scorn, as if^ that was to be fear'd much moi'e than the other when it is so nearly the
same tiling? I take the wh(»le passage to have been confus'd in the manuscript, and that
contempt was put in by an unsuccessful attempt to restore it ; for its absence with a change
of the points, aud a proper disposition of the words, restores both sense and measure.
Sevcurd,
VOL. m. R But
m
HIE ISLAND PRINCfeSS.
But a poor thought, but I pursue it seriously**,
Tnke pleasure in your wills, e'en in your an^^er,
Which other men would grudge at^ and grow
btormy:
I study new humility to please you,
And take a kind of 'joy in roy afllictions;
Because tliey come from you, I love my sop-
Pray, madam, but consider — [rows.
CjtfiVar. Yes, I do, sir;
Aiid to that honest end I drew you hither.
I know you have deserv'd as much as man can,
And know it is a justice to requite you :
I know you love.
Ann, If ever love was mortal, [me,
And dwelt in man: and for that love command
(So strong I find it, and so true, here, lady)
Somcthine; of such a greatness to allow me,
Those things I've done already may seem
foils to :
Tis equity, that man aspires to Heaven
Should win it by his worth, and not sleep
to it.
Enter Gaoemor and King,
: Gov* Now stend close, king, and hear;
and, as you find him,
Believe mc right, or let religion suffer !
Quisar, I dare believe your worth, without
additions ;
But since you are so liberal of your love, sir,
And would be further tried, I do irftend it.
Because you shall not, or you would not win
At such an easy rate — [me
Arm, I am prepar'd still.
And if I shrink —
Quisar, I know you are no coward:
This is the utmost trial of your constancy;
And if you stand fast now, I'm yours, your
wife, sir. [atchieve me.
You hold there's nothing deur, that may
Doubted, or dangerous.
Arm. There's nothing, nothing :
Let me but know, that I may straight fly to it!
Quisar. I'll tell you then : change your
/ religion.
And be of one belief with me !
Arm, How !
Quisar, Mark ! [bred in.
Worship our gods, renounce that faith you're
(Tis easily done ; I'll teach you suddenly)
And humbly on your knees —
Arm. Ha! Fll be hang'd first.
Quisar, Offer as we do.
Arm, To the devil, lady ?
Offer to him I hate ? I know the devil!
To dogs and cats? you do make offer to
them*^;
(Act 4.
To every bird that flies, and every worm.
How terribly I shake ! Is this tlie venture,
The trial, tlmt you talk'd of ?— Where have I
been,
A nd how forgot ihy self, how lost my memory ?
When did I pray, or look up stedtitstly,
Had any goodness in my heart to guicfc me.
That I should give this Vantage to mine
enemy.
The enemy to my peace? Forsake my faitb^
Quisar. Come, come, I know you lo%'e me.
Arm. Love you this way ? [lady.
Tliis most destroying way? Sure you but jest^
Quisar. My love and life are one way.
Arm, Love alone then !
And mine another way: I'llloire diseases first.
Dote on a villain that would cut my throat,
Wooe all afflictions of all sorts, kiss cruelty.
Have mercy. Heaven ! How have I been
wand'ring, [Maker ?
Wand'ring the way of lust, and left my
How have I slept like cork upon a water.
And had no feeling of the storm that toss'd
me ! [surance.
Trod the blind paths of death, forsook as-
Eternity of blessedness, for a woman !
For a ^oung handsome face, hazard my being?
Quisar. Are not oar powers eternal, vt
their comforts ?
As great and full of hopes as yours ?
Arm. They're puppets —
Gov. Now mark him, sir, and but observe
him nearly! [senseless outsides;
' Arm. Their comforts like themselves, cold.
You make 'em sick, as we are, peevish,
mad,
Subject to age : and how can they cure U9>
That are not able to refine themselves ?
Quisar. The son and moon we worship,
(those are heav'nly)
And their bright influences we believe.
Arm. Away, fool !
I adore the Maker of tliat sun and moon.
That gives those bodies light and influence.
That point* d out their paths, and taughi
their motions; [servants,
They're not so great as we, they are our
Plac'd there to teach us time, to |ive us
knowledge [mam are,
Of when, and how, the swellings of the
And their returns again; they're but oar
stewards
To make the earth fat, with their influence.
That she may bring forth her increase, aud
feed us.
Shall I full from tliis faith to please a woman?
For her embraces bring my soul to ruin ?
♦* But a />oor thought , but I pursue U seriously.] I wish the authors had wrote here,
^'ot a poor tliought, or
Be*t a pour thought.
The sense of the place manilestly requires some such alteration. Sympson,
But here is iukeii in the sense of cieu,
^ To dogs and catnY t/ou make offer to them;] Sympson would read axul point,
To dogs uud cuts ? you make me oher to them?
llook'd
Ad I.]
THE ISLAND PRINCESS*
1C»
I looked yott sbottld have said^ make me a
Christian ! [womna ;
Work that great cure ; for 'tis a great one,
That labour truly to perform, that venture,
The crown of all great trial, and the fairest ;
I ]ook*d you should have wept and knecl'd to
beg it, [ters
Wasii'd off your roist of ignorance, with wa-
Pure and repentant, from those eyes; I look'd
You should have brought me your chief god
ye worship.
He that you offer human blood and life to,
And made a sacrifice of him to memory,
Beat down Iiis altars, ruiu*d liis false temples.
Guv. Now you may see !
Quitttr. Take heed; you go too far, sir. —
And yet I love to hear him: I must have you,
And to that end I let you storm a little. —
I know there must be some strife in your bo-
som [back;
To cool and quiet you, ere you can come
I know old friends cannot part suddenly;
There will be some lett still: yet I must have
you,
Have you of my faith too, and so enjoy you.
Arm. Now I contemn you ! and I hate
myself
For looking on that face lasciviously !
Aod it looks ugly now, roethinks.
Quisar. Iiow,*Porti^ ?
Arm, It looks like death itself, to which
'twould lead me : [me !)
Your eyes resembje pale despair, (they fright
And in their rounds a thousand horrid ruins
Methinks I see; and in your tongue hear
fearfully [sufferM.
The hideous murmurs of weak souls have
Get firom me ! I despise you. And know,
woman, [life' in,
That for all this trap youVe laid to catch my
To catch my immortal life, I hate and curse
Cofltemnyoor deities^ spurn at their powers,
And where I meet your Maumet gods ^7, 111
swing 'em [dies ;
Thus oVr my head, and kick 'era into pud-
Nay, I will out of vengeance search your
temples, [demolibb
And, with those hearts that serve ray god.
Your shambles of wild worships.
Gov, Now, now you hear, sir ! [crafty.
Arm, I will have my faith, since you are so
The glorious cross, allho' I love your brotlier;
Let him frown too, I will have my dcvutiou.
And let your whole state storm !
King. Enter, and take him ! —
I*m sorry, friend, that 1 am f(irc*(l to do this.
Gov. Be sure ye hind him fast.
Quiaar, But use him nobly.
Kiifg. Had it to me been done, I had fur-
giv'n it.
And still preserved you fiiir; but to our gods,
Quisar. Metliinks I liate 'em now. [sir-*
King* To our religion,
To these to be thus stubborn, thus rebellious,
To threaten them —
Arm. Use all your violence:
I *ask no mercv, nor repent my words;
I spit at your Lest powers; I sep-e one
Will give me strength to scourge your godsr-v
Gov, Away with him! [perse 'em,
Arm. To grind 'em into base dust, and dis-
Thnt never more tlieir bloody memories —
Gov. Clap him close up !
King. Good friend, be cooler !
Arm. Never;
Your painted sister I despise too —
King. Softly ! [scorn at,
Ann. And all her devilish arts I laugh and
Mock her blind purposes.
Kin^. You must be temperate.
Oilor him no violence, I command you strictly*
Gov. Now thou art up, I shall have timt
to speak too.
Quisar. Oh, howl lov« this man, how truly
honour him! [Exiunt,
ACT V.
iEnter ChrUtophero and Pedro at one door,
Emanuel and Soza at another.
Chit. T\' YOU know th' news, gentlemen ?
■*-^ Eman. 'Would we knew as well.
How to prevent it! [sir,
Soza. Is tliis the love tliey bear ns.
For our late benefit? Taken so maliciously.
And ciap'd up close? is that the thanks they
reader? [tfaer'd slightly;
Chris. It must not be put up tlms, smo-
I'is such a base unnatural wrong—
Pedro, I know,
They may think to do wonders, aim at all,
And to blow us with a vengeance out o* th*
islands ;
But if we be ourselves, honest and resolute.
And continue but masters of our ancient
courages, [lainies —
Stick close, and. give no vantage to their vil-
Sosa, Nay, if we faint or fall a-pieces uow.
We're fools, and worthy to be mark'd tor mi«.
sery.
^^ Meet' your Maumet godt."] This is the writing of this word in the old copy of 164r; in
die rest 'tis thas^
Meet your Makumet gods.. Sj/mpson.
11 Q Begin
1S4
THE ISLAND PBINCESS.
[Aet«»
Begin to strike at him, they we all bound to?
To cancel his deserts? What must we look
If they can carry this? [for,
Eman, 111 carry coab then. [men,
I have but one life, and one fortune, gentle-
But ril so husband it to vex these rascals,
These barbarons slaves*—
Chris. Sludl we go charge 'em presently?
Soga. No, that will be too weak, and too
fool-hardy; [friends.
We must have grounds that promise safety.
And sure o6fence; we lose our angers else,
And, worse than that, venture our lives too
lightly,
JEJitf «r Ptaiero.
Pin, Did you see mine uncle? Plague o'
these barbarians ! [ye're angry :
How the rogues stick i'my teeth! I know
So I am too, monstrous an^ry, gentlemen;
I'm angry, that I choke again.
You hear Armusia's np, honest Armu^a,
CUp'd up in prison, tnendsy the brave Aiw
musiar
Here are fine boys!
Eman, We hope he shall not stay there.
Pin, Stay? no, he must not stay, no talk
of staying, [rascals?
These are no times to stay. Are not these
Speak, I beseech you speak, are they not
rogues? [devils?
Tliink some abominable names — areth^y not
But the devil's a ereat deal too good for 'em
— fusty villains 1
Chris, They are a kind of hounds.
PcTi. Houndi were their fathers ;
Old blear-eyM bob-tail'd hounds.— Lord,
wliere's my uncle?
Soza, But what shall be done, sir?
Pin. Done?
Soga, Yes, to relieve him?
If it bcn't sudden, they may take his life too.
Pin. They dare as soon take fire and swal-
low it^ [ters.
Take stakes and thrust into their tails for dis-
His life? why, *tis a thing worth ail the
islands,
And they know will be rated at that value :
His very imprisonment will make the town
stink, [for 'em,
And shake and stink ; Tve physic in my hand
Shall give the goblins such a purge-—
Enter Ruy Dias.
Pcrfro. Your uncle ! [seeking vou:
Rui/. I hear strange news, and have been
They say Armusia*s prisoner.
Fin. Tis most certain.
jRtfy. Upon what cause ?
Pin. He has deserv'd too much, sir*
The old heathen policy has ht upon him,
And paid him home,
Ruy. A most unnoble dealing I [tarael]^.
Pin, You arc tlie next; if you can carry it
He has (leserv*d of all,
Ruy. I must confess it j
Of me so nobly too !
Ptn. Tm glad to hear it; [fessioi^
You've a time now to make good yoor^vn*
(Your faith will shew but coldiOiKy -and Cur
fashion). [sj.
Now to redeem all, now to thank his coorte*
Now to make those believe, that held yoa
backward
And an ill instvument, yon are a gentlemaiiy
An honest man, and you dare love your na-
tion,
Dare stick to Virtue, tho' she be opprest.
And, for her own fair sake, step to her rescue :
If you live ages, sir, and lose this hour,
Not now redeem and vindicate your honour.
Your life will be a murmur, and no man in't.
Ruy. I tliank you, nephew,^— Come alon|;
*with mc, gentlemen !
We'll make 'em dancing sport immediately;
We're masters of the fort yet; we shall see
What that can do.
Ptn. Let it but spit fire finely, [laces^
And play their turrets, and their painted pa*
A frisking round or two, that they may trip
And caper in the air ! [it, .
Ruy. Come; we'll do something [plums.
Shall make 'em look about; we'll send 'em
If tliey ben't too hard for their teeth.
Ptn. And fine potatoes
Roasted in gunpowder: such a banquet, sir^
We'll prepare their unmannerly stomachs-^
Ruy, They shall see
There is no safe retreat in villainy.
Come, be high-hearted all !
Omnes. We're all on fire, sir. [Exeunt^
Enter King and Governor,
King, I am ungrateful, and a wretch (perr
suade me not !)
Forgetful of the mercy he shew'd me.
The timely noble pity. Why should I
See him £iist bound and fetter'd, whose true
courtesy, [me free?
Whose manhood, an4 whose mighty hand, set
Why should it come from me? why I com-
mand this? [Uiankfnl?
Sh-<11 not all tongues and (ruths call me un-
Gofo, Had tlieofienoe been thrown on ]ron,
'tis certain [don.
It had been in your power, and vonr discr^
To have it turn d into mercy, and forgiven it.
And then it had shew'd a virtuous point of gra»
titude,
Timely, and nobly ta'en; but since the cause
Concerns the honour of our gods, and their
title, [passion,
And so transcends your power, and yourcomr
(A little your own safety, if you saw't too.
If your too-fond indulgence did not dazzle
It cnunot now admit a private pity :
I Tis in their wills, their mercies, or revenges.
And these revolts in ^ou shewmere rebellious.
King, They're mild and pitiful—
Gov,
Acts.}
THE ISLAND TRDSCEB&
Its
Goo. To thoae repent
JBi^. Their nature's soft «nd tender-^-
Gov. To true hearts,
Tint ieel compunction for dieir treepasses:
Tfab man defies 'em still, threatens destruc-
tion
And dem<^tioo of their arms and worship.
Spits at their powers: take heed you be not
found, sir.
And mark'd a favourer of their dishonour !
Iher use no common justice.
King. What shall I do
To deserve of this man f
Gcv. If you more bemoan him.
Or mit^ate your power to preserve him,
FU ciir& you from the gods, call up their
vengeance.
Xnter Quitara zoith ker hands hcundf Qui"
iana and Panurcu
Andflingitonyourlandandyou: Tve charge
I hope to wrack you aU. [for't,— -
Minf. What ails my sister ^
Why is she bound ? why looks she so difr-
tiactedly?
Who dares do this?
QausBR. We did it (pardon, sir!)
And for her preservation : she's grown wild,
And raving on tb<} stranger's love and honour,
Sometimes crying out * Help, help, they'll
torture him, [presently!'
' They'll take his life, they'll murder him
If we had not prevented violently —
Have laid hands on her own life'*^.
Goo. These are tokens
The godt^ displeasure is gone out : be quick.
And, ere it fall, do something to appease
'em! [thus.
Yon know the sacrifice.— I'm glad it works
Ctaisor. How low and base thou look'st
now, that wert noble!
Ko figure of a king, methinks, shews on you.
No fiu« of mijesty : foul swarth insratitude
Has taken off thy sweetness; base migetfol-
ness
Of mighty benefits, has tum'd thee devil !
Tb' hut persecuted goodness, innocence.
And laid a hard and violent hand on virtue,
On that fair virtue thai should teach and
guide us; [least merit,
IV halt wronged thine own preserver, wliose
Pois'd with thy main estate, thou canst not
ntisfy ; [still.
Nay, put thy life in too, 'twill be too light
What hast thon done?
Gov. Go for him presently.
And once more we'll try if we can win him
fiiirly;
Knot, kt nothing she nya hinder yon, or
stir you ! [command you*
She speaks distractedly: do that the goda
Do you know what you say, lady f
Qiitisr. I could curse thee too !
Religion and severity have steel'd thee^
Have tum'd thy heart to stone ; th' liast i
the gods hard too.
Against their sweet and patien t natures, craeL
None of ye feel what bravery ye tread tmf
What innocence ? what beauty—
£111^. Pray, be patient! [behind ye ^
Qttuar. What honourable thing? ye casC
Wlmt monuments of man?
Enter Armuna and Giuird.
King. Once more, Armusia,
Because I love you tenderly and dearljy
And would be glad to win you mine^ I widi
you.
E'en from my heart I wish and wooe yon-**
Arm. What, sir? [you hate me|
Take heed how you persuade me fiUsely ! the*
Take heed how you entrap me !
King. I advise you,
And tenderly and truly I advise you.
Both for your souls health, and your
Arm. Stay ! [safety—
And name my soul no more! she is too pre-
cious, (loo.
Too glorious for your flatt'ries, too secura
Goo. Consider the reward, sir, and tha
honour
That is prepar'd, the glory you shall |rowt0w
Arm. They're not to be consider'dm these
cases.
Not to be nam'd; when souls are questioned.
They're vain and flying vapours. Touch mj
Tis ready for you ; nut it to what test
It shall please you, I'm patient ; but for tha
rest.
You may remoye rocks with yourlitde finger%
Or blow a mountain out o'th' way with bel*
lows, [meats.
As soon as stir my faith: use no more aigu*
Gcro. We must use tortures then.
Arm. Your worst and painfull'st
I'm joyful to accept.
Gov. You must the sharpest, [tiM,
For sudh has been your hate against our dei*
Deliver'd openly, your threats and scomings;
And either your repentance must be mighQr,
Which is your free conversion to our cus*
toms.
Or equid punishment, which is your life, sir^
Arm. I m glad I have it for you ; take it^
priest.
^ 'Hwe had not prevented violenify
Have laid hands on her own life,^ Something (perhaps a whole line) seems lost here.
The line dropt probably also endetl with tlie word violent ly, which occasioned the omission,
the printer thinking he had already composed it. The sense required seems to be, ' If we
' had not used viokni means to prevent it, she would before now have laid violent hands on
' her own liie.'
And
126
THE ISLAND PSINCESS.
[Act^L
And ail the mncries tliat shall attend it!
Let the gods glut themselves with Christian
blood;
It will be ask'd again, and so far followed,
So far revenged, and with such holy justice.
Your gods of gold shall melt and smk before
it; [thing;
Your altars and jour temples shake to no-
And you, false worshippers, blind fools of
ceremony, [fears in.
Shall seek for holes to hide your heads and
For seas to swallow you from this destniction.
Darkness to dwell about you, and conceal
Your motiier*s wombs again — [y^^
Gov. Make the fires ready,
And bring the several tortures out !
Quisar, Stand fast, sir, [nobly
And fear 'em not ! You that have stept so
Into this pious trial, start not now ;
Keep on your way ; a virgin will assist you,
A virgin won by your fair constancy, [you !
And, glorying that she's won so, will diel by
I\-e touch*d you every way, tried you most
honest, [and temperate^
Perfect, and good, chaste, blushing-chaste,
Valiant, without vain-^lory, modest, staid.
No rage or light affection ruling in you;
Indeed, the perfect school of worth I find you,
. The temple of true honour.
Arm, Whither will she? [lady?
What do you infer by this fair ai]gument,
Qm$ar. Your faith and your religion must
be like you ; [mirrors :
They that can shew you these must be pure
When the streams fiow clear and fair, what
are the fountains ? [tune : go on !
I do embrace your faith, sir, and your for-
I will assist you ; I feel a sparkle here,
A lively spark that kindles my affection,
And tells me it will rise to fiames of glory.
Let 'em put on their angers ! suffer nobly ;
Shew me the way, and when I faint, instruct
And if I follow not — , [me;
Ai^, Oh, blessed lady, [umph ! —
Since thou art won, let roe begin my tri-
Come, clap your terrors on !
Qiiisar, All your fell tortures !
For there is notliing he shall suffer, brother,
I swear by my new faith (which is moat sa-
cred.
And I will keep it so), but I will follow in.
And follow to a scruple of affliction,
In spite of all your gods, without prevention.
CfOV. Death I she amazes me.
King. What shall be done now?
Gov, They must die both.
And suddenly; they will corrupt all else. —
This woman makes me weary of my mis-
chief;
She shakes me, and she staggers mc. — Go
in, sir;
rU see the execution.
King. Not so stidden^:
If they go, all my friends and sisters perisb.
Gov, 'Would I were safe at home again I
Enter Messenger,
Mess, Arm, arm, sir! [ders.
Seek for defence; the castle plays and thuor
The town rocks, and the houses fly i'tU' air^
The people die for fear. Captain Ruy Dias
Has macle an oath he will not leave a stone
here,
No, not the memory here has stood a city.
Unless Armusia be deliver'd fairly.
King, I have my fears: what can our gods
Gov, Be patient ! [do now for us?
^ But keep him still. Ke*s a cure, sir, i^ainst
' Both rage and cannon. Go and fortify ;
Call in the princes^^, make the palace sure.
And let 'em know yon are a king; look
nobly, [the prisoner.
And take you courage to you ! — Keep close
And under command; we* are betray d else.
Arm. How joyfully I go!
Quisar. Take my heart with thee.
Gov. 1 hold a wolf by the ear : now. For-
tune, free me I [Exeunt*
Enter four Townsmen,
1 Towns. Heav*n bless us, what a thon-
d'ring*s here? what fire-spitting?
We can't drink, bat our cans are manl'd
amongst us.
2 Toams, I would they would maul our
scores too! Shame o' their guns.
I thought they had been bird-pots, or great
candle-cases ; [billets
How devilishly they bounce, and now the
Borrow a piece of a house here, there ano-
ther, [rish !
And mend those up again with another pa-
Here flies a powdring-tub, the meat ready
roasted.
And there a barrel pissing vinegar; [steeple.
And they two, over-taking tlie top of a high
Newly slic'd off for a sallad —
3 Towns, A vengeance fire 'em !
2 Towns. Nay, they fire fast enough ; you
need not help 'em. [How loud they bellow !
4 Towns. Are these the Poftugal bulh»?
2 Towns. Their horns are plaguy strong;
they push down palaces ;
They toss our little habitat^ns [upward ;
Like whelps, likegrindle-tails, with their heels
All the windows o'th'town dance a new
trenchmore'° :
'Tis like to prove a blessed age for glasiers !
I met a liand, and a letter in% in great baste^
And by-and-by a single leg running after it,
As if the arm had forgot part of his errand ;
Heads fly like foot-balls every where.
1 Towns. What shall we do?
8 Towns. I care not; my shop's canc«U*d,
^ Call in the princess.] Amended by Sympson.
'° Trenchmore.} See note 41 on the Pilgrim.
An4'
Act 5.]
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
i3f
Aod all the pott and eaxthen pans in't va-
nish'd : [by the cars;
There was a single bullet and they together
Yoa woold have thought Tom Tambler had
And all his troops of devils. [been there^
3 Torni. Let^s to th* king,
And get this gentleman delivered handsomely !
Bj this hand, there^s no walking above
groand eke. [^by it,
S Toums. By this leg Qet me swear nimbly
For I know not how long I shall owe'' it), if
I were
Oat of the town once, if I came in again
To fetch ray breakfast, I will give *em leave
To cram me with a Portugal pudding. Come,
1^*5 do any thing to appease this thunder !
[Exettnt.
Enter Piniero and Tanura.
Pin. Art sure it was that blind priest?
- Pint. Yes, must certain; [ciful,
He has provok'd all this. The king is merci-
And wondVous loving; but he fii^ him on
stiU,
And, when he cools, enrages him; I know it;
Threatens new vengeance, and the gods^
fierce justice, [sia;
When he but looks with finir eyes on Armu-
Will lend him no time to relent. My royal
mistress,
Sb'has entertained a Christian }iope.
Pin. Speak truly ! [he lies at her.
Pan. Nay, 'tis most true; but. Lord! how
And threatens her, and flatters her, and
damns her!
And, I fear, if not speedily prevented.
If she continue stout, both shall be executed.
Pin. ril kiss thee for this news ! Nay,
more, Panura;
[Clu-istian,
If thou wilt give me leave, Til get thee with
Hie best way to convert thee.
Pan. Make me believe so.
Pin. I will, i'faith. • But which way
■ cam'st thou hither?
The palace is close guarded, and barricado*d.
Pan. I came thro* a private vault, wliich
few there know of;
It rises in a temple not far hence,
Cktte by the castle here.
Pin. How? to what end?
Pan. A good one: [mistress.
To give you knowledge of my uew-bprn
And ia what- doubt Annusia stands :
Think any present means, or hope to stop *em
From their fell ends. The princes are come
And they are Imrden'd also. [in too,
Pm. Tl*e dsuuu'd priest — [religion
Pan. Sure he's a* cruel roan I Methinks
Should teach moi-c temperate lessons.
P»i. lie the firebrand ? [are?
He dare Ut touch at such fair lives as Uieirs
Veil, prophet, I shall prophesy^ I shall catch
you,
When all your prophecies will notredeem you.
Wilt thou do one thing bravely?
Pun. Any good I am able.
Pin. And, by thine own white hand, 111
swear thou*rt virtuous.
And a brave wench. Durst thou but guide
me presently [p^ace^
Thro* the same vauU thou cam'st. Into tho
And those I sliaH appoint, such as I think fit?
Pan. Yes, I will do*t, and suddenly, and
truly.
Pin. Pd fain behold this prophet.
Pan. Now I have you, (htoip
And shall bring you where you sliall behold
Alone too, anaunfurnish'd of defences;
That shall be my care : but you must not
betray me. [slaves, rogues?
Pin. Dost thou think w^rc so base, such
Pan. I do not :
And you shall see how fairly PU work for you.
Pin. I must needs steal that priest, steal
him, and liang him. [strangle him J
Pan. Do any thing to remove his mischief;
Pin. Come, prithee, love !
Pan. You'll offer me no foul play?
The vault is dark.
Pin. Twas well remembered.
Pan. And you may —
But I hold you honest.
Pin. Honest enough, I warrant thee.
Pan. I'm but a poor weak wench; and
what with the place, [will not —
And your persuasions, sir — but I hope yoa
You know we're of^en cozen'd.
Pin. If thou dost fear me,
Why dost thou put me in mind ?
Pan To let you know, sir, Tto it,
Tho' it be in your power, and things htting
Yet a true gentleman —
Pin. I know what lie'll do :
Come, and remember me^ and I will answer
thee, * [castle,
ni answer thee to th' full; we'll call at the
And then, my good guide, do thy will ! sha't
A very tractable man. [find me
Pan. I hope I shall, sir. [ExeujU.
Enter Bakam, Syana, and Soldiers.
Bakam. Let my men guard the gates !
Si/ana. And mine the temple,
For fear the honour of our gods shouki suffer?
And ou your lives be watchful !
Bakam. And be valiant;
And let's see, if these Fortugals dare enter,
What their high hearts dare do ! Let's see
how readily [man I
The great lluy Dias will redeem his country-
He speaks proud words, and threatens.
Stfaiw. he's approv'd, sir,
And will put fair for what he promises.
I could wish friendlier terms; yet, for our
liberties
?« Oa?e.] i. e. Owm
And
t»
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
(AttS.
And for our gocb^ we*re bou«d ia our best
aerviccy
Bv'ii in the hazard of our lives —
Enter the King above.
King. Come up, princes, [fort still
And give your counsels, and your helps : the
Plays feaituUy upon us, beats our buildings
And turns our people wild with fears.
Bakam. Send for
The prisoner^ and give us leave to argue.
l&eeunt Bakam and Syana.
J^er Ruy Bias, Emanuel^ CkrUtophero,
and Pedro, with Soldiers.
JRi^. Come on noblv,
And let the fort play still! we're strong enough
To look upon 'em, and return at pleasure :
It may be on our view they will return him.
CAris, We will return ''em such thanks
else shall make *em
Scratch where it itches not.
Eman, How the people stare !
And some cry, some pray, and some curse
heartily ;
But it is the king—
Enter Syana, BakamfQuisara, Armtuia, with
SMiers, above.
Itaw. I cannot bhune tlieir wisdoms;
Tbeyre all above. Armusia chain'd and
bound too }
Oh^ these are thankful squires !
Bakam. Hear us, Ruv Dias,
Be wise and hear us, and give speedy answer !
Command thy cannon presently to cease.
No more to trouble the afflicted people.
Or suddenly Armttsia*s head goes off,
As suddenly as said.
Eman. Stay, sir, be moderate ! [Dias!
•^tfrni. Do nothing that's di^onourable, Ruy
Let not the fear of me master thy valour !
Pursue 'em still ; they are base malicious peo-
King, Friend, be not desperate! [pie.
Arm. I scorn your courtesies !
Strike when you dare! a fair aim guide the
gunner 5%
Am may he let fly still with fortune ! Friend,
Do me the honour of a soldier's funerals.
The last fair Christian rite; see mc i'th'
ground, [pies.
And let the palace bum first, then the tern-
And on their scorned gods erect my monu-
ment!
Touch not the princess, as you are a soldier !
' Qaisar. Wliich way you go, sir, I must fol-
low necessary :
One life, and o'ne dMith!
King. Will yon tak« a truce yet?
Enter Piniero, Soza^ tmd Soldiers, tnih the
GovernoTm
Pin. No, no; go on! Look here; yov
god, your prophet !
King. How came he taken?
Pin. I conjui'd for him, kinc:
I am a sure cur at an old blind prophet.
I'll hunt you such a fiUse knave admirably'^!
A terrier I : I earth'd him, and then snapt
him. [we stole him,
Soza. Saving the rev'rence o£ your grace,
E'en out of the next chamber to you*
Pin. Come, come ; begin, king !
Begin this bloody matter when you dare !
And yet I scorn my sword should touch the
rascal: [art thou?
I'll tear him thus before you. na! what
[Pulls his beard and hair cff.
King. How's this? Art diou a prophet?
Ru^. Come down, princes ! [Armusia !
King. Weareabus*d!--Oh, mymostdear
Off with his chains ! And now, my noble sister,
Rejoice with me; I know you're pleas'd as I
am. [don governor.
Pin. This u a precious prophet! Why,
What make you here ? how long have tou
ta'en orders? [this mischief?
K«v. Why, what a wretch art thou to work
V assume this hol^ shape to ruin hononr.
Honour and chastity?
Enter King^ and Mfjromabovem
Gov. Fd paid you all, [my doom.
But Fortune play*d the slut. Come, give me
King. I cannot speak for wonder.
Crov. Nay, 'tis I, sir;
And here I stay your sentence.
King. Take her, friend !
(You*ve half persuaded me to be a Christian)
And with her all the joys, and all tlie bless-
ings!
Why, what dream have we dwelt in?
Ruy. All peace to ye, [ye!
And all the happiness of heart dwell with
Children as sweet and noble as their pa<
rents —
Pin. And kings at least !
Arm. Good sir, forget my rashness;
And, noble princess'^, for I was once angry.
And, out of that, might utter some distemper,
Think not it is ray nature.
Sjt/ana. Your joy's ours, sir;
And nothing we nnd in you bat most noble.
King. To prison with this dog I there let
him howl,
Andy if he can repent, sigh out his villainies!
His island we shall seize into our hands;
His fother and himself have both usurp'd i^
•* A fair arm guide the gunner.] Amended by Sympson.'
" ni haunt ^c] Surely for haunt, we should here read hunt. Sympson.
^ And noble Prmcesse.J So the first folio; the second, and octavo 1711, Princesses; Se-
ward and Sympson, Princes. The first copy surely is rights Atmuaa meaning to apologize
te hit pasiionace language, in a former scene, to Qiiisara.
And
Act 4.]
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
129
And kept it bj oppression; the town and
ciode.
In which I lay myself most miserable,
'Till my most honourable friend redeemed me,
'SigDor Piniero, I bestow on you ;
Tbe rest of next command upon these gen*
demen;
Upon ye all, my love.
Amu Oh, brave Ruy Dias,
Yoa're started now beyond me: I must
thank you.
And thank you for my life, my wife, and ho-
nour,
Ruj/. Vm glad I had her for you, sir.
King, Come princes; [gentlemen;
Come, friends and lovers all ; come, noble
No more guns now, nor hates, but joys and
tiimnphs!
An universal gladness fly about us !
And know, however subtle men dare cast
And promise wrack^ the gods give peace at
. last. [Exeunt ufnnes.
voLm
THE,
THE WOMAN'S PRIZE;
•«,
THE TAMER TAM'D^
A COMEDY.
Thk Comedy appears to be one of the performances which Fletcher wrote, wtthont the
assistaooe of Beaumont. The Commendatory Verses by Gardiner and Lovelace, a^ well
at the Prologue, ascribe it to him alone. We believe an alteration of part of it was acted
about twenty years ago at Dmry-Lane Theatre^ as an After-Piece^ for the benefit of the
late Mn. Pritchard, or one of her &mily.
PROLOGUE.
L4DIES, to yOUy in whose defence and right
Hetchei^s brave mose prepared' herself to
fight
A battle without blood ('twas well fought too ;
The victory's yoars, tho' got witli much ado)
We do present this Comedy; in which
A rivulet of pure wit flows, strong and rich
Jo fiuicy, language, and all parts that may
Add ffrace and ornament to a merry play :
Which this may prove ! Yet not to go too
far
la promises from this our female war,
We do entreat the angry men would not
Expect the mazes of a subtle plot, [worse.
Set speeches, high expressions, and what*8
In a true Comedy, politick discourbe.
The end we aim at, is to make you sport;
Yet neither gall the city nor the court.
Hear, and observe his comick strain, and
when
Ye're sick of melancholy, see't again.
Tis no dear physick, since 'twill quit the
cost,
Or his intentions, with our pains, are lost*
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Men.
MoacMto, an old rick doting Citigen^ Suitor to
Livia,
SopflocLES, 1 two Gentlemen^ friendi to Pe^
TfiAVio, ) truckio.
Petrucuio, an Italian Gentleman^ Husband
to Maria.
Rowland, a young Gentleman^ in line with
livia.
Petronius, Father to Maria andLvcia,^
Doctor.
Apothecart,
Watchmen*
Porters.
Women.
Mart A, 0 chatte wittif Laiy, "j the
I to Row^^ linrDnughfei'S
two mtUcu-
LiviA, Miiiress to jRoi^J
landy J of }^etj oniun.
Bi A NCA, their Cousin, anddmmandci -in chief.
City Wives, , ^ who co le to the TeUijuf
Country Wives,) theLadtes.
Maids.
SCENE, London*
8S
ACT
i
i^ft
THE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAMT>. [Actl. 8oa»9^
MmLc you continual anvil to his anger !
Believe me, since his first wife set him going,
Nothing can bind liis rage : take your own
council ;
Yon shall not say that I perauaded yon.
But if you suffer him—
Maria. Stay ! shall I do*t?
Bianca, Have you a stomach to't?
Maria. I never sliew'd it. [stronger^ in yon.
Bianca^ Till shew tlie rarer and the
But do not say I urg'd yon.
Maria, I am perfect. rieap'd
Like CurtiuSy to redeem my country, have I
Into this gulph of marriage ; and I'll do it.
Farewell, all poorer thoughts, but spite and
auger, [cousin,
Till I have wrought a nrfracle! — Now,
I am no more the gentle, tame Maria :
Mistake me not; I have a new soul in me,
Made of a north-wind, nothing but tempest;
And, like a tempest, shall it make all ruins.
Till I have run my vvill out !
Bitmca. This is brave nOw, [you !
If you continue it: but, your awn will lead
JlfarM. Adieu, all tenderness ! I dare con-
tinue, [blushes,
Maids that are made of fears, and modest
View me, and love example !
Bianca. Here's your sister.
Maria. Here's the brave old man*s love—
Bianca. That loves the young man.
Maria. Ay, and hold thee there, wench !
What a grief of heart is't, [night,
When Paphos* revels should up-rouse old
To sweat against a cork, to lie and tell
Tlie clock o' th' lungs, to rise sport-starv'd ?
Hvia. Dear sister,
Where have you been, you talk thus?
Maria, Why, at church, wench ; [now.
Where I am tied to talk thps: I'm a wife
Uvia. It seems so, and a modest I
Maria. You're an ass !
When thoa art married once, thy modesty
Will never buy thee pins.
Lroia. 'Bless me !
Maria. From what? [sin Livia !
Binnca, From such a tame fool as our con-
Livia, You are not mad ?
Maria. Yet, wemoby and so mast yoa h^
Or none of our acqiiaiatunce (mm mc^
Dvia),
Or indeed fit for our set^ Tis bed-time :
Pardon me, yellow Hymen, that I meaa
Thine offerings to protract, or to keep fasting
My valiant bridegroom !
Livia. Whither will this woman ?
Bianca. You may perceive her end.
Livia. Or rather fear it.
Maria. Dare you be partner ia't ?
Livia. Leave it, Maria ! [leave it f
(I fear I've mark'd too much) for goodnesty
Divest you with pbedient hands ; to-bed !
Maria. To bed? No, livia; there are co«
mets hang
Prodigious oyer that yet ; there's a fellow
Must yet, before I know that heat (ne'er
start, wench),
Be niacle a man, for yet he is a monster;
Here myst his head be, Livia.
Livia. Never hope it: [as
'Tis as easy with a sieve to scoop the oceao^
To tame Petruchi(<
Maria, Stay! — Lucina, hear me!
Never unlock the treasure of my womb.
For human iruit to make it capable;
Nor never with thy secret hand make brief
A mother's labour to me ; if I do
Give way unto my married husl^and's will.
Or be a wife in any thing but hopes,
Till I have made him easy as a child.
And time as fear ! (He shall not win a smile.
Or a pleas'd look, from this aosterity,
Tho' It would pull another jointure from bim.
And make him ev'ry day another man)
And wlien I kiss him, till I have my wiH,
May I be barren of delights, and know
Onfy what pleasures are in dreamsand guesses!
Livia. A strange exordium !
Bianca. All the several wrongs
Done by imperious husbands to their wires
These thousand years and up wards,screngthen
Thou hast a brave cause. [thee!
Maria. And I'll do it bravely;
Or may I knit my life out ever after !
Livia. In what part of the world^ got she
this spirit?
* Stronger.l Synmson would read ttranger* ^
^ In what part of the ioorld.'\ These six subsequent lines seem almost all misplaeed. As
they now stand, part of the sentence is intennixt witli the parenthesis, and makes a pareii*
ihesis to the parenthesis. I read the whole thus:
Xiria. In what part of the world got she this spirit?
Which yet I cannot think your own, it shews
So distant from your sweetness
Jfcfarta.Tis, I svvear.
Livia. Yet pray, Maria, look before yon tmly.
Besides the due obedience of a wife,
(Which ^ou will find a heavy imputation)
Weigh but the, &c.
I have inserted an adjective in the fifth line, which seems to have been drop'd by accident f
it is necessary to the measure, natural to the expression, and is used in the same manner in
another part of the play. Seward.
We see no need of transposition s die construction is not more violent than many otiier
passages of these plays, undoubtediygenuine. . Yet-
Jmi^ Sctne 9.] THE WOMAN^ PRIZE; OB, THE TAMER TAM'D.
18S
Tel Mjy Mam, look before you trnly !
Beiiaes die disobedieace of a wifely
(Which you will iind a heavy imputatioQ,
Which yeticaooot think your own) it shews
$0 distant Ihun your sweetness —
JfofM. Tis, I swear, [hopes you have,
litUu Weigh but the person, and the
To work this desperate cure !
BiariBL A weaker subject [ence ?
Would fehame the end I aim at Disobedi-
Tott talk toe iameiy : by the fiuth I have
In mine own noble wiU, that childisli woman
13iat lives a prisoner to her husband s plea*
sure,
fias lost her nuikios;, and becomes a beast.
Created for his use, not fellowship i
lioia. His 6rBt wife said as much.
Maria. She was a tbol»
And took a scurvy course : let her be nam'd
^OBfstt those that wish Ibr thinzs. hut dare
I have a new daoce for him. ^ot do 'em :
Lhia, Are yoo of
This&ith?
Bianca. Yes, truly; and will die in't
Xivio. Why then.
Let's aU wear brt^eches ! [of a woman :
Mario. Now tlum com'st near the nature
Haag these tame-hearted eyasses', that no
sooner [hoUow,
See the lure out, and hear their husband's
But cry like kites upon 'em : the free ha^"
gard [knows it,
fWluch is that woman that hath wing, and
epiht and plume) will make an hundred
checks, ^
To shew her freedom, sail in evVy air.
And look out ev'ry pleasure, not regarding
Lore nor quarry uU her pitch command
What she desires; making her foundered
keeper
Be glad to Hing out trains, and golden ones,
Te take her down again.
Liwh Vou're learned, sister;
¥etl bay still, take lieed !
Maria. A witt^y saying !
FU tell thee, Livia, had this fellow tir'd
As many wives as horses under him,
With spurring of their patience; had he got
A patent, with an office to reclaim us,
Confirm'd by parliament; had ho all the ma-
And Sttbtilty of devils, or of us, [lice
0r any thing that's worse than both —
UvuL Hey, hey, boys! this is excellent !
Maria. Or could he ['em
G^t his wives new again, like bells, to make
Sound to his will ; or had the fearful name
Of the first breaker of wild women; yet.
Yet would 1 undertake this man, thus single.
And, spite of all the freedom he has reach'd
to, [him
Turn him and bend him as I list, and mould
Into a babe again, that aged women, [him.
Wiuiting both teeth and spleen, may master
Bianca, Thou >vilt be chronicled.
Maria. Tliat's all I aim at. [heart
Livia* I must confess I do with all my
Hate an im{>erious husband, and in time
Might be so wrought upos^--
iianca. To make him cuckold ?
Maria. If he deserve it.
Livia. Tlien I'll leave ye'^ ladies.
Bianco. Thou liast not so much noble aiir
ger in thee. [to de
Maria. Go sleep, go sleep ! What we intend
Lies not for such starv'd souls as thou hast,
Livia. [be with you presently.
' Livia, Good night ! The bridegroom wiU
Maria, That's more than you know*
Livia, If you work upon him
As ^ou liave promis'd, you may give example,
Wmch no doubt will be follow'd. .
Maria, So!
Bianca, Good night !
We'll trouble you no further. [harm!
Maria. If you intend no good, pray do no
Livia. None, but pray for you ! [-S-i'^*'*
Bianca, Cheer, wench !
Maria, Now Bianca, [height !
Those wits we liave, let's wind them to the
My rest is up, wench, and I pull for that
Will make me ever famous. They tliat lay
Foundations arc lialf-builderB^ all men say.
Enter Jaques.
Jaques, My master, forsooth —
Maria. Oh, how does thy master?
Prithee commend me to him.
Ja^urs. Howisthis?
My master stays, forsooth-^
'Maria, Why, let him stay!
Who hinders him, forsooth ? •
Jaques. The revel's ended now.--»
To visit yoo.
Maria. I am not sick.
Jaques. I mean
To see his chamber, forsooth.
* Besides the obedience of a wife.'] We read, <2tiobedience, which Marians answer cer-
tainly confirms. Again, abediencCy or, as Seward would read, due obedience, is no heavy
if^iaiiony but disobedience is ; and supplies the syllable required by Seward to complete
the measure, and, what is of more consequeoce, agrees with the sense of the context. We
oi^ht to observe, that we have altered the stops. The text in Maria's speech used to stand
tiws;
" A weaker subject
Would shame the end I aim at, disobedience.
You talk too tamely.
I B^ass4s.\ Eyessy a (waterjf^yed) hawk brought up under a kite. CfMs Diet, 16Tr.
!^ Then I'll htm ye.] Probably we should md, tkne TU leave ye.
Marw^
IStf
THE WOMAN'S PRIZE; aR> THE TAMER TAM^H. [Act 1. SceseS.
Maria. Am I his groom P
Where lay he last night, forsooth ?
Jaques, In the low matted parlour.
Miiria» There lies his^vay, by the long gal-
lery. [v^T merry, mistress.
Jagues. I mean yonr chamber. You are
Maria, 'Tis a good sign I am sound-heart-
ed, Jaques.
But, if YOu*li know where I lie, follow roe ;
And what thou seest, deliver to thy master.
Bianca, Do, gentle Jaques. lExeunt,
Jaaues^ Ha! is the wind in that door?
By'r lady, we sliall have foul weather then I
I do not like the shuffling of these women;
Tliey are mad beasts, when they knock their
heads together: [pers
I have observ*d them all this day, their whi&-
One in another's ear ; their signs and pinches,
And breaking often into violent laugnters.
As if the end they purpos'd were their own.
Call you this wcddmgsf Sure this is a kna-
yefy,
A veiy trick, and dainty knavery;
Marvellous finely carried, that's the comfort
What would these women do in ways of ho-
nour, [sir
That are such masters this way ? Well, ray
Has been as good at finding out these toys
As any living: if he lose it now.
At his own peril be it ! I must follow.
[Exit.
SCENE in.
jSiter Seroanti with Lights, Petrvchio, Pe-
tronius, Moroso, Tranio, and Sophocles.
Petru. You that are married, gentlemen.
For a round wager now ! [have at ye,
Soph. Of this night's staged
Petru. Yes.
Soph. I s^n your first man: a pair of gloves
Of twenty shillings.
Petru. Done ! Who takes me up next?
I am for all bets. [night now,
Mor. Well, lusty Lawrence, were but my
Old as I ton, Pd make you clap on spurs,
But I would reach you, and bnng you to your
I would, gallants. [trot too;
Petru, Well said. Good-will; but where's
thestafF, boy", ha?
Old father Time, your hour-glass is empty.
3>a. A good tough train would break thee
all to pieces; [ers.
Thou hast not breath enough to say thy pray-
Petron. See how these boys despise us!^-
Will ^ou to bed, son ?
This pnde will have a fall.
Petru. Upon your daughter;
But I shall rise again, if there be truth
In eggs, and butter'd parsnips. [talking?
Petron. Will you to bed, son, and leave
To-morrow morning we shall have you look '*,
Por all your great words, like St. Georee at
Kingston, [S^^
Running a foot-back from the furious dra-
That with her angry tail belabours him
For being lazy. [quench'd—
Tra. His courage quepch'd, aad so fiur
Petru. Tis wel^ sir.
What tlien?
Soph. Fly, fly. quoth then the fiearful dwarf;
Here is no place for living man.
Petru. Well, my masters, if I
Do sink under my business, as I find
^is very possible, I am not the first
That has miscarried ; so that's mv comfort;
What may be done without impeacn or waste,
Enter Jagues.
I can and will do. How now !
Is my fair bride a^bed?
Jagues. No truly, sir. fap
Petron. Not a-bedyet? Body o'me, we'll
And rifie her ! Here's a coil with a maiden*
Tis not entailed, is it? [head !
Petru. If it be,
rU try all the law iW land, butnicutito£
Letfs up, let's up; come!
Jagues. That you cannot neither.
Petru. Whv? [ney
Jaques. Unless you will drop thro' the chim-
Like a daw, or force a breach i'th' windows;
You may untile the house, 'tis possible*
Petru. What dost thou mean? [press it:
Jagues. A moral, sir; tlie ballad will ex-
The wind and tlie rain
Have tum'd you back again.
And you cannot be lodged there.
The truth IS, all the doors are barricadoed ;
Not a cat-hole, but holds a murd'rer in't :
She's victuall'd for this month.
" Whereas the staff boy, ha f] Tho' I take no pleasure in the raking into a dunghill, yet
the amending of passages to the honour of our author's good sense, whether innocent or ob-
scene, is the duty of every careful editor; for staff, therefore, I propose reading ituff, and
the following line seems to confirm the aitelration:
■ but where's the stuff hoy, ha?
Old father Time, your hour-glass u empty. Sympson*
We think Sympson might have left the staff" alone.
** Will you to bed, son, and leave talking? '
To-morrow morning we shall h^rve you look.
For all your great words — ] The gravity of the speaker, old P^tronius, made me sus-
' picious that, For all your greats &c. must belong to Sophocles : and if they won't come more
decently, yet certainly they will flow more properly from his than the old gentleman's mouth*
Mr. Seward too advaoc'd the same alteration, altho'I have not dar'd to disturb (he text.
, Syfjjwnu
Act 1. Scene S.] TffE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAM'D.
IM
Peiru. Art not thou drunk ? [let*9 up.
&»pA. He*s drank, he*s(lrunk! Come, come;
Jaquet. Yes, yes, [tlemen;
I am drank! Yemaygo^up, ve may, gen-
Bot take heed td your Iwads : I say no more.
Soph, ni try that. [Exit.
Petron. How dost thou say? the door fast
lock'd, fellonr? [guarded too ;
Jaquei, Yes, truly, sir, 'tis lock'd, and
And two as desperate tongues planted be-
hind it, [honours.
As e*er yet batter'd : they stand upon their
And won't ^ve up without strange compo-
sition,
I will assure you ; marching away with
Tlieif pieces cock'd, and bullets in their
Will not satisfy them. [mouths,
Petru. How's this? how's this?
2Ware? Is there another with her?
Jaquet, Yes, marry is there, and an en-
gineer.
Mot, Who's that, for Heaven's sake?
Jaquet, Colonel Bianca; she commands
the works ; [half-moon !
Spinola's but a ditcher to her '^. There is a
rm but a poor man, but if you'll give me leave,
III venture a gear's wages, draw all your
. force before it.
And mount your ablest piece of battery.
You shall not enter it these three niglits yet.
Enter Sophoclet.
Petru. I should laugh at that, good Jaques.
&p4. Beat back again !
She's fortified for ever.
Jaquet. Am I drunk now, sir ? [be cool'd.
&pA. He that dares most, go up now, and
I We scap*d a pretty scouring.
Petru. Wha^ are they imui? have we
another Bedlam?
Tbey do not talk, I hope?
Soph. Oh, terribly,
Extremely fearful ; the noise at London^bridge
Is nothing near her.
Petru. How got slie tongue?
&pA. As you got tail: she was bom to't.
Petru. Lock'd out a-doors, and on my wed-
ding-night?
Nay, anf suffer this, I may go graze.
Come, gentlemen, I'll batter. Are these vir-
tues? [as I %vas:
&pA. Do, and be beaten off with shame,
I went up, came to th' dpur, knock'd, nobody
Answer'o ; knock'd louder, yet heard notliing;
would have [work
Broke in by force; when suddenly A water-
Flew from the window with sucli violence,
That, had I not duck'd quickly like a friar,
'^ SpinoU's hut a ditcher to her^ The mnrquis of Spinola, who was commander in chief at
tbe sim of 0»tend, mentioned above. JR.
'^ A mere Ostend, ifc.l Alluding to the remarkable siege of Ottetkd^ which held hoot the
6th of July 1601, to the 8th of September 1604, three years and ton weeks. Sei^ ^ A true
' history of the memorable sieg^ of Ottendy and what passed on either side from the begin-
' BiQ^ of the siq» onto the yielding op of the town«' 4to. 1604»
VOL.IIL T Jlforia.
Catera quit neteit f
The chamber's nothing but a mere Ostend'*;
In every window pewter cannons mounted,
Youll quickly find with what they are charg'd,
sir.
Petru. Why, then, tantara for os !
Soph. And all the lower works lin'd sure
with small shot. [score blank
Long tongues with firelocks, that at twelve-
Hit to the heart. Now, an ye dare go up—
Enter Maria and Bianca abofoe.
Mor. The window opens! Beat a parley
first.
I am so much amaz'd, my very hair stands.
Petron. Why, how now, daughter? What,
intrench'd?
Maria. A little guarded for my safety, ur.
Petru. For your safety, sweetheart? Why,
who offends you?
I come not to use violence.
Maria. I think
You cannot, sir; I'm better fortified.
Petru. I know your end ; you would fiun
reprieve your maiden-head
A night, or two.
Mtria, Yes, or ten, or twenty,
Or say an hundred; or, indeed, till I list lie
with you. [sent hour
Soph. That's a shrewd saying ! From thispre-
I never will believe a silent woman;
When they break out they are bonfires.
Petron. Till you list lie with him ? WI7,
who are you, madam ?
Bianca. That trim gentleman's wife, sir.
Petru, Cry you mercy! do you command
too?
Maria, Yes, marry does she, and in chief.
Bianca. I do command, and you shall ga
witboutr^
I mean your wife, for this night.
Afaria. And for the next too, wench; and
so as't follows.
Petron. Thou wilt not, wilt 'a?
Maria, Yes, indeed, dear father;
And till he seal to what I shall set down.
For any thing I know, for ever.
Soph. Indeed these arc bug-words.
Tra. You hear, sir, she can talk, God be
thanked !
Petru. I would I heard it not, sir !
Sofh. I find that all the pity bestow'd opoa
this woman
Makes but an anagram of\an ill wife,
For she was never virtuous. [jesting.
Petru, You'll let me in, I hope, for all this
Maria, Hope still, sir.
Petron, You will come down, I am sure*
138
THE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAM'D. [Act 1. Scene 5.
Maria, I am sure I will not.
Petron, I'll fetch you then. [not, sir,
Bianca. Thepow'rof the whole county can-
Unless we please to yield; which ydt I think
We shall not: charge when you please, you
Hear quickly from us. [shall
Mor. Heaven bless me from
A chicken of thy hatching! Is this wiving?
Petru. Prithee, Maria, tell me what's the
reason, [with roe?
And do it freely, you deal thus strangely
You were not forc'd to marry; your consent
Went equally with mine, if not before it:
I hope you do not doubt I want that mettle
A man should have/to keep a woman waking;
I would be sorry to be such a saint yet :
My person, as it is not excellent, [physick,
So 'tis not old, nor lame, nor weak with
Bat <well enough to please an honest woman.
That keeps her house, and loves her husband.
Maria, HTis so. [no shamers
Petru. My means and my conditions are
Of him that owes 'em, (all die world knows
that)
And my friends no reliers on my fortunes.
Maria, All this I believe, and none of all
these parcels
I dare except against; nav more, so far
I am from making these the ends I aim at,
These idle outward things, these women's
fears,
That, were I yet unmarried, free to chuse
Thro' all the tribes of man^ Fll take Petru-
chio [pn^t,
In's shirt, with one ten groats to pay the
Before tlie best man living, or the ablest
That e'er leap'd outoflAucashire; and they
are right ones. [stand prating
Petron. Why do you play the fool then,«md
Out of the window, like a broken miller ?
Petru, If you will have me credit you, Ma-
ria,
Come down, and let your love confirm it.
Maria, Stay
There, sir ; that bargain's yet to make.
Bianca. Play sure, wench !
The pack's in thine own hand.
Soph, Let me die lousy, [very
If these two wenches be not brewing kna-
To stock a kingdom !
Petru, Why, this is a riddle;
I love you, and I love you not.
Maria, It is so ;
And till your own experience do unty it.
This distance I must keep.
Petru, If you talk more,
I'm angry, very angry !
Maria, I'm glad on't, and I Ifvill talk.
Petru, Prithee, peace ! [woman,
Let me not think thon'rt "mad. I tell thee.
If thou goest forward, I am still Petruchio.
Maria, And I am worse, a woman that
can fear
Neither Petruchio Furius, nor his fame,
Nor any tlnng that tends to our allegiance s f
There's a short method for you; now you
know me.
Petru. If you can carry 't so, 'tis very y^elL
Bianco^ No, you shall carry*t, sir.
Pe^r«« Peace, gentle low-bell!
Petron, Use no more words, but come
down instantly ;
I charge tliee, by the duty of a child !
Petru, Prithee come, Maria! I foreive all.
Marin, Stay there ! That duty, that yon
charge me by
(If you consider truly what you say)
Is now another man s; you gave't away
I' th' church, if you remember, to my husband ;
So all you can exact now, is no more
But only a due reverence to your person, .
Which thus I pay: your blessing, and I*m
To bed for this night. [g«"e
Petron, This is monstrous ! [devil.
That blessing that St. Dunstan gave the
If I were near thee, I would eive thee, whore;
Pull thee down by tb' nose !
Bianca, Saints should not rave, sir:
A little rhubarb now were excellent.
Petru, Tlien, by that duty you owe to me,
Maria,
Open the door, and be obedient !
I'm quiet yet
Maria, I do confess that duty:
Make your best on't.
Petru. Why, give me leave, I will,
Bianca, Sir, there's no learning
An old stiff jade to trot; you know the moral.
Maria, Yet, as I take it, sir, I owe no more
Than you owe back again.
Petru, You will not article ?
All I owe, presently (let me but up) III pay.
Maria„ You are too hot, and such prove
jades at length. [you again,
You' do confess a duty, or respect to me fron^
That's very near, or full the same with mine r
Petru, Yes. . [wlnit
Maria, Then, b}r that duty, or respect, t»r
You please to have it, go to bed and leave me,
yVnd trouble me no longer with your fooling;
For Jt now, I am not for you.
Petru, Well, what remedy?
Petron. A fine smart cudgel. Oh, that I
were near thee ! [were we in !
Bianca, If you had teeth now, what a case
Mor, These are the most authentic rebels,
Tyrone, I ever heard of. [next
Maria, A week hence, or a fortnight, as
you bear you.
And as I find my will observ'd, I may,
W^ith intercession of some friends, be broaght
May be to kiss you ; and so quarterly
To pay a little rent by composition.
You understand me ?
' Soph, Thou, boy, thou!
Pelrtt. Well, [my comfort.
There are more maids than Maudlin; that's
Maria, Yes; and more men tlian Michael.
Petrti. I must not
To bed with this stomach, and no meat, lady.
Maria,
^ct 1. Scene 4.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OR, TUE TAMER TAM'D.
•139
Mark* Feed where you will^ so it be
sound and wholesome ;
Else, live at livery, for 111 none with you.
jBiaitca. Y' had best back one o'th' dairy
maids, tliey^U carry: [bruise else.
But take heed to your girths^ you'll get a
Petru. Now, if thdu wouldst come down,
and tender me .^ .
All the delights due tp a n|arni^e-bed ;
Study such kisses as wodd melt a man ;
And turn thyself into a thousand figures,
To add new flames unto me ; X would stand
Thus heavy, thus regardless, thus despising
Thee, and thy best ^lurings : all the beauty
Tbat*s laid upon your bodies, mark me
well,
(Far without doubt your minds are miserable,
You have no masks for them) all this rare
beauty,
JuBiy but the painter and the silk-worm by.
The doctor with his diets, and the tailor.
And you appear like ^a*d cats; not so
faaocl»ome. [us liither,
Maria, And we appear, like \\er that sent
That only excellent and beauteous nature,
Truly ourselves, for men to wonder at,
But too divine to handle : we are gold.
In our own natures pure; but when we suffer
The husband's stamp upon usy then allays.
And base ones, of you men, are mingled
with us,
And make us blush like copper !
Petru, Then, and never
Till tbeai, aie women to be spoken of;
For till that time you have no souls, I take it.
Good night I^-Come, gcndemen! I'll fast
for this night;
But, by this hand — Well, I shall come up yet !
Maria. No. [witlier'd jury;
Feiru. There will I watch thee hkc a
Thou shalt neither have meat, fire, nor
candle, [so soon ?
Nor any thing that's easy. Do you rebel
Yet tako mercy. [I'll assure you
Bianea. Put up your pipes; to bed, sir!
A month's siege will not shake us.
Mor, Well said, colonel !
Maria, To bed, to bed, Petruchio ! Good
night, gcndemen !
YouTl m^te mv father sick with sitting up.
Here you shau find us any time , these ten
ciays, [ment.
Unless we mav march off with otir content-
Petru. rUhane first!
Maria, And Vl\ quarter, if I do not !
Fll make you know, and fear a wife, Pe-
lliere my cause lies. [truchio ;
You have been famous for a woman -tamer.
And bear the feared name of a brave wife-
breaker : [and tame you.
A woman now shall take those honours off,
Nay, never look so big ! she shall, believe me.
And I am she! What tliink ^e? Good
Ye shall find centinels — [oig^^ ^ ^^*
Bianco, If ye dare sally. [^Exeunt fibovf..
Petron, The devil's in 'em, ev'n tlie very
The down-right devil ! [devij,
Petru, I'll devil 'em; by these ten bones,
I will !
ni bring't to th' old proverb, * No sporty no
pie.'
Pox ! taken down i'th' top of all my speed ^
This is fine dancing ! Gentlemen, stick to me :
You see our freehold's touch'd ; and, by this
light, [out,
We will beleaguer 'em, and either starve 'em
Or make 'em recreant. [about 'em.
Petron. I'll see all passages stopt, but those
If the good women of tlio town dare succour
We shall have wars indeed. r^n^i
Soph, I'll stand perdue upon 'era.
Mor, My regiment shall lie before.
Jaquet, I tliink so ;
•Tis grown too old to stand. [tackle !
Petru, Let's in, and each provide his
We'll fire 'em out, or make *em take their
pardons
(Uear what I say) on then- bare knees.
Am I Petruchio, fear'd, and spoken of,
And on my wedding-night am I thus jaded?
[Exeunt*
SCENE IV.
Enter Rowland and Pedro, at several doors,
Rowl. Now, Pedro f
Pedro, Very busy, master Rowland.
Roal. What haste, m^n?
Pedro, I beseech you pardon me,
I am not mine own man.
RoaL Thou art not mad?
Pedro, No ; but, believe me, as hasty-^
Rowl. The cause, good Pedro ?
Pedro, There be a thousand, sir. You
iW/. Not yet, [are not married ?
Pedro, Keep yourself quiet tlien.
Rowl. Why?
Pedro. You'll find a fiddle
That never will be tun'd else: from all
women — [Exit.
RowL What ails the fellow, tro ?-'Jaques?
Enter Jaques,
Jaques. Your friend, sir;
But very full of business.
Rowl. Nothing but business?
Prithee the reason ! Is there any dying ?
Jaques, I would there were, sir!
RowL But thy business ? [lay
.Jaques, I'll tell you in a word: I'm sent to
An imposition upon souse and puddings,
Pasties, and penny custards, that the women
May not relieve yon rebels. Fare you well,
Kowl, How does my mistress? r«ip f
Jaques. Like a resty jade;
She's spoil'd for riding.
Rowl. What a devil ail they?
Enter Sophocles,
Custards, and penny pasties, fools and fiddles'!
Wliat's this to th' purpose? — Oh, well met.
T3 Soph.
[sir!
[Exit.
140
THE WOMAN'S PBIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAM'D. [Acts. Scene 1.
S^ Now, Rowlfind }
I cannot stay to talk long.
R4noL What's the matter? [you?
Here s stirrin|, but to what end? Whither go
Soph, To view the works.
RowL What works?
Soph, The women's trenches.
liotBL Trenches? Are such to see?
iSqpA. I do not jest, sir.
Kowk I cannot understand you.
Soph, Don*t you hear
In what a state of quarrel the new bride
Stands with her husband ?
RowL Let him stand with her,
And there's an end.
Soph.- It should be; but, byV lady, [him.
She holds him out at pike's end, and aefies
And now is fortified. Such a reipment of
ratters
Never defied men braver : I nm sent
To view their preparation.
RowL This is news, [not
Stranger than armies in the air '^. You saw
My gentle mistress?
Soph. Yes, and meditating [found it.
Upon sproe secret business; when sli* had
5he lecp"^ for joy, and laugb*d, and straight
To shun Moroso. [retired
RowL-Thi9 may be for me.
Soph, Will you along ?
R(wL No.
Soph. Farewell! [Exit.
it 007/. Farewell, sir !^- ' [joy in't,
Wliat should her musing mean, and what her
If not for my advantage? Stay youl may not
Enter Idvia ot one door, and Moroso at
another, hearkening, ^
That bbbrta^l jade Moroso, with his gold,
His gew-gandes, and the ho|)e she has to
send him
Quickly to dust, excite tliis? Hers she comes;
And yonder walks the stallion to discover!
Yet 111 salute her. Save you, beauteous
mistress! [you^air!
lAvia, The fox is kennelj'd for me. — Save
Rowl, Why do you look so strange ?
Livia. I use to look, sir.
Without examination.
Mor, Twenty spur-ryals for that word !
Rowl, Belike then
The object discontents you ?
Livia. Yes, it does. [you not?
RowL Is't come to this? You know me, do
Livia, Yes^ as I may know many, by re-
pentance.
RowL Why do you break your faith ?
Livia, 111 tell you that too : [y^^'
YouVe under age, and no band liolds upon
Mor, Excellent wench !
Livia. Sue out your understanding,
And get more hair to cover your bare
knuckle ! [kisses)
(For boys were made for nothing but dry
And, if you can, more manners !
Mor, Better still ! [or stockings,
Livia, And tljen, if I want Spanish gloves,
A ten-pound waistcoat, or a nag to hunt on^
It may be I shdli erace you to accept *ein.
RowL Farewell! and when I credit ^o-
men more.
May I to Smithfield, and there buy a iadc
(And know him to be so) that breaks ray
neck ! [thus kind to you :
lAvia. Because IVe known you, V\i be
Farewell, and be a man ! and 1*11 provide you.
Because I see you're desperate, some staid
chambennaid, [doctrine.
That may relieve your youth with wnolesome
Mor, She's miue from all the world I —
Livia, Ha, chicken ! [Ha, wench !
\Give8 him a box on the ear; and exit.
Mor. How's this? I do not love these
favours.-— Save you !
RowL The devil take thee!
[Wrings him by the nose,
3for. Oh! [me now!
RowL There's a love-token for you; thank
Mor, I'll think on some of ye; and, if I
live.
My nose alone shall not he pla/d withal!
[Exit.
ACT 11.
SCENE I.
Enter Petronius and Moroso,
Petron. A BOX o'th' ear, d'you say?
■^^ Mor, Yes, sure, a sound one;
Beside my nose blown to myhnnd. [f Cupid
Shoot arrows of that weight, I'll swear de-
voutly,
H' has sued his liv'ry, and is no more a boy.
Petron, You gave lier some ill language?
Mor, Not a word.
Petron, Or might be you were fumbling?
Mor, 'Would! had, sir!
'H.id been aforehand then; but to be baffled,
And have no feeling of the cause —
Petron, Be patient; " [cure hfet.
I have a medic ine clapp'd to her back will
Mor, No, sure't must be afure, sir.
Than arms in the air.] Corrected in 1750«
Petron.
Acts. Scenes.] THE WOMAN?S PRIZE; OS, TBE TAHSK TJM1>.
ui
Petron. O' my oonscience.
When I got these two wcncl)e8(who till now
Ne'er sbew'd their riding) I was drunk with
bascard'^
Whose nature is to form things like itself.
Heady and monstrons. DM she slight him
too? [b^-hdrse
Mar, That's all my comfort! A mere hol^
She made child Rowland'^ : 'Sfoot, she would
not know him.
Not give him a ftee look, not reckon him
Among her thoi^bts, which I Jield more than
wof^r ; [him,
I having seen her withio*8 ihcee days kiss
With such an appNetite as tho' she'd oat him.
Petron. There is some trick in tlu^. How
did he take it? '
Mbr. Ready to cry, he ran away.
PetnuL I fear her :
And yet I tell you, ever to my anger
She is as tame as tnnooency. It may be
This blow was but a &vour.
Mor, 111 be sworn
7was well ded on then.
Peiron, Goto! pray forget it: [bouts
I have bespoke a priest, and within's two
ril have you marrira : will that please you ?
iMbr. Yes. [the lady
Petron, I'll see it done myself and give
Such a sound exhortation for this knavery,
111 warrant you, shall make her smeli this
month on't. «
Mor, Nay, good sir, be not vioLent« ^ .
PetroH, lieither — "^
Mor. It may be
Out of her earnest love there grew a longing
(As you know women have such toys) in
kindness.
To give me a box o'th* ear, or so.
Petron. It may be. [night then
Mor. I reckon for the best bdll. This
I shall enjoy her.
Petron. You shall handsel her. [fort
Mor, Old as I am, Fli give Iter one blow
Shall make her groan this twelvemonth.
Petron, Where's your jointure?
Mor, I have a jointure for her.
Petron. Have your council penxs'd it yet ?
Mor, No council but the night, and your
sweet daughter.
Shall e'er peruse that jointure.
Petron, Very well, sir.
Mor, ni no demurrers on% nor no rer
joinders.
Tlie other's ready seal'd.
Petron. Come then ; let's comfort
My son Petruchio : he's like little children
That lose their baubles, crying ripe.
Afor. Pray tell me.
Is this stem woman still upon the flaunt
Of bold defiance ?
^ Pptron. Still, and still she shall be,
Till she be ^tarv'd out: you shall see such
justice,
Tl^at women shall be dad, after this tempest,
To tie their husbands shoes, and walk their
horses. [bear the rumour P
Mor, That were a merry world !— D'you
Thev say the women are in insurrection^
And mean to make a*- •
Petron. Thevll sooner
Draw upon walls as we do. Let'em, let'em!
We'll ship 'em out in cuck-stooU; thert
theyllsail <
As brave Columbus did, till they discover
The happy islands of obedience*
We stay too long; come !
Mor, Now St. George be with us !
[Ex€unt.
SCENE n.
Enter Livia alone.
Livia. Now if I can but get in handsomely.
Father, I shall deceive you ; and this night.
For all your private plotting, 111 no wedlock:
I've shifted sail, and find my sister's safety
A sure retirement. Pray to Heav'n that.
Rowland
Do not believe too far what I said to him!
For yon old foxcase forc'dme; that's my
fear. [chio
Stay, let me see ! this quarter fierce Petru-
Keeps with his mynnidons: I must be sud«
den;
If lie seize on me, I can look for nothing
But martial4aw ; to this place have I scap'd
Above there! [hims
Enter Maria and Bianca above*
Maria. Qui va laf
JJvia. A fnend.
Bianca, Who are you ?
lAvia. Look out and know !
Maria. Alas, poor wench, who sent thee?
'^ Bflw^ori/.] A kind of sweet wine. Johnton.
'^ Child Biapkmd.\ * ChUd is frequently used by our old writers, as a title. It is repeat-
' edly given to prince Arthur in the Fairie Queen ; and the son of a kin^ is in the same
' poem called child Tristram (B. 5. c. 11. it. 8. 13.— B. 6. c. 2. st. 36.— Iibid. c. 8. st. 15.)
Mn an old ballad quoted in Shakespeare's King Lear, the h>ro of Ariosto is called child Ko^
* land, Mr. Theobald supposes this use of the word was received along with their romances
' from the Spaniards, with whom irifante signifies a prince. A more eminent critic tells us,
* that '< in the old times of chivalry, the noble youth, who were candidates for knighthoodj^
" during the time of their probation were called infans, varlets, damcyuU, bacheliers. The
"most noble of the youth were particularly called infans.'* (Vide Warburton's Shakespeare).
' A late commentatoV on Spenser observes, that the Saxon word cnihz, knight^ signifies also
' a eiild (Upton's Glossary to.F. Q.)' iSec Dr, Percys ReliqueSf vol. lii. p. 54.
What
146
THE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAM'D. [Acts. Scene S.
Wbat weak fool made thy toogiie bis ontbr?
I know yovL come to parley.
lAvia. You're deceived
Urg'd by cbe goodness of your Cftuse^ I come
To do as you do.
Maruu Yoa're too weak, too foolish.
To cheat us with your smoothness: don't we
Thofi hast been kept np tame? [know
Livia. Believe me !
Maria, No ; prithee, good livia.
Utter thy doqiience somewhere else*
Bianca, Good cousin, [Itte:
Put up 3ronr pipes; we are not for your pa<
Alas ! we know who sent you.
JUvia, O' my word — ^
Biunca. Stoy there; yon most not think
your word,
Or by yourmaidenheadyOrsttdiSunday oaths,
Sworn afler eveo-song, can tnrei^ie us
To loose our haud^ast: did their wisdoms
diink.
That sent you hither, we would he so foolish
To entertain our centk siiter Sinon'^,
And give her credit, while the wooden jade
Petnichio stole upon kw? No, good sister!
Go home, and tell the merry Greeks that
sent you,
Ilium shall bum, and I, aa did £neas,
Will on my back, spite of the myrmidons,
Carry this warlike lady, and thro' seas
Unknown, and unbeliev'd, seek out a land.
Where like a race of noble Amaaons
We'll root ourselves, and to our endless glory
lAve, and despise base men!
lAvia, I'll second you.
Bianco. How bng have you been thus?
Livia. That's all one, cousin;
I stand for freedom now.
Bianco. Take heed of lying!
For, by this light, if we do credit you,
And nnd you tripping, his infliction [sport
Thatkill'd the prince of Orange'*, will be
To what we purpose.
lAvia. Let me feel the heaviest !
Maria. Swear by thv sweetheart Rowland
(for by your maidenhead
I fear 'twill be too late to swear) you mean
*7 Sinan.] Sec Virgil's ^ncid. R.
■* That kill*d Ute prince of Orange.] This was Balthazar Gerard, who piurdered the prince
•f Orange at Delfl, on tlie 10th of July, 1584. The horrible punishments inflicted on this
miserable wretch are thus related by a writer who lived not very distant from the time in
which the transaction happened : ' Here first he had his right-hand with a hot yron seared
' and cut off, which did the deede, and cast into the fire : next of all, with fine hot pincers
* he had his flesh tome and pluckt off from sixe parts of his bodie, which' were most flcshie^
^ v». of his breast, armes, legs, and buttocks, and those cast into the fire ; and his body,
' beginning from the lower part, was with an axe chopt in peeces, his belly was ripped, his
* heart was pluckt out and cast at the villaine's face (yet in some life) and afterwards his
' liead, being chopt off, was with otlicr foare parts of his bodie, as armes and feete, set upon
' foare poles on foure turrits or ports of the citie, fastened upon a long pole set upon the
* turrit of the scheole house, on the back-side of the prince's lodging ; and whatsoever he
*■ had in his life-time about him was taken from him and given away.' A true Discourse
Historicall of the succeeding Governors in the Netherlands, and the Civil Warres titere be*
gun intheycere 1565, &c. 4to. 1602. B.L. p. 51. JR.
'^, Fcwt^rerJl A dog-keeper, or leader of a lime^hound, &c. Coles*$ Diet, 1677,
Bianco.
Nothing but fair and safe, and hoooorable
To us, and to yourself.
Iavio. I swear !
Bianca. Stay yet !
Swear as you hate Moroso (tliat's the surest).
And as you have a certain fear to find bim
Worse than a poor dried jack, full of more
aches
Than autumn has; more knavery and usury.
And foolery, and brokery, than do^<litch;
As you do constantly believe he's nothing
But an old empty bag witii a ^y beard.
And that beard such a bob-tail, that it looks
Worse than a mare's tail eaten ofi' with flies;
As you acknowledge, that young handsome
wench
That lies by such a Bilboa blside, that bends
With evry pass he makes, to th' hilts, most
miserable,
A dry-nurse to his coughs, a fewterer'^
To such a nasty fellow, a robb'd thing
Of all delights youth looks for; and, to end.
One cast away on coarse beef, bom to brash
That everlasting cassock that has worn
As many servants out, as Ui' North-east pas-
sage [truly,
Has consum'd sailors: if you swear this, and
W^itliont tlie reservation of a gown.
Or any mehtorious petticoat,
'Tis like we shall believe you.
Uvia, I do swear it ! [wholesome motion
Maria. Stay yet a little ! Came tliis
(Deal truly sister) from your own opinion.
Or some suggestion of the foe ?
Livia. Ncer fear me !
For, by that little faith I have in husbands,
And the great seal I bear your cause, I come
Full of that tiberty you stand for, sister !
Maria, If we beheve, and you prove re-
creant, Livia, V
Think what a maim you give the noble cause
We now stand up for! Think. what women
shall, [examples
An hundred years hence, speak thee, when
Are look'd for, and so great ones, whose re-
lations, [customs !
Spoke, as we do 'em, wench, shall make new.
Act«. Scene 4.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OR, THE TAMBR TAMD.
14S
1 Maid. Arm, aud be valiiuitl
S AfaidL Think of our cause!
3 Maid. Our justice!
1 Maid. Tift sufficient. [EstiiMt.
SCENE IV.
Enter Rowland and Tranio, at several doors,
Tta. Now, Rowland ?
RowL How do you ?
TVo. How dost thou, man ?
Thou look'st ill.
RowL Yes. Pray can you tell me> Tranio^
Who knew the devil first?
Tra. A woman.
Rowl. So.
Were thev not well acquainted ?
IVa. May be so,
For they had certain dialogues tc^ther.
RowL He sold her fruit, I take it?
Tra. Yes, and cheese
That choakM all mankind after.
RowL Canst thou tell me
Whether that woman ever had a faith,
Afterxsh' had eaten ?
IVo. That is a schoolrquestifm.
RowL No, 'tis no question; for believe
me, Tranio, [her
That cold fruit, after eatine, bred nought in
But windy promises, and cholick vows,
Tliat broke out both ways. Thou hast heard
Fm sure
Of Esculapitts, a iiuviam'd surgeon.
One that could set together quartered traitors,
And make 'em honest men.
2Va. How dost thou, Rowland? ,[cure
RowL liet him but cake (if he dare do a
Shall get him fame indeed) a Pithless woman,
(Tliere will be credit for turn, that will speak
bim^
A broken woman, Tranio, a base woman.
And if he can cure such a wreck of honour.
Let him come here, and practise !
Tra. Now, for honour's sake.
Why, what ail'st thou, Rowland?
KowL I am ridden, Tranio,
And spur-gall'd to the life of patience,
(Heaven keep my wits together!) by a thing
Our worst tnoughts are too noble for, a wo-
man. [''"^y ^ ^
3Va. Your mistress has a little frown'd, it
RowL She was my mistress.
jEVa. Is she not?
RowL No, Tranio:
Sh* has done me such disgrace, so spitafiilly.
So like a woman bent to my oudoing,
That henoeibrth a good horse shall be my
mistress, [her,
A good sword, or a book. And if you see
Tell her, I do beseech you, even for love's
sake —
Tra. I will, Rowland.* [thought her,
RowL She may sooner cooiit the good I've
*^ Ok, Vit a fearful office.] If the measure did not greatly reclaim against it, I should
Wre read offkncc Sjpnp$on.
Our
Bianea. If yon be false, repent, go home,
and pray.
And to the serious women of the city
Confess yourself; bring not a sin so heinous
To load thy soul to this place. Mark me,
livia; [nours,
If thoa be'^t double, and betra/st our ho-
And we fail in our purpose, get thee where
There is no women living, nor no hope
There ever shall be!
JfoTM. If a mother^s daughter, [band.
That ever heard the name of stubborn hns-
Find thee, and know thy sin —
Bianca, Nay, if old 'age,
One that has worn away the name of woman,
And no more left to know her by but railing.
No teeth, nor eyes, nor legs, but wooden
ones, [smell thee.
Come but i' th' windward of thee, sore slie*ll
Thou'lt be so rank ; she'll ride thee like a
night-mare.
And say her prayers backward to undo thee;
Shell curse thy meat and drink, and, when
thou marriest.
Clap a sound spell for ever on thy pleasures.
Maria, ChiMren of five year old, like
litde fairies,
, Will pinch thee into motley ; all that ever
Shall live, and liear of thee, I mean all wo-
men.
Will (like so many furies) shake their keys.
And toss their flaming distaf&o'er their h^s,
Crying, revenge! Take heed; 'tis hideous,
01^ *tis a fearful office^^ ! If thou badst
(Tbo* thou be*st perfect now) when thou
cam'st hither
A false imagination, get thee ^ne,
And, as my* learned cousin swd, repent!
Tfiis place is sought by soundness.
Livia. So I seek it.
Or let me be a most despised example !
Maria. I do believe thee ; be thou worthy
You come not empty ? [of it \
livia. No, here's cakes and cold meat,
And tripe of proof; behold, here's- wine and
beer!
Be sudden, I shall be surprized else.
Maria. Meet at the low parloor«door;
there lies a close way ;
What fond obedienee vou have living in you,
Or duty to a man, before yon enter
Ring it away; 'twill but defile our offerings.
S^jdca. Be wary a» yon come.
liTM.^ I warrant you. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter three Maids.
1 Maid. How goes your business, giris^
S Maid. A-foot, and fair. [strength !
3 Maid. If fortune favour m. Away to your
Jbe country forces are arriv'd. Be gone!
We are discovered else.
144
THE WOMAN'S PRtZE; OR, THE TAMER TAMD. [Act«. Sceoel
Oor old love and our friendship,
Shed one true tear, mean one hour constantly,
Be old and honest, married and a maid^
Than make me see her more, or more be-
lieve her: • [sir!
And now Tvc met a messenger, farewell,
[Exit,
Tra. Alas, poor Rowland ! I will do it for
thee.
This is that dofc Moroso; hut I hope [her.
To see him cold i'th' mouth first, ere he enjoys
ni watch this young man; desperate thoughts
may seize lum,
And, if my purse or counsel can, FUease him.
[Exit.
SCENE V.
Enter Pttruchio, FetroniuSf Moroso, and So^
phoclct,
Petru. For, look you, gentlemen, say that
I grant her,
Out of my firee and liberal love, a pardon,
Which you and all men else know, she de-
^ serves not, [ing?
(Iieneatisamiei^CBn all the world leairelaugh-
Petron, I thmk not.
Petru, No, by Heaven, they cannot!
For pray coiftider, have you ever read.
Or heaixi of, or can any man imagine.
So stiff a Ton»-boy, of so set a malice.
And such a bra2en resolution, [me!
As this voung crab-tree? and then answer
And mark but this too, friends, without a
cause,
Not a foul word come cross her, not a fear
Slie justly can take hold on ; and d'ye think
I must sleep out my anger, and endure it.
Sow pillows to her ease, and lull her mischief?
Give me a spindle first ! No, no, my masters.
Were she as fair as NeU-a-Greece, and
housewife [still,
As good as the wise sailor's wife, and young
Never above fifteen, and these tricks to it,
She should ride the wild mare once a-week,
she should,
Believe me friends, she should ! I'd tabor her,
^ill all the legions tlmt are crept into her.
Flew out with fire i*th* tails.
iScpA. Methinks you err now;
For to me seems, a little sufferance
Were a far surer, cure.
Petru. Yes, I can suffer, [ment.
Where I see promises of peace and amend-
Mur, Give her a few conditions.
Petru. rU be hang'd first!
Petron. Give her a crab-tree cudgel! -
Petru. So I wiU;
And after it a flock-bed for her bones.
And hard eggs, till they brace herlik^a
She shall be pamper'd with ; [tl
She shall not know a stool in ten montliS,gci
Soph. This must not be.
Enter Jaquet.
Jagues. Ann, arm! outwith your weapon
For all the women in the kingdom's on
Enter Pedro.
They swarm like wasps, tod nothii^ can i
stroy 'era, [ofa
But stopping of their hive, and smotb'fi^
Pedro. Stand to your guard, sir! all
devils extant
Are broke upon us like a cloud of thuni
There are more women marchii^ hithen
In rescue of my mistress, than e^r turned
At Sturbridge-fair, and I believe as fiery.
Jagues. The forlorn-hope's led by a
ner's wife,
(I know her bv her hide) a desp'rate w< ^
She flea'd her husband in her youth, and made
Reins of his hide, to ride the parish. Tabi
'em all together, |
They are a genealocy of jennets, gotten
And born thus> by tlie boisterous breath of J
husbands; [cai»ioD i
They serve sure^', and are swift to catch oo
(I mean their foes or husba&nds) by the fore-
locks, [can,
And there they hang like favours; cry they
But more for noble spite than fear : and cry-
ing
Like the old giants that were foes to Heaven,
They heave ye stool on stool, and fUog^maio
pot-lids
Like massy rocks, dart ladles, toasting irons^*,
And tongs like thunderbolts, till overlaid.
They fall beneath the weight; yet still aspi^
ine [tame 'em,
At those imperious codslieads^^ that^ would
There's ne*er a one of these, the worst and
weakest, [raisings
(Chuse where you will) but dare atteoapt the
Against the sovereign peace of Puritims,
A May-pole and a niorris, maugre mainly
Their zeal, and dudgeonrdaggers: and yet
more, - ['em.
Dares plant a stand of batf ring ale tkgainst
And drink 'em out o* tlf parish.
Soph. Lo, you, fierce
Petruchio! this conies of your impatience.
Pedro. There's one brought in tb« beai^
asainst the canons
Of tne town, made it good, and fought *em«
Jagues. Aiioth^r, to her everlasting fimie,
erected
** Serve sure.] i. e. observe sure. Sifrnpson*
** Dart ladles, tossing irons.} What sort of irons these tossing irons are is a secret to roe;
the corruption has however been fix'd here ever since the year 1647, and if I conjecture right,
the original lection might have been,
• toating irons. Sympson.
I* Codsheads.] So firal folio; other tduiont, godheads.
Two
tt^8.9ceM6.] THE WOMAN^ PSIZE; OH, THE TAMEB TAMD.
145
riiJ|*o ale-bcMMeft of ease, the quvter aessions
ttuliBi]^ i^Qst her rouiully; in which biit-
^Twoofthe diBannoUersIost their nicht-caps;
tA third stood excommunicate by th ciidgel ,
[The constable^ to her eternal glory, [victor.
rilDniiik hard, and was converted, and she
viv Pedro, Then are they victualled with pies
and puddings,
(The trappinjipi of good stomnclis) noble nle,
%3^f(rhe true d«&nder), sausages^ and smoakM
ones,
iss: If need be, sach as serve for pikes ; and perk,
tl k (Better the Jews ne'er Imted; here and there
A bottle of metheglin, a stout Britain
^ That will stand to 'em ;
k* What ekie they want, thef war for.
in: Pttru. Come to council! [the kii^om
98" SbpA. Now you must eraut conditions, or
jii Will have no other talk but this.
Peinm, Away, then,
^ And let's advise the best!
a . &mk. Why do you tremble? [o' tli' head
i* Mor. Have I liv'd thus long to be knockt
With half a washing-beetle? Pmy be wise,
5 sir. [it is, I know not.
ar POru. Come ; something FU do ; but what
c^ Soph. To council then, and let's avoid
J their follies I
Hi .Guard ail the doon, or we shaVt have a
j\ cloak left. [Exeunt.
SCENE VL
Entir Petrimim^ Petruchio^ Moro$Of Sopho-
cia, muL Tranio,
Petron, I am indiff 'rent, tho' I must coat
I had rather see her carted. [fess
Tn, No more of that, sir.
Soph. Are ye resolVtl to give her fair con*
^wji be the safest way. [ditions ?
P<tru. I am distracted !
^ould I had ran my head into a halter
»i When I first woo'd her! If I offer peace,
fibell urge her own conditions; that's the
Soph. Why, say she do? [deviL
Pttrth Say, I am made an ass then I
I know her aim: may I with reputntion,
(Answer roe this) with safety of mine honour.
After the mighty manage of my first wife,
Which was indeed a fury to this filly,
After my twelve strong (abours to reclaim her.
Which would have made don Hercules hom-
And UA him in his bide, suffer this Cicely,
^ she have warmed my sheets, ere grappled
' with me.
Tliis pink, this painted foist, this cockle-boar^
To hang her fii^hts out'"*^, and defy me, friends,
A well-known man of war? If this beequal.
And I may suffer, sav* and I have done.
Petron. I do not think you aiay.
jTra. You'il make it worse, sir.
Soph, Pray hear me, good Petruchio. But
e*en now
You were contented to give all conditions,
To try how far she'd carry: Tis a foiiy
(And you will fiad it so) to clap tlie cui'b on,
Kre you he sure it proves a natural wiidue^s^
And not a forc'd. Give her condi tious ;
For, on my life, this trick is put into her-^
Petron. I should believe so too.
Soph. And not her own.
Tra. You'll find it so.
Soph. Tlieii, if she flounder with you.
Clap spurs on; and in this you*ll deal with
temperance;
Avoid tlie hurry of the world-—
Tra. And lose— [Muiick ubave^
Mor. No honour, on my life, sir.
Fetru. I will do it
Petron. It seems they're very merry.
Enter Jaqua.
Petru. Why, God hold it !
Mor, Now, Jaques?
Jaquet. They are T th* flaunt, sir.
Soph. Yes, we hear 'em.
Jo^ue*. They have got a stick of fiddles,
* and they firk it
In wondrous ways: two grand capitanos
(They brought the auxiliary regiments)
Dance with their coats tuck'd up to their
» bare breeches, [burden.
And bid the kingdom kiss 'em; that's the
IMiev've got the metheglm, and audacious ale.
And talk like tyrants.
Petron, How know'st thou?
Jaques. I peep'd in
At a loose laiisket.
Tru. Hurkl
Petron. A song ! Pray silence.
SONG.
A health for all this day.
To the woman that bears the sway,
And wear the breeches ;
Let It come, let it come.
•Let this health be a seal,
For tlie good o' th' common-weal,
\ The woman shal I wear the breeches !
Let's drink then and lauL'h it,
And merrily, merrily quail* it,
^ lb hang her fights out] This expression, which is to be met with in Shakespeare as well
•• our authors, inchnes m^ to think, that a passage in act iv. scene '2. of The Captain, whicli
nnstfaus, y r >
1 Bay. Does he (contain) bear op still ?
« Ay. A&rc the wind still with his hghts np hmvely;
woM be read in this sort,
^ ^ 8 Boy. Afi>re the wind still with his Jightt up bravely;
17^ ^r£ '^"'^^^A ^ ^ Deer's bet^r judgQieoL Syn^w^
U And
VCM^UI.
S46.
THE WOMAN^ PRIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAWD. [Act«. Scene 4
And tipple, iuid tipple a round t
Here's to thy fool.
And to my fool ;
Come, to all fools,
Tho' it cost us, wench, many a pound.
Mor. They look out.
[All the Women above, Citizeru and
Country Women,
Petru. Good eVn, ladies !
Maria. Good you good ev*!!, dr!
Petru, How have you slept to-night?
Maria. Exceeding well, sir.
Petru. Did you not wish me with you?
. Maria. No, bclicre me,
I never thought upon you.
Coun. Is that he?
Bianco. Yes.
Coun. Sir.
Soph. She has drank hard 9 mark her hood.
Coun. You are —
Soph. Learnedly drunk, 111 hang else. Let
her utter. [friend,
Coun. And I must tell you^ viva voce,
A very foolish fellow.
Tra, There's an ale-figure.
Petru. I thank ^ou, Susan Brotes.
Cit. Forward, sister. [woman,
Coun. You have espoused here a hearty
A comely, and courageous—
Petru. Well, I liave so. [damsels,
Coun, And, to tlie comfort of distressed
Women out- worn in wedlock, and such ve^y-
This woman has defied you. [scls,
Petru. It should seem so.
Coun. And why?
Petru. Yes, can you tell?
Coun. "For tliirtcen causes.
Petru. Pray, by your patience, mistress—
tut. Forward, sister!
Petru. Do you mean to treat of all these?
Cit. Who shall let ber*^ ? [not now
Petron. Do you hear, velvet-hood ?wecome
To hear your doctrine.
Coun. For the first, I take it.
It doth divide itself into seven branches.
Petru. Hark you, good Maria,
Have you got a catechiser here ?
Tra. Good zeal ! [peace,
Soph. Goodthrec-piTd predication^ will you
And hear the cause we come for ?
Coun. Yes, bob-tails, [the cause :
We know the cause you come for ; here's
But never hope to carry her, ne'er dream
Or flatter your opinions with a thought
Of base repentance in her.
Cit. Give me sack !
By tliis, and neit, strong ale —
Coun. Swear forward, sister ! [we'll bury
Cit. By all that's cordial, in this place
Our bones, fames, tongues, our triumphs, and
tlien all '
That ever yet was chronicled of woman.
But this bnve wench, this excellent despiser^
This banc of doll obedience, shall inherit
Her liberal will, and march off with conditions
Noble and worth herself.
Coun. Slie shall, Tom Tilers,
And brave ones too. My hood shall make
a hearso-cloth,
And I'll lie under it like Joan o'Gaunt,
Ere I go less ; my distaff stuck up by me,
For tho eternal trophy of my conquests.
And loud Fame at my head with two main
bottles,
Sliall fdl to all the worid, the glorious fall
Ofold don Gillian!
Cit. Yet a little further.
We've taken arms in reiiCue of this lady,
Most just and noble : if yc beat us oflf
Witliout conditions^ and we recant.
Use us as we deserve ; and first degrade us
Of alt our ancient chambering next that
The symbob of our secresy, silk stockings
Hew off our heels; our petticoats of anus %
Tear off our bodies, ana our bodkins bredc
Over our coward heads.
Coun. And ever aAer,
To make the tainture most notorious,
At all our crests (videlicet, our plackets)
Let laces hang, and wc return again
Unto our former titles, dairy-maids !
Petru. No more wars! Puissant ladie%
And freely I accept 'em. [shew conditions^
Maria. Call in Livia ;
She's in the treaty too.
Enter Idvia above.
Mor. How ! Livia ?
Maria. Hear you that, sir?
There's the couJitions for yon ; pray peruse
'em. [right rebellion^
Petron. Yes, there she is : it had been no
Had she held oft\ What think you, man?
Mor. Nay, nothing : [science,
I have enough o' tH prospect. O' my con-
The worid'siend and tliegCKKiness of a woman
Will come together.
Petron. Are you there, sweet lady?
Livia. Cry you mercy, sir ! I saw you not :
your blessing ! [bles with me.
Petron. Yes, when I bless a jade that stum*
How are the articles?
lAvia, This is for you, sir;
And I shall think upon't.
Mor. You've us'd me finely ! [extant,
Livia. There is no other use of thee now
But to be hung up, cassock, cap, and all,
For some strange monster at th* apothecary's.'
Petron. I hear you, whore.
Livia. It must be his then, sir;
For need will then compel me.
Cit. Blessing on diee I [coals,
Xit'io. He will undo hie in mere pans ol
To make him lusty**.
*' Let her.l i. e. Joinder her.
^ Livia. Joe wiU undom, &c.] This speech is only in ilrst fbliOt
Pktron.*
M5. Scene l.J THE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAMT).
l«f
Peirm. There's no talking to 'em.
How are they, sir ? .
Petrii. As I expecteii : libeitj andcloaths,
[Reads.
When, and in what waj she will ; continual
monies,
Company, and all the house at her dispose;
No tongue to say, tohyt tkisf or, whither
mill It 1^ [points heffe;
New coaches, and some buildings, she ap-
HttgingSy and huntin^hones ; and for plate
And jewels for her private use, I take it.
Two thousand pound in present ; then for
musick.
And women to read French —
Fetron. This must not be.
Petru. And at the latter end a^^lause put in.
That Livia shall by no man be importun'd.
This whole month yet, to marry.
Petrort. This is monstrous ! [awhile :
Petrv. This shall be done ; Til humour her
If nothing but repentance and undoing
Cm win her love, I'll make a shift for
one.
Soph. When you are once a^bed, all these
lie under your own seal. [conditions
Afarifl. D'you like 'em?
Petru, Yes;
And, by that faith I gave you 'fore the priest,
ru mtify *em.
Omn. Stay! what pledges?
Maria, No; HI take that oath.
But have a care you keep it!
Cit. Tis not now '
As when Andrea liv'd.
Coun, If you do juggle,
Or alter but a letter of these articles
We have set down, the self'eame perseco*
Alaria, Mistrust him not. [tioa— «
Fetru, By all my honesty—
Maria. Enough ; I yield.
Fetron. What's this inserted here ?
Soph, That the two valiant women that
commanded here
Sliall have a supper made 'em, and a Urge one^
And liberal entertainment without grudging^
And pay for all their soldiers.
Petru, That shall be too;
And if a tun of wine will serve t^ pay 'em.
They shall have justice. I ordain ye all
Paymasters, gentlemen.
!/Va. Then we shall have sport, boys!
Maria, We^ll meet you in the parlour* .
Petru. Ne'er look sad, sir;
For I will do it.
Soph. There's no danger in't.
Petru, For iivia's acticle, you shall oh-
I've tied myself. [serve it:
Fetroi. I wUl.
Fetru, Along then! — Now
Either I break, or this stiff pbint must bow.
[JSjrftcnCf
ACT III.
SCENE. I.
Enter Tranio and Rowland.
7V«. /'lOME, you shall take my counseL
^ RowL I shall han^ first !
Hi no more love, that's certam ; 'tis a bane
(Next that they poison rats with) the most
mortaL
Koff I thank Heav'o, I've got my sleep aeain,
Andqow begin to write sense; I can walk ye
A lonf hour in my chamber like a man,
And think of something that may better me,
Some serious point of learnhis, or my state ;
Ko more afHne% and fni%ererVf^ Tranio*',
Come near my brain. I'll tell thee; had
the devil 4
But any essence in him of a man.
And could be brought to love, and love 1^
woman, [boms do,
T would make his head acheworser than liis
And firk him with a fire he never felt yet,
Would make him dance. I tell thee; there
is nothing \p^^
(It may be thy case, Tranio, therefore hear
Under the sun (reckon the mass of follies
Crept into th' world with man) so desperate.
So mad, so senseless, popr and base, so
Koguy, and scurvy— \ [wretched,
Tra, Whither wilt thou, Rowland ?
Rowl, As 'tis to be iu love.
Tra, And why, for virtue sake?
RjoaoL And why, for virtue's sake? Doft
thou not conceive me ?
Tra, No, by my troth.
^' *^<— ay-9neV, and mistresses, Tranio."] For mistresses the first copy has miseries, which
the reader may perhaps think the true reading : I imagine the word wants but a syllable|
wiiich I would restore thus, ^
No more ay-me's and ndsererl^B, Tranio,
And to confirm tliis, in act v. scene U, of ^s very play^ we have the very expression re*
plated again:
-The two Fish Streets,
Were she (Maria) but once arriv'd amongst the whitingS|
Would sing a weful mstrm, Pedro. Simpson^ ^
U3 '•
Rovrl^
148
THE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAM'D; [Act 3. Scene «.
Rowl. Pray then, and heartily, [too.
Fur fear thou full into'c. TU tell thee why
Por I have hope to save thee : when thou
lov'fet,
And first beein*st to worship the eilt calf,
{ Jmprhnii, thou hast lost thy gentry,
An<i, like a prentice, flunc; away thy treedom)
forthwith thou art a slave.
Tra. That's a new doctrine.
Howl. Next, chou*it no more man.
Tra. Whattlien^
Rowi. A frippery;
Notliing but braided hair, and penny ribband,
Olove, garter, ring, rose, or at best a swabber;
If thou canst love so near to keep tliy making,
Yet thou wilt lose thy language.
Tra. Why?
}ioa>L Oh,Tnuiio!
Those things in love ne'er talk as we do.
Tra. No? [sliake the head,
^oml. No, without donbt; tliey sigh, and
And sometimes whistle dolefully.
2Vo. No tongue ? [no reason :
RowL Yes, Tranio, but no truth iii't, nor
And when they cant ( for 'tis a k i nd of can ti ng)
You shall hear, if you reach to understand 'em,
(Which you roust b^^crlbol Hrst,or yon cannot)
Sach gibb'rishf suth, ^/ieveme — I protest,
smeet — [steliations
And, oh, dear HeoTftu^ iw which tuch can-
JieigH at the birth$ qf latere — ^This is too
well!
And, deign me, Wy, deign me, I beseech you^
Your poor unaorthy lumjh^ and then she
licks him.
2\a, Ajpox on't, this is nothing !
RowL lliou hast hit it.
Then talks she ten times worse^ and wries,
and wriggles.
As tho' she had the itch (and so it may be).
Tra. Why, thou art grown a strange dis-
coverer.
RowL Of mine own follies, Tranio.
Tra. Wilt thou, Rowland,
Certain ne'er love again?
RowL I think so, certain;
And, if I be not dead-drnnk, I shall keep it.
JVa. Tell me but this; what dost thou
think of women ? [ligtit me,
RowL Why, asl think of fiddles; they dc«
Hi'ill tlieir strings break.
Tiro. What strings?
RowL Their modesties, I^'^^ ^'^^>
Faiths, vows, and maidenhends; for they're
ThcY have but four strings to 'em.
iVa. What wilt thou [lovest,
Oiveme for ten pound now, when thou next
And the same woman still?
RowL Give me the money;
A hundred, and my bond fbr't.
Tra. But pray hear me ;
III work all means I can to reconcile ye?
RowL Do, do ; give me the money.
Tra. There! ^
RowL Work, Tranio.
Tru. You shall go someumes where she is.
RowL Yes, straight.
This is the first good I e^er got by woman.
Tra. You'd think it strange now» if
another beauty
As good as hers, say better-
Row/. Well?
Tro. Conceive me,
l^is is no point o'th' wager.
RowL Thafs all one.
Tra. Love you as much, or more^ duui
she now hates yoth—
Rowl. Tis a good hearing! Let 'em lore:
ten pound more,
I never 1o\t that woman.
Tra. There it is;
And so an hundred, if yon lose.
RowL Tis done!
Have yon another to put in?
Tra. No, no, sir.
howL I'm very sorry. Now^will I erftct
A new game, and go hate for th' bell ; I'm
I am in excellent case to win. [sore
Tra. I must liave leave '
To tell you, and tell truth too, what she ii^
And how she sufFers for yon.
Riywl. Ten poUnd more,
I ne'er believe you.
Trn, No,' sir; I am stinted.
RowL Well, take vour best way then.
Tra. Let's walk. I'm glad
Your sullen fevers oiF.
RowL Shalt see me, Tranio, [wedding ;
A monstrous merty man now. Let's to th'
And, as we go, tell roe the general hurry
Of tliese uiad wenches, and their works.
Tra, I will.
RowL And do thy worst.
Tra. Sometliing Til do —
Ron>/. Do, Tranio. [IRxeunU
SCENE n.
Enter Pedro and Jaqueu
Pedro. A pair of stocks bestride 'cm ? are
they gone ? [pa us i* th' town
Jafues. Yes, they are gone; and all the
Beating before 'em. What strange admoni*
tions
They fpive my master, and how fearfullv
They threaten'd, if he broke 'em !
Pedro. O' my conscience,
H' has found his full match now.
Jaquts. That I believe too.
Pedro. How did she entertain him?
Jaquet. She looked on him —
Pedro, Butscurvily.
Jaques. With no great afiectioii . {^hov
That I saw: and I heard some say he kiss'd
But 'twM upon a treaty; and some copies
Say, but her cheek.
Pedro. Jacques, what wonldst tliou giT0
For such a wife now?
Jaques, Full as many prayers
As die most zealous Puritan coneeiref
Out of the meditatioit of fiit reaL
Or
Md. Scenes.] THE WOMAN'S PBIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAMD.
U$
Or birds of piey* cnuam'd capoas, against
players,
A&d to as good a cane taoo; but a^nst her.
That Ueav'n would bless me {torn her!
Markity Pedro; [night
If this house be not tuni'd within this fort-
Widi the foundation upward, I'll be carted.
Uj comfort is yet, tlwt those Atnorites
Tim came to back her cause, those heathen
. whorei^ ^
Hsd their hoods hallowed with sack.
Pedro. How devilish drunk they were!
: Jofttes. And how U)ey tumbled, Pedro!
Didst thou mark
The eoontry cavaliero ?
Fedro, Out upon her.
How she tum'd down the braggaf^'!
. Jaquei, Ay, tliat sunk her.
PedrtK That drink was well put to her:
what a somersalt, [heels upward !
When tlie cliair fell, she fctch*d with her
. Jaques, And what a piece of iandskip she
discovered 1 [in the posset ?
Pedro, Didst mark her when her hood fell
Jaqua. Yen, and ^re rid, like a Dutch
boj. The tumbrel,
When she had got her ballast'—
Pedro, That I saw too. [Sophocles
Jaqueg, How fain slie wouhl have drawn on
To coine aboard, and liow she siibper d it —
Pedro. I warrant her, sh' has been a wor-
thy striker. [been some hope on*t.
Jaques, I'thMieat of smnmer, tliere had
Pedro, Hang her ! [belch*d out,
Juquet, She offer'd him a Harry-groat, and
Her stomach being bLwn with ale, such
courtship, [since.
Upou my life, has giv*n him twenty stools
Believe my calculation, these old women.
When they are tippled, and a litde lieated,
^re like new wheels; they'll roar you ail
Till they be greas'd. [the town o'er
- P&ibv, The city cinque-a-oace,
I>aDie Toast-and-Butter, had the bob too.
Jaques. Yes: [ing;
But she was sullen drunk, and given to filcl>-
I see her offer at a spoon. — My master !
I do not like liis look ; I fear h' has fasted,
^or all this prepamtion : h?t*s steal by him.
[Ejpeuni,
SCENE III.
Enter Pttruchio and Sopkoclee,
Sopk. Not let you touch her all this night?
Petru, Not touch her.
Sopk Wliere was your courage ?
Petru. Where was her obedience? '
Mover poor man was sham'd so; never rascal
That keeps a stud of whores was us'd so
basely. [do you love her ?
Soph. Pray you tell me one thing trtly ;
fetru, I would I did not, upon that con*
I pasi'd thee half my land. [dition
Soph. It may be then,
Her modesty required a little violence:
Some women love to struggle.
Petru, She had it.
And so much that I sweat for*t, so I did ;
But to no end ; I washed an Ethiop.
She swore my force might weary her, but
win her
I never could, nor should, till she consented;
And 1 might take her body prisoner.
But for lier mind or appetite —
Sopk, Tis strange !
This woman is t))e first I ever read of^
Refus'd a warraqfed occasion,
And standing on so fair terms.
Petru. I shall quit her.
Soph, Us^d you no more art ?
Petru, ,Yes ; I swore to her,
And by no little ones, if presently,
Without more disputation on tlie matter.
She grew not nearer to me, and dispatch'd
me
Out of the pain I was (forJ[ was nettled).
And willingly, and eagerly, and sweetly,
I would to her chamber-maid, and in her
hearing
Begin her such a hunts-up— -
Soph, Then site started ? [she answer^4l,
Petru. No more than I do now; marry.
If Z were so dispos'd, she could not help it;
But there was one call'd Jaqiies, a poor but-
ler.
One that might well content a single wonum*
Soph. And he should tilt her?
Petru. To that sense. And lasti [thing,
She bad me yet these six nights look tos no«
Nor strive to purchase it, but fair good night.
And so good morrow, and a kiss or two fit»
To close my stomach; for her vow had seal'd
And slie would keep it constant.
Soph. Stay you, stay you !
Was slie thus when you woo'd her?
Petru, Nothing, Sophocles,
More keenly eager : I was oft afraid
She had been light and easy, she would shower
Her kisses so upon me.
Soph. Then I fear
Anotlier suoke's i'th' wheel.
Petru, Now thou hast found me! [tience.
There gnaws my devil, Sophocles. Oh, Pa-
Preserve me ! that I make her not example
By some unworthy way; as flaying her.
Boiling, or making verjuice, drying her —
Soph, I hear her.
Petru, Mark her then, and see the heir
Of spite and prodigality ! sh* has studied
A way to beggar*s both, and by tliis hand
[Maria at the door, Servanty and Woman.
She shall be, ifl live, a doxy.
SoDh. Fy, sir! [too poor^
Maria, I do not like that dressing; 'tis
Let me have six gold laces, broad and massy,
And betwixt ev'ry lace a rich embroidery;
!! Braggat,^ A WeUdi drink^ made of honey, &c.
Line
I£0
THE WOMAN'S SEIZE; OR, THE TAMKl TAHTD. [ActS. Scene*.
Line the gown tliro' with plush perfam*dy and
All the sleeves down with pearl ! fpurfle
Petru, What tl»ink you, Sophocles?
In what point stands my state now ?
Maria. For those hangings.
Let 'em be carried where I gave appointment
(They are too base for my use) ; and bespeak
New pieces, of the civil wars of France:
Let *em be large and lively, and all silk-work,
The borders gold.
Soph. Ay, marry, sir, this cuts it.
Maria, That fourteen yards of sattin give
my woman ;
I do not like the colour, 'tis too civil ;
There's too much silk i'th'lacc too. Tell
the Dutchman,
That brought the mores, he must with all
?pced send me ^
Another suit of horses; and, by all means.
Ten cast of hawks for tL* river: I much care
not [flying;
What price they bear, so they be sound, and
For the next wmter I am fpr the country.
And mean to take my pleasure. Where's the
horseman ?
Tetru. She means to ride a great-liorse.
&rpA. With a side-saddle?
Petru. Yes; and she'll run a*ti1t within
this twelvemonth. [pray^ sir,
Maria. Tomorrow 1*11 begin to learn: but
' Have a great care he be an easy doer;
^will spoil a scholar else.
Soph, An easy doer!
Did you hear that ?
Petru, Yes ; I shall meet her monds
Ere it be long, I fear not.
Maria. Oh, good morrow !
Soph, Good morrow, lady ! Howis'tnow?
Maria. Faith, sickly;
This house stands in an ill air-^
Petru, Yet more charges?
Maria. Subject to rots, and rheums; out
on't ! 'tis nothing
But a til*d fog.
Petru, WTiat think you of the L)dge then?
Maria. I like the seat, but 'tis too little.
Sophocles, [meat.
Let me have thy opinion ; thou hast judg-
Petru. Tis very well !
J\faria. Wliat if I pluck it down.
And build a square upon it, with two courts
Still rising from the entrance ?
Petru. And i' th' midst
A college for young scolds.
Maria, And to the southward
Take in a garden of some twenty acres.
And cast it of the Italian fashion, hanging?
Petru. An you could cast youi^elf so too.
— -Pmy, lady,
Will not this cost much money ?
Maria, Some five thousand ;
Say six. I'll have it battl'd too^-
Pe/rM. And gilt? — Mai'ia, [on't:
This is a fearful course you take ! Pray think
You are & woman nowj a wife^ and Iuq
That most in honesty and justice look for
Some due obedience from you.
Maria, That bare word [upon'tl
Shall cost you many a pound more, build
Tell me of due obedience ? What's a hu»>
baud? [to9?
What are we married for? to carry sump-
Are we not one piece with you, and as wortliy
Our own intentions, as you yours ?
Petru. Pray hear me .' [equal weigh'd,
Maria. Take two ' small drops of water.
Tell me which is the heaviest, and which
First to descend in duty? [ought
Petru. You mistake me;
I urge not service from you, nor obedience
In way of duty, but of love and credit:
All I expect is but a noble care
Of what I've brought you, and of what I am^
And what our name inay be.
Maria. That's in my making.
Petru. 'Tis true, it is so-
Maria. Yes, it is, Petruchio: [ing^
For there was never man witliout our mooid-
Without our stamp upon him, and our jub-^
tice.
Left any things three ages after him,,
Good, and liis own.
Soph. Good lady, understand him.
Maria. I do too much, sweet Sophocless
lie's one
Of a most spiteful self*condition.
Never at peace with any tiling but age.
That has no teeth left to return liis anger;
A bravery dwells in's blood yet, of abusing
His first good wife; he's sooner fire than
And sooner mischief. [powdeiy
Petru, If I be so sudden.
Do not you fear me?
Maria, No, nor yet care for you ;
And, if it may be lawful, I defy you! '
Petru. Does this become you now ?
Maria, It shall become me.
Petru, Thou disobedient, weak, Tain-glo*
rious woman,
Were I but half so wilful as thou spiteful,
I should now drag thee to thy duty.
Maria, Drag me? [your pleaswe I
Petru, But I am friends af^in; take all
Maria.. Now you perceive him, Sophocles*
Petru. I love thee
Above thy vanity, thou faithless creature!
Maria. 'Would I had been so happy^
when I married,
But to luive met an honest naan like thee,
(For I am sure thou'rt good, I know thou'rt
honest)
A handsome hurtless man, a loving man,
Tho' never a penny with him, and those eyei,
That face, and that true heart!-— Wear this
for my sake.
And when tliou think'st nponme> pity me;
I'm cast away ! r£r<^
Soph, Why, how now, manl^
Petru. Pray leave me ;
, Aud follow your advices.
ScpJL
Acts. Scene 4.] TB£ WOMAN^ PHIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAMD.
Soph, The man's jealous. [ask yon
Peiru. I shall find a time, ere it be long, to
One or two foolish questions.
Soph, 1 shall answer
As well as I am able, when you call me !-->
If she mean true, 'tis but a httle killing,
And if I do not Venture, it's —
Farewell, sir ! [Erit,
Petru, Pray, farewell !— Is tliere no keeping
A wife to one man's use ? no wintering
These cattle wi^out straying? Tis hard
dealing, finj;!
Very hard dealing, gentlemen, strange deal-
I Now', in the name of madness, what star
I reign'd, ' [married
I What dog-star, bull, or bear-star, when I
This second wiie, this whirlwind, that takes
all
Within her compass ? Was I not well wam'd,
I (I thought I had, and I believe I know it)
• And beaten to repentance, in the days
Of my first doting? had I not wife cnoagb
T« turn mj love too? did I want vexation,
Or aay special care to kill my heart?
I Had I not ev'ry morning a rare breakfast,
Mix'd with a learned lecture of ill language,
Louder than Tom o' Lincoln ? and at dinner,
A diet of the same dish? Was diere evening
That e'er past over wi, withoat thou knaves
Or thou whorCy for digestion ? had I ever
A pull at this same poor sport men run mad
for, [first,
Bat like a cur I was fain to shew my teeth
And almost worry her? And did Heav'n
hrpwe me.
And take this serpent from me, and am I
Keeping tame devils now again ? My lieart
aches!
Something I must do speedily: Til die,
if I can handsomely, for that's the way
To make a rascal of her. I am sick.
And ril go very near it, but Til perish.
[Exit,
SCENE IV.
Enter lAvia, Biancuy TraniOt and Hotcland,
livia. Then I must be content, sir, with
RowL And I with mine. [my fortune.
JUvia. I did not think a look,
Or a poor word or two, could have displantcd
Sack a fix*d constancy, and for your end too.
RowL Come, come, I know your courses!
There's your gewgaws, [gave me :
Tear rings, mad bracelets, and the purse you
The money^'s spent in entertaining you
At plays, and cherry-gardens.
Una, Tbe/e's your chain too. [still;
Bat, if yon'U give me leave, I'll wear the hair
^Td yet remember ^u.
Bianca. Give him his love, wench;
The young man has employment for*t.
Tra. Fy, Rowland! [pomnd
Bawl, Voo cannot fy me out a hundred
With this poor plot»—Yet, icfme ne'er see
4ay more,
151
If something do not straggle strangely in
me!
Bianca. Young man, let me talk with you.
Ron I, V¥ell, yoOng woman ?
Bianca. Tliis was your mistress once —
RttwL Yes.
Bianca. Are you honest ?
I see youVe young, and handsome.
RowL I am honest.
Bianca. Why, that swell said. And there's
no donbt your judj^raent [you
Ia good enough, and strong enough, to tell
Who are your foes, and friends :* why did
you leave her ?
J?oa7. She made a puppy of m6.
Bianco. Be that granted :
She must do so sometimes, and oftentimes;
Love were too serious else.
Rowl, A witty woman !
Bianco, Had you lov'd me—
Howl. 1 would I had!
Bianca, And dearly, [wofse, sir;
And I had lov'd you so — You may love
But that is not material.
RowL I shall lose !
BianCa. Some time or other, for variety,
I. should hav^ callM you fool, or boy, or bid
yoii
Play with the pa^es ; but have lov'd you still,
Out of all question, and extremely too:
You are a man made to be lov'd.
Rowl. This woman •
Either abuses me, or loves me deadly.
Bianca. I'll tell you one thing ; if*^ I were
to chuse
A husband to mine own mind, I should tjiink
One of your mother's nmking would content
me;
For o'my conscience she makes good ones.
Rowl. Lady,
I'll leave you to your commendations. —
I'm in again, the devil take their tongues!
Bianca. You shall not go.
Rowi. I will. Yet thus far, Livia;
Your sorrow may induce me to forgive
you,
But never love again. — If T stay longer,
I've lost two hundred pound.
Livia. Good sir, but thus much—*
Tra. Turn, if thou be'st a man.
Livia. But one kiss of you ; ^
One parting kiss, and I am gofie^too.
R(ml. Come;
I shall kiss fifty pound away at this clap.
We'll have one more*, and then fieirewell.
Livia. Farewell!
Bianca. Well, go thy ways ! thott bear'st
a kind heart with thef.
Tra, H' has made a stand.
Bianca. A noble, brave young fellow.
Worthy a wench indeed !
iloa7. I will—I will not. [Exit,
I>Yi. He's gone; but shot again. Play
you but your part,
And I will keep my promise; forty aWgels
15«
tSE WCHIIAN^ FBIZE; OB, THE TAUEE TA1I1>. [Act t. Soeac 5^
In fiur gold, lady (wipe your eyeti^.be'syoun^
If I have any wiu
Uvia. rilpay the forfeit.
Bianca, Come then ; let*s see your sister^
bow she fares now^.
After lier skinnibb ; and be sure Moroso
Be kept in good hand : then all's perfect,
Livia. [Exemit.
SCENE V.
Enter Jaqua and Pedro,
Pedro. Oby Jaijues, Jaques, what be-
Oby my sweet master ! [comes of us ?
Jaquet, Run for a physician,
And a whole peck of 'pothecaries, Pedro.
He will die, didle, didle die, if they come not
Quickly; and bring all people that are skilful
In lunes and livers ; raise the neighbours,
And aU the aqua*vUa bottles extant ;
And, oh, the parson, Pedro, oh, the parson !
A little of his comfort, ne*er so little —
Twenty to one you find him at the Bush;
There*8 the best ale.
Pedro. I Ay \ [Exit.
Enter Muria and Servants.
Maria. Out with the trunks, ho !
Why are you idle? Sirrah, up to th*chamber»
And take tlie liangings down, and see the
linen
PackM up, and sent away within tliis half>hour.
What, are the carts come yet } Some honest
bodv [wardrobe;
Help down the chests of plate, and some the
Alas, we are undone else.
JaqneM. Pray, forsooth,
And! beseech vou» tell me, is he dead yet?
Maria. No, but he's drawing on. Out
with the armour !
Jaques. Then Til go see hira.
Maria. Thou'rt undone then, fellow ;
No man tliat has been near him come near
toe!
Enter Sophocles and Petronius.
Soph, Why, bow now, lady? what means
Petron. Now, daughter ! [this?
How does ray son f
Afaria, Save all you can^for IIeav'n*s sake !
Enter Livioy Bianco^ and Tranio,
%ivia. Be of good comfort, sister.
Maria. Oh, my casket!
Petron. How docs thy husband, woman ?
Maria. Get you i^ooe, [ncss —
If you mean to save your lives: the sick-
Petron. Stand further oft; I pritliee !
Maria. Is i'th' house, sir. My husband
has it now : .
Alas, he is infected, and rav«8 extremely^
Give roe some couns« 1, friends.
Bianca. Wh]|r, lock the doors up.
And send him in a woman to attend him.
Maria. I have bespoke two womeoi and
the city
Hath seat a watch by this tune: meat nor
He shall not want, nor prayen* [money
Petron. How ion^ is t
Since it first took him ?
Maria. But within tliis three boon.
EnterWatch.
Pm /righted from my wits !— Oh, here's the
watch.
Pray do j^our office; lock tlie doors op, friendss
And patience be lus angel !
Tra. This comes unlook'd for.
Maria, Fll to the Lodge; some that art
kind, and love me,
I know will visit me.
Petru. fart^Ainl D'yoo hear, my nuwten^
Ho, you that lock the doors up !
Petron. Tis his voice.
Tra. Hold, and let*s liear him.
Petru. Will ye starve me here?
Am [ a traitor, or an hereti<^ ?
Or am I grown infectious?
Petron. Pray, sir, pray! [P^PPT*
Petru. I am as well as yon are, coodnna
Maria. Pray have patience! 1^ shall
want nothing, sir. [wickedness!
Petru, 1 want a cudcel, uid thee^ thou.
Petron. He speaks well enoush.
Maria. H* hud ever a strong heart, sir.
Petru. Will ye hear me? First, be pleased
To ihink I know ye all, and can distmguisk
£v*ry man's several voice: you that ^poke
first,
I know my fiitheMn-law; the otliei, Traoio;
And I heard Sophocles; the last, pray mark
Is my damn'd wife Maria. [me.
If any man misdoubt me for infected.
There is mine ann, let any man look on'i !
Enter Doctor and Apothecary.
Doctor, Save ye, gentlemen!
Petron, Oh, welcome, Doctor! [nioa!
You come in happy time. Pray your opi-
What think you of his pulse?
Doctor. It beats with busiest^
And shews a general inflammation.
Which is the symptom of a pestilent fever.
Take twcnW ounces from him.
Petru. Take a fool ! [Deus-ace,
Take an ounce from mine arm, and, doctor
I'll make a close-stool of your velvet cosCkrd !
Pox, gentlemen, do ye make a Majh^^ame
on me?
I tell ye once again, I am as sound,
As well, as wholesome, and as sensible^
As any of ye all. Let me out qtiickly.
Or, as I am a man, I'll beat tlie walls down^
And the first tiling I light upon shall pay ibi't.
[Exeunt Doctor and Apotheamf.
Petron. iNay, well go with you, Doctor.
Maria. Tis the safest.
I 9iw the tokens, sir.
Petron. Then there^s but one way.
Petru. Will it please you open?
Tra, His fit grows strooger atiU.
Maria,
Act 3. Scene 5.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAM'D.
laS
Maria, Let's save ourselves, sir ;
He's past all worldly cure.
Petnm, Friends, do your office !
And what he wants, if money, love, or
labour,
Or any way may win it, let him have it.
Parewell, and pray, my honest friends.
i Exeunt,
Jaques!
y wife!
None hear me ? Who's at th' door there?
1 Watch. Think, I J)ray, sir,
Whither you're going, aikd prepare yourself.
2 Watch. These idle t> oughts disturb you :
the good gentlewoman [nothing.
Your wife has taken care you shall want
I*€tru. Shall I come out in quiet? Answer
me]
Or sltall I charge a fowling-^iece, and make
Inline own way? two of ye i cannot miss,
If I miss three. Ye come here to assault
me!
I am as excellent wdl, T thank Heav'n for't,
^nd have as good a stomach at tliis instant—
2 Watch. '\ hat's an ill sign?
1 Watch, He draws on ; Tie's a dead man !
Petru* And sleep as soundly — Will you
look upon me ?
1 Watch. Do you want pen and ink?
While you have sense, sir,
Settle your stnte.
Petru. Sirs, I am well as you are.
Or any rascal living.
2 Watch. 'Would you were, sir!
Petru. Look to yourselves, and, if you
love your lives,
Open the door, and fly me! for I shoot el^e ;
By Heav'n, I'll shoot,* and presently, cliaii*-
Aud under four I will not kdl. [bullets;
1 Watch. Let*s quir bim !
It may be it is a trick. He*s dangerous.
3 Watch. The de'il take th' hindmost, I
cry ! [Exit Watch running.
Enter Petruchio with a Piec^.
Petru. Have among ye ? [shoot.
The^door shall open too; Fll have a fair
Are *ye all gone ? — ^Tricks in n^ old day*: ?
crackers [Sleeves r
Pat now upon me? And by lady Green-
Am T grown so tame after all my triumphs ?
But that I should be thought mad, if' I raifd
As much as they deserve, ligainst these women,
I would now rip up, from the primitive
cuckold,
All their arch-villainies, and all their doubles;
Which are more than a hunted hare e'er
thought on.
When a man has the fairest and the sweetest
Of all their sex, and as he thmks the noblest.
What has he then? and 1*11 speak modestly;
He has a quartern -ague, that shall shake
All his estate to nothing, never cur'd,
Nor never dying; h* has a ship to venture
His fame and credit in, which if he man
not
With more continunl labour tlmn a gaily,
To make her tith, either she grows a tumbrel.
Not worth the cloth she wears, or springs
more leaks
Than all the fam^ of his posterity [hogs !
Can ever stop again*'. Out on Vm, hedge-
He tFiat shall touch 'em, has a thousand
thorns
Run thro' his fingers : if I were unmarried,
I v^ould do any tiling below repentance,
Any base dunghill sliiverv; be a hungman.
Ere I would he a husbaud. Oh, the thousand,
Thousand, ten thousand ways tliey have to
kill us! . * [fiddles.
Some fall with too much stringing of th^
And those are fools ; some, that th^iy are not
sufter'd, [scorpions,
And those are maudlin lovers ; some, lika
They poison with their tails, and those are
' martyrs;
Some tfie with doing good, those benefactors.
And leave 'em land to leap away; some
few,
For those are rarest, they are said to kill
With kindness and fair usage ; but what they
are
My catalogue discovers not, only 'tis thought
Tley'i-e buried in old walls, with their heels
upward.
I could rail twenty days together now!
I'll seek 'em out ; and if 1 have not reason.
And very sensible, why this was done,
ril to a-birding yet, and some shall smart
for't! ' [Exit.
*^ Can ever stop as^ain, I could rail twenty days; ^
Out on *em, hedge hogSy
He that thall, &c.l We think it cannot be doubted but that the words I could roil
twenty datft, have been foisted in here by mistake, and have therefore omitted them. They
come in their proper place afterwards lower down, where tlie line runs,
I could rail twenty days together now.
There tbey complete the measure; here they interrupt it, as well as break in upon the
\^0L. nr.
X
ACT
11^
THE WOMAN'S PRIZfe; OR, THE TAMER TAMD. [Act 4. Scene 1.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Fitter Moroto and Fetrtmhu.
JVfor.'pHAT 1 do love her is without all
-■- question.
And raosL extremely, dearly, most exactly:
And that I would een now, this present
Monday, , [widows,
Before all others, maids, wives, women.
Of what degree, or calling, marry her.
As certain tou ; butto he made a whim- wham,
A jib-crack, and a j/entleman o*th* first hoube,
For all my kindness to her —
Petfon. How you «ake it! fcaj^s!
Thou ^'CL a wench? thou get a dozen night-
W ouldsi iiave her coinc and lick thee like a
calf.
And blow thy nose, and buss thee?
Mor, Not so Deitlier.
Fetron. .What wouldst thou have her do?
Mor. Do as she should do ; [marryy
Fut on a clean smock, and t6 church, and
And then to bed i' God's name ! This is fair
play, [her fcohs
And keeps tlie king's peace. Let her leave
(I've had too many of tnem) and her quillets,
She is as nimble that way as an eel ;
But in the way she ought, to me especially^
A sow ot lead is swifter.
Fetron. Quoat your griefs down, [crazy,
- Mor. Give fair quarter: I am old and
And suhje t to much tumbling, I confess it;
Yet something I would have that's warm, to
hatch me :
]^ut understand me, I would have it so,
I buy not more repentance in the bai*gain
Than the ware'a worth 1 have. If yoa
allow me
.Worthy your son-in-law and your allowance.
Do it a way of credit, let me shew so;
And not be troubled ia my visitations
With blows, and bitterness, and downright
railings,
As if we were to couple like two cats,
. Witl clawing, and loud ciamour<-
Fetron. 'Ihou fond man,
Hast thou forgot the ballad. Crabbed Age ^^ ?
Can May and Jaimarv match together,
And never a storm between 'em? &ay sh'
Put case she do ! [abuse thee,
Mor. Well?
Fetron. Nay, believe she does.
Mor. I do bf iieve she does.
Fetron. And devilishly:.
Art thou a whit the worse?
Mor- That's not the matter;
I know, being old, 'tis fit I am abusM ;
I know *tis handsome, and I know moreom
I am to love her for't.
ireiron. Now you ccme to me.
Mor Nay, more than this; I find toe,
and finii certain, [ouches,
What gold I have, pearl, bracelets, rings, or
Or what she can desire, gowns, petticoats,
Waistcoats, embroider'a stockings, scarfs,
cavvls, teat herb. I^"^ nbhnnds,
Hats, fvc-iound carters, muos, masks, rafi^
I am to give her ror't.
Fttron. Tis right, yoa are so.
' Mor. But when I've done all Uiis, and
tlunk it duty,
Is't requisite auotheV bore my nostrils ?
Kiddle me that!
Fetron. Go, |et you gone, and dream
She's thine withm these two days, !ur she is
so. [broths,
The boy's bejutfe- the saddle! Get warm
And feed-apace! think not of wi>ridly bu*
siness, [they're Iiateful,
It cools the blood; leave oflF your tricks,
And mere forerunners of the ancient mea-
sures ; [Verdngo's,
Contrive your beard o'th' top cut, hke
It shews you would be wise ; and burn your
night-cap.
It looks like half a winding-sheet, and ui^
From a young wench nothing but cold re-
pentance ;
You may e^t onions, so you'll not be lavish.
Mor.'Vm glad of that.
FetroTi . They pur^e the blood, and quickea ;
But after 'em, conceive me, sweet your mouth,
And where tliere wants a tootli, stick in a
clove.
Mor. Shall I hope once i^ain? say it!
Fetron, You shall, sir ,
And you shall have your hope.
Mor, Why, thert s a match then!
Enter Bianca and Trania.
Bianca. You shall noi find me wanting;
get you gone ! [plotting tl^
Here's tlie old man; he'll think you're
Something against his new son. [Exit Tra.
Mor. 1 are you well, sir! ' [-t^'
Btanra. An ev'ry buck bad his doe.
And ev'iy cuckold a bell at his toe;
Oh, what sport should we have tiien, boys,
then,
Oh, what sport should we have then !
Fetron. This is the spirit diat inspires
'em ail.
'° Crahled J^e.] The ballad here alluded to is printed amongst the Poems of Shakespeare,
' ■ "Vis productions. It is ab»o preserved in Dr. Percy's Reiiques of
and supposed to be one of his
Ancient Poetry, vol, i. R>
Butnqt.
I«t4. Scene 1.] THE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OR THE TAMER TAM*D.
165
BUmoL Give yoa good ev*o!
Fetron. A word with you, sweet lady!
Butnca. Vm very hasty > sir.
Fetron. So you were ever.
-Bitfiif a. Well, what's your will?
Perron. Was not your skilful hand [chie^
Id this last strat gem ? Were not your mi»-
^og the matter on?
Bumca. In*s shotting up ?
Ii that it?
FitrpH, Yes.
Bianco, I'll tell yoa.
Fttron* Do.
Biunca. And truly.
Good old man, I do grieve exceeding much,
I Sear too much —
Fetroii, Tm sorry for your heaviness.
Belike you can repent then ?
Biancu, There'you're wide too :
Not that the thing was done (conceive me
righUy)
Does any wav molest me.
Fetron^ What then, lady f [sorrow,
Bianco, But that I was not in it, there's mv
There; now you understand me ! for I'll tell
you.
It was so sound a piece, and so well carried,
And if you mark the way, so handsomely.
Of such a heighth, and excellence, and art,
I have not known a hraver ; for, conceive me.
When the gross fool her husband ' would be
sick —
Petron, Pray stay! [no sense for*t,
Bianciu Nay, good your patience ! — And
Then stept your daughter in —
Fetron. 6y your appointment?
Bianco. I would it had, on that condition
I had but one half-smock, I like it so well! —
And, like an excellent cunning woman, cur'd
me
One madness with another; which was rare,
And, to our weak beliefs, a wonder.
Fetron. Hang you !
For surely, if your husband look not to you,
J know what will.
Bianco, I humbly thank your worship !
And so I take my leave.
Fetron, You've a hand, I hear too-
Bianco. I have two, sir.
Fetron, In my young d ughter's business.
» Bianco. You will tind there
A fitter hand than mine, to reach her frets.
And play downniidd/e to her.
»• Fetron. I shall watch you.
Bianai. Do.
Fetron. And I shall have justice.
Bianco. Where?
Fetron. That's all one;
I shall be with you at a turn henceforward.
&onca. Get you a posset, do ^ and so good
cv'n, sir. [Exeunt.
Enter Petruckio, Jaques, and Fedro.
Jaques. And, as I told your worship, ali
the hangings^
Brass, pewter, plate, ev'n to the very look\
ing -glasses.
Fedt o. And that that hang for our defe ice,
the armor, jJaques,
And the March^beer was going too: Oh,
What a sad sight was that ?
Jaques. E'en the two nuidlets,
The two that was our hope, of muskadel.
Better ne'er tongue tript over, those two can*
nons.
To batter brawn withal at Christmas, «r,
Ev'n those two iovely t^^ ins, the enemy
Had almost cut off clean.
Petru, Go trim the house up,
And put the thinn in order as theytwere!
\Exeunt Fedro and Jaques*
I shall find time for all this;— Could 1 find
her [jif ss i
But constant any way, I have done my busi« -
Were she a whore directly, or a scold.
An unthrift, or a woman made to hate me,
I had my wish, and knew which way to rein
her ; [losses.
But while she shews all these, and ful theii"
A kind of linsey-wolsey, mingled mischief
Not to he guessM at, and whether true or bop-
row'd
Enter Maria,
Not certain neither — What a hap had I,
And what a tidy fortune, when my fate
Flung me upon this bear-w help.' Here she
comes.
Now, if she have a colour, (for the fault is
A cleanly one) upon my conscience
I shall forgive her yet, and find a something
Certain I married for, her wit: I'll mark her«
Maria. Not let his wife come near him in
his sickness ?
Not come to comfort him? she that all laws
Of Heav'n, and nations, have ordain'd his se«
cond, '
Is she refbs'd ? and two old paradoxes,
Pieces of five and fifty, without tiaitb,
Clapt in upon liimf Has a little pet.
That all youn^ wives must follow necessaryi
Having their maidenheads—
Petru, This is an axiom
I never heard before,
Maria. Or say rebellion^
If we durst be so foul, (which two fair wiDrds,
Alas, win us from in an hour, an instant^
We are so easy) make him so forgetful
Both of his reason, honesty, and ci-edit,
As to deny liis wife a visitation ?
His wife, that tho' she wus a little foolish,
Lov'd him, oh, Heav'n forgive her for't! nay
doted.
Nay, had run mad, had she not married him ?
Petru. Tho' I do know this falser than the
devil,
I cannot chuse but love it.
Maria. What do I know,
But tliose that came to keep him, might have
kiird him I
iod
tHE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OR, THE TAMER^TAMT). [Act 4. Sccnelw^
In wliat a ease had I been then ! I dare not
Believe him such a ba»e, debosh*d coropanion,
That one refusal of a tender maid [need,
Would make him feign this sickness out of
And lake a keeper to him of fourscore
To play at billiards ; one that mcw'd content
And ail her teeth together. Not come near
liini ? [most rare Jesuit ;
Petni, This woman ^-ould have marie a
She can pre\'aricate on any tiling; [her
There was not to be thought a way to save
In all imagination, beside this.
Marifi, His unkind dealing, which was
worst of all,
In sending, ^ho knows whither, all the plate,
And all thehoushold-btuff, had J not crossed it.
By a great providence, and my friends' ns-
sisfuncc,
Which he will thank me one day for — Alas,
I could have watch'd as well as they, have
serv'd him
In any use, better, and willinger :
The Ihw commands me to do it, love com-
mands me,
And ray own duty charges me.
Fetru. Heav n bless me ! [her. —
And, now I've said my prayers, I'll go to
Are vou a wife for any man?
Maria, For you, sir, [well,
If 1 were worse, I were better : that youVe
At least, that you appear so, I thank Heav'n,
Long may it hold ! and that youVe here, I
am glad too :
But that you have abus'd me wretchedly.
And such a way that shames the name of hus-
band,
Such a malicious mangy way, sa mingled
(Never look strangely on me ; I dare tell you)
With breach of honesty, care, kindness, man*
ners—
Petru, Holla! you kick- too fast.
Maria, Was I a stranger ?
Or had I vow'd perdition to your person?
Am I not married to you ? Tell me that !
Petru. I would I could not tell you !
Maria. Is my presence,
The stock I come of, which is worshipful.
If I should say right wor^^hipful I lied not.
My granddire was a knight —
Pi:tru. O'the shire?
Maria. A soldier.
Which none of all thy family e'er heard of,
But one conductor of thy name, a grasier
That ran away with pay! — Or am I grown,
Because I've been a little peevish to you,
Only to try your temjjer, such a dog-leech,
I could not be admitted to your presence?
Petni. If I endure this, hang me !
Maria. And two death's heads.
Two Harry-groats, that had their faces worn.
Almost their names away too—
Petru. Now hear me!
For I will stay no longer.
Maria. This you shall !
However you shall think to flatter mc
For this offence, (wliich no submissioii
Can ever mediate for, you'U find it so)
Whatever you shall do by intercessioD,
What you can ofler, what yoar laud cun par-
chase,
What all your friends or fkmily can win.
Shall be but this, not to forswear your know
ledge,
Bat ever to forbear it. Now yom* will, shr! ,
Petru. Thoo art the subtlest woman I think
Kving, [roe;
Fm sure the lewdest ! Now b^ still and mark
Were I but any way addicted to the d*»vil,
I should no<^' think I had met a playfellow
To pro6t by, and that way the most learned
That ever taught to murmur. Tell me, tfaou^
Thou most poor, paltry, spiteful whore—-
D'yoocry?
I'll make yon roar, before I leave.
Maria. Your pleasure !
Petru^ Was it not sin enough, thou fruit-
erer, [ker,
Fijll of the fan thoa eat^st^ thoa deviKs bro-
Thou seminary of all sedition, [o'er us.
Thou sword of veng'ance with a thread hang
Was it not sin enough, and wickedness
In full abundance, was it not vexation
At all points, cap-a-pie — Nay, I shall piach
you! —
Thus like a rotten rascal to abuse
The name of Heav'n, the tie of marriage.
The honour of thy friends, the expectation
Of all that thought thee virtuous, with rebel-
lion.
Childish and base rebellion? but, continuing
After foi^iveness too, and worse, your mis-
chief? - [by,
And against him, setting the hope of Heavea
And the dear reservation of his honour.
Nothing above-i^round could have wo^ to hate
thee? ^ .;- .
Well, go thy ways I , -i. ^-
Maria» Yes.
Petru. You shall hear me out first :
What punishment mayst thou deserve, thoa
thing, • [rose,
Xhou idle thing of nothing, thou puU*dprim*
That two hours after art a weed, and wither'd.
For this last flourish on me? Am I one
Selected out of all the husbands living.
To be so ridden by a tit of ten-pence ? •
Am I so blind, and bed>rid ? I was mad.
And hud the plague, and no man must come
near me !
I must be shut up, and my substance bezzled,
And an old woman watch me !
Maria. Well, ^ir, well;
You may well glory in't. [my plot,
Petru. And when it comes to opening, 'tis
I mu$t undo myself, forsooth ! Dost hear me?
If i should beat thee now, as much may be,
Dost thou not well desene it? O' thy con-
science.
Dost tliou not cry, Come heat mcf
Maria, I defy you I
And,
Aot4. Scenes.] TOE WOMAN^ PRIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAM^D.
tst
And, my last loving tearsy ftrewell ! The iirst
stroke
The very first you gave rae, if you dare strike,
(Try ine^ and you shall find it so) for ever,
Never to be recaird, (I know you love me,
Mad till you have enjoy'd me) I do turn
Utterly from you; and what man I meet first,
That has but spirit te deserve a favour,
Let bira bear any shape, the worse the better,
Shall kill you, and enjoy me. W4iat I've said
About your foolish sickness, ere yon have me
As you would have me, yon shall swear is
certain.
And challenge any man that dares deny it;
And in all companies approve my actions.
And so, farewell for this time ! [Exit.
Petru. Grief go with thee !
If there be any witchcrafts, herbs, or potions.
Saying my prayers backward, fiends, or fai-
ries,
That can again unlove me, I am made.
[ExU,
SCENE II.
Enter Bianca and Tranio*
Tro. Mistress, you must do'L
Bianca, Are the writings ready
I told you or ?
Tra. Yes, tliey are ready; but
To what use 1 know noL
Bianca. You are an ass,
Yoa mnst have all things consthi'd,
iVfl. Yes, and pierc'd too",
Or I find little pleasure.
Bimca. Now you're knavish;
Go to! Fetch Rowland hither presently;
Your twenty pound lies bleeding else; she's
married
Within these twelve hours, if we cross it not.
And see the papers of one size !
Tra. 1 have you.
Bianca. And for disposing of 'em—
Tra. If I fail you.
Now I Imre found the way, use martial law,
And cut my head off with a liand-saw I
Bianca. VieWy sir!
PeuDiiius and Moroso I'll see sent for.
About your business; go!
Tra. I'm gone. [Exit,
Enter Uvia.
Bianca, Ho, Livia!
Uvia. Who's that? Hook now,
Bianca. A friend of yours. Lord^ how you
As if y' had a carrack !
Uvia, Oh, Bianca!
I am the most undone, unhappy woman —
Bianca. Be quiet, wench ! thou shalt be
done, and done.
And done, and double done, or all shall
split for't,
'* Fei, and pierc'd too.] The word construed going before, would make one suspect that
faT%*d should have followed, and so I imagine it at first was wrote. Sytnpson.
It is clear that a loose puu i^ intended; so the text should stand as it doet»
Entar
No more of these minc'd passions ! they are
mangy.
And ease thee of nothing, but a little wind:
An apple will do more. Thou fear'st Moroso?
Livia. E'en as I fear the gallows.
Bianca. Keep thee there still!
And you love Rowland ? say.
Livia. If I say not,
I'm sure I lie. [man^
Bianca. What wouldst thou give that wo-«
In spite of all his anger, and thy fear.
And all th^ father's policy, that could
Clap ye within these two nights quietly
Into a bed together?
Livia. How?
Bianca. Why, faiHy, [blood comes !
At half-word, man and wife : now the red
Ay, marry, now the matter's changed.
Livia. Bianca,
Methinks you ^ould not mock me.
Bianca. Mock a pudding ! [ing.
I speak good honest English, and good mean^
Livia. I should not be ungrateful to that
woman. [but my counsel,
Bianca. 1 know thou wouldst not: follow
And if thou hast him not, despite of fortune.
Let me ne'er know a good night more I You
Be very sick o' th' instant. [must
Livia. Well, what follows? [your friends,
Bianca. And in that sickness send for all
Your latlier and your fever, old Moroso ;
And Rowland shall be there too.
Livia. What of these? [shall follow
Bianca. Do you not twitter yet? Of this
That which shall make thy heart leap, and
thy lips
Venture as many kisses as the merchants
Do dollars to th' East Indies: you shall know
all;
But first walk in, and practise ; pray, be sick,
J.ivia. I do believe you, and I am sick.
Bianca. Do: [servants
To bed then ; come ! — 111 send away your
Post for your fool, and father: and„ good
fortune.
As wc mean honesty, now strike an up-shot 1
[kxeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Dranio ancT Rovland.
TVa. Nay, on my conscience, I have lost
my money; [you;
But that's all one : FU never more persuade
I see you're resolute, and I commend you.
Howl. But did she send for me ?
Tra. You dare believe rae? [for profit
RowL I cannot tell; you have your ways
AUow'd you, Tranio, as well as 1
Have to avoid 'em fear.
Tra. No, on ray word, sir,
I deal directly with you.
fS8
THE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAMTT. [Act4. Scene 9«
Enter Servant hastili/n
IRxmL How now, fellow?
Whither post you so fast ?
Serv, Ob, sir, my master!
Prav did you see my master?
KowL Why your master ?
Serv, Sir, his iewel —
'Rami. With the gilded button?
Sero, My pretty mistress Livia—
Eon?/. What of her?
Sero, Is fallen sick o' th* sudden —
JlawL How, o'th*sullen8?
Serv. O'th' sudden, sir, I say; very sick.
BxupI. It seems sh'bath got the tooth-ache
with raw apples. [ikre you well, sir !
Serv. It seems youVe got the head-ache :
iTou did not see my master?
RowL Who told you so ?
Tra. No, no; he did not see him*
Howl, Farewell, blue*bottle.
[Exit Servant.
What should her sickness be ?
Tra. For you, it may be.
RowL Yes, "whtn my brains are oat, I may
believe it;
Never before, I«m sure. Yet I may see her;
^will be a point of honesty.
Tra. It will so. [be fing'ring
RowL It may be not too; you would fain
This old 8tn-o£rring of two hundred, Trauio :
How daintily and cunningly you drive me
Up like a deer to th' toil ! yet I may leap it;
And wliat's the woodman then ?
2>a. A loser by you.
Speak, will you go, or not? To me 'tis equal.
RowL Come; what goes less?
Tra, Nay, not a penny, Rowland.
RowL Sliall I have liberty of conscience,
Which, by interpretation, is ten kisses ?
Hang me, if I affect her; yet, it may be.
This wliorson manners will require a strug-
gling"!
Of two and twenty, or by'r lady, thirty.
Tra. By V lady, Til require my wager then.
For if you kiss so often, mid no Hindness,
I've lost my speculation : I'll allow you —
RcnoL Speak like a gamester now.
Tra, It may be two. [setting :
RozdL Under a dozen, Tranio, there's no
You shall have forty shillings, wink at small
faults. [nest.
Say I take twenty. Come, by all that's ho-
1 do it but to vex her.
Tra. ril no by-blows.
tf you can love her, do ; if you can, bate lier*
Or any else that loves you—
RowL Prithee, Trauio!
Tra. Why, forewell, twenty pound! 'twill
not undo me;
You have my resolution.
RowL And your money : Ff^eky
Which, since you are so stubborn, if 1 for-
Make me a Jack o'Lent^^ and break my
shins [witlt you;
For untagged points and counterb ! 1*11 go
But if thou eett'st a penny by the bargptiu—
A parting kiss is law ml?
' iVa. I allow it. [Yet, a bargain f
RowL Knock out my brains with apples.
Tra. I tell you. Til no bargains; win and
wear it.
RowL Thou art the strangest fellow !
Tra. That's alt one. [if thou dar'st,
RowL Along then ! Twenty popid more^
I give her not a good word 1
Tra. Not a penny. lExtunt*
SCENE IV.
Enter Petruchio, Jaques, and Pedro,
Petru. Prithee, entreat her come ; I will
not trouble her
Above a word or two. Ere I endure
[Exit Pedro.
This life, and with a woman, and a vow'4
one
To all the mischiefs she can lay upon me,
I'll go to plough again^"^, and eat leek-por*
ridge! [ber'd).
(Begging's a pleasure to't, not to be num-
No, there be other countries, Jaques, forme.
And other people ; yea, and other women :
If I have need, here's money, there's your
ware,
Which is fair dealing ; and the sun, they say,
Shines as warm there as here ; and till Fve
lost
Either myself or her— I care not whether
Nor which first —
Jaqves. Will your worship hear me?
Petru. And utterly outworn the memorf
Of such a curse as this, none of my nation
Shall ever know me more.
Jogues.^Onty alas, sir.
What a strange way do you run !
Petru. Any way.
So I out-run this rascal.
Jaques. Methinks now, [tience— >
If yonr good worship could but have the pa*
Petru. The patience? why the patience?
5' Thi$ whorson manners will require a struMling,
Of two and twenty, or bifr lady^ thirtyTj Struggling here means kissing^ but I rather
think tlie author's word was smugglings which I have heard used in that sense. The second
line seems wrong: he had before mentioned ten kisses^ and people generally, in increasing
a number, advance by decimals : I read therefore, as a much more natural way of speakings
Often, or twenty, or by'r lady, thirty. Seward.
3* Jack o*Lenl.] See note 28 on the Wiid-Goose Chase.
33 1*11 go topLmgh, and eat leek-porridge.] The copies in general, except that of tG4T,
want the dissyirable again. Symptofu
Jaquet.
Act 4. Sc«ie8.] THE WOMANPS PRIZB; OR, THE TAMER TAMT>.
159
Jaqua. Why, 111 tell yoa;
Cloiikl yoa hut have the patience—
Pefm. Well, the patience. [she rails,
Jn^ttes. To laugh at all she does, or, when
To have 4 drum beaten o' th* top o' tb' house.
To etve the n idihnuni war.iins: of her iarum,
As ( do when mv v\ife rebels—
Pttru. Thy wife?
Thv wife's a pii^eon to her, a mere slumber ;
The dead of night's not stiller —
Js^es. Nor an iron-mill.
Petru, But thy wife's certain—
Jaquti. That's false doctrine ;
You neror refid of a certain woman.
Peiru, Thou know'st her way.
Jaquet. I should do, 1 am sure ;
P?e ridden it ni^ht and day, this twenty year.
Petnt. But mine' is such a drench of bal-
derdash, riK)w,
Such astam^ carded cunningness, the min-
When she hangs bent in Heaven, ^^ds not
. hercolours [man
Quicker, and more, than this deceitful wo-
jEnter Pedro.
Weaves in her dyes of wickedness.— What
says she ? [pointed to me,
Pedro, Nay, not a word, sir; but she
A^tho' she meant to fellow. Pray, sir, bear it
E'en as you may: I need not teach your
warship [mortal —
The best men have their crosses, we are all
Fetru. What ails the fellow?
Pedro. And no doubt she may, sir—
Fetru. What may she? or what does she?
or what is she ?
Speak and be hanged !
Pedro. She's mad, sir.
Fetru. Heaven continue it !
Fedro, Ara«'n, if't be his pleasure.
Feiru, How mad is she?
Pedro, As mad as heart can wish, sir: she
has dresfl'd herself [cut
(Saving your worship's reverence) just rth'
Of one of those tliat multiply i'th' suburbs
For single money, and as dirtily:
if any speak to her, first she whistles,
Aad tben begins ber compass with her fingers.
And pomts to what she'd have.
Fetru. Whatnew way's this*
Pedro. There came in master Sophocles —
Peiru. And what
Did master Sophocles, when he came in ?
Get my trunks ready, sirrah ! Til be gone
J edro. He's here ro tell^ou. [straij^t.
She'k horn mad, Jaques.
Enter SQphoeles,
Sopk. Call you thif^ a woman ?
Petry, Yes, sir, sue is a woman.
iSdpA. Sir, I doubt it. *
Petru, IM thought y'bad made experience.
SopL Yes, I did so,
And almost with my life.
Fetru. You rid too fast, sir,
Soph. Pray,beaotmistakea: by this hand.
Your wife's as chaste and honest as a virgin.
For any thing I know! Tis true, she gave me
• ring—
Fetru. For rutting.
Soph. You are much deceiv'd still :
Believe me, I ne'er kissed her since ; and now
Coming in visitiition, like a friend,
(I think she's mad, sir; huudeul,> she started.
And snatched the ring away, and drew her
knife out.
To what intent I know not.
Fetru. Is tliis certain?
Soph. As 1 am here, sir.
Fetru. T believe you honest;
And pray continue so.
Enter Maria,
Soph. She (
Fetru. Now, damsel.
What will your beauty do, if I forsake you?
[She fiuikeu si^m,
D' you deal by sigps and tokens? As I guess
tiien, [captains;
You^ walk abroad thb summer, and catch
Or hire a piece of holy ground i*th' suburbs^
And keep a nest of nuns ?
Soph. Oh, do not stir her!
You see in what a case she is.
Fetru. She's dogged,
And in a beastly case, I'm sure. — I'll make
her, ' [cles.
If she have any tongue, yet tattle. — Sopho-
Prithee observe this woman seriously,
And eye her well ; and when th' hsist done,
but tell me
(For thou huAt understanding) in what case
My sense was, when I chose this thing.
Soph, ril tell you,
I've seen a sweeter —
Fetru. An hundred times, cry oysters.
There's a poor beggar- wench about Black-
Fri rs, [her.
Runs on her breech, may be an empress to
Sopk. Nay, now you are too bitter.
Fetru. Never a whit, sir. — [thee,
ni tell thee, woman, for now I've day to see
And all my wits about me, and I speak
Not out of passiou neitl)er(lea\e your mump«
ing; ' [give
I know you're well enough). — Vow would I
A million but to vex ber! — When I chose
thee
To make a bedfellow, I took more trouble^^
Than twenty terms can come to; such a
, cause.
Of such a title, and so everlasting,
That Adnm*s genealogy may he ended
Ere any law fmd tliee: I took a leprosy,
Nay worse, the plague, nay worse yet, a pos*
session.
^ To9k more tbovbi.e.] i, t.Not took mart rAins, but cAoie more te^latjov.
And
100
THE WOMAN*S PRIZE; OR^.THE TAMER TAMD. [Act 4. Scenes.
And had the devil with thee, if not more;
And yet worse, was a beast, and like a beast
Had my reward, ajade to fling my fortunes :
For who that had but reason to distinguish
The light from darkness, wine from water/
hunger
From full satiety, and fox. from fern-bush.
That would have married thee?
Soph, She*s hot so ilL
Petru, She's worse than I dare think of;
she's so lewd,
No court is strong enough to bear her cause;
Sh'hath neither manners, honesty, behaviour.
Wifehood, nor womanhood ; nor any mortal
Ciin force me think she had a mother : no,
I do believe her stedfastly, and know her.
To be a woman*wolf by transmigration;
Her first form was a ferret's under-ground ;
She kills the memories of men. — Not yet?
Soph. D'you think she's sensible of this?
Petru. I care not !
Be what she will, the pleasure I take in her, '
Thus I blow off; the care I took to love her,
Like this point, I unty, and thus I loose it;
The'husband I am to her, thus I sever:
My vanity, farewell ! Yet, for you've been
So near me, as to bear the name of wife.
My unquench'd charity shall tell you thus
much,
(Tho' you deserve it well) you shall not beg:
What I ordaiu*d your jointure, honestly
You shall have settled on you, and half my
house;
The other half shall be employ'd in prayers,
(That meritorious charge I'll be at also)
Yet to confirm you Christian ; your apparel,
And what belongs to build up such a folly,
Keep, I beseech you, it infects our uses :
And now I am for travel.
Maria, Now I love you;
And now I see you are a man, 1*11 talk to you ;
And I forget your bitterness.
Soph, How now, man? [mous,
Fetru, Oh, Pliny, if thou wilt be ever fa-
Make but this woman all thy wonders !
Maria, Sure, sir,
You have hit upon a happy course, ja blessed.
And what will make you virtuous.
Fetru, She will/fjhip me. [wish'd for;
Maria, A way of understanding I long
And now 'tis come, take heed you fly not
back, sir !
Metliinks you look a new roan to me now,
A man of excellence; and now I see
Some great design set in you. You may
think now [part
(And so may most tliat know me) 'twere my
Weakly to weep your loss, and to resist you;
Nay, hang about your neck, and like a do-
Urd
Urge my strong tie upon you : but I love you,
And all the world shall know it, beyond wo*
man:
And more prefer the honour of your countiy.
Which chiefly you are born for, and may per*
feet.
The uses you may make of other nations.
The ripening of your knowledge, conversation.
The full ability and strength of judgment.
Than any private love, or wanton kisses.
Go, worthy man, and brine home under&tanfl-
ing. [breed school-men.
Soph, This were an excellent woman to
Maria, For if the merchant tliro* unknown
seas plough [y^^^
To get nis wealth, then, dear sir, what must
To gather %^ isdom ? Go, and go alone.
Only your noble mind for your companion ;
And if a woman may win credit with you.
Go far, t .0 far j^ou cannot, still the farther
The more experience finds you : and ^o spaiw
One meal a-week will serve you, and one suit^
Thro' all your travels; for you 11 hnd it cer>
tain.
The poorer and the baser you appear.
The more you look thro' still.
Petru, ftost liear her ?
Soph, Yes. [were 8uffer*<i
Petru, What would this woman do, if she
Upon a new religion ^^ ?
Soph, Make us Pagans.
I wonder that she writes not.
Maria, Then when time.
And fullness of occasion, have new-made yoa.
And squar'd you from a sot into a signer.
Or nearer, from ajade into a courser;
Come home an aged man, as did Ulysses^
And I youlr glad Penelope—-
Petru, That must have
As many lovers as I languages ; [nigHt
And what she does wiui one i'th^ day, i*lh'
Undo it with another.
Maria. Much that way, sir ;
For in your absence it must be mv honour.
That that must make me spoken of hereafter^
To have temptations, and not little ones^
Daily and houriy offered roe, and strongly.
Almost believ'd against me, to set off
The faith and loyalty of her that loves yoo^
Petru, What should I do?
Soph, Why, by my soul, I would travel ;
Did not you mean so ?
Petru. Alas, no ; nothing less, man ;
I did it but to try, sir. Slie*s the devil !
And now I find it, (for she drives me) I must
go. [ready?
Are my trunks down there* and my horses
Maria, Sir, for your house, and, if yon
please to trust me
With that you leave behind —
Petru, Bring down the money!
3' Upon a new adventure.
Soph, Make us nothing.] So the first folio. .We have no doubt but the text (which is from
the second) Ig genuine, and that an ideal delicacy caused the variation.
Maria,
Act 5. Scene 1.] TftE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OU, THE TAMEK TAIVTO.
101
Maria. As I am able, and to roy poor for-
tunes,
m {govern as a widow. I shall long
To hear of your weli-doing, and your profit;
And w hen Ijicar not from you once a quarter,
111 wishyoQ in the Indies, or Cathaya,
Those are the climes must make you«
Petru. How's the wind? —
Shell wish me out o'th' world anon !
Maria. For France
Tis very fair: get you aboard to*night, sir.
And lose no time; you know the tide stays
no man. ^
I have cold meats readv for you.
Petru. Fare thee well ! [vengeance !
Th*hast fool'd me out o*th' kingdom with a
Ad thou canst fool me in again —
Maria. Not I, sir ; [sure.
I love you better; take your time and plea-
I'll see you hors'd. [too,
Pctru. I think thon wouldst see me bang d
Were I but half as willing.
Maria. Any tiling
That you think well off, I dare look upon.
Petru, Youll bear me to the land's end,
Sophocles ?
And other of my friends, I hope.
Maria. Ne'er doubt, sir;
You cnnnot want companions for your good.
I'm sure youll kiss me ere I. go; I've business.
And stay long here I must not.
Petru. Get thee going 1
For if thou ftrriest but another dialogue, \
JHi kick thee to thy chamber.
Jir/riff. Fiire you wcll,.sirj fraore.
And bcjir yourself, I do beseech yon once
(Since you Imve undertaken doing wisely)
Manly, and worthily; 'tis for my credit. ]\\v%
And for those flying fames here of your fol-
Your gambols, and ill*breeding of your youth.
For which I understand you take this travel,
(Nothing should make me leave y(rSL else} Tit
de«vl
So like a wife that loves your reputation.
And the most large addition of your credit.
That those aliall die. If yoa want limou*
waters,
Or any^thing to take the edge o'tli* sea off.
Pray speak, and be provided.
Petru. Now the devil, [blessing
That was your first good master, shower his
Upon ye all ! into whose custody—
Muria. I do commit your refommtion;
And so I leave you to your ttilo tivvo^^/
[Ejit.
Petru. I will go!— Yet I will not!— Oac€
more, Sophocles,
111 pot her to the test.
Soph. You had bettei^ go. [ther out,
Petru. I will go tjiei^! Let's seek my hic^
And all my fiiends, to see ine fair aboard:
Then, women, if there be a stonn at sea
Worse than your tongues can make, and'
waves more broken
Than your dissembling faiths are, let me feel
Notliing but tempests, tlU they cnick mv keei !
lltreuut.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Enter Petroniui and SUmea.
Bianco^ "VTOW whether I deserve that
•*-^ blame you gave me,
Let all the world discern, sir !
Petron. If this motion
(I mean this fair repentSince of my daughter)
Spring from your good persuasion, as it seems
so,
I must confess I've spoke too boldly of yoa.
And I repent.
Bianca. The first touch was her own, ^
Taken no doubt from disobeying you ;
The second I put to her, when I told her
How good and gentle yet, with free contrition.
Again yon might be purchas'd : loving woman!
She heard me, and, I thank her, tlioaght me
worthy
Observing in this point. Yet » 11 my counsel
And comfort in this cas^ could not so heal
ber.
But that grief jgot his share too, and she sick-
en'd. (sickness
Petron. I'm sorry she's so ill; yet glad her
Has got so good a r/round.
Ejiter Moro80.
Bianca. Here coincs Moroso.
Pct-^ n. Oh, you are very welcome ;
Now you shall know your iiappiness.
Afor. I'm glad on't.
What makes this lady here?
Bianca. A dish for you, sir.
You'll thank me for hereafter.
Petron. True, Moroso:
Go get you in, and see your mistrsss,
Bianca. She is sick, sir ;
But you may kiss her whole.
Mor. How?
Bianca. Comfort her.
Mor. Why am I sent fbr, sir?
Petron* Will you in and see?
Bianco. May be she^ need^ confessiom
^^ StUo 7urpo.1 Alluding to the manner in which foreisa letters were dated.
VOL.111. -• * y ^
iXuf.
162
THE WOM Al4'S PRIZE; Oil, THE TAMER TAM'D. [Act 5. Scene 1.
Mor. By St. Mary,
She shall have absolution then and penance;
But not above her carriaire.
Petron, Get you hi, fool ! [Exit Mor.
Bianca, Here eomes the other too.
Ejiter Roland and Iranio,
Petron. No#, Tmnio !
Good ev*n to yoa> too I and* you're welcome*
RowL Thank yoQ.-
Petron. I have a certain daughter^—
BmoL ^Woald you had, sir!
Petrmu No doubt you know her well—
Howl, Nor never shall, sir:
She is a woman ; and the ways unto her
Are like tlie' finding of a certain path
After a deep-fall'n snow.
Petron. Well, that's by tl/bye stilL
Thiii daughter chat I tell yon of* is iairn
A lutle crop-sick, with the dangerous surfeit
She took of your affection.
Rou'l. Mine, sir?
" Petron. Yes, sir:
Or rather as it seems, repentingr And there
-She lies within, debating on it«
. Bowl. W ell, eir? .
Ictron. I think 'twere well you'd see her*'
RowL If you plesvse, sir ;
I am not squcamisli of my visilatimii-
Petron. But this 1*11 tell you, she is al-
ter*d much;
You'll find her now another Livia.
Bowl. I have enooj^h o'th'old, sir.
Petron. N o more fooly [land,
To look gay babies in your eyes^ young Row*
And hang about your pretty neck--*
RomL I'm glad on*t, ^
And tliankiDy fktesrvescap'd such execation*
Petron. And buss yon till yon blusli again.
Bua>L That's hardi, sir; «,
She must kiss shameifuUy ere I blush at it;
I never v^-as^so bo)ri8h. VVell, what follows ?
. Petron* Slie's mine now, as I please to set-
tle her, |her:
At my command, and where I please to plant
Only she'd take a kind of farewell of you,
And give you back a wandring vow or two>
You left in pawn; and two or three slight
oaths
She lent you too, she looks for.
Roul. She shall have 'em, [better,
With all my heart, sir; and, if yon like it
A free release in writing.
Petron. That's the matter;
And you fix>m her shall hnveanother, Rowland,
And then turn tail to tail, and peace be with
you. [Tranio.
RowL Sobe't. Your twenty pound sweats,
Dra. Twill not undo ms, Rowland; do
your worst!
RowL Come, shall we see her, sir?
Bianco. Whatc'er she snys [ness
You must bear manly, HowLmd ; for her sick-
Has made her somewhat tCJitish.
Jiai^i. Lether^sOk
Till her tongue ache, I care not. By this
hand, [body
Thou hast a handsome face, wench, and a
Daintily mounted ! — Now do I feel an hun*
dred
Running directly from me, as I piss'd it.
Livid discovered a-hed, and Morpso btf her,
Bianca. Pray draw her sofUy! the least
hurry, sir.
Puts her to much impatience.
Petron, How is't daoghter? [what
Livia. Oh, very sick, very sick; yet some-
Better, I hope, a little lightsonier.
Because this good man has forgiven me.
Pray set me higher : oh, my head !
Mianca Well done, wench !
Livia. Father, and all good people that
shall hear me,
I have abus'd this man perniciously ;
Was never old man humbled so ; I've scorn 'd
him, [hiin.
And cali'd hhn nasty names ; I have spit at
Flung candle/ ends m's beard, and cali'd him
Harrow, [him.
That must be drawn to all he does; contemned
For methought then he was a beastly fellow,
(Oh, God, my side!) a very beastly fellow*
And gave it out, his cassock was a barge-
cloth,
Pawn'd to his predecessor by a scalier,
The man ye^ living; I gave liim puiging com-
fits
At a great christning once, [night
That spoil'd his camblet breechci; and one
I strew'd tlie stairs with pease, as he pass'd
down ; [for't !)
And the good gentleman, (woe worth me
Ev'u with his reverend head, this head of wis*
dom,
Told two and twenty stairs, good and true,
Miss'd not a step, and as we say, verbatim
Fell to tRe bottom, broke his casting-bottie^
Lost a fair toad'^tone of some eighteen shil-
lings,
Jumbled his joints togetlier, had two stools.
And was translated. All this villainy
Did I; I, Livia; I alone, untaught.
Mor. And I, iinask*d, forgive it*
Livia, Where*8 Bianca?
Bianca. Here, cousin.
Livia. Give me drink.
Bianca. There.
Livia. Who's tliat?
'Mor, Rowland. TP'^^
Livia. Oh, my dissembler, you and Imust
Come nearer, sir.
RowL I'm sorry for your sickness.
j&ivta. Be sorry for yourself, sir: you have
wrong'd me ;
But I forgive you. Are the paocrs rea<j|y?
Bianco, I liave 'em here: will't please yoa
Petron. Yes. [view 'cm?
Livia. Shew 'em the young man too; I
know he's willing
Act 5. Scene %] TOE WOMA*S PRIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAM'D.
163
To shift his sails too; 'tis for his more ad-
vancement :
Alas, we might have hesgar*d one another;
We are young both, ana a world of children
Mkht have been left behind to curse our
tollies;
We had been undone, Bianca, had we married.
Undone for ever. I confess I lovM him
(I care not who shall know it) most entirely;
And once, apon my conscience, he lov'tl iiie :
Bat farewell that! we must be wiser, consiii;
Lo\e most not leave us to the world. Have
you done?
Kotcl. Yes, and am ready to subscribe.
JJvia. Pray stay then.
Give nie tlie papers, (and let me peruse them)
And so much tune as may aftbrd a tear
At our lust parting.
Bianco. J'j-ay retire, and leave her;
I'ii call ye presently.
tet.ron. Come, gentlemen;
The sliowcr must hill.
KowL 'Would I had never seen her!
[Exeunt*
Bianea, Thou hast done bravely, wench.
Livi0, Pray Heuv'n, it prove so !
I Biauca, Tliere are the other papers : when
! they come,
B<'E>in yuu iirst, and let the rest subscribe
Hard by your side; give *em as little light
As drapers do their wares.
Livia. Didst mark Moroso, [most
I:i what aa ^jjpny he was? and how he cried
When I abnsd him most?
Bianco. That was but reason.
lAvia. Oh, what a stinking thief is this!
TJiu' I was but to counterfeit, he made me
Directly sick indeed: Thamea-street^ to him,
Is a mere pomander.
Bianco. Let him be hang'd !
J'ivia. Amen!
Bianca, And lie you still ;
I And once more to your business !
Livia, Call 'em in.
rviow, if there be a power that pities lovers^
! Help now, and hear my prayers!
Enter PetraniuSy Rowland, TraniOy and
MorotQ,
Petrtm, Is she ready? [go to her.
Bianco. Sh'has done her lamentations: pray
Livia. Rowland, come near me; and, her
fore you seal, [me !
Crive me your hand: take it again; now kiss
This is the last acquaintance we must have !
I wish you ever Imppy! There's the paper.
RowL Pray stay a little!
Betrott. Let me never live more,
Bur I do begin to pity this young fellow;
How heartily he weeps!
Bianco, There's pen and ink, sir.
Livia. Ev'n here, I pray you : 'tis a little
emblem
Uow nearyoo have been to me^
JlowL llieie.
Bianca. Your hands too.
As witnesses.
Petron. By any means; to th' book, son.
Mor. With all my heart.
Bianca. You must deliver it. [on thee!
Rofwi. There, Livia; and a bsetter love light
I can no more.
Bianca. 1 o this you must be wiu^ess too.
Petron. Wc will,
Bianca. Do ^^ou delive/t now.
Livia. Pray set rae up. [may
Tltere, Rowland, all thy old love back; and
A new tp come exceed mine, and be happyi
I must no more.
RowL Farewell!
JLivia. A long fareviiell! [Ktit Rcrthnd,
Bianca. Leave lit^r, by any ii^eans, till tins
wild passion
Be off h(?r head. Draw all tlie curtains close.
A day hence you may sec her; 'twill be
She's now for littje company. [bettw :
Petron. Pray tend her. [aloni; too,
I must to hoi-se straight; you must needs
To see my son aboard: wcj:e hut his wife
As fit for pity as this wench, I were happy.
Bianca. Time must do that too. 2uu:e ve
well! To-moJTOw
You shall receive a wife tp qui^ your sorrow,
\Esmnt.
SCENE IL
Enter Jagues, Pedro, and Pwtert^ with
Chest and Uumpers^
Jayues. Bring 'em away, sirs !
Pedro. Must the great trunks go too ?
Jaques. Yes, and the hampers. Nay, be
speedy, masters !
Hell be at sea before us else.
^e</ro. Oh, Jaques!
What a most blessed tum J^ast thou-— •
Jaquei. I hope so. [this woman !
Pedro. To have the sea between thee aud
Nothing can drown her tt)|igue but a storm.
Jaques. By your leave.
We'll get lis up to Paris with all speed ;
For, on my s,oul, as far as Amiens
She'll carry blank. Away to Lyop^key,
Aud ship 'em presently ! we'll follow ye.
Pedro. Now could I wish herin that trunk.
Juques. God shield, man!
I had ratlier have a bear in*t.
Pedro. Yes, Pll Uill you:
For in the passage, if a tempest take you.
As many do, and you lie beating for it,
Then, ii it pleas'd tlie fates, I would have
the master,
C)6t of a powerful providence, to cry,-
' Lighten the sliipof all hands, or we perish;*
1'hen this for one, as best ipar'd, should by
Ovei^board presently, [all means
Jaqnes. O* that condition.
So we were certain to be rid of her,
I would wish her with as. 'But, believe me,
Pedro, [eter;
She would «ipoil the jtshing on thi!> couj»t for
Y*2 For
164
THE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OR, TIIE TAMER TAMTJ.
[Act 5.
Scene 3*
For none would keep her company but dog-
As currish as herself, or porpoises,
ISIade to all fatol uses : tlie two Fish-Streets,
Were she but once arriv'd ^mong the wliitings,
Would sing a woful misertriy Pedro,
And mourn in Poor-Jolm, till her memory
Were cast o' shore again, with a strons sea-
breach; Ft>»^k,
She would make god Neptune» and liis fke-^
i\nd all his demi-gods and goddesses, »
As weary of the Flemish channel, Pedro,
Jis ever boy was of thfi 8chc»ol ; 'tis certain.
If she butnieethim fair,aiid were well anger*d,
She would break his god-head.
Pedro, Oh, her tongue, her tongue !
Jaguet. Rather her many tongues I
Peilro. Or rather strange tongues!
Jaqnes, Her lying tongue !
Pf.dro. Her iiping tongue!
Jaqucs. Her long tongue !
Pedro. Iler lawless tongue!
Juques, Her loud tongue !
Pedro, And her liquorish —
Jaquet. Many otiier tongues, and many
striM^gcr tongues
Than ever Babel had to tell his ruins,
Were women rais'd withal; but neer a true
Enter Sophoclct,
;iiflph. Home with your stuff again! tiie
jouniey's ended.
'jaqucs. What does your worship mean,^
Soph. Your raaster-nOh, Petruchjg! Oh,
poor frUows!
Pedro, Oh, Jiiques, Jaques!
Soph. Oh, your master's dead,
His body coming back! His wiJie, his devil.
The grief of her*"'*-—
Jaques. Has killed him?
Soph. Kill'd him,^kiird him!
Pedro, Is thcjne no law to hang her ?
S^ypk. Get ye in,
And let her know her misery: I dare pot.
For feiir impatience seize me, se« her more;
J must away again. Bid her for wiferhood,
lor iionesty, if she have any in her,
F/en to avoid the slwrnc that follows lier,
Crv if she caij. Your weeping c*nnotinend
U. • [tell her)
The body will be here within this hour, (so
And all hi« friends to curse her. Farewdl,
fellows! [i^*^-
Vedro, Oh, Jaques, Jaques !
Jaques. Oh, my worthy master! flier—
Pedro, Oh, my most beastly mistress! Hang
Jaquef* Split her —
Pedro, Drown her directly —
Jaques, Starve her —
Pedro. Stink upon her — [be < ^
Jaques. Stone her to death ! May ail she eat
'Till she run kickiog-mad for men!
Pedro. And he.
That man that gives her remedy, pray Heai'ii
He may ev'n ipso facto lose his longings ^^ !
Jaques. Let's go discbarge oun»elves; an^
he that serves her.
Or speaks a good word of her from this hour,
A sedgly curse light on him; which is, Pedro
The iiend ride thro' him l>ooted and spurr*d»
with a scythe at's back 1 [jixcuntm
SCENE iir.
Enter Rowland, and Tranio stealing behind
him.
RowL What a dull ass was I to let her go
thus ! [P<^p^r,
Upon my life, she loves me still. Well,
Thou only monument of what Fve had,
Thou .all the love now left me, and now lost.
Let me yet kiss her.hand, yet take my leave
Of what I must leave ever. Farewell, Livia !
Oh, bitter words, I'll read ye once again.
And then for ever study to forget ye. —
How's this? let me look better on*t! A
contract ?
By Heaven, a contract, sealed and ratified.
Her father's hand set to it, and Moroso's 1
I do not dream sure ! Let me read again :
The same still ; 'tis a contract !
Tra. 'TIS so, Rowland ;
And, by the virtue ot' the same, you pay me
An hmidred pound to-morrow.
Rowl, Art sure, Tranio,
We're botli alive now ?
Tra, Wonder not; you've lost.
Rowl, If this be true, I grant it.
Ira. Tis most certain !
There's a ring for you too; you know it?
Roa;L Yes.
Tra. When shall I have mv mojiey?
Rowl, Stuy you, stay you f
When shall i marry her? '^
Tra. Tornight.
Rowl. Take heed now
You do not trille with me: if you do.
You'll find more payment than your money
comes to I
Coine, swear (I know I am a man, and find
I may deceive myself), swe^r faithfully.
Swear me directly, a^i I Rowland?
Tra. Yes.
Rowl. Am I awake?
''* The grief qf^bfr,] So tlifi former copi^; but wvcly the dash sliouid be after Aer,
osteiid of before :
The grief of A«r —
Jaquex. Has killM him ? -v
The grief of her «gni/fcs, his grief occasioned by her.
" Lose his lonuinws.] So hrst folio; other copies,
lose his Jtiddiifg.
Acts. Scene 4.1 THE WOMAN'S P»IZE; OR, TIIE TAMER TAWD.
165
Tra, Yott are.
BowL Aoi I iQ health?
Ira, As far as I conceive.
KotcL Was I ^vith Li via?
Tra. You were, and had this contract.
HoicL And shall T enjoy her?
Tra. Yes, if you dare.
Bowl. Swear to all these.
TVo. I will. [conscience,
UowL As thoa art honest, as thou base a
As that may wring thee if thou liest ; all these
To be no vision, but a truth, and serious !
Tra, Then, by my honesty, and faith, and
All tbis is certain. • [conscipn.ee,
RowL Let's remove our places'*.
Swear it again.
Tra. By Heaven, it is true. [Vm glad on't.
Koti'L 1 have lost then, and Heaven knows
Let s go ; and tell nie all, and t^U me how,
¥or yet I am a Fu^an in't.
Tra, 1 have a priest too;
Aud ail shall come as even a3 two testers.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Enter Petronius, Sophocles^ Minvso^ and
Petruchio borne in a Cirffin,
Pctron, Set down the body, and one call
her out I '
Enten^Iaria in black, and Jaqva,
Yoa're welcome to the last cast of your for-
tunes! [husband;
There lies your husband ; there, your loving
There he Umt was Petnicljio, too good for
you! [him,
Yuor stobbom and unworthy way has Icill'd
Kre be could reach the sea: iV you can weep,
Xow you have cause; begin, and idter death
Do toinething yet to th* vyorld, to think you
honest.
So many tears had sav'd him, shed in time;
•And as they arc (so a |:^od niin^ go witli'em)
Yet thoy may move cum{>assion.
Maria. Pray ye all hear me,
And judge me as I am, not as you covet.
For that would make me yet more miserable :
Tis true, I've cause to grieve, and mighty
cRosc;
And traly and unfeignedly I weep it.
Soph. 1 see there's some good nature left
in her. [not; not this man,
Maria, But what's the cause? Mistake me
As he is dead, I weep for; Heav'n defend it !
I never was so childish : but his life,
His poor, unmanly, wretched, foolish life, [ing.
Is that my full eyes pity; there's nay mourn-
^' LtVs Tcmtfct cur places^ This is' plainly a sneer at tlie scene in Hamlet, whore (on
account of the Ghost calling under tlie sti\ce) the prince and his friends two or three timtt,&
Rnove their situations. — Again, in this play, p. 145, Petruchio's sayings
Soraetliing 1*11 do ; but what it is, I know not !
xtms to be meant as a ridicule on Lear's passionate exclamation^
■' i— I will do such things—
What they are^ yet I know not ! J. ^»
.Till
Petron, Dost thou not shame?
Maria, I do, and e'en to water, [simple.
To think what this man was; to thiuk how
How far below a man, how fiir from reason,
From common understanding, and all gentrv ,
While he was living here, he walk'd amongst
us.
He had a happy turn, he died ! Ill tell ye.
These are the wants I weep for, not his per*
son;
The memory of this man, had he liv*d
But two years longer, had begot more folhes^
Thau wealthy autumn flies. But let him rest.
He wus a fool, and iarcwell he ! not pitied,
I mean in way of life, or action.
By any understanding man that's honest,
But only in's posterit^r, which I,
Out of the fear his ruins might outrlive liim
In some bad issue, like a careful woman.
Like one indeed bom oidy to preser^'e him^
Denied him means to raise.
Petru. Unbutton me!
Oh, God, I die indeed else! — Oh, Maria,
Oh, my unhappiness, my misery ! [lie perish,
Petron* Go to him, whore! By Heaven, it'
I'll see thee hang'd myself!
Petru, Why, why, Maria —
Maria. I ve done my worst, and have my
end : forgive me ! [I've tam*d you.
From this hour make me wnat yau please :
And now am vow*d your servant. Look not
strangely, [me ?
Nor ftar what I say to you. Dare you kis»
Thus I begin my new love.
Petm, Once again !
Maria. With all my heart.
Petru, Once again, Maria !
Oh, gentlemen, I know not where I am.
&)ph. Get ye to bed then; there you*I1
quickly know, sir.
Pctnt, Never no more your old tricks ?
Maria, Never, sir. [a faith,
Petrit, You shall not need ; for, as I have
No cause shall give occasion.
Maria. As I tun honest.
And as 1 am a maid yet, all my life
From this hour, since you make so free pro-
fession,
I dedicate in service to your pleasure.
Soph, Ay, marry, this goes roundly off!
Petru, Go, Jaques, [n^y#^
Get all tlie best meat may be bought for mo-
And let tlie hogsheads blood : I'm born n<;ain !
Well, little England, when I see a husband
Of any other nation, stem or jealous,
I'll wish him but a woman of thy breeduig ;
And if he have not butter to his bread
166
1-HE WOMAN'S PRIZE; OR, THE TAMER TAMTD. [Act5. Scene 4,
'Till his teeth bleed, I'll never trust my tra-
vel.
Enter BxmUmdy Livioy BiancOf and Tranio,
Petron, What have we here?
Rowl, Anothermorris, sir,
Thae you must pipe to.
Tra. A poor married couple
Desire an ofiering^ sir.
Bianca. Never frown at it;
You cannot mend it now: there's your own
hand,
And yours, Moroso, to confirm the bargain.
Fetron. My hwud?
JIf or. Or wine ?
BioTicfi. You'll find it 80,
Petron. A triclc,
By Heaven, a trick !
Bianca. Yes, sir, we trick'd you.
Livia, Father —
Petron. Hast tiiou lain with him? Speak !
Livia, Yes, truly, sir.
Petron, And hast thou done the deed, boy?
RowL I have done, sir,
That that will serve the turn, I think.
Petru. A match then !
Ill be the inaker-up of this. Moroso^
There's now no remedy, you see: be willing;;
For be, or be not, he must have the wencli.
Mor, Since I am over-reach*d, let's in tu
And, if I can, I'll drink't away. [dinner ;
Tra. That's well said ! [trick : look to't,
Petron, Well, sirruh, you have play'd a
And let me be a gnuidsir^ withip this twelve*
month, [tunes !
Or, by this hand, Fil curtail half vour for-
Rmcl. There shall not >vantmy labour, sir.
Here*s one has undertaken. (Your money
Tra. Well, I'll trust her;
Aud glad I have so good a pasvn.
Roa/. ri I watch you. [and be jovial !
Petru, Let's in, and drink of all hands,
I have my colt again, and now she carries:
And, gentlemen, whoever marries next..
Let him be sure he keep him to his text.
[Exeunt,
EPILOGUE.
Tn£ Tamer's TamM; but so^ as nor die
men
Can find one jui>t cause to complain of, when
I'hey fitly do ccmsider, in their lives
1 liey should uot reign bs tyrants o'er their
wives e
Nor can the women, from this precedent,
Iiisulty or triumph^ it being apdy meant.
To teach both sexes due equality.
And, as they stand bound, to love mutually,
If this effect, arising from a cause
Well laid and grounded, may de»er%'e apt
plause, [ends
We something more than hope, our houes(
Will keep the men, and women too, ouf
friends.
THE
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN.
A COMEDY.
The Commendatoiy Verses by Gardiner ascribe this Play solely to Fletcher; but the
Prologue speaks of it as the production of both Authors. It was altered and revi\ed by
Durfey, in the year 1688, under tlie title of The l-ool's Preferment, or The Three Du^Les
of Dunstable, and acted at the Queen's Theatre in DorsetrGardens.
PROLOGUE.
Wit is become nn antick, and puts on
As mauy shapes of variation,
To court the time*s applause, as the tiroes
dare [rare
Change several fashions : nothing is thought
Whi'vli is not new, and followed; yet we know
That whnt was worn some twenty years ago
Comes into grace ag^iQ : &nd we ptiraue
That custom, by presenting to your view
A play in fashion then, not doubting now
But 'twill appear the same, if you allow
Worth to tneir noble memory, whose name.
Beyond all power of death, lives in their
mme.
PERSONS REPllESENTED.
Men.
Marine, the Noble Gentleman.
Jaques, an old Stfvnnt in Marines family,
Clekimosf, Cousin to Marine*
Gentleman, Servant y or Suitor, to Mariners
Wife.
LoJiGUEviLLE, ^ tico Courticrs that plot to
Beaufort, J abu$e Marine,
Shathlliok, a Lord, mad for lave.
D0ClT0|l.
Pkce.
Gkntlemes.
Servants.
WoMEy.
Ladt, Wife to Marine, a witty Wantorr,
Wife to Clerimont.
Shattillion's Love, a virtuom Virf^in.
Maria, attendant on Mxtrine^s Wife*'
SCENE, France.
ACT L
Enter Marine and Jaques,
Marine.TATllAT happiness waits on the
^^ life at court,
What dear content, greatness, delight and
esse ! [honour,
Wliat ever-springing hopes, what tides of
That raise their fortunes to the lieight of
wishes! [nature.
What can be more in man, what more in
Than to be great and fear*d ? A courtier,
A noble courtier!- Tis a name that draws
Wonder and duty from all eves and knees.
Jaques. And so your worship's land within
the walls,
Where yon bhall have it all enclos*d,an'l sure.
Mar. Peace, knave*, dull creature, bred
of sweat and smoke.
These mysteries are far above tliy faith :
But thou shalt see—
Jtujvr ,
168
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN.
Jaques4 And then I fthall believe.
Your fair rcvenaes, turnVi into fair suits ;
I shall believe your tenants bruised and rent,
tJnder the weight of coaches; all your state
Drawn thro* the streets in triumph; suits for
places
Plied with a mine of gold, and heinc; got
Fed with a great stream. 1 shall believe all
this. , fglorious. —
Mar. You shall believe, atfa know me
Cousin, good day and health!
Enter CUrimont,
Clcr. The s;une to you, sir; fknow
And more, witbuut my wishes, coulifi you
What calm content dwells in a private
house ' —
Yet look into yonrself; retire! This place
Of promises, and protestations, fits [this;
Minds only bent to ruin : you sliould know
You have their language perfect ; you liave
tutors
I do not doubt, sufficient : but beware !
Mar, You are merry, cousin.
Cler. Yet your patience;
You sliall leam that too, but not like itself^
Where it is held a virtue. Tell me, sir.
Have you cast up your suite, rated' your land.
And find it able to endure the change
Of time and fashion ? Is it always harvest ?
Always vintage? Have you ships at sea,
To bring ^ou gold and stone from rich
Peru,
Monthly returning treasure f Dotii the king
Open his large exchequer to your hands.
And bid vou be a great man? Can your wife
Coin ofiT her beauty ? or the week allow
Suits to each day, and know no ebb hi
hononr?
If these be possible, and can hold out.
Then be a courtier still, and still be wasting!
Afar. Cousin, pray give me Ic^ave !
C/er, I have done. [strain
Mar, I could requite yonr gall, and in a
As bitter, and lull of rhubarb, preach
Against your country life; but tis below taie^
And only subject to "my pity I Know,
IHie eminent court, to them that can be wise,
And fasten on her blessings, is a sun
That draws men up from coarse and earthly
being,
(I mean these men of merit that have power
And reason to make good her benefits)
[Act 1.
Learns them a manly t>oIdness, gives tlieir
tongues [please.
Sweetness of language, makes them apt to
Files oflF all nideness and uncivil 4iaviour^
Shews them as neat in carriage as in daaths*
Cousin, have you e'er seen the court ?-
' Cler, No, sir ;
Nor am I vet in travail witli tliat longing.
Mar, oil, the state [found
And greatness of tliat place, where men arc
Only to give the first creation glory !
Thost^ are the nioilels of the ancient world.
Left like the Konian statues to stir up
Our fulbwing hopes; the place itself puts on
The brow of majesty, and flings her lustre
Like tlie air newly lightened ; form, and order,
Are only there themselves, unforc'd, aud
sound,
As they were first created to this place.
Cler. You nobly came, but will go from
thence base! fceit;
Mar. Twas very pretty, and a sjood con-
Yon have a wit, good cousin : I do joy in*t;
Keep it for court. But to myself asiaio !
When I have view'd these pieces, tun/d
these eyes.
And, with some taste of superstition,
Look'd on the wealth of nature, the fiiir
dames, [shew
Beauties, that light the court, and make it
Like a fair heaven in a frosty night.
And 'raongst thcbc mine, not poorest — ^Ti*
for tongues
Of blessed poets, such as Orpheus was.
To give tlieir worth and praises! Oh, dear
cousin,
You have a wife, and fair; bring her hitlier,.
Let her not live to be tlic mistress of
A fanner's heir, and be confined ever
T* a searge, tar coarser than m^- horse-cloth ?
Let her have velvets, tithnies, jewels, pearls,
A coach, an usher, and her two lacquies ;
And I will send my wife to give her rules.
And read the rudiments of court to her.
Clcr. Sir, I had rather send her to \'ir*
ginia*.
To help to propagate the English nation.
Enter a Servant,
Mar, Sirrah, how slept your mistress, and
Are to pay service? [what visitant*
Serv. Sir, as I came out.
Two counts were newly cuter'd..
' And more, without my wishes, could you know
What calm content dwells in a private Aot/se.] We do not quite understand these two
lines ^the meaning, though obscurely expressed, seems to be, 'I wish you happiness; which
* you might have, and more, without my wishes, if you knew Uie comforts of a private life.*
2 Vu^giaia^ Tlie attempt to settle Vii^pnia was at first very unsuccessful, and many re*
ports wei'e propagated, which made it difficult to procure any persons to venture thither:
to these circumstances the author plainly alludes. Among the pamphlets published about
this period was the following : < A true declaration of the eatate of the Colonie io Virginia;
* with a confutation of such scandalous reports as have tended to the disgrace of so worthy
*> an enterprise. Published by iMlvise and directum of the Couoceli oi Virginia.' 4to.
1610. R.
/ Jfcfcr.
Aai.}
Tdk NOBLB OEKTUMAN.
169
Mkt, Tfatt is greatiicti;
B«t fiswmch lervants wait a country beanty.
Ckr. Tbey are t^ more to thank their
modcstyt
Ood keep my wifie^ and all my ime female,
Fran inch uprisings !
Enter Doctor.
l^Iar. What, my learned Doctor!
Yoa will be welcome: give her health and
JOQthy
And I will give you gold. [Exit Doctor.
.Cousin, bow savours this? ts it not sweet,
And very great? tastes it not of nobleness ?
Cler, Vaith, sir, my palate is too dull and
luy;
! Gsnoot taste it; 'tis not for my relish :
Bot be so stiU ! since your own niist^ry
klost fint reclaim you; to which I leave you,
sir!
If yoo will yet be happy, leave the humour.
And base subjectiou to your wife ; be wise,
And let her know with speed" you are her
husband!
I shall be glad to hear iL My horse is sent
ibr. [Exit.
' Mar. Even such anotlier country thing
ttthis
' Was I; such a piece of dirt, so heavy,
So provident to heap up ignorance,
And be an ass ; such musty cloaths wore I,
80 oU and thread-bare: I do yet reme|iibcr
Divers young gallants, lighting at my gate
To see my honoured wife, have offer'd pence.
And bid me walk their horses. Such a slave
Was I in show then ; but my eyes are opened.
Enter Lady.
Hany sweet morrows to mv worthy wife !
Ladif. iris well, and aptly giv*n ; as much
for you I
Bat to my present business, which is money.
Mar. Lady, I have none left. [imagine
Ia^. I hope you dare not say so, nor
fit base and low a thought: * I have none
left?'
Are these words 6tting for a man of worth, ,
And one of your full credit? Do you know
The place you live in? me? and what 1 lih
hour
for TOO, and your advancement?
mr. Yea, ttiy dearest. [slight answer,
htdi/. And do you pop me off witli this
Is trqjth, * I have none left?* In troth, you
mast have !
' Bond.] i. e. Bond; the ancient mode of spelling the word:
' Since fiaith could get no credit at li:s hand,
' I seut him word to come and suemy band* Churchj/areTsChallengCyp. 153.
* Or mighty statutes, 4'c-] 'Th^ poet me.ms cither statute t/ierchant, or statute staple^ or
l^ (What the meaning of these terms are, any technical dictionary will inform my
'cttiers). The mention of them we find in Uomlet, and over and over again in Bon Jon«
iOQ^s Staple of News, Syinpson.
, ' We levied at 90 iong.] Mr. Theobald saw with me, that this oversight mn^t take its birth
&o where but at the press ; and yet it is upwards of an hundred years old. Sympson.
^ AndVnoYf lik€ him.] Wo apprehend tne true reading to be iw^ iayttad of Anov.
voLni. z Tmt
Nay, stare not; 'tis most true; send speedily
To ail that love you, let your people fly
Like thunder thro' the city, and not return
Under five thousand crowns. Try ali^ tak«
all;
Let not a worthy merchant be untempted.
Or any one that hath the name of money ;
Take up at any use; give band^, or land.
Or mighty statutes^, able by their strength
To tie up Samson were he now alive,
There must be money gotten ; for, be per-
suaded,
if we fall now, or be but seen to shrink
Under our fair beginnings, 'tis our ruin,
And then good ni^ht to all but our disgrace !
Farewell, the hope of coming happiness.
And all tlie ausa we levellM at so long' !
Are you not mov*d at this? No sense of
want.
Towards yourself yet breeding ?
Be old, and common, jaded to the eves
Of grooms, and pages, chambennaias, and
guarders ; [house in order
And when you luve done, pot vour poor
And hang yourself! for such must be the end
Of him that willingly forsakes his hopes.
And hath a joy to tumble to his ruin«
All that I say is certaip; if you fail.
Do not impute me with it; I am clear.
Mar, Now Hcav'u forbid I should do
wrong to you, [leave
My dcarcht' wife, apd madam ! Yet give
To your poor creature to unfold himselft
You know my debts are many more than
means.
My bauds not taken in, my friends at home
Drawn dry with these espeugcs, my poor
tenants * [coura^
Mote full of want than we ; then what new
Can I beget to raise those crowns by? Speak,
And I sMl execute.
Lady. Pray tell me true;
Have >ou not land in the country?
Mar. Pardon me f *
I had forgot it*
Lady. Sir, you must remember it ;
There is no remedy: this land must be
In Paris ere to*moiTo\v night.
Mar. It shall.
Let me consider: some three hundred acres
Will serve tlie turn.
Lady, Twill furnish at all points, [him^
Now yon speak like yourself, and know lik^
That means to be a man ; suspect no lesi^
17t
THE NOBLE GENtLEMAlif.
[Act t
Shat, Art yon in oauncilf '
Love. No, sir, nor any of my sfx.
ShaL Why, so?
If you bad been in conncil, you Would know
Her tnne to be but slender ; she must d^.
Lave. I do believe it, sir.
Shat, And suddenly;
She stands tog near a fortune;
. Lave. Sir?
jr^hat. Tisso;
Tnere is no jesting with a princess tide.
Would we had both been bom of commoq
parents, •
And liv*d a private and retir'd life
In homely cottage I we had then enjoy'd
Our lo%'es, and oar embraces; these are thingi
That cannot tend to treason.
Lofoe. I am wretched !
Shat. Oh,
I pray as often for the king as any,
And with as true a heart, for his continuance;
And do moreover pray his heirs may live,
And thfir fair issues; then, as I am bonnd,
For all the states and commons: if tliesi)
prayers
Be any ^nys ambitions, I submit.
And lay my head down; let Vm take it off!
You may inform against me ; but withal
Remember my obedience to the crowQ,
And sernce to the state.
Lewe. Good sir, I love you. [with me,
Shut, Then love th^ gracious king, and say
Heav*n save his grace !
Lave* Hcav'n save his grace'' !
ShiU* This is strange,
A woruan should be sent to qndermine mei
And bu^ love into me to try my spirit ;
Otfer roe kisses, and enticing follies.
To make me open and betray myself:
It was a subtle and a dangerous plot.
And very soundly followed ! — Farewell, hidy?
Let me have equal hearing, and relate
I am an honest man. Ueav*n save the king|
[£n/.
Lave. I'll never }eave him, *till, by art or
prayer,
I have restor*d his senses: If I make
Him perfect man again, he's mine ; 'till whe4|
I here abjure all loves of other men !
[ExiU
Enitr CUerinmnt ond Jagues.
Jaqves. Nay, good sir, be persuaded ! 0^
but back,
And tell him he's i^ndone; say npthinjg else,
And you shall see bow things will work upon t.
Cter. Not 90f good Jaques ! I am held an
ass,
A country fbpl, good to eenverte with dirt,
'3 Shat. nen love the graeioui kmgf and iay with me—
Love. Heaven gave hit grace.] But may we not reasonably ask. How could his Lave knon
w)mt he would say, till he himself had said it? And if S0| then we should surely read thu9|
— then say with me ^
Hea^dn tcve hit grace.
Late. Henv'n save hi; grace. Sytujft^n. Asd
You may sospect, and well, there*s poison
int.
Powder, or wild-fire; but 'tb nothing so.
Cler. I do believe you, sir; *tis a plaiii
cross;- [the King,
Shat. Tlien do your wor^t, I care not! Tell
Let him know ail this, as Vm sure he shall;
When you have spit your venom, then will I
Stand up a foithful and a loyal subject.
And> so, God save his grace ! This is no
treason.
Cler, He is March mad: farewell, monsieur!
[Exit.
Shat. Farewell!
t shall be here attending. Tis my life
They aim at; there's no way to save it. Well,
Let em spread all their nets, they shall not
draw me
Into any open treason : I can see.
And can beware; I have my wits about me,
I thank Heaven for it !
Enter Lave,
Zote. There he fioes, [bred,
That was the fairest hope the French court
The worthiest and the swectest-temperM spi-
rit, ("judgment
The truest and the valiantest, the best of
Till most unhappy I sever*d those virtues^
And turn'd his wit wild with a coy denial;
Which Heav'n forgive me V And be pleas'd,
oh, FIeav*n,
To give again his senses, that my love
May strike off all my follies !
ihat. Lady!
Love, Ay, sir.
Shat. Your will with rae» sweet lady?
Xooe. Sir, I come — [know it, la?ly :
Shat. From the dread sovereign king; I
He is a gracious prince ; long may he live I
Pertain you to his chamber?
Love. No, indeed, sir; [me?
That place is not for women. Do you know
Shat. Yes, I do know you.
Lave. What's my name? Pray you speak.
'Shat. That's all one; I do know you and
your business :
You are discover*d, lady! I am wary;
It stands upon my life. Pray excuse me !
The best mau of this kingdom sent you hither.
To dive into me: Have I touched you? ha?
Love. You are deceiv*d, sir; I come from
your Lore, [kisses.
That sends^ you fair commends^ ancf many
Shat. Ala8,''poor soul, how does she ; is she
living ?
K^ps she lier bed still ?
Lave, Still, sir, she is living;
And well, and shall do so.
Aces.]
TH£ NOBLE GENTLEMAK.
m
And eat cofirse bread, wear the wont wool,
know nothing
Qat the highway to Paris: and wouldst tboa
have me bring these stains
And imperfections to the rising I'iew
Of the right worshipful thy worthy master?
They most be bright, and shine, toeir cioaths
soft velvet [gams'^,
And the Tvriaa purple, like the Arabian
Huis hke the sun, their golden beams on all
silks; [ter, I
Soch as these may come and know thy mas-
Am base, and daie no( speak unto him, he's
aboi'e roe. [scare,
Jaqua. If ever yon did love him, or his
Ris name, his issne, or yourself, go hack I
Twill be an honest and a noble part.
Worthy a kinsman ; save three hundred acres
From present execution" ; they've hhd sen«
tence.
And cannot be reprie v'd ; be merciful ! [sons
Cler, Have I not ufg'd already all the rear
I had, to draw liim from his will ? his ruin ?
fiqt all in vain ! no counsel can prevail:
fffaas fbi*d himself; there's ao removing,
Jaqoes ; [vainl
Twill prove but breath and labour spent in
rU to my horse; fiirewelll
Jaquei, For God's sake, sir,
As ever you have hope of joy, turn back !
ril be your slave fox ever, do but go;
And I tviU lay such fair directions to you.
That, if he be not doting^on his fall.
He shall recover siclit, and see his danger.
And you shall tell him of h& wife's abuses,
(I fear, too foul against him!) how she plots
VVith our young monsicurs, to milk dry hus-
band.
And lay it on their backs : the next her pride;
Then what his debts are, and how infinite
The curses of his tenants ; this will work ;
ril pawn my life and head, hecnies, ' Away!
* ni to my house in the country/
Cier. Come, I'll go.
And once more try him : if he yield not so ;
Thenext tliat tries him shall be want and (
■4
lEteuni.
ACT II.
Enl^ Morine solus.
Mar. TAQUES!
^ Jaqmi, [witUn\ Sir?
Mar, Rise, Jac|ues ! 'tis grown day.
The country life is best ; where quietly.
Free firona the clamour of the troubled court,
WeiBiqr enjoy our own green shadow'd walks^
Aad keep a moderate diet without art.
^v did I leave my house, and bring my wife,
Tp Know the manner of this subtle place?
I would, when first the last to fame and ho«
nour
Possess'd me, I had met witi) any evil
But that I Had I been tried to stay at bone^
And earn the bread for die whole family
With my own hand, happy had I been!
Enter Jaquei.
Jaques. Sir, this is from your wrnted course
at home: [hours?
When did you there keep such inordinate
H J%ey n^t be bright, and shine, their cloaths
S^ velvetf and the Tyrian purpie,
I Like the Arabian gunUf hang Uke the -sun,
Their golden beams on ait sides;
Stt^h as these^ &c.] Seward would read,
X They must be bright and shine, tlieir cloaths soft velvet
And OF the Tyrian purple ; tuey must smell
like the Arabian gums, burl like the suu
Their golden beams on all sides; such &s these, 4c.
Aud Svmpson, who would go ' a shorter way to work,' proposes.
They must be bright and shine,
Their cloaths soft velvet and the Tyrian purple,
Like the Arabian gein-hutig, like tlie sun
Their golden beams on all sides ;
For ' the Arabians (s^ys he) w^re remarkable for being adorn'd with jewels.* We have ne
doubt but that the text is genuii^e, assisted by the present division.
■* — save three Mndred acres
I^ompreKni execution; they*ve had sentence,
..And cannot be repr(ev'd, le merciful.] But Iiow roust tliey be sav^d if they cannot he
f^fryenfji f Would not one imagine then our authors wrote,
And cannot be reprieved e^?; be mcrciiui. Symp$on.
Go
174
THE NOBLE GINTUSM^IN:
[Act tm
Go to bed Ute, start thrice, and call on me?
'Would you were from this place ! Our coun-
try sleeps,
Altho* they were but of that moderate length.
That might maintain us in our liaily work,
Yet were they sound and sweet.
Mar. Ay, Jaques; there [gether.
We dreamxl not of our wives ; we lay toge-
And needed not. Now at length my cousin's
words.
So truly meant, mix'd with thy timely prayera
So often urgVI, to keep me at my home,
Condenm roe quite.
Jajues. Twas not vour father's course :
He bvM and died in Orleans, where he had
His vines as fruitful as e^iperienoe
(Which is the art of husbandry^ could make;
He had his oresses for 'em, and his wines
Were held tne best, and out-soid other men's;
His com and cattle serv'd the ne^hbour-towns
With plentiful provision, yet his thrift
Could miss one beast amongst the hesd; he
ruM
More where heliv'd, than ever you will here.
Mar. 'Tis true: why should my wife then,
'gainst my good.
Persuade me to continue in this course ?
Jaques. Why did you bring her liitber P At
the first, [lights,
Before you warm'd her blood witli new de«
Our country sports could have contented her:
When you first married her, a puppet-play
Pleased her as well as now the ulung doth.
She thought herself brave in a bugle-chain.
Where orient pearl will scarce content her
now. \yay good
Mar. Sure, Jaques, slie sees something for
More than I do ; she oft will talk to me
Of offices, and that she shortW hopes,
By her acquaintance with thefrienas she hath,
To get a place sball manv times outweigh
Our great expences ; nnci if this be so—
Jaques. Think better of her words; she
dotli deceive you,
And only for her vain apd sensual ends
Persuade you thus. Let me be set to dwell
For ever naked in the barest soil,
So you will dwell from hence!
Mar. I see my folly :
Pack up my stuff! I ^411 away this mom.
Haste, haste !
Jaques. Ay, now I sec your father's honours
Trebling upon you, and the many prayers
The country spent for him, (which almost
now
Begun to turn to curses) turning back,^
And falling like a timely shower upon you.
Mar, Go, call up my wife!
Jnqucs, But shall She not prevail,
And sway you, as slie oft hath done before?
Mar, I will not hear hf r, but rail on her^
V Till I be ten miles off.
Jaauet, If yon be forfy»
Twill not be worse, sir.
Mar. Call her up !
Jaques. I will, sir. [ExU^
Mar. Why, what an ass was I> that suck
a thing
As a wife is could rule me ! Kbow not I
That woman was created for the man? [be
That her desires, nay, all her thoughts, shosid
As his are ? Is my sense restord at length ^
Now she shall know, that which she should
desire,
She hath a husband that can gOTeni her»
Enter Lady*
If her desirto lead against my Drill "•
Are you come ?
lidy. What sad unwonted cottrse
Makes yon raise me so soon, tliat went to bed
So late last night?
Mar. Oh, you shall go to bed
Sooner hereafter, and 1^ rais'd again
At thrifly liours : in smnmer-time well walk
An hour after our supper, and to bed;
In winter you shall have a set at cards.
And set your maids to work.
Ijady, What do you mean ?
Mar. I will no more of your new tricky
your honours.
Your offices, and all }[our laige preferments,
(Which still you beat into my ears hang o'er
me);
111 leave behind for others the great sway
Which I shall bear at court; my living here.
With countenance of your honour'd friendb,
I'll be content to lose : foryou speak this
Only that you may still continue here
In wanton ease, and draw me to consume.
In cloaths and other things for idle show.
That which my father got with lionest tRrift,
Ijady. Why, who hath been with you, sir,
tliat you talk
Thus out of frame?
Mar. You make a fool of me !
You provide one to bid me forth to supper.
And make promise ; then must some one or
other
Invite you forth : if you have home yourself
Loosely to any gentleman in my sight.
At home, ^ou a^ me how I like tlie carriage \
Whether it were not rarely for my good,
And open'd not a way to my preferment?
Come, I perceive all ; talk not ! we'll away,
Jjady, Why, sir, youll stagr 'till the nest
triumph-day
Be past ? [umpliing
Mar. Ay, yon have kept me here tri«
This seven years; and I have ridden thro'
the streets, [too^
And bought embroidered hose and foot-ctoths
To shew a subject's zeal ! I rode before
In this most gorgeous hflbit, and saluted
'" If her desires leai me again^ ny t9<7(.] Th^ conteit declares th« word M£ to be an in*
terpolation^
Acta.]
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN.
175
I All the acquaintance tliat I could espy
From any -window : these were ways, yoa
told me, [straight,
Tondse me: I see all! Make you ready
And ia that gowa which you came first to
town in, [suitable,
Your safe-guard, doak, and your hood
Thus on a double gelding shall you amble.
And my man Jaques shall be set before you.
Ladu, But will you go ?
Mar. I wiU.
Lady. And shall I too?
Mar. And yon shall too.
Laitf, But shall I, by tliis light?
Mar. Why, by this light, you shall!
Lady. Then, by this light.
You have no care of your estate and mine.
Have we been seven years venturing in a ship^
And now upon return, with a fair wind,
And a calm sea, fuU fraught with our own
wishes.
Laden with wealth and honour to the brim.
And shall we fly away, and not receive it ?
Have we been tilling, sowing, labouring,
With pain and cfaax^, a long and tedious
winter.
And when we see the com above the ground^
Youthful as is the mom, and the full ear,
That promises to stufi'our spacious gamers.
Shall we then let it rut, and never reap it?
Mar. Wife, talk no more! Your rhetorick
comes too late ;
I am inflexible : and how dare you
Adventure to direct my course of life?
Was not the husband made to rule the wife?
Lady. Tis true; but where the man doth
miss his way,
It is the woman's part to set him right :
So, fathers have a power to guide their sons
Id all their courses ; yet you oft have seen
Poor little children, that have both their eyes,
Lead their blind lathers.
Mar. Sh'hns a plaguy wit!
I say, you're but a little piece of man.
Lad^. But such a piece, as, being ta*en
away,
Man cannot last : the fairest and tallest ship.
That ever sailM, is by a little piece [about.
Of the same wood steered right, and tum'd
Mar, nris trae she says; her answers
stand witii reason. [yonr head,
Lady. But, sir, your cousin put this in
Who is an enemy to your preferment,
Btcause I sliould not take place of his wife :
Come, by this kiss, thou shfdt not go, sweet-
heart, [heart.
Mur. Come^ by this kiss, I will go, sweet-
On with your nding-stuff! I know your tricks;
And if preferment fall ere you be ready,
Tis welcome; else, adieu, the city-life!
Lady. Well, sir, I will obey.
Mar, About it then. [dress myself
Lady. To please your humour, I would
lo the roost loathsome habit vou could name,
^ travel aoj whither o*er the worid^
If you command me : it shall ne*er be said.
The frailty of a woman, whose weak mind
Is often set on loose delights, and shows,
Hatli drawn her husband to consume his state,
In the vain hope of that which never fell.
Mar. About it then! Women are pleasant
creatures.
When once a man begins to know himself.
Lady. But hark you, sir; because I will
be sure
You shall have no excuse, no word to say
In your defence hereafter; (when you see
Wliat honours were prepared for you and me.
Which you thus willingly have thrown away)
I tell you, I did look for present honour
This morning for you, which I know had
come:
But if they do not come ere I am ready
(Which I will be the sooner, lest they should)
When I am once set in a country life,
Not all the power of earth shall alter me;
Not all yonr prayers or threats shall make
me speak
The least word to my honoimible friends.
To do yon any grace !
Mar. I will not wish it. [able!
Lady. And never more hope to be honour*
Aiar. My hopes are lower.
Lady. As I live, you shall not!
You sfiall be so far from the name of n<^1e^
That you shall never see a lord again ;
You shall not sec a masoue, or barriers.
Or tilting, or a solemn cnristning,
Or a great marrii^, or new fire-works.
Or any bravery; but you shall live
At home, bespotted with yourotvnlov*d din.
In scurvy clouths, as you were wont to do;
And, to content you, I will Hve so too.
Mar. Tis all I wish. Make haste; the
day draws on ;
It shall be my care to see your stuff packM
lip. \Exit.
lAidy. It shall be my care to guU you !
You shall stay;
And more than so, entreat me humbly too :
You shall have honours presently. Maria!
"Enttr Maria.
Maria. Madam!
Lady. Bring hither pen, ink, and paper,
Maria. Tis here.
Ididy. Your master will not stay.
Unless preferment come within an hour.
Maria. Let liim command one of the dty»
gates.
In time of mutiny; or, you may provide him
To be one of the council for invading
Some savage country, to plant Christian faith.
Lady. No, no; I have it for him. Call
my page ! [Rrit Maria,
Now, my dear husband, there it is will fit you :
And, when the world shall see what I have
done,
Let it not move the spleen 9f any wife.
To make aa ass of her belovbd husband,
Without
ir«
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN.
[Actf^
Without good ground: buU if they will be
drawn
To Hay reason by you, do not gull them;
But if they grow conceited of theroaelveSy
And be fine gentlemen^ have no mercy.
Publish them to the world! 'twill do them
good
When they shall see their follies understood.
Enter Page,
Go bear these letters to my servant '7,
And bid him make haste. I will dress
myself
In all the ionmey-cloaths I usM before,
Not to ride, but to make the laughter more.
[ExiL
Enter Marine and Jaques*
Mar. It all packed up?
Jaques, AH, all, sir ; there is no tumbler
Runs thro' his hoop witli more dexterity,
Tlian I about this business : 'tis a day
That I've long long*d to see—
Mar, Come; where's my spurs?
Jaque^, Here, sir. — And now 'tis come —
M[ir, Ay, Jaques, now,
I tlumk my fates, I can coounand my wife.
Jamitf, I'm glad to see it, sir.
Jlfar. I don't love always
- To be made a puppy, Jaques. [not look
Jaques. But yet meUiinks your worship does
Riglit like a country gentleman.
Mar. I will ;
Give me my t'other hat.
Jaquei. Here. ^
ilior. So; my Jerkin!
Jaques. Yes, sir.
Mar. On with it, Jaques; thou and I
Will live so finely in the country, Jaques,
' And have such pleasant walks into the woods
A-mominp^and then bring home riding-rods,
And walkmg-staves—
Jaques. And I will bear them, sir;
And sconrge>8ticks for the children.
Mar. So thou shalt;
And thou shalt do all, oversee my work-fi>lks>
And at the week's end pay 'cm all their
wages.
Jaques. I will, sir, so vour worship give
me money. [my ci rowers.
Mar, Tboo shalt receive all too. Give me
Jaques. l'hey*re ready, sir.
Mar. And i will make thy mistress.
My wife, look to her landry, and her dairy,
Tbiltwc may have our linen clean onSunditys«
Jaques. And holidays.
Mar. Ay ; and ere [breakfast,
We walk about the grounds provide our
Or she shftU smoke; Til have her a good
huswife :
She shall not make a voyage to her sbters.
But she shall live at home,
And feed her pollen fet, and see her maids
In bed before her, and lock all the doors.
Jaques. Why, tliat will be a life for kings
and queens! [button quickly^
Mar, Give me my scait with the g;reat
Jaques. Tis done, sir.
Mar. Now my mittens!
Jaques, Here they are, sir.
Mar. Tis well; now my great dagger!
Jaqufs. Tliere. [my nding«>rodf
Mar. Why, so! thus it should be; now
Jaques. There's nothing wanting, sir.
Mar. Another, man, to stick under my
Jaques. There it is. [girdle.
Mar. All is well. [looks
Jaques. Why now, methinks, your worship
Like to yuursnf, a man of means and credit:
So did your grave and famous ancestors
Ride up and down to fiiirs, and cheapen cattle.
Mar. Go, hasten your mistress, sirrah!
Jaques. It shall be done. [Exit,
Enter Gentleman and Page.
Cent. Wlio'sthat? who's that, boy ?
Page. I think it be ray master.
Gent. Who? he that walks in grey,
whisking his ridiiig-rocl ?
Page. Yes, sir, 'tis lie.
. Gent. 1 is he indeed ; he is preparVi
For his new journey. Wtien I wink upon yon^
Run out and Cell the gentleman 'tis time.—*
Monsieur, good day I
Mar. Monsieur,
Your mistresi is within, but yet not ready.
Gent. My business is with you, sir: 'tis
reported,
I know not whether by some enemy
Maliciously, that envies your grejit hopes^'
And would be ready to sow discontents
Betwixt his majesty and you, or truly,
(Which on my faith I would be sorry for) •
Tlmt you intend to leave the court in liaste.
Mar. Faith, «ir, within this liaif-liour.-*
Jaques. [within^ Sir! [Jaquefr!
Mar. Is my wile ready ?
Jaques. IVcseutly,
Gent. But, sir,
I needs must tell you, as I am your friend,
You should have ta*en your journey private^
For 'tis already blaz'd about the court
Mar, Why, sir, I hope it is no treason, is
it? [common talk;
Gent, Tis true, sir ; but 'tis grown tlic
There's no discourse else held'^; and m die
All the nobility and gentry [presence
Have nothing m their mouths but only this,
* Monsieur Marine, that i\ohU: gentleman,
* Is now departing lieuce ;' cvVy utan*s face
Looks ghastly on his teilow'b; buch a badness
(Before this day) I neVr heheUl iu court;
Men's hearts begin to fail iliem \^ ben they
bear it.
" ServasU.] i. e. In the old sense, lover, suitor.
*• There's na discovery cIh held.} Amended by Sympson,
Acts.]
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN.
17f
In expectation of the great evenc [good !
That Deeds must follow it: pray Heaven it be
Mar. Why, I had rather all their hearts
should fail,
Than I stay here until my purse foil me.
Gent, But yet you are a subject ; and be-
ware,
(I charge you by the love I bear to you)
How you do venture rashly on a course,
To make your sovereign jealous of your
deeds!
For prince's jealousies, where tliey love most,
Are easily found, but they be hardly lost.
Mar, Come, these are tricks; I smell 'em ;
I will go. f your friend ?
Gent, Have I not still profess*d myself
Mar, Yes, but you never shew'd it to me
yet. [wise ;
Gent, But now I will, because I see you
And give you thus much light into a busi-
ness''
That came to me but now : be resolute,
Stand stiffly to it, that you will depart,
And presently !
M(ir. Why, so I mean to do. [you will !
Gent. And, by this light, you may be what
Will you be secret, sir?
Mar, Why? what's the matter?
Gent, The king does fear you.
Mar. How?'
Gent, And's now in counseL
Mar. About me ?
Gent, About jou; an you be wise.
You'll find he is in counsel about you.
His counsellors have told him all the truth.
Mar. What truth? [well.
Gent. Why, that which now he knows too
Afor. What is't? [years
' Gent. That you have follow'd him seven
With a great train; and, tho' he have not
grac'd you, fsands.
Yet you nave div'd into the hearts of thou-
With liberality and noble carriage ;
And if you should depart home un preferred.
All discontented and seditious spirits
Would flock to you, and thrust you into ac-
tion: [doth not know
With whose help, and your tenants', who
(If you were so dispos'd) how great a part
Of this yet-fertile peaceful realm of France
You might make desolate? But when the
Heard this — [king
Mar. What said he?
Gent, Nothing; but shook,
As never Christian prince did shake before ;
And, tb be short, you may be what you will.
But be not ambitious, sir; sit down [self
With mod'rate honours, lest you make your-
More fear'd.
Mar, I know, sir, what I have to do
In mine own business.
Enter Longueville.
Long. Where's monsieur Mount-Marine ?
Gent. Why, there he stands; will you
aught with him?
jA)ng. Yes. Good day, monsieur Marine !
Mar. Good day to you !
Long. His majesty doth commend himself
Most kindly to you, sir, and hath, by mc.
Sent you this favour : kneel down : rise a
knight!
Mir. I thank his raajestv !
Long. And he dotli furtner
Bequest you not to leave the court so soon ;
For tho'' your former merits have been
slighted.
After tliis time there shall no office fall
Worthy your spirit (as he doth confess
There's none so gJ^at), but you shall surely
have it. [are an ass.
Gent. D'you hear? If you yield yet, you
Mar. I'll shew my service to his majesty
In greater things than those; but for this
small one
I must entreat his highness to excuse me.
Ijyng. ril bear your knightly words unto
the King,
And bring his princely answer back again.
Gent. Well said! Be resolute a while; I
know
There is a tide of lionours coming on;
I warrant you !
Entpr Beaufort,
Beau. Where is this new-made knight?
Mar. Here, sir.
Beau. Let me enfold you in my arms.
Then call you lord ! the king will have it so ;
Who doth entreat your lordship to remember
His message sent to you by Longueville.
Gent. If you be dirty**, and dare not
mount aloft, [do.
You may yield now ; I know what I would
Afar, Peace ! I will fit him. — ^Tell his ma-
jesty
I am a subject, and I do confess [heap'd
I serve a gracious prince,, that tlius liath
Honours on me without desert; but yet
As for I he message, business urgeth me,
I must be gone, nnd he must pardon me,
Were he ten thousand kings aud emperors.
BfMu. I'll tell him so.
Geni, W^hy, this was like yourself!
Beau. As he hath wrought him, 'tis thit
finest fellow
That e'er w^as Christmas-lord ! he carrits it
'' And give me thus much light.] Thus Mr. Sympson chuses to vary the text: it may be
added, to his honour, that he offers no vindication of this reading.
*• ffye be dirty, and, Sfc] Possibly our poets here gave it,
If ye be dirt-ty'd, Sympson,
It b to be sure possible} but we cannot think it probable,
VOL.UL A a So
176
TIi£ NOBLE GENTLEMAN.
[Act J^
So tnily to tlje life, as tbo' he were
One oftlie plot to gull himself. [Exit,
Gent. Why, so!
You sent the ^visest and the shrewdest answer
L'lito the king, I swear, my hononr'd friend,
That e^er any subject sent his iiege. [liip,
Mar. Nay. now I know I have him ou the
111 foUow it.
Enter Longuevil/e.
Long. My honourable lord ! [p^*"*
Giva roe- your nobie hand, rifsht courteous
And from henceforth be a courtly earl;
The king so wills, and subjects must obey:
Only he doth desire you to consider
- Ofhis request.
Cent. Why, feith, you're well, my lord;
Yield to him.
Mar. Yield ? Why, 'twas my plot —
Gent. Nay, •
rCwas your wife's plot.
Mar. To get preferment by it.
And thinks he now to pop me in the mouth
But with an earldom? rll be one step higher.
Gent. It is the finest lord I I am afraid
anon ' [him.
Hell stand upon*t to share the kiitgdom with
Enter Beaufort.
Beau. W^ here's this courtly earl?
His majesty commends his love unto you.
And will you but now grant to his reqtiest,
lie bids you be a duke, and chuse •^"whence.
Gent. Why, if you yield not now, you lu^
undone ; [kingdom?
What can you wish to have more, but the
Mar. So please his majesty, I would be duke
Of Bui^^nay, because I like the place.
Beau, I know the king is pleas'd.
Afar. Then will I stay.
And kiss liis highness' hand.
Beau. Uismiyesty
Will be a glad man When lie liears it.
Long* But how shall we keep this from
the world's ear,
That some one tell him not, he is no duke ?
Gent. We'll think of that anon.-*Why,
gentlemen.
Is tliis a gracious habit for a duke ?
Each gentle body set a finger to, [weeds)
To pluck the douds (of these his ridiiig-
From ofi the orient sun, off his best doaths;
1*11 pluck one boot and spur 06*.
Long. I another.
Beau. I'll pluck his jerkin o£
Gent. Sit aown, my lord.-r-
Both his spurs ofif at once, good Longueville !
And, Beaufort, take that scarf off; and that
liat [head.
Dotb not become his laiigely-sprouting fore*
Now set vour mcious foot to this of mine;
One pluck wilfdoit; so! Offwiththeotlierl
Long. Lo, thus your servant Longueville
doth pluck
Tlie trophy of your former gentry off.
Off with lus jerkin, Beaufort I
Gent. Didst then never see
A nimble-footed tailor stand so in's stocking^
Whilst some friend help'd to pluck his jerkia
To dance a jig? [ofl^
Enter Jagues.
Long. Here's his man Jaques come.
Booted and ready still.
Jagvet. My mistress stays^ [meao,.
Why, how now, sir? What do yoor worship
To pluck your grave and thrifty habit olF?
Mar. IVly slipf^ers, Jaques I [man^
Long. Oh, thou mighty duke! pardon thift
That thus hath trespassed in ignorauce.
Mar. I pardon him.
lAtng. His grace's slipperS, Jaques !
Ja^quet. Why, what's the matter ?
Long. Footman, he's a duke :
The king hath rais'd him above all iiis land. '
Jaqua. 111 to his cousin presently, and
tell him so;
Oh, what a dunghill country rogue was I!
[Esit^
Enter Ladj.
Gent. See, see, my mistress !
Long. Let's obsene their greeting, [ought.
Lady. Unto your will, as every good wife
I liave tum*d all my thoughts, and now am
ready.
Mar. Oh, wife, I am not worthy to kiss
The least of all thy toes, much less thy
tliumb, [counsel
Wliich yet I would be bold with ! All thy
Hath been to me angelical ; but mine
To thee hath been most dirty, like my mind.
Dear duchess, I must stay.
Ltuly. What! are you mad, [wind me.
To miike ine dress, and undress, turn and
Because vou find me pliant ? Said I not
The whole world should not alter me, if once
I TV as resolved? and now you call me du-
Why, what*s tlie matter? [chess f
ilar. Lo, a kniuht doth kneel*-
Lwfy. A knight ?
Mar, A lord —
Ixtdj/, A fool !
Mar, I say doth kneel
An earl, a duke.
Ixmg, In drawers.
Beau. Witliout shoes.
Ladj^. Sure you are lunatrck.
Gent. No, iionour'd duchess ;
If you dare but beliere your servant*s trutb,
I know lie is a duke.
Long. God save his grace !
Ladjf. I ask your grace's pardon!
Mar. Then I rise :
And here, in token that all strife shall end
^wixt thee and me, I let my drawers fall»
And to thy liands I do deliver tliem ;
Which signifies, that in all acts and speeches
From this time forth, my wife shall wear the
breeches.
Gent. An honourable composition !
lExtunt.
ACT
Acts.]
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN.
If9
ACT III.
Oiil^ in seeking to undo this honour^ [dirt.
VVhicli shewM our dunghill breeding and our
Cler. But tell me, Jaques,
Why could we aot perceive? what dull devil
Wrought us to croflb this noble course, per>
suading
Twould be iiis overthrow? For voe, a cour-
tier
Is be that knows all, Jaques, and does all:
Tis as bis noble grace hath often said,
And very wisely, Jaques, we are fools,
And understand just nothing*
Jaques. Ay, as we were, [ter,
I confess it ; but,'risine with our great mas*
We shall be call'd to knowledge with our
^jlacest
(Tis nothing to be wise, not thus much there)
There is not the least of the billet-^lealers^^
Nor any of the pastfy, or the kitchen,
But have it in measure delicate.
Cler. Mcthinks this greatness of the duko*s
my cousin's,
(I ask your mercy, Jaques ! that near name
Is too familiar for me) should give promise
Of some great benefits to his attenuants.
Jaques. 1 have a suit myself; and it is sure.
Or I mistake my ends much.
Cler. What is't, Jaoues ?
May I not crave the place ?
- Jaques. Yes, sir, you shall;
Tis to be but his grace's secretary,'
Which is my little all, and my ambition.
Till my known worth shall take nie by the
hand
And set me higher. How the fates may do
In this poor thread of lite, is yet uncertain :
I was not bom, I take it, for a trencher.
Nor to espouse my mistress' dairy-maid.
Cler. I am resolv'd my wife shall up to
court;
(I'll fiimish hor) that is a speeding course,
And cannot chuse but breed a mighty for-
tune.
What a fine youth was I, to let him start,
*' Men made qfhevLfe and sarcenet. 1 So the folios. The octavo of 1711 varies beufe to
herf; and Sympson to buff.
Oor ancient dramatic writers are so very careless in adapting the manners of their charac-
ters to the places in which their scenes are laid, that although France is the country in
which all the events in this play are supposed to have happened; yet we apprehend the allu-
sion here is to a matter proper only to Eughmd ; and therefore vire are not warranted to
make any alteration in the text. Tlie yeonien of the guard in England are generally culled
f^^tt'eaters ; and to thi^ cifcumstance, k is probable, the author here refenii. To this we
may add, that SwiUers appears to have been the title given to such guards as attended ttliout
the royal person, at least m Denmark, unless Shakespeare has vioTuted the same rules )f
propnety; and in the same manner we suppose our author to have oflended. In Haniiet,
set iv. scene 6, tlie King says,
• Where are my Suitzers f Let them guard the door.' R,
^ BilUt'deaiers] We conceive, refers to wood dispensed for /ucL
A a 2 And
Enter Clerimdnt and Jaquei,
Cler. CHALL I believe thee, Jaques?
^ Jaques. Sir, you may,
Cier, Didst thou not dream f
Jmques. I did not.
Ckr^ Nor imagine?
Jmques. Neither of both: I saw him great
and mighty; [cry,
I saw th» moiisieurs bow, and heard them
* Good beftlth and fortune to my lord tlie
dnkeP
Cler. A doke? art sure, a duke?
Jaques. I'm sure, a duke ;
And so sure, as I know myself for Jaques.
Cler. Yet tha sun maydaisle! Jaques, was
it not {house.
Same lean commander of an angry block-
Ts keep tlic Flemish eel-boats from invasion?
Or some bold baron able to dispend
His fifty pounds a-year, and meet the foe
Upon tLe king^s command, in gilded canvas,
And do his deeds of worth ? or was it not
Sooie place of gnin^ as clerk to tlie great band
Of marrowbones, that people call tlie
Switzers ?
Men made of beef and sarcenet'^ ?
Jaques. Is a duke [sence?
Ilis chamber hung with nobles like a pre-
Ckr. I'm 8ome£ing v.av'ring in my fajth:
'Would you would settle me, and swear it is
Is he a duke indeed ? [so !
Jaques. I swear he is. [Jaques,
Cler. Fm satisfied. lie is my kmsman,
And I his poor unworthy cousin.
Jaques. True, sir. fhad means,
Cler. 1 might have been a auke too; I
A wife as fair as his, and as wise as his, This,
And could have brook'd the court as well as
And laid about her for her husband's honour :
Oil, Jaques, had I ever dream'd of this,
1 had prevented him.
Jaques. Faith, sir, it came
Above our expectation: we were wise
I8d
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN.
[Act 3.
And get tbe rise before me ! I'll dispatch,
And put myself iii monies.
Jaques, Ma&s, 'tis true ! [ness
And, now you talk of money, sir, my busi-
For taking those crowns must be <HspatchM:
This little plot*' i'th' country lies most fit
To do his grace such serviceable uses.
I must about it.
Cler. Yet, before you go, ' [vice
Give me your hand, and bear my humble ser-
To the great duke your master, and his du-
chess,
And live yourself in favour! Say, my wife
Shall there attend them shortly; so, farewell!
Jaques. Ill see you mounted, sir.
Chr. It may not be !
Your place is fiir above it ; spare yourself,
And know I am your servant. Fare you vtftW !
[Exit.
Jaques, Sir, I shfdl rest to be commanded
by you. —
This place of secretary will not content me ;
I must be more and greater. Let mc see]
To be a baron is no such great matter.
As people take't : for, say I were a count,
Fm still an under person to this duke,
(Which methinks sounds but harshly) ; but a
duke?
Oh, I am strangely taken ! 'tis a duke.
Or nothing; I'lladvise upon't, and see
What may be done by wit and industry.
[ExiL
Enter Lady, LonguevUky Beaufort, and
Gentleman,
"Lady: It must be carried closely, with a
care [hinr.
That no man speak unto him, or come near
Without our private knowledge, or be made
A forehand to our practice. Aly good hus-
band,
I shall entreat you now to stay a while,
And prove a noble coxcomb. Gentlemen,
Your counsel and advice about this car-
riage** I [mourn
GenU Alas, good man, I do begin to
His dire massacre: what a persecution
Is pourins down upon him ! Sure he's sinful.
Long, tetliim be keptin's chamber, under
show
Of state^and dignity, and no man suffer d
To see his noble face, or have access,
But we that are conspirators!
Beaii. Or else,
Bovm with him into th' country 'mongst his
tenants !
There he may live far longer in his greatness,
And play the fool in pomp amonest his fel-
lows, [and stay;
"Lady, No, he shall play the fool i' th' city,
I will not lose the greatness of this jest,
(That shall be given to my wit) for th' whole
revenues. [his person,
Gent, Then thus; we'll have a guard about
That no man come too near him, and our-
selves
Always in company; have him into th' city
To see liis face swell; whilst in divers cor*
ners.
Some of our own appointing shall be ready
To cry, Heav*n bless your grace, lope live
your grace ! IS^^^^t
Lady, Servant, your counsel is excellent
And shall be follow d ; 'twill be rarely strange
To see him stated thus, as tho' he went
A-shroving thro' the city, or intended
To set up some new stake*^ : I shall not hold
From open laughter, when I hear.him cry,
' Come hither, my sweet duchess; let me kiss
' Thy gracious lips 1' forthis will be his phrase,
I fear me nothing, but his legs will break
Under his mighty weight of such a greatness.
Beau, Now metliiuKS, dearest lady, you're
too cruel ;
His very heart will freeze in knowing this.
hady, No^ no ; the man was never of such
deepness, - [yo**
To make conceit his master: sir, I'll assure
He will out-live twenty such pageants.
Were he but my cousin, or my brother.
And such a desp'nite killer ol his fortune.
In this belief he should die, tho' it cost me
A thousand crowns a-day to hold it up;
Or, wbre I not known his wife, and so to have
An equal feeling of this ill he suffers,
He should be thus 'till all the boys i'th' town
Made suit to, wear his badges in their hats.
And walk before his grace with sticks aud ^
nos^ays.
We married women hold-^
Gent, 'TIS well ; no more I
The duke is entering : set your faces right.
And bow like country prologues. Here he
comes.
Make room afore ! the duke is entering.
Enter Marine,
Long, The choicest fortunes wait upon
our duke ! [piness !
Gent, And ^ive him all content aud hap*
Beau, Let his great name Uve to the end
of time !
Mar, We thank you, -and are pleas'd to
give you notice
*» Flot,'\ i. e. Plot of ground.
** About tftU carriage.] That is, the conducting the plot on Marine,
«3 — or intended
To Met up tomeneu) wake.] This reading runs no higher than the edition of 1679. That
of 1647 gives it thus:
To set up some new ituke, t. e, as I understand it; May^pole* Sympton.
Wo
Acts,]
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN.
181
We shall at filter tinues wait on your loves ;
Till when, be near us.
Long, 'Tis a valiant purge,
And works cxtFemely ; *t has delivered him
Of all right worshipful and geude humours,
And left his bellv lull of nobleness.
Mar. It pleas d the king my master,
For sundry virtues not unknown to him,
And the all-seeing state, to lend his hand,
And raise me to this eminence: bow this^
May seem to othef men, or stir the minds
Of such as are my fellow-peers, I know not;
I would desire their loves in just designs.
Lady, Now, by my faith, he does well,
. very well :
Beshiew my heart, i have not seen a bettor,
Of a raw fellow, that before this day [weii !
Never rehears'd his state: 'Tis marvellous
Gent. Is he not duke indeed ? see how lie
h% if his spirit were a last or two [looks.
Above his veins, and stretchy his noble hide !
Long, He's high-brac'd, like a drum ; pray
God be break not 1 fcalfs-skin lost.
Betu, Why, let him break; there's but a
hang. Mav't please your grace to sec the
dty? 'twill
Be to the minds and roi^ch contentment of
The doubtful people.
Hot. I'm deterroin'd so : till my return,
I leave my honour'd duchess to her chamber.
Be careful of your health! I pray you be so.
Gent. Your grace shall suffer us, your
bumble servants,
To give attendance, fit so great a person,
r^n your body?
Mar. I am pleased so.
Long. Away, good Beaufort; raise a guard
sufficient [quick !
To keep him firom the reach of tongues; be
And, do you hear ? remember how tlie streets
Most be dispos'd for cries knd salutations. —
Your grace determines not to see the king?
Mar^ Not yet; I sliall be ready ten days
hence
To kiss his highness' hand, and give him thanks,
As it is fit I should, for his great bounty.
8et forward, gentlemen !
Groom, Room for tlie duke there!
[Exeunt Mar, and Train,
Lady. *Ti8 fit he should have room to shew
his mightiness,
He swells so with his poison ! — 'Tis better to
Reclaim you thus, than make a sheep's-head
of you; [sir.
It had been -but your due ; but I have mercy,
Aad mean to reclaim you by a directer course.
That woman is not worthy of a soul, [band,
Tliat has the sovereign power to rule herhus-
Aod eives her title up; so long provided
As there be fair play, and his state not
wronged.
Enter ShattilUon.
Shat, 1 would be glad to know whence this
new duke springs,
The people buz abroad : -or by what title
He recciv'd his dignity : 'tis very strange
There should be such dose ju^ing in thtt
state!
But I am tied to silence; yet a day
May come, and soon, to perfect all these
doubts. [soul.
Lady, It is the mad Shattillion: by my
I sufier much for this poor gentleman!
I will speak to liim; may be he yet knows me.
Monsieur Sliattillion !
Shut. Can you give me reason.
From whence this great duke sprang that
walks abroad ?
Lady. £'en from the king himself.
SAat. As you're a woman,
I think you may be cover'd : yet your prayer
Would do no harm, good woman.
Lady. God preserve him !
EfUer SkattilUMi Lace,
Shot, I say anieuy and so say all good 8ul«
jects I
Love, L^d Y, as ever you have lov'd, or shall,
As you have hope of Heaven, lend your hand
And wit, to draw this poor distracted man
Under your roof, from the broad eyes of peo-
And wonder of the streets. fpje.
Lady. With all my heart :
My feeling of his grief and loss is much.
Love, Sir, now you're come so near thtf
prison, will you
Go in, and visit your fair Love ? Poor soul !
She would be glad to see you.
Shat. This same duke
Is but apocryphal ; there's no creation
That can stand, where titles are not right.
Love. Tis true, sir.
Shat. This is another draft upon my life!
Let me examine well the words I spake:
The vfords I spake were, tliatthis novel duke
is [tain.
Not o'tli' true making : 'tis to me most cer-
Lady. You are as right, sir, as you went
by hue. [more—
S/idt. And, to tliegrief of many thousands
Lfidy. If there be any such, God comfort
them ! [time shall please.
tice. ^me,
You shall not need to have your guard upon
Which I am sure ai-e plac'd for my attach-
ment.
Lead on ! I am obedient to my bonds.
Love, Good sir, be not displeas'd with us!
We are ^ [that good.
But servants to his highness' will, to make
Shat. I do forgive you, even with my heart.
Shall I entreat a favour?
Lady. Any tiling. [stroke,
Shat. To see my Love, before that fiital
And publish to the worid my Christian death,
And true obedience to the crown of France,
m^
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAIT.
XAct ^*
Lone, I hope it sliall not need, sir; for
there's mercy,
As well as justice, in his royal heart.
[Exeunt,
Enter three Gentlemen*
1 Gent, Every man take his comer ! Here
am I, [perfect;
You there, and yon in that place ; so ! be
Have a great care your cries be loud, and
faces [comes.
Full of dejected fear and humbleness. He
Enter Jague$,
Jaquet, Fy, how these streets are charg'd
and sweli'd [room,
"With these same rascally people ! Give more
Or I shall have occasion to clistribute
A martial alms among you: as Fm a gentle-
man,
I have not seen such rude disorder ! They
Follow him like a prize. There's no true
like to your citizen ! he will be sure
She bears sliall not pass by his doorin peace,
ut he and all his family will follow.
Entet Marine and his Company,
Room there afore; sound! Give room and
keep your places!
And you may see enough ; keep your places !
Long, These people are too far uuman-
ner*d, thus
To stop your grace's way with multitudes.
Mar, Rebuke them not, good monsieur :
Tis their loves,
Which I will answer, if it please my stars
To spare me life and liealtii.
!2 Gent. Heaven bless vonr grace !
Mar, And you, with ail my heart !
1 Gent. Now Heav*n preserve your happy
Mar, I thank you too. [days !
3 Gent, Now Ileav'n save your gmce !
Mar. I thank you all.
Beau, On there betbre !
' Afar. Stand, gentlemen !
Stay yet a while; for I am minded to
Impart my love to these good people, and
My friends, whose love and prayers for my
greatness.
Are equal in abundance. Note me well.
And with my words my heart; for as the
tree — [be inform'd
Long. Your grace had best beware; 'twill
Your greatness with the people.
** You^re faithfully ffic^l Amended by Sympson.
*' The high and mighty duchess 9
' • Duchy lope^man,
A ladder of an hundred, &c.1 This is a severe sneer upon the states of Holland^ &0i,
for arro^ting the title of high and mighty f who, nqt |ot)g before, had not diir'd to assume a
better than that of the poor distressed. The time when the sti^tes took this stile upon 'em,
u'ill be a .pretty certam aera to fix the date of this Play ; but I have not leisure to consult
Cjic books of those times, and therefore shall wish the reader will do it for me. Sympson.
^^ Lope-77itf n.] Lope is an obsolete word^ wltich^ we learn from Cgles*s Dkt, meant to heap,
'' I must
Mar. Ihadmo^,
My honest and ingenuous people; but
The weight of business hath prevented me;
I am call'd from you : but tins tree I spake of i
Shall bring forth fruit, I hope to jrouf content.
And so, I share my bowels 'mongst yoa alL
Omnes, A noble duke! a very noble duke!
Enter Fourth Gentleman.
Gent. Afore there, gentlemen !
4 Gent: You're fairlv met^, good mon-
sieur Mount Marine 1
Gent. Be advis'd ! the time is alterM.
4 Gent, Is he not the same man he was
afore ?
Mar, Still the same man to you, sir.
Long. You have received mighty grace;
be thankful.
4 Gent. Let n»e not die in ignorance.
Long. You shall not : [pleas*d
Then know, the kinp, out of his love, hath
To stile him duke ol Burgundy.
4 Gent. Oh, great duke.
Thus low I nlead for pardon, and desire
To be enroll'd amongst your poorest slaves.
Ma7\ Sir, you have mercy, and withal toy
hand.
From henceforth let me call you one of mine.
Gent, Make room afore there, and dismiss
the people! [and quiet!
Mar. Kv'ry man to his house in peace
People. Now IIeav*n preserve the duke I
Heav'u bless the duke ! [Exeunt*
Enter Lady^ with a Letter in her hand.
Lady. This letter came this momiug from
my cousin :
* To the great lady, high and mighty duchess
* Of Rui'gundy, be these deliver^!.'
Oh, for a stronger lace to keep my breath,
Tliat I may laugh the nine days, 'till the won-
der • [chess**?
Fall to an ebb! the hi^h and mighty du*
The high and mighty God, wliat a side's this!
Methinks it goes like a dutcby lope-man *^ !
A ladder of one hundred rounds will fail
To reach the top on't. Well, my gentle cousin^
I know^ by these contents^ your itch of ho-
nour I [ly :
You must to th' court you say, and very shoit-
You shall be welcome ; and if your wife hav^
wit,
111 put her in a thriving course; if not.
Her own sin on her own head ! not a blot
Sbi^l stain my reputation, only this;
Act 3.]
THE NOBI^E aENTLEMAN,
18d
Mttr» What is he?
Tf he be noble, or have anj part
Tliat's worthy our convei*se, we do accept
hiiu. [noble ;
JLadi/, I can assure your grace, lus strain is
But he is very subtle.
Mar, Let him be so ! [strate
Let him have all the brains, I shall demon*
How this most Christian crown of France
can bear
No other show of title than the king's.
I will go in and meditate for half an hour,
And tlien be ready for him presently;
I will convert him quickly, or confound him:
Ge?U, Is mad Shattillion here?
Lad^, 'Is here, and's lady.
I prithee, servant, fetch him hither*
Gent. Why,
What do you mean to put him to ?
Ladi/. To chat [brave
With the mac^ lad my husband; 'twill hp
To hear them speak, babble, stare, and prate!
Beau. But what shall be die end of ali
tills, lady?
Enter SftattUlUm and Love,
Lady. Leave that to me. Now for the
grand dispute!
For see, here comes Shattillion: as I live,
Methiniss all France should bear part of bit
^efs.
lAmg, 111 fetch my lord the duke.
Shat, Where am 1 now?
Or whither will you lead mc? to my death?
I cfxive ray privilege !
I must not die, but by just course oflaw^
Oent, His majesty hath sent by me your
pardon ; [entreat you
He meant not you should die, but would
To lay the full state of your title opeo^
Unto a grave and noble gentleman.
Enter Marine and Longuevilie,
The duke of Burgundy, who here doth come;
Who, either by his wisdom will confute you.
Or else inform and satisfy the king.
Beau, May't please your grace, this is the
gentleman.
Mar. Is tills he that chops logick wick.
my licgc ?
y MoiL] i. e. A mule. Anciently it was always spelt thus. From many examples which
nught be produced, take the following:
' For one that is sand-blynd woulde take an asse for a fHpyk, or another praise a rime of
* Aobyn Hode for as excellent a making as Troylus of Chaucer ; yet slioulde they not straight^
' wais be counted madde therfore.' Eramus Frai$e ofFoify, by Sir Tho$, Chalofier, 1^6. JK.
*• — — wait for my coming to
Ikke up po8t-hor$e$.] As his grace in imagination was not going into the country, but
I must for health's sake sometimes make an
ass [good,
Of the tame moil ^^ my husband; 'twill do him
And give him fresher brains, me fresher blopd.
Now for the noble duke I I bear hiip comiug.
Enter Marine and his IVain,
Yoar grace is well return'd.
Mar, As well as may be ;
Never in younger health, never more able :
I mean to* be your bedfellow this night;
Let me have good encounter. ,
Beau, Bless me, Heav'n,
What a hot meat this greatness is !
Long, It may be so;
For ril be sworn he hath not got a snap
This t%vi> months on my knowledge, or her
woman
Is damn*d for swearing it. [tendance,
Mar. I thank you, gentlemen, for your at-
And also your great pains ! Pray know my
lodgings
Better and oAner; do so, gentlemen !
Now, by my honour, as I am a prince,
I sp<»k sincerely, know my lodgings better.
And be not strangers ! I shall see your service
And your deservings, when you leastexpect —
Omues, We humbly thaink 5 our grace for
this great favour.
Mar, Jaques!
Jaques, Your grace?
Mar. Be ready for the country.
And let my tenants know the king's great
love ;
Say I would see them, but tlie weight at court
Lies heavy on my shoulders; let them know
I do expect their duties in attendance
'(''aiiist the next feast, wait for my coming to
Take up post-horses^^, and be full of speed.
[Exit Jaques,
Lady. I would desire your gnu:e —
Mar. You shall desire, [speak \
And have your full desire : sweet duchess,
iMdy. To have some conference with a
gentleman
TMt seems not altogether void of reason :
He talks of tides, and things near the crown;
And knowing none so fit as your good grace
To give the difference*' in such points of
state-
only was sending his man witli a message thither, one should t^nk it no injury done to the
poets, to suppose they wrote,
Go
Take up post-horses, &c. Sympson,
We think this may refer to thdr attendance "gainst the next feast,
^ Difference,] Syinpson would read, * Deference^ from the French deferer^ to decree, '
•inch variatjon fr^ think hard.
Shat.
IBIr
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN.
[Act 4.
Shot. D*ye mock me? You are great; the
time will come.
When you shall be as raach contemn'd as T.
W here are the ancicntcoropliments of France,
That upstarts brave the pnnces of the blood ?
Mar, Your title, sir, in short ?
Shat, He must, sir, be
A better statesman than yourself, that can
Trip me in anyr thing; £ will not speak
Beiore these witnesses.
Mar. Depart the room ; [duchess.
For none shall stay, no, not my dearest
iMdy. We'll stand behind the arras, and
hear all. [Eipeunt.
Mar. In that chair take your place ; I in
Discourse your title now. [this :
Shot. Sir, you shall know,
My Love's true title'®, mine by marriage;
Setting aside the first race of Frencli kmgs.
Which will not here concern us, as Phara-
mondy , ,
With Clodius, Meroveus, and Chilperick,
And to come down into the second race.
Which we will likewise slip —
Mar. But, take me with you! [Charles,
Shot, I pray you give me leave! Of Martel
The father of king Pepin (who was sire
To Charles the Great) and famous Charle-
main ; [kings.
And to come to the third race of fVench
\Vhich won't be greatly pertinent in tliis
cause
Betwixt the king and me, of \vhich yon know
Hugh Capet was the first ;
Next his son Robert, Henry then, and Philip,
With Lewis, and his son a' Lewis too,
And of that name the seventh ; but all this
Springs from a female, as it shall ap-
pear—
Mar, Now give me leave! I grant you this
your title,
At the first sight, carries some show of truth;
But if ye wei^h it well, ye shall find light.
Is not his majesty posses^d in peace.
And justice executed in his name?
And can you think the most Christian kiiif;
W^ould do this, if he saw not reason for it ?
Shut. But had not the tenth Lewis a sole
Mar, I cannot tell. [daughter ?
Shut. But answer me directly.
Mar. It is a most seditious question.
Sff'it. Is this your justice ?
Mar. I stand for my king.
Shat. Was ever heil^apparent thus abus'd ?
Ill have your head for this!
Mar. Why, do your worst! [traitor?
Shat. Will no one stir to appreliend this
A guard about my person ! Will none come f
Must my own royal hands perform the deed ?
Then thus I do arrest you.
Mar. Treason! help!
Enter Lady, Longueville, Beavfort, and
Gentleman.
Lady. Help, help, my lord and husband !
Mar. Help the duke!
Long. Furbedr his grace's person !
Shat. Forbea^ you
To touch him that your heir-apparent weds !
But, by tliis liandT, I will have all Tour
heads, [Erit.
Gent. How doth your grace ?
Mar. Why, well.
Gent. How do you find his. title }
Mar. 'Tis a dangerous one, "^
As can come by a female.
Gent. Ay, 'tis true ;
But the law Salique cuts him off from alt.
iKmg. I do beseech your grace how
stands his title ? [him off from all.
Mar. Pho! nothing! th* law Salique cuts
Lady. My gracious husband, yon must
now prepare,
In all your grace's pomp to entertain
Your cousin, who is now a convertite,
And follows here ; this night he will be here.
Mar. Be ready all in Iwste ! I do intend
To shew before nw cousin's wondring face.
The greatness of*^ my pomp, and of my
place. [Exenni.
ACT IV.
Enter Clermont, hU Wife, and a Servant,
Cler. ^IRRAH, is all things carried to the
*^ tailor?
The measure, and tlie fashion of the gown.
With the best trim ?
Serv. Yes, sir, ^nd 'twill be ready
Within this two da^s.
Cler. For myself I care not ;
I have a suit or two of ancient velvet,
Which, with some small correcting afid.ad«
]\jlay steal into the presence. [dition,
Wife. 'Would my gown
Were ready ! husband, I will lay my life
To make you something ere tomorrow*D]ght
Cler. It must not be
Before we see the duke, and have advice.
How to behave ourselves. Let's in tlie while,
And keep ourselves from knowledge^ 'till
time shall call us! [Exeunt,
3^ This seems a flirt on the English king's title to France, in Henry the Fifth.
neobeld.
Enter
4^ct4.1
iHfi NOBLE GENTtEMAN.
Enter ijmgkeviUe and Beaufort.
Lang. I mach admire the fierce! masculine
Of this dread Amazon. [spirit
Beau. This following night
Hi have awench in solace.
Lon^, Sir, I hear you,
And will be with you, if I live; no more!
Enter Maria.
Maria. My lady would entreat your pre-
sence, gentlemen. [worthy.
Beau. We will obey your lady; she is
Long. You, light o'love", a word or two.
Maria. Your will, sir?
Long. Hark in your ear! Fmarry?
Wilt diou be married? Speak, wUt thou
Maria. Married ? to whom, sir ?
Long. To a proper fellow.
Landed, and able-bodied !
Maria. Why do you flout me, sir ?
Long. I swear I do not;
I love thee for thy lady's sake : be free!
Maria. If I could meet such matches as
you speak of^
I were a very child to lose my time, sir.
Long. What sayest thou to monsieur
Maria. Sir, [Beaufort?
I say he is ti proper gentleman, and &r
Above my means to look at.
Long. Dost thou like him ?
Maria. Yes, sir, and ever did.
Long. He is thine own.
Maria. You are too great in promises.
Xofi^. Be rol'd,
And follow my advice, he shall be thine.
Maria, ^ould you would make it good, sir !
Long. Do but thus :
Get thee a cushion underneath thy cloaths,
And leave the rest to me.
Maria. Fll be your scholar ;
1 cannot lose much by the venture sure.
Long. T1h)u wilt lose a pretty maiden-
head, my rogue, [member,
Or I am much oUh'bow hand. You'll re-
If all this take effect, who did it for you,
And what I may deserve for such a kind-
ness?
Maria. Yours, sir. [Exeunt.
Enter Jaques and Shattiilion severally.
^ Jaques. Save you, sir!
^ Sliat. Save the king! [way —
Jaques. I pray you, sir, which is tlie nearest
Shot. Save the king! This is the nearest
way. [post-house ?
Jaques. Which is the nearest way to the
Shot. God save the king and his post-
house!
Jaques. I pray, sir, direct me to the house.
Shat. Heaven save the king ! You cannot
catch me, sir.
Jaques. I do not understand you, sir.
m
Shat. You do liot? I say, you cannot
catch me, sir.
Jaques. Not catch you, sir?
- Shat. No, sir ; nor can the king.
With all his stratagems, and his forc'd tricks,
(Altho' he put his nobles in disguise,
Never so oft, to sift into ray words)
By course of law, lay hold upon my life.
Jaques. It is a business that my lord the
duke
Is by the king employed in, and he thinks
I am aeouainted with it.
Shat. I shaVt need
To rip the cause up, from the first, to you;
But if his majesty had suffered me
To marry her, tho' she be, after him.
The right heir-general to the crown of
France,
i would not have convey'd her into Spain,
As it was thouglit, nor would I e'er have
joined
With the reformed churches, to make them
Stand for my cause.
Jaques, 1 do not think you would.
Shat. I thank, you, sir. And since I see
you are
A favourer of virtues kept in bondage.
Tell directly to my sovereign king,
(For so I will acknowledge liim for ever)
How you have found my staid affections
Settled for peace, and for the present state.
Jaques. Why, sir —
Shat. And, good sir, tell him further this;
That notwithstanding all suggestions brought
To him against me, and all his suspicions
(Which are innumerable) of my treasons,
If he will warrant me but public trial,
I'll freely yield myself into his hands :
Can he nave more than this ?
Jaques. No, by my troth. [reason,
Shat. I would bis majesty would hear buc
As well as you !
.Jaques. But, sir, you do mistake me.
For I ne'er saw the king
In all my life but once : therefore, good sir,
May*t please you to shew me which is the
post-house ? [ray friend?
Shat. I cry you mercy, sir! then you're
Jaques. Yes, sir. ,
iSi^cr^. And such raen are very rare with me !
The post-house is hard by. Farewell !
Jaques. I thank you, sir ! I must ride hard
to-night.
And it is dark already.
Shat. I am cruel,
To send this man directly to his death.
That is my friend, and I might easily save
him: fback !
Mc shall not die. Comeback, my friend, come
Jaques. What is your will ?
Shat. Do you not know?
Jaques. Not T. [face ?
Shot. And do you gather nothing by my
3* You. light alone.] Amended in 1750.
VOL. IH. B b
Jaques.
186
tHti NOBtE GENTLEMAN.
[Act 4
Jaquet. Ko, sir.
Shot. Virtue is ever innocent
Lay not the fault on me ; I grieve for you.
And wish that all my tears ^ight win your
safety.
Jaques, Why, sir?
Shot. Alas, good friend, you are undone.
The more ill fortune mine, to be tlie means
Of your sad overthrow : ^ou know not me ?
Jaquet, No, truly, sir.
Shut. .'Would you had never seen me !
1 am a man pursued by the whole state.
And sure some one hath seen me talk with you.
Jaques. Yes, divers, sir.
Shot, Why then, your head is gone.
Jaquet, I'll out of town.
Shat, 'Would it were soon enough !
Stay, if you love your life: or else you're
taken.
' Jaques. What shall I do?
Shat rU venture deeply for him,
Hather than cast awav an innocent :
Take courage, friend f I will preserve thy life,
With hazani of mine own.
Jaquet. I tliank you, sir.
Shat. This night thou shalt be lodg*d within
. my doors, [morn
Which shall be all lock'd fast; and lu the
1*11 so provide, you shall have free access
To the searside, and so be shipt away^
Ere any know it.
Jaquet, Good sir, suddenly!
I am afraid to die.
8hat. Then follow me. [Exeunt,
Enter ShattilliofCt Ixrte.
lam. This way he went, and there's the
house : I hope
His better angel hath directed him [man!
To leave the wandring streets. Poor gentle-
*WouId I were able with as free a heart
To set his soul right, as 1 am to grieve
The ruin of his fame, which God forgive me!
Sir, if you be within, I pray, sir, speak to me.
Shat, I am within, and will be: what are
Jjoroe. A friend. [you?
Shat, No, sir; ^rou must pardon me;
I am acquainted with none such.^ — Be speedy,
[To Jaquet within.
Friend ; there is no other remedy.
Jjore, A word, sir! I say, I am your friend.
Shat, You cannot scape by any other
means; [is your business, sir?
Be not fearful. — God save the king! Whal
Jj(ite, To speak with you.
Shat, Speak oot then.
Jjove. Shall I not come up ?
Shut. TTiou shalt not.— Fly, if thou be'st
thine own friend ;
There lies the suit, and all the furniture
Belonging to the head : on with it, friend !
L()vc, Sir, do you hear?
Shat, I do: God bless tlyi king! —
It was a hubit I had htid aside [me.
Fof my own person, if the state had for«'4
Love, Good sir, unlock your door !
Shat. Be full of speed!
I see some twenty musqueteers in ambuslw-*
Whate*er thou art, know I am here, and will
be. [venge ?—
Seest thou this bloody sword that cries fe-
Shake not, my friend; thro' millions of the99
foes
I'll be thy guard, and set thee safe aboard*
Lave. Dare you not trust me, sir i
Shat, My good sword before me.
And my alfegiance to the king, I tell theo.
Captain, (for so I guess thee by thy arms.
And the loose flanks of halberdiers about thee)
Thou art too weak and foolish to attempt
me.—
If you be ready, follow me ; and hark yoii^
Upon your life speak to no living wight.
Except myself!
Love. Monsieur Shattill ion!
Shat. Thou shalt not call again ! Thus witli
my sword.
And tlie strong faith I bear unto the king,
(Whom God preserve!) I will descend my
chamber, [throat-^—
And cut thy throat; I swear, I'll cut thy
Steal after me, and live.
JjQve. 1 will not stay
The fury of a man so tar distracted.
[ExU.
Enter Shattillim.
Shat. Where is the officer that dares not
enter,
To entrap the life of my distressed friend?
Ay, have you liid yourself? you must be found!
VVhat do you fear? is not authority
On your side f Nay, I know the kmg's com^
mand [Speak !
Will be your warrant; why then fear you?
What strange designs are these ! ShattilJion,
Be resolute and bear thyself upright,
Tho' tl)e whole world despise thee. Soft!
raethinks
I heard a rushing which was like the shake
Of a discovered officer ; I'll search
The whole street over, but I'll find thee out.
[Eni.
Enter Jaquet in Woman* t AppareL '
Jaquet. How my joints do sliake! Wliert
had I been
But for this worthy gentleman, that hath
Some touch of my intbrtuncs? 'Wouldlwcw
Safe under hatches once, tor Callicut !
Farewell, the pomp of co»irt ! I never mor«
Can hope to be a duke, or any thing;
I never more shall see the glorious fijce
Of my fair-spreading lord that lov'd me welt
Enter ShattiUion.
Shat. Fly you so fast? I had a sight of you.
But would not follow you, I was too wise;
You sliall not lead me with a cunning tricki
Where yon may catch me. Poor ShnitillioiiJ
Hack the king g aiigor left that* ne'er a irirnd?
Act 4.}
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN.
tsr
Ko, all men^s lovet move by the breath of
Hingis. [life.
Jaquet, It is the gentleman that sav*d my
Su-!
iSAo/. Bless Sbattillion! Another plot?
Jaques, No, sir. 'tis I.
Skat, Why, who are you ?
Jaques, Your friiMid whom you preserv'd.
Shot, Whom I pr*?serv'd?
My friend ? I have do woman-friend but one.
Who is too close in prison to be here.
Come near! let me look on you.
Jaqnet, It is L [stature.
Skat. You sliould not be a woman, by your
Jaguet. I am none, sir.
Sh*t, J ^now it; then keep off.
Strange men and times! How I am still pre-
serv'd!
Here they hare sent a yeoman of the guard
Disgaist'd in woman's cloaths, to work on me,
To make love to me, and to trap my words,
And so ensnare my life. I know you, sir :
Stand back, npou your peril ! Can this be
la Christian commonweals? From this time
forth
ril cut oflf all the means to work on me :
111 ne'er stir from my house, and keep my
doors
Lock'd day and night, and cheapen meat
and drink
At the next shops by signs out of my window.
And, having bought it, draw't up in my gar-
ters.
Jaguei, Sir, will you help me?
Shai, Do not follow ine !
m take a coarse to live, despite of men.
[Exit,
Jaquet, He dares not venture for me:
wretched Jaques ! '
Thou art undone for ever and for ever.
Never to rise again. What shall I do ?
Enter Beaufort,
Where shall I hide me ? Here is one to take
me:
I must stand close, and not speak for my life.
Beau. Tliis is the time of night, and this
the haunt.
In which I use to catch my waistcoateers :
It is not very dark ; no, I shall spy 'em.
I have walk^ out in such a nitchy night,
I^ould not see my fingers tnis far off.
And yet have brought home venison by the
smell;
I hope they have not left their old walk. Ah !
Have I espied you sitting ? By this light,
To me there's no such fine sightin the world,
As a white apron betwixt twelve and one:
See how it glisters ! Do you think to scape ?
So [ now I have you fast : come, and don't
strive;
It takes away the edge of appetite :
Come, I'll be lib'ral every way. Take heed
Yon make aonoisci for waking of the watch !
[^Exeunt.
Enter Clermont and Wife,
Cler. Now the blessing of some happj
guide.
To bring n& to the duke ! and we are ready.
Enter Longueville and Gentleman,
Come forward ! See the door is opened ;
And two ofs gentlemen! I'll sneak to them;
And mark how I behave myself! — God sava
For less I cannot wish to men of sort, [ye !
And of your seeming : are you of the duke*s ?
Long. We are, sir, and your servants; your
salutes
We give you back again with many thanks.
Cler. When did you hear such 'words be*
fore, wife? Peace!
Do yo>u not dare to answer yet.— Is't fit
So mean a gentleman as myself should crav*
The presence o'th' great duke, your master f
Gent, Sir, you may. [siness, sir ?
Long. Shall we desire your name, and bu«
And we will presently inform liim of you.
Cler. }iy name is Clerimont.
Gent. You're his grace's kinsman.
Or I am much mistaken.
Cler. You are right;
Some of his noble blood runs thro' these vein%
tho' far unworthy of his grace's knowledge.
Long, Sir, we must all be yours: hit
grace's kinsman,
And we so much forgetful ? Twas a rudeness.
And must attend your pardon: thus I crav*
it:
First o' this beauteous lady, whom I tak«
To be your wife, sir; next, your mercy !
Cier. You have it, sir.—I do not like this
kissing ;
It lies so open to a world of wishes. f^Aside,
Gent, This is the merry fellow; this is ht
That must be noble^too!
Long. And so he shall.
If all the art I have can make him noble :
ril dub him with a knighthood, if his wif«
Will be but forward, aud join issue ;
I like her above excellent.
Gent. Will't please you
To walk a turn or two, whilst to the duke
We make your coming known ?
[Exeunt Gentleman and Longueville.
Cler. I shall attend, sir.
Wife. These gentlemen are very proper
" men.
And kiss the best that eVr I tasted. For
Goodnesfr-sake, hubbund, let us never more
Come near the country, wltatsoe'er betide usl
I am in malice with the memory
Of that same stinking dunghiil.
Cfer, Why, now you are my chicken and
my dear;
Love where I love, hatc^here I hate ! Now
You shall have twenty gow-ns, and twenty
See ! the door's opening. [chains.
Groom. Room afore there! the duke it
entrin^.
B b 9 Entef^
106
THE NOBLE GEMTLEMAK.
Come out, thou womsD of unwholesome life !
Be sorry for thy sins, and learn to mend!
Enter Jaques.
Nay, never hide yoar face ; yon shall he seen.
ijmg, Jaquesl why, Jaques! art thoutliat
Jaques^
The very staff and right-hand of our duke ?
Speak, thou hearded Venus.
Jaques, I am lie.
By miracle presery'd to be that Jaques.
[Act 4
Within this two hourSy genttemeo, poos
Jaques
Was but as corse in grave : a man of wiadom^
That, of my conscience, if he had hir. riishc
Should liave a pretty state — But that^s «ll
one —
That noble gentleman did save tliis life;
I keep it for him ; 'tis his own.
Long. Oh, Bacchus! [duke;
Is all die world drunk ? — Come ! well lo tho
And give thanks for this delivery. [ExeunU
ACT V.
Enter Marine and Jaqtus. <
purine. 'VTOT gone unto my tenants^ to
•*-^ relate
My grace, and honour, and the mightiness
Of my new name, wluch w6uld have struck
a terror [hearts ?
TJiTo* their coarse doublets to their very
Jagues. Alas, great lord and master, I
could scarce
With safety of my life return again
Vnt6 your grace's house: and, but for one
That had some mercy, I had sure been
hang'd.
Mar. My house .^ [i'th' town.
Jagues, Yes, sir, this house ; your house
Mar. Jaques, we are displeas'd; hath it
Jagues. What name ? [no name ?
Mar. Dull rogue! wliat, bath the king
bestow'd
So many honours, open'd all his springs,
And sliower'd his graces down upon my
head,
And has my house no name ? no title yet ?
Burgundy-house, you ass !
Jagues. Your grace's mercy!
And when I was come off, and had recover*d
Burj^undy-house, I durst not yet be seen,
But lay all night, for fear of pursuivants,
In Burgundy privy-house.
M'jr. Oh, sir, 'tis well ;
Cnn you remember now f But, Jaques, know,
Si.ice ihy intended journey is so crost,
I will go down myself this moniing.
Jaques. Sir?
Mar. Have I not said thb morning ?
Jagues. But consider.
That nothing is prepared yet for your journey;
Your grace's teams not here to draw your
cloatlis.
And not a carrier yet in town to send by.
* Mar. I say, once more, go about it.
YouVe a wise man! you'd have me linger
time,
Till I have worn these cloaths out. Will
you go? [Exit Jaquu,
Make you ready, wife !
Enter Ladtf.
Lady. I am so, mighty duke*
Mar. Nay, for the country.
Lady. How ! for the country ?
Mar. Yes ; I am resolv'd
To see my tenants in this bravery, [sboi^
Make them a sumptuous feast, with a slight
Of Dives and Lazarus, and a squib or two.
And so return.
Lady. Why, sir, you are not mad ?
Mar. How many dukes have you known
mad i I pray speak. [the last:
Litdy. You are the first, sir, and I hope
But you are stark horn-mad.
Mar. Forbear, good wife! [horns
Lfuly. As I have taith, you're mad ! Your
Have been too heavy for you, and have
broke
Your skull in pieces, if you be in earnest.
Mar. Well, you shall know my skull and
wits are whole.
Ere I have done; and yet I am in eamoft
Latfy. Why, do you think FU go ?
Mar. I know you shall.
La^. I shall ? By what authority shall 1 1
Mar, I am your husband.
True ; I confess it :
And, £y that name, the world hath given yoa
A oower to sway me : but, sir, you shall
know
There is a greater bond that ties me here^
Allegiance to the king : has he not heap'd
Those honours on you to no other end, but
To stay you here? and shall I have a hand
In the offending such a gracious prince?
Besides, our own imdoing lies upon*t. -^
Were there no other cause, I do not see.
Why you should go, if I should say yoiC
Mar. Do you think so ? [should uotv
Lady. Yes, faith. ^
Mar. Now, good wife.
Make me understand that point.
Ijody. Why, that you shall :
Did I not bring you hither?
Mar. Yes.
Lady. And were
Not
Act 5.]
THE N6BLE GENTLEMA]^.
101
Not all theiebonoun wioagfat out of the fire
Bj rae?
Mar. By you }
Lady, iy me? How strange you make it!
When you came first, did you not walk the
town'
In a long cloak, hal^ompass? an old hat
. Lin'd with vellure, and on it, for a hand,
A skein of crimson crewel f
Mar. I confess it.
La(fy, And took base courses ?
Mar. Base ?
Lady. Base, by this light!
Extreme base, and scurvy* monstrous base !
Mar. What were these courses, wife ?
Lady. Why, you shall know :
Bid you not, thus attired, trot up and down,
Plotung for vile and lousy offices.
And agreed with the serjeant of the bears.
To buy his place ? Deny this, if you can.
JIfar. Why, it is true.
Lady. And was not that monstrous base?
Mar. Be advis'd, wife ; a bear's a princely
L/idy. A bear ? [beast.
Mar. Yes, wife ; and one side venison.
Lady. You're more than one side fool;
Tm sure of that. [know you shall ^o;
Mar. But since you've vex'd me, wife,
Or you shall never faiave penny from me.
Lady. Nay, [overthrow,
I have done : and tho' I know 'twill be your
111 not forsake you now.
Mar. Be ready then. [Exit.
Lady. I will.
Enter Beauforif Longueville, Gentleman,
and Maria.
Long. What, are you married, Beaufort ?
Beau. Ay, as fast [can make us.
As words, and hearts, and hands, and priest
Lady. Ob, gentlemen, we are undone !
Ljng. For what ? [my husband,
Lady. This gentleman, the lord of Lome,
Will be gone down to shew his play-fellows
Where he is gay*
" A guarded coat, and a great wooden dagger.] This was, we apprehend, the old habit
#»f the fool.
5* With a ttrange lock that opens with Amen.] This will be easily understood by a
Quotation of a few lines irom Mr. Carew's verses to Mr. May, on his Comedy, called The
leir: speaking of the plot of that play, he expresses himself thus:
* The whole plot doth alike itself disclose
' Through the five acts, as doth a lock that goes
' With letter*; for, 'till every one be known,
' The lock's as fast as if you had found none.' S'/mpson.
^' I%e laying on myself.] Sympson proposes a reading here, which we think greatlf
meods tlie text :
The buying one myself. '
'* To hire a ripper'# mare, and buy new dossers.
With a fair Darnex carpet.] As rippers is a word, not of English, but French growth,
1 imagine we should write as the French do, thus :
A ripier'a mare, i. e. of one that carries 6sh from the sea-side, &c. Dossers^ or difrsers,
arc paniers. Darnex carpet, », e. a carpet of Touruay. Si/mpson.
Ripper, for ripier, wiu priutpd in tli« Beggars' Bush, 'till tliis edition. See note 54 on
dxitplay.
But
Beau. What, down into the cmmtry ?
Lady. Yes, faith. Was ever fool but 1m
so cross ?
I would as fain be gracious to him.
As he could wish me; but he will not let me:
Speak faithfully, will he deserve my mercy?
Long. According to liis merits, he should
wear
A guarded coat, and a great wooden dagger ''•
Lady. If tiiere be any woman, that doth
kUQW
The duties 'twixt a husband and his wife.
Will speak but one word for him, he shall
scape :
Is not that reasonable? But tliere's none.
Be ready therefore to pursue the plot
We had against a pinch ; for he must stay.
Long. Wait ^ou here for him, whilst I go^
And make the km^r acquainted with your sporty
For fear be be incens'd for our attempting
Places, of so great honour. [Exit,
Lady. Go; be speedy!
Enter Marine, Clerifnont, Wife, Jaques, and
a Servant.
Mar. Come; let me see how all things
are disposed of. [furniture,
Jaquet. One cart will serve for all your
With room enough )>ehind to ease the foot-
. roan,
A cap-case for vour linen and your plate.
With a strange lock that opens with Amen^f,
For my young lord, because of easy portage,
A quiver of your grace's, lin'd with cunny,
Made to be liangM about the nurse's necK|
Thus, with a scarf or towel—-
JWar. Y^i7g<XKl-
Jaques. Nay,
Tis well ; but had you sta/d another week,
I would have had you furnish'd in such pomp
As never duke of Burgundy was furuish'd :
You should have had i^ sompter, tho' 't had
cost me . [fiiin
The laying on myself", where now you're
To hirea npier's mare^^, and buy new dossers;
sn
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN.
[Act P.
But I hsLv^ got them painted with your anos^
With a fair Daraeii carpet of my own
Laid cross for the more state.
Mar. Jaques, I thank you : [home.
Your carpet shall he brushed, and sent you
What, are you ready, wife ?
Ladi/, An hour ago.
Mar, I cannot chuse butkiss thy royal lips,
. Dear duchess mine, thott art so good a wo-
man, [man Duckling !
Beau, YbuM say so, if you knew all, good-
Cler. This was the happiest fortune could
befal me!
^Ow, in his absence, will I follow close
jMine own preferment; and I hope, ere long,
To make my mean and humble name so
strong [know
As my great cousin's; when the world shall
I bear too hot a spirit to live low.
Th^ next spring will I down, my wife and
houshold;
111 have my ushers, and my four lacquies.
Six spare caroches too; but mum, no more !
What I intend to do, T\\ keep in store.
Mar, Montez, montezl Jaques, be our
equerry ! [in couples !
Groom, To horse there, gentlemen, and fall
Mar, Come, honou/d duchess !
Enter Longueville,
1/mg, Stand, thou proud man!
Mar, Thieves, Jaques ! raise the people !
Long, No; raise no people! Tis the king*s
command; [ty man !
Which bids thee once more stand, thou haugh-
Thou art a monster; for thou art ungratefol,
And, like a fellow of a rebel nature.
Hast flung from his embraces : and, for
His honours given tiKje, hast not return'd
So much as thanks; and to oppose his will.
Resolved to leave the court, and set the realm
Afire, in discontent, and open action:
Therefore he bids thee stand, thou proud man.
Whilst with the whisking of mv sword about,
I take thv honours off: tlu's first sad wliisk
Takes off thy dukedom: thou art but an earl.
Mar, You are mistaken, LongueviUe.
Lons, Ob, 'would I were! This second
whisk divides
Thy earldom from thee; thou art yet a baron.
Mar, No more whisks, if you love me,
LongueviUe! [behind,
Jjong, Two whisks are past, and two arc yet
Yet all must come :. but, not* to linger time.
With these two whisks I end : now Mount*
Marine,
For thou art now no more, so says the kine;
An4 I have done his highness' will witti
grief.
Mar. Degraded from my honours?
Long, Tis too certain.
Mar. I am no traitor sure, that I know o£
Speak, Jaques, hast thou e'er heard me atter
word
Tending to treason,'or to bring in the enemy?
Jaques* Alas, sir, I know nothing?
Why should your worship bring me in4o
hang me?
God's my judge, gentlemen, I never meddled.
But with the brushing of his cloaths, or fetch-
ing
In water in a morning for his hands.
Cler. Are these the honours of this place?
— Anthony,
Help me to take her gown off! Quickly,
Or i'U so swinge you for't —
Wife. Why, husband ! sir !
Cter, I will not lose a penny by this towi.
lA)ng, Why, what do you mean, sir : have
her to her lodging,
And there undress her; I will wait upon her.
Cier. Indeed you shall not; your month is
out, I take it.
Get you out before me, wife.
Cousin, forewell I I told you long ago.
That pride begins with pleasure, ends with
woe. [Exit with his Wife,
Beau. Go thy way. Sentences ! 'twill be
thy fortune
To live and die a cuckold, and churchwarden,
Laab/. Oh, my poor husband ! what a heavy
Is fallen him f [fortune
Beau* Methinks 'tis strange.
That, Heaven forewarning great men of their
fells ['em:
With such plain tokens, they should not avoid
For the last night, betwixt eleven and tweWe^
Two great and hideous blazing stars were
seen
To fight a long hour by th^lock, the one
Dress'd like a duke, the other like a king;
Till at the last the crowned star o'ercame.
Gent. Why do you stand so dead^ moa-
sieur Marine?
Mar. So Caesar fell, when in the capitol
They gave his body two and thirty wounds^ ^.
Be
^'^ So CjBsar /e//, when in the capitol,
ITiey gave his bodj/ two and thirty Kounds."] Here we have two blunders, the first with
respect to the place r. here Caesar feli, vvliich %vas not in the capitol, but in Curii Pompeii;
the other as to the number of wounds he fell by; as to the first, it was a blunder peculiar to
the playwrights of that time; Shakespeare begun it in Hamlet, act iii. scene 5.
* Ham. Now, my Jord (Foloniun), you piay'd once in the university, you say?
* Pot. I did, my lord, and was accounted a good actor.
* Ham. And what did you enact?
* Poi. [ did enact Julius Caesar; 1 was kill'd i'th* CfpitoL*
Our authors, treading in their master's steps, took up the same mistake here: and after them
Shakerly IMarmion, in his Antiquary, inadvertently continued the same error, making \^ece*
tanosav: 'And
Act 5.]
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN.
199
Be waroed> all ye peers; and, by my faU,
Hereafter learn to let your wives rule all I
Gent, Monsieur Marine, pray let me speak
with yon:
Sir, I must wave you to conceal this party";
It stands upon my utter overthrow.
Seem not discontented, nor don't stir a foot,
For, if you do, you and your hope —
I swear you are a lost man, if you stir!
And have an eye to Beaufort, he will tempt
• you.
Beau. Come, come; for shame go down !
Were I Marine, by Heaven I would go down ;
And being there, Vd rattle him snch an an-
Should make liim smoke. [swer
Mar. Good monsieur Beaufort, peace !
Leave theiie rebellious words; or, by the ho-
nours
Whicb I once enjoy*d, and yet may swear by,
ril tell the king of your proceedings! I
Am satisfied.
Ladi/, You talk'd of going down
When 'twaa not fit; but now let's see your
spirit!
A thousand and a thousand will .expect it.
Mar. Why, wife, are you mad?
Loify, No^ nor drunk, but I'd have you
know your own strength. [wife;
Mar, You talk like a most foolish woman,
I tell YOU I will stay ! Yet I have a
Crotchet troubles me.
XoRg. More crotchets yet? [counsel.
Mar, Follow me, Jaques! I must have thy
I will return again ; stay you there, wife I
Long, I fear this loss of honour will give
him
Some few stools. [foot,
Lufy, No, no; he's resolv'd, he'll not stir a
rU lay my life.
Beau, Ay, but he's discontented ;
How shall we resolve tliat, and make him
stay with comfort? [Nature work;
JauIu, Faith, Beaufort, we must e'en let
For he s the 8weetest-temper*d man for that
As one can wish; for let men but go about
To fool him, and he'll have his finger as deep
In't as the best. But see where he comes
Bless OS all ! [frowning :
Enter Marine,
Mar, Off with your hats! for here doth
come
The high and mighty duke of Burgundy !
Whatever you may tliink, IVe thought, and
thought,
And thought upon it; and I find it plain.
The king cannot take back what he has given.
Unless I tbrfeit it by course of law.
Not all tb^ water in tbe river Seine,
Can wash the blood out of these princely
veins. [best
Lady, God-a-mercy, husband, thon art the
To work out a thing at a pinch in France !
Mar. I will ascend my state again. Du*
chess, '
Take your place, and let our champion enter*
Long, Has he his champion? that is ex-
cellent! [entrance!
Mar, And let loud musick sound before his
Sound trumpet^' I •
Enter Tuques in armour^ one carrying a Scut»
cheon before hinij and a two-handed Sword.
Lady. How well our champion doth de-
mean himself.
As if he had been made for such an action !
Methinks his sturdy truncheon he doth wield.
Like Mars approaching to a bloody field.
Mar. 1 think there is no man so desperate
To dare encounter with our champion.
But trust me, Jaques, tbou hast pleas'd us
well ! [ceed !
Once more, our warlike music; then pro«
-^— Enter Shattillion,
Shat. What wond'rous age is tliis ? what
close proceedings?
I hear the clang of trumpets in this house :
To what intent do not our statesmen search?
Oh, no ; tliey look not into simple truth.
For I am true, and they regard not me.
A man in armour too ? God save the king I
The world will end ; there's nought but trea*
chery.
Jaques. I, Jaqnes, servant to the high and
mighiy Godfrey, duke of Burgundy, do come
* And tins was Julius Caesar's hat when he was kill'd in the capitoL*
As for the second fault, 'twas made no v/ltere but at the press, for the number (X supposed
in the original MS. was wrote in figures, thus, 23, which, by an easy shifting place was alterea
to 39; and tltds we have nine wounds more than Cssar ever received, Sympsoti.
^' 5<r, J mu^t wave you to conceal this party.
It standi upon my utter overthrow,'] To wave one to conceal, should pican here to advise
«•« to conceal; but I don't remember any such sense of the word uave, and so would pro*
pose reading the lines thus:
Sir, I must counsel you to wave this party,
It stands upon my utter overthrow.
The good lady's gallants want to keep the poor gentleman in town, and for this end the Gen*
tleman takes him aside, and says, I would advise you to lay aside this party^ i. e. resolution,
of going down, 4^ Sympson.
'' Stwjirf trumpet.'] This possibly was.once only a stage'direction, but in time has crept
ioto the text. And I fancy the same o£ sound, after room there rforCy in the third act, upon
tbe new duke's first pnblic appearance* Sympson, '
VOl.m, Cc hithtt
196
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN.
[Acts.
Love. DearMt Sbattillion, see upon my
knees
I offer up my love; forget m? wrongs.
Shot. Art thou mine own f
Love. By Heav'n, I am.
Shut. Then all tlie world is mine.
Lave. I've stranger things to tell thee, my
dearest love. [own :
Shot. Tell nothing, but that thou art mine
I do not care to know where I have been.
Or how I have liv'd, or any thing,
But that thou art mine own. [made us wed,
Beau. Well, wife; tho* 'twere a trick that
We'll make ourselves merry soon in bed.
Mar. Know all, I am no duke.
Ladyw What say you f
Mar. Jac|[ues!
Jaques. Sir!
Mar. I am a duke.
Bolh. Are you?
Mar. Yes, faith, yes, (kith;
But it must only run among ourselves.
And, Jaques, thou shalt be my secretary still.
Lady. Kind gentlemen, lead in Shattilliony
For he must needs be weak and sickly yet.
Now all my labours have a perfect end.
As I could wish: let all young sprightly
wives, [husbuids,
That have dull foolish coxcombs to their
Learn by me their duties, what to do.
Which is, to make 'em foois^ and please
'em too! [Eseumt.
EPILOGUE.
The monuments of virtue, and desert.
Appear more goodly, when the gloss of art
Is eaten off by time, than when at first
They were set up^ not censur d at the worst.
We've done our best, for yoor content!,
to fit,
With new pains, tliis old monument of wit.
THB
THE CORONATION'.
A COMEDY.
Hm first edition of this Play was printed in quarto in the year 1640^ and has the name of
John Fletcher prefixed to it, as the Author. Upon this authority we have retained it in
the present edition, notwithstanding there is evidence of equal weight to authorize us to
ascribe it to James Shirley, the editor of the first folio in 1647. That writer, in the year
1653, published a volume of his Plays, and at the end of one of them, viz. The Cardinal,
has enumerated the several dramatic pieces written by him : amongst the rest, he hat
claimed the present performance, which, he says, was ' falsely ascribed to Fletcher ;'
with what degree of truth, it is impossible now to determine. We think no argument can
he drawn from the omission of it in the first folio, for the reason assigned in tlie first note
Co the Phy. It has not heen acted for many years past, nor do we know of its having
ever been altered.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
MEN.
Selzucus; suppotedSon to Eubulus; but, in
reality y Leonatus, the right King qf'Epirus.
Akcadius, suppoted Nephew to Macarius;
buty in retwitfy Demetrius^ second Son to
the dead King,
EuBULus, ) Noblemeny Guardians to the
Macarius, i late King's Sons.
CissANDEB, Lord'Frotector,
Ltsimachus, his Son, a worthy Gentleman,
Nestoeius, Father to Polidora.
PoLEAMUS, Captain of the Castle.
A Bishop, a»rf Trustee of the dead King's
Will. ^
Antigovus, a Gentleman in waiting.
Servant to PoUdora.
WOMEN.
Sophia, Queen of Epirus.
PoLiDORA, courted by Arcadius^ and his
noble and constant Mistress.
Char ILL A, an Attendant on Sophia.
Gentlanen, Gentlewomen, Masquers, S^-c. 4-c,
SCENE, Epirus.
' The Coronation^ It were to be wished that the publisher of our authors' works in 1679
kad given his reasons in the preface, or elsewhere, why he took this play into that edition,
^re seems to be no just grounds upon which he could go for so bold a practice, seeing the
editor of the first folio in 1647, Mr. Shirley, lias left it out; a fjerson who must be better
scqaainted with what was our authors', as living nearer to their time, than the editor of the
second folio in 1679. Tis true, there are several fine strokes in it, which might possibly
^ Fletcher's; hut those will no more entitle him to claim it for his- own, than it will Shake-
speare to assert the play of the Noble Kmsman, in which we know he was partially coih
kerned: to Mr. Shirley, therefore, as he has laid claim to it, let's give this performance;
Wff rob him of the glory which The Coronation may do his memory. Sympson.
This note betrays a wonderful inattention In Sympson : since th^ Coronation was one of
^ plays printed m quarto, and Shirley professed to insert none in the folio that had ever
appeared mgiMTTfo.
PROLOGUE.
iOH
THE CORONATION.
[Act 1,
PROLOGUE.
Since 'tis become the title of our play,
A woman once in a Coronation may
With pardon speak the Prologue, give as
free
A welcome to the theatre, as he
That with a httle beard, a long bhick cloak,
With a starch'd face and supple leg, hatli
spoke
Before the plays the twelve^month; let me
then
Present a welcome to these gentlemen !
If ;^ou be kind, and noble, you will not
Think the worse of me for my petticoat—
But to the play; the poet bad me tell
His fears first in the title, lest it swell
Some thoughts with expectation of a strain,
That but once could be seen in-a king's
reign.
This Coronation he hopes yon may
See often; while the genius of his play
Doth prophesy, the coilduits may run wine.
When Uie day's triumph's ended, and divine
Brisk nectar swell his temples to a rage,
With something of more price t' invest the
stage.
There rests but to prepare you, that altho'
It be a Coronation, tliere doth flow
No under-mirth, such as doth lard the scene
For coarse delight; tlie language here is
. clean ;
And conlident, our poet bad me say.
He'll bate you but the folly of a play:
For which, altlio' dull souls his pen dcspiacj^
Who think it yet too early to be wise^.
The nobler will thank hisMuse, at least
Excuse him^ 'cause his thought aim'd at the^
best.
But we conclude not ; it does rest in you
To censure poet, play, and Prologue too.
Buc^ what have I omitted? is there not
A blush upon my cheeks, that I forgot
The ladies? and a female Prologue too!
Your pardon, noble gentlewomen ! you
Were first within my thoughts: I know yotf
sit
As free and high commissioners of vit»
Have clear and active souls; nay, tho' the
men
Were lost, in your eyes they'll be found again :
You are the bright mtelligences move.
And make a harmony this sphere of love:
Be you propitious tlien ! our poet says.
One wreath from you', is worth their grove
of bays.
* Who thinks it yet too early. ] Corrected in 1750,
' Out toreath from you.\ Mr. Seward conjectured with me, that cne^ not cur^ must be
the word^ and so I have altered tlie text Syntpsotu
ACT I,
Enter Philocles and Lysander.
Fhilocles. TiT AKE way for my lord-protec-
•'•"•*• tor !
Lyuin, Your grace's servants !
Enter Cawmder and Lysimachvs,
CasL I like your diligent waiting. Where's
Lysimachus?
Lysim. I wait upon you, sir.
Cast, llie queen looks pleasant
This morning; d6es she not?
Ly$uii, I ever found
Her gracious smiles on me.
CW. She does consult
Her safety in't ; for I must tell thee, boy.
But in the assurance of her love to thee,
I should {\dvance thy hopes another way^
And use tlie power I have in Epire, to
Settle our own, and uncontroled greatness:
But since she carrieth herself so fairly,
I am content t* expect, and by her marrfa«;«'
Secure, thy fortune ; that's all my ambition
Now : be still Ccircful in thy applications
To her ; I must attend other anairs.
Return, and use what ait thou canst to
lay
More clmrms of love upon her,
Lysim. 1 presume
She always speaks the langui^c of her hearty
And I can be ambitious for no more
Happiu^ss on earth, than she encourages
Me to expect.
Cass. It was an act becoming
The wisdom of her father, to engage
A tie between our families, and she
Hatli play'd her best discretion to allow it.
But we lose time ii^ conference ; wait on
her.
And be what thou wcr^ bom for^ king of
Epire !
I must a way. [EnV.
Lysim^
A:tl.]
THE CORONATION.
19^
Ant. Thou ^-ouldst become rarely the
What wouldst thou do ? [petticoat !
Phil. Why, I would marry my
Gentlemau-usher, and trust all the strengtk
And burden of my state upon hiii legs.
Rather than be called wife by any son
Qt' such a father.
Lysaa, Come, let's leave this subject !
We may find more secure discourse. When
saw
You young Arcadius, lord Macarius* nephew?
Ant, There's a spark, a youth moulded
for, a favourite !
The queen might do him honour.
Phil. Favourite?
It is too cheap a name ; there were a match
Now for her virgin blood !
Lysan. Must every man,
That has a handsome face or leg, Feed such
Ambition? I confess I honour him,
He has a nimble soul, and gives great hope
To be no woman-hater; dances handsomely.
Can court a lady powerfully; but more
Goes to the making of a prmce. He's here,
And's uncle.
Enter Arcadius, Macarius, and Seleuctis,
SeL Save you, gentlemen 1 Who can direct
To find my lord-protector ? [me
Li/san. He was here
Within this half-hour: young Lysimaclios
His son is with the queen.
SeL There let him compliment;
I*ve other business.— Ha, Arcadius ! [Exit.
Phil. Observ'd you with what eyes Arca-
dius
And he saluted ? their two families
^ith hardly r.concile.
Ant. Seleucus carries [scoru
Himself too roughly: with what pride and
He pass'd by 'em !
Lj/san. Tlje other, with less show
Of anger, carries pride enough in's soul :
I wish 'em all at peace ! Macarius' looks
Are without civil war, a good old man,
The old kiiiglov'd him well; Seleucus' father
Was as dear to him, and maiiituin'd the cha-
racter
Of an honest lord thro' Epire : that two men
So lov'il of others, should be so unwelcome'
To one another !
Arc. The queen was not wont
To send for me.
Mac. TIm? reason's to herself;
It will become your duty to attend her.
Arc. Save you, gentlemen ! What novelty
Does tlie court breathe to-day ?
Lysafu None, sir; the news
* Is not the queen yet coming forth ?
Lysaii. Your servant.] Lystinder*s asking this question supposes, that the gentlemen
interrogated wore capable of giving him an answer; but that the reader sees is no where to
be found; tliercfore I have thought proper to mark an hiatus in the present text. Sympson,
Sympson, we suppose, meant Lysimachus, instead of Lysandcr^ who asks no question*
Iwt IS the next speaker, . i » /t / '
^. V^^lll '^ 1 j^/v ,j \hy]. That
lysim. Success ever attend you.
Is not the queen yet coming fortli* ?
hfsan. Your servant!
You may command our duties. [£jril Lysim.
This is the court -star, Philocles.
Phil. The star that we must sail by.
Lysan. All must borrow
A light from him; the young queen directs all
Her favours that way.
Phil. He's a noble gentleman.
And wortliy of his expectations :
Too good to be the son of «uch a father.
Lysan. Peace ! remember he is lord-pro-
tector, [protection
PhiL We have more need oJ Heav'n's
I'th'mean time : I wonder the old king
Did in his life design him for the office.
Lysan. lie might suspect his faith ; 1 have
heard when
The king, who was no Epirote, advanc'd
His claim, Cateander, our protector now,
Toang then, oppos'd him toughly with his
faction;
But forc'd to yield, had fair conditions,
And was declar'd, by the whole state, next
heir,
If the king wanted issue : our hopes only
Tbriv'd in this daughter.
Phil. Whom, but for her smiles
And hope of marrjage with Lysimachus,
His father, by some cunning, had renK>v'd
£pe this. [ears.
Lyian. TaVe 'heed ! the arras may have
I should not weep much if his grace would
lleiDove to Heav'n. [hence
PhiL I prithee what shouM he do there?
Lysan. Some otlices will fall. [higher
Phil. And the sky too, ere I get one stair
WJiile he's in place.
Enter Anti'^onvs,
[queen ?
Where's the
Ant. Lysander, Philocles,
How looks the day upon us ?
PhiL In her bed-chamber.
Ant. Who was with her ?
Lysan. None but
The young lord Lysimachus.
Ant. It is no treason.
If amau wish himself a courtier
Of such a possibihty: he has
The mounting fate.
PhiL I would his father were
Hilounted to th* gallows!
Ant. H'has a path fair enough
If he survive, by title of his father.
Lysan. The queen will ha^jten his ascent.
PhiL 'Would I were qaeen !
yj
200
TIIE CORONATION.
[Act 1,
That took the last impression is, that you
Purpose to leave the kingdom, and those men
That honour you take no delight to hear iu
Arc, I liave ambitioi\ to see the difference
Of courts^ and this may spare me; the de-
lights
At home do surfeit ; and the mistress, whom
We all do serve, is fix'd upon one object;
Her beams are too much pointed* But no
country
Shall make me lose your memories.
Enter Sophioy Lytimachus, and Charilla.
Sophie. Arcadius!
Mac, Your lordship honoured me;
I have no blessing ni his absence.
Lytim. Tis
Done like a pious uncle.
Sophia, We must not
Give any licence.
Arc. If your majesty
Would please — [your duty
Sophia. We are not pleas*d ! It had become
T* have first acquainted us, ere you dcdar'd
Your resolution public. Is our court
Not worth your stay ?
Arc, I humbly beg your pardon^
Sophia, Where's Lysimacnus?
Lynm. Your humble servant, madam.
Sophia. We shall find [us.
Employment at home for you ; do not lose
Arc. Madam, I then write myself blessed
on earth
When I may do you service. lExit,
Sophiti, We would be
Private, Macarius.
Mac. Madatn, you have bless'd m^ !
Nothingbutyour command could interpose to
Stay him. [Exit.
fsophia. Lysimachus, you mwst not leave us.
Lt/san, Nothing but
Lysimachus? lias she not ta*en a philter?
[Exit,
Sophia. Nay, pray be cover'd ; ceremony
Must be excusM. [from you
Lj/sim. It will become my dut/,
Si)phia. Not your love.
I know you would not have me look upon
Your |)erson as a courtier ^^ but a favourite;
Tliat title were too narrow to express
How we esteem you.
L^fim. The least of all
These names from yoU| madam, is grace
enough.
Sophia, Yet here you would not rest?
Li/sitn. Not if yon please
To say there is a happiness beyond,
And teach my ambition how to make it mine:
Altho' the honours you already have
Let fall upon your servant, exceed all
My merit, Fve a heart is studious
To reach it with desert, and make if possible
Your favours mine by justice, with your
pardon. fdon, sir,
Sophia. We're confident this needs no par*
But a reward to cherish your opinion :
And that you may keep warm your passion.
Know we resolve fiar marriage; and if
I had another gift, besides myself
Greater, in that you should discern hoW much
My heart is fix'd.
Lytim. Let me digest my blessing!
Sophia, But I cannot resolve when this
shall be. [dream of Heav*n,
Lysim. How, madam ! Do not make me
And wake me into misery, if your purpose
Be, to immortalize your humble servant !
Your power on earth's divine; princes are
here
The copies of eternity, and create,
When they but will, our liappiness.
Sophia. I sliall
Believe you mock me in this ai^gument;
I have no power.
Lysim. How! no power?
Sophia, Not as a queell.
Lysim. I understand you not. [tector.
Sophia. I must obey; yourfather^smypro-
Lysim. How!
Sophia. When I'm absolute, Lysimachus,
Our power and titles meet; before, we*rebut
A sliadow, aod to give you that were nothing.
J^ysim. Excellent queen ! my love took no
original
From state, or the desire of other greatness,
'Bove what my birth may challenge modestly.
I love your virtues ; mercenary souls
Arc taken with advancement: youVe an
empire
Within you, better than the world's; to that
Looks my ambition.
Sophia. T' other is not, sir,
To be despis'd ; cosmography allows
Epire a place i* th' map; and know, 'till
I
' I know you vrould have me look upon
Your person as a courtier ^ not a J'avouriie.l This unmusical, nonsensical place, is didt^
rently read in the quarto of 1 640,
I know you would not have me look upon
Your person as a courtier, not as favourite;
That of 1679,
I know, &c.
— as a courtier, but a fiivourite;
Rut yet the place is sad stuff still. I would suppose it once originally run thus ;
I know you would not^
Your person as a courtier, Imt a (or as) favourite;
(2m J that title were too narrow, &C Sympsof^
PoHM
Actl.]
THE CORONATION.
«01
PdssesB what I was bom to, and alone
Do grasp the kingdom's sceptre, I account
Myself divkled; ne that marries me [som :
Shall take an absolote queen to his warm bo^
H; temples yet are naked ; until then
OorloTes can be but compliments and wishes,
Yet ¥ery hearty ones.
I^tim. I apprehend.
Sophia, Yoor father!
Enter Canander and Seleucut,
Cast, Madam, a gentleman has an humble
sniL [are protector;
8opkia» Tis in your power to grant; you
lam not yet a queen.
Cuts. How's this?
I^UKL I shall expound her meaning.
Sopkia. Why kneel you, sir?
SeL Madam, to reconcile two families
That may unite both counsels and their blood
To serve your crown.
Sopkia. Macarius*, and Eubulus',
Tliat bear inveterate malice to each other.
It grew, as I have lieard, upon the question
(which some of either family had made)
Which of their fathers was the best com-
mander:
If we believe our stones, they hax'C both
Deserv'd well of our state; and yet this quarrel
Has cost too many lives; a severe faction !
SeL But ril propound a way to plant a
qaiec
And peace in both our houses, which are torn
With their dissensions, and lose the glory
Of their great names: my blood speaks my
relation
T Ebulus ; and I wish ray veins were emptied
T appease their War.
Sophia. Thou hast a noble soul !
This is a charity above thy youth, [way.
Aod it flows bravely from tliee. Name the
SeL In such a desperate cause, a little
stream [hearts :
Of Mood might purge the foulness of their
If you'll prevent a deluge —
Sop^. Be particular !
SeL Let but your majesty consent that two
May, wiUi their personal valour, undertake
I The honour of their family, aad determine
Their diffiprence.
Sophkt, This rather will enlarge
' Their bite, and be a means to call more blood
; Into the stream.
I SeL Not if both families
Agree, and swear—
Sophia. And who shall be the champions?
SeL I bee the honour, for Ebulus* cause
Tq be eagl^d, if any for Macarius
(Worthy to wager heart with mine) accept it :
I'm confident, Arcadius i
(For honour would direct me to his sword)
Will not d«ny to stake aeaiust my life
His own, if you vouchsaie us privilege.
Sopkia. You are the expectation and top
boughs
Of both your houses; it would seem injustice
To allow a civil war to cut you off,
And yourselves the instruments. Besides,
You appear a soldier; Arcadius
Hath no acqusdntance yet with nigged war^
More fit to drill a lady than expose
Ii» body to such dangers; a small wound
r th' head may spoil t}ie method of his hair,
Whose curiosity exacts more time
Than his devot)on ; and who knows but he
May lose his ribbon by it in his lock *,
Dear as his saint, with whom he would ex-
change
His head for her gay colours; then his band
May be disordered and transfonn'd from lace
Tu cutwork; his rich cloatlis be discom^
plexion*d
With blood, beside th' infashionable slashes;
And he at the next festival take jphysick.
Or put on black, and mourn for his slain
bieeches; [sweet
His hands, casM up in gloves all ni^ht, and
Pomatum, the next day may be endangered
To blisters with a sword ; how can he stand
Upon bis guard, who hath fiddles in liis head.
To which his feet must ever be a-dancing?
Besides, a falsify may spoil his cringe
Or making of a leg, m which consii>ts
Much of his coiut-perfection.
SeL Is tliis character
Bestow'd on him?
Sophia. It something may concern [lenge
The gentleman; whom if you please to dial-
To dunce, play on the lute, or sing —
SeL Some catch? [tain him
Sophia. He shall not want those will main-
For any sum.
SeL You are ray sovereign; [what^;
I dare not think — yet 1 must speak some-
I shall burst else :-^I have no skill in jigs, .
Nor tumbling —
* Mau lose hu ribbon 6y ii in hie lock.] Alluding to tlie ridiculous fashion, in our authors
time, of wearing hke^ocks. This custom is also satyrized in Cupid's Revenge: which see.
' I dare not thinlty yet I mu$t ^>eak tomewhat.l Why then 'tis plain he would speak with-
out thinking ; and is not this heroically said? However, tho' he durst not think, yet he was
obliged to speak, to keep himself from bursting. How nonsense, like fame, vires acquirit
enndol Surely, if we suppose the words could ever be sense, we must imagine they run once
thus: I dure not speak — and yet I must speak something,
I shall burst else; —
t. e. He was afraid of speaking lest he should utter an affront to his queen; and yet if he did
WMT speak, his anger un vented might do him a mischief. Simpson,
We think the text good and genuine <and Svmnson's raillerv pomtless and iU-fbanded.
$0L.IIL i>d -*^ Sophia.
fiOd
THE CORONATION.
Sophia, How, sir!
SeL Nor was I born a minstrel ; and in this
Yon have s(i infinitely disgracVi Arcadius,
But tliat IVe heard another character,
And with your ro'val licence do beliteve it,
I should not think him worth my killing.
Sophia. Your killing?
&/. Does she not jeer me?
I shall talk treason presently ; Mnd it
At my tongue's end already : this is an
Affront ! IM! leave her.
Sophia, Come back ! Do you know A rca-
dius ? [our persons
. SeL I ha* chang'd but little breath with liim;
Admit no familiarity; we were [him
Born to live both at distance: yet I ha' seen
tight, and fight bravely.
Sophia: When the spirit of wine
Made his brain valiant, he fought bravely.
SeL Aitho* he be my enemy, should any
Of the gay flies that buz about the court,
Sit to catch trouts i' th' summer', tell me so,
I durst in any presence but your own —
Sophia, What?
SeL Tell him he were not honest.
Sophia. 1 see^ Seleucus, thou art resolute,
And I but wrong'd Arcadius: your first
^quest is granted, you shall fight, and he
That ctmqucrs be rewarded, to confirm
rirst place and honour to his family:
Is it not this you plead for ?
SeL You are gracious.
S(^hia. Lysimachus!
Lysim. Madam.
Cass. She has granted tlien f
SeL With much ado.
Cats. I wish thy sword may open
His wanton veins ! Macarius is too popular,
And has taught him to insinuate.
Souhia. It shall
But Iiaste the confirmation of our loves,
And ripen the delights of marriage. Seleucus !
[Exit cum Seleuco,
Lysim. As I guessed !
It cannot be too soon. [invest
Cass. To-morrow then we crown her, and
(Act i
My son with majesty ; 'tis to ray wishes.
Beget a rare of princes, my Lysimachus !
Lj/sim. First, let us marry, sir.
Cast. Thy brow was made
To wear a golden circle; I'm transported!
Thou shalt rule her, and I will govern thee.
Li/sim. Altho* you be my father, that will
not
Concern my obedience, as I take it.
Enter Phiiocles, Lifsander^ and Antigonus,
Cass. Gentlemen',
Prepare yourselves for a solemnity
Will turn the kingdom into triumph : Eptre,
Look fresh to morrow! — Twill become your
duties,
In all your glory, to attend the queen at
Her coronation; she is pleas'd to make
The next day happy in our calendar :
My office doth expire, and my old blood
Renews with thought on't.
PhiL How's this?
Ant. Crown'd to-morrow ?
Lysan. And he so joyful to resign his re*
gency ! [hasty
There's some trick in't : I do not like these
Turnings '°, and whirls of state; they've com-
monly [save
As strange and violent effects. Well, Heav*ff
The queen ! [send her
PhiL H(^av'n save the queen, say I, and
A sprightly bedfellow ! For the protector.
Let him pray for himself; he's like to have
No benefit of my devotion. [Lysimachus^
Cas^. But this doth quicken my oKi beam
There is not feiy step into her throae.
Hut is the same degree of thy own state*
Come, gentlemen !
J.ysan. We attend your grace.
Cm$s. Lysimachus!
Lysim. What heretofore could happen t§
mankind [iti
Was with much pain to climb to Heav*n; but
Sophia's marriage, of ail queens the best,
Heav'n will come down to earth, to make me
blest. [£«»n^
" Sit to catch trouts.'] The editors of 1750 substituted^ for 51^; wc tliiok improperly: Se^
leucus seems to mean, * Courtiers that buz about the court, and si/ to catch, 4-c.'
* Gentlemen^
Prepare younehes.'] Mr. Seward has happily restored the speaker, Castander, which i*
dropt negligently thro* all the copies. Sympson.
•^ --these hasty
Proceedings, and whirls of state."] Every judge of poetry must see, that proceedings tH
very unpoetical, both in sense and measure : I take the true word to have been blotted in the
manuscript, and tliis to have been eitlier the player or printer's insertion. I conjectuiM
turnings^ and whirls of state, which I afterwards found a strong confirmatioa of in this verjr
Play, act iii. scene 3.
PhiL Tis a strange turn,
Lysan. The whirligigs of women. Seward,
ACT
Acts.}
THE CORONATION.
203
ACT 11.
Enter Arcadius and Polidorui
Polid. INDEED you shall not go.
■»• Arc. Whither?
Polid, Tu travel.
I know yon see me hut to take your leave;
fiot I must never yield to iiuch an absence.
Arc. I prithee leave tliy tears! I am com^
mnnded
To th* contrary; I wonot leave thee now.
jPo/tV. Commamkd i by whom ?
Arc, Tbc queeu. [think
Polid, Tm very glad; for, trust me, I could
Of thy departure witli no comfort! Thou
i\rt all the joy I have, half of my soul ;
But I must thank tite queen now for thy
company.
I prithee what could make thee so desirous
To be abroad?
*Arc, Only to get an appetite
Tothee,Polidora".
Polid. Then you must provoke it?
Arc. Nay, prithee, do not so mistake thy
servant.
Polid. Perhaps you surfeit with my love.
Arc Thy love?
Polid. Altho' I have no beauty to compare
Witii the best faces, I've a heart above
Ail competition.
Arc. Thoa art jealous now:
Come, lot me take the kiss I cave thee last!
I am !>o confident of thee, no lip
\lai ravish'd it from tliine. I prithee come
To court !
PoUd. For what?
Arc. There i» the throne for beauty.
Poiid, Tis safer dwelliiii; here.
Arc, 'lliere's none will hurt,
(Ir dare but tliink an ill to Puiidora;
Tlie greau'st will be pniud to honour thee :
Tliy lustre wants the admiration here '* !
Thtr6 thou wot shine indeed, and strike a
reverence
Into the gazer.
Polid. You can flatter too. [thy virtue
Arc. Xo praise of thee can be thought so ;
^^'ill ()e»cr\*o all. I must confess, we courtiers
l)o ot'tcii times commend, to bhew our art :
TWre is necessity sometimes to say
This madam breathes Arabian gums,
Amber, and cas>i4i; thu', as we are ])raising^
We wish we hud no nostrils to take in
Th'otfeusive steam of her corrupted lungs.
Nay, some will swear they love their mistress.
Would hazard lives and fortunes to preserve
One of her hairs brighter than Berenice's,
Or young Apollo's; and yet, after this,
A favour from another toy would tempt him
To laugh, while the officious hmigman whips
Her head oflf.
Polid. Fine men !
Arc. I am none of these :
Nay, there are women, Polidora, too,
That can do pretty well at flatteries;
Make men believe they dote, will languish
for 'em.
Can kiss a jewel out of one, and dally
A carcanet'^ of diamonds from another.
Weep into th' bosom of a third, and make
Him drop as many pearls : they count it no*
thiug
To talk a reasonable heir, within ten days
Out of his whole estate, and make him mad
He has no more wealth to consume*
Polid. You*ll teach me
To think I may be flatter'd in your promises.
Since you live where tliis art is most pr»«
fess'd.
Arc. J dare not be so wicked, Polidonu
The infant errors of tbie court I may
ISe guilty of, but never to abuse
So rare a goodness; nor indeed did ever
Converse with any of those sliames of court.
To practise for base ends, fie confident
My heart is full of thine, and I so deeply
Carry the figure of my Polidora,
It is not in the power of time or distance
To cancel it. By all that's blest, I love thee.
Love thee above ail women; dare invoke
A curse when I forsake thee.
Polid. Let it be
Some gentle one.
Arc, Teach me an oath I prithee.
One strong enough to bind, if thou dost find
Any suspicion of'^iny faith ; or else
Direct me in some horrid imprecation !
When I forsake thee for the love of other
Woman, may Ileav'n reward my apostacy.
" To thee, Polidora.] Seward reads. To Polidora,
'^ J^hy lustre wants Uie admiration here.] We must either read,
that admiration;
or, admiration there, Sympson.
There needs no variation at all; the meaning is simply, < Thy lustre wants (i. e. is without)
'its due admiration here; there you would be noticed.'
'^ A carcanet.} A ficcklace, from the old F*rench word carean, whose diminutive was ccr-
c«ne^ See Cotgrave*s Dictionary. It is used in Sliakespeare, vol. ii. p. 178. R.
Dd2 '• To
204
THE CORONATION.
[Act <t»
To blast my greatest happiness on earth'^y
And make'aU jojfs abortive ! Fcarry
Po/fV/. Revoke these hasty syllables: they
Too great a penalty for breach of love
To me; I am not worth thy suR*rin^;
You do not Viiovi what beauty may mvite
Your change, what happiness may tempt
And heart totzether. [your eye
Arc, Should all the graces of your sex con.
spire •
In one, and she should court me with a dower
Able to huy a kingdom, when I give
Wy heart from Polidora—
Polid, I suspect not ;
And to requite thy constancy, I swear —
Arc. It were- a sin to let thee waste tliy
breath ;
I have assurance of tliy noble thoughts.
Enter a Servant,
Serv. Mylordy your uncle bath been ever^r
where
F th' court enquiring for you ; his looks speak
Some earnest cause. [jUxit,
Arc. Tra more acquainted with
Thy virtue, than t' imagine thou wilt not
Excuse me now : one kiss dismisses )um
Whose heart shall wait on Polidora.
Polid. Prithee«5
Let me not wish for thy return too often !
My father? [Exit Arcudius,
Enter Nestorius and a Servant.
Nest. I met Arcadius in strange haste ; he
He had been with thee. [told me
Polid, Some afiair too soon
Ravish'd him hence ; his uncle sent for him.
You came now from court : how looks the
This golden morning? [ouecn
Nest. Like a bride : her soul [fires,
Is all on mirth; her eyes have quick'uing
Able to strike a spring into the earth
In winter.
Pvlid. Then Lysimachus can have [beams.
No frost in*s blood, that liven so near her
Nest, His politic father, the protector,
smiles too.
Kesolve to see the ceremony of the queen ;
'Twill be a day of state.
Polid. I am not well.
Nest. Howl not well? retire then, I must
return ;
My attendance is expected. Polidota,
Be careful of thy health !
Poiid. It will concern me. [Exeunt.
Enter Arcadius and Macarius,
Arc. You amaze me, sir. [safety,
Mac. Dear nephew, if tI)ou respect tlay
My honour, or my age, remove thyself;
Thy life's in dandier.
Arc. Mine ? VVho is my enemy ?
Afac, Take horse, and instantly forsake the
city,
Or else within some unsuspected dwelling
Obbcurc thyself; stay not to know the rea-
son, fi'th' number
Arc. Sir, I beseech your pardon ! Wbich,
Of my offences unto any, should
Provoke this dishonourable flight? [stAv*
Mac. I would, when I petitioned for thy
Vd pleaded for thy banishment; thou know*>t
What threatens thee. [not
Arc. I would desire to know it :
I am in no conspiracy of treason.
Have ravish'd no man's mistress, not so mnch
As given the lie to any: what should mean
Your stl^ge and violent fears? I will not
stir
Until you make me sensible I've lost
My innocence.
Mac. I must not live to see
Thy body full of wounds ; it were less sin
To rip thy father's nuirble, and fetch from
The reverend vault his ashes, and disperse
them [find
By some rude winds, where none should ever
The sacred dust : it was his legacy, [UeaTen,
The breath he mingled with liis prayers to
I should preserve Arcadius, whose ftie
He prophesied in death, would need protec-
tion:
Thou wot disturb his ghost, and call it to
Affright my dreams, if thou refuse t'obey me.
Arc. You more inflame me, to enquire the
cause
Of your distraction ; and you'll arm me better
Than any coward flight, by acquainting me
Whose malice aims to kill me : good sir, tell
me!
Mac. Then, prayers and tears assist me!
Arc. Sir?
Mac. Arcadius,
Thou art a rash young man, witness the spirit
■ of other
WomeUy may Heav*n reward my apostacy
To blasts ifc.'\ Mr. Seward supposes the words misplac'd here, and that the natural
order is .thus:
i— may to re\vard my apostacy
Hcttv*n blast my greatest happiness. ^n^son^
The old reading gives good sense, and more strongly ezpnesses, that ' blasting his happt-
^ ness would be the proper reward of his falsehood.'
'^ Whose heart shall wait on PoUdorOy prithee
Let me not wish ] The least attention to this passage will convince the reader,
that the insertion of Polidora's name before Prithee let nte noty which Mr. Seward too cow*
Diunicatcd to me, is entirely requisite to the sense of this place, Sympson^
Of
Act 12.]
THE CORONATION.
S05
Of him fhkl trusted me so much! I bleed,
HjU I prevent tliis mischief. [Eait,
Enter Philocies and Ltfuinder.
Arc. Ha ! keep off.
Flul. What mean you, sir?
lAf$en. We are yoar friends.
Arc I know your iaces, but
Am not secure: I would not be betrayed.
hfutm. You wrong our hearts,' who truly
honou' you.
Arc. They say I must be kill'd.
FkiL By whom?
Arc I know not.
Nor would I part with life so tamely.
Fkll. We dare
Engage ours in your (quarrel ; hide your sword.
It may beget suspicion; it is
Enough to question you.
Arc I'm confident;
Pmy pardon me ! come, I despise all danger ;
Yet a dear friend of mine, m v uncle, told me
He would not see my body rail of wounds.
Lytan. Yotfr uncle ? this is strange*
Arc Yes, my honest uncle.
If my unlucky stars have pointed me
fiodire^ fate*-
Enh. Seloticus' life and mine
Are twisted on one thread, both stand or (all
Together. Hath the service for py country
Deserved but this reward, to be sent weeping
To my eternal home ? Was't not enoiign, ^
When I was young, to lose my blood in
wars.
But the poor remnant that is scarcely warm.
And faintly creeping thro' my witl.er^d veins.
Must be let out to make you sport?
Mac How can
We, that sliall this mom see the sacred oil
Fall on your viigin tresses, hope Hat any
Protection here&er, when this day [you ?
You sacrifice the blood of them that pray for
Arcadius, I prithee speak thyself;
It is for thee I plead.
Eub, Seleucus, kneel.
And say thou hast repented thy rash suit !
If ere i see thee fight I be thus wounded.
How will the least drop foixxKl from thy veins
AtBict my heart ?
Mac, Why, that's good!
Arcadius, speak to her; hear him, madam.
Arc If you call back this honour you
have done me, *
I shall repent I live.^-Do not persuade me !—
Seleucus, thou'rt a noble enemy ;
And I will luve thy soul, tho' I despair
Our bodies' friendly conversation :
I would we were to tu^ upon some cliff.
Or, like two prodigies I'th' air, our conflict
Might generally be paz'd at, and our blood
Appease our grandsires' ashes!
A' c. I'm undone!
SeL Madam, my fathei'says I have offended;
If so, I beg your pardou, but beseech you,
For your own glory, call not back your word !
Euh. They are both road.
Sophia, No more! we have resolv'd:
And since their courage is so nobly flam'd,
This morning we'll behold the champions
Within the list. Be not afraid their strife
Will stretch so fitr as death. So soon as we
A re cruwn'd, prepare yourselves. Seleocns !
l^leuctis kisses her hand.
Sel. I have receivd another life in this
High favour, and may lose what nature gave
me. [va&or,
Sophia* Arcadius, to encourage thy young
We give thee our fiither's sword ;
Command it from our armory. Lysimachus, '
To our Coronation.' [ExtunU
Eub. I will forfeit sooner
My liead for a rebellion, than suffer it '^.
I [Exit.
'•Sel. r///of/ei/,&c.
Arc. lam circled — ] Mr. Tlieobald and Mr. toward agree with me, here are two false
names put into these two places ; and that Eubulns should supply Seleucus, and Macarius
Arcadius, and 'tis plain, for Seleucus and Arcadius are not now upon the stf^e, but went off
with the queen, LYsima^hus, &c. I have likewise ventured to add a word to
£ub, I'll forfeit
My head, &cc.
which was not sense^ as it stood in all the copies. Sj^pson,
Mac
There is some strange mistake in*t.
Enter Antigonus.
Ant. Arcadius, the queen would speak
You must make haste. [with you ;
Arc Tho' to my death, I fly
Upon her summons; I give up my breath
Then willindy, if she command it from me.
^^ [ExU.
PhiL This does a little trouble me.
I^wn. I know not
What to imagine ; something is the ground
Of this perplexity, but I hope there is not
Any such danger as he apprehends.
Enter Sophia, Lysimachus, Macarius, Eubu-
lus, Seleucus, Arcfidius, Ladies, Attend^
ants, and GeiUtemen.
Sophia. We have already granted to Seleu^
cus.
And they shall try their valour, if Arcadius
Ilare spirit in him to accept the cliallenge :
Our 103^01 word is passed.
Fhil. This is strange. [ask'd,
Eub, Madam, my son knew not what he
And you were cruel to consent so soon.
Afoc. Wlierein have I offended, to be robb'd
At once of all the wealth I have? Arcadius
I* part of me.
206
THE CORONATION.
[Act 2*
Mac. Vm circled with confusions! Til do
somewhat :
My brains agd friends assist me !
Phil, But do you think thc/Ii fight indeed ?
Lf/$an, Perhaps
Her majesty will see a bout or two :
And yet*tiswondrous5trnnge! suchs{)ectacles
Are rare i*th' court. An they were to skinnish
naked *
Before her, then there micht be some excuse.
Tiiere is some gimcracksin t; thequeen is wise
Above her years.
FhiL Macarius is perplex'd.
Enter Eubulus,
Lysan, I cannot blame him. But my lord
Eubulus [men!
Returns ; they are both troubled : las^ good
But our duties are expected ; we forget.
[Exeunt Pkitocles and Lender.
Eub. I must resolve ; and yet things are
My brain's upon the torture! [not ripe.
Mac. This may quit
The hazard of his person, whose least drop
Of blood is worth more than our families.
My lord Eubulus, I have 'thought a way
To stay the young men's desperate pro-
ceedmgs :
It is our cause they fight ; let us beseech
The queen, to grant us two the privilege
Of duel, rather than expose their hves
To cither's fury : it were pity they
Should run upon so black a destmy;
We are both old, and may be spar'd; a pair
Of fruitless trees, mossy and witlier'd trunks,
That fill up too much room.
Eub. Most willingly ;
And I will praise iier charity t* allow it :
I have not yet fonrot to use a sword.
Let's lose no time! By this act, she will licence
Our souls to leave our bodies but a djiy,
I Vrhaps an hour, the sooner ; they may live
To flo her better service, and be friends
Wlien we are dead. And yet I Imve no hope
This \\ ill be granted; curse upon our faction!
Mac, If *he deny us —
Eub. What?
Mac, I would do somewhat —
Eub. There's sometliing o' the sudden
struck upon
My imagination, that may secure us.
Mac. Name it; if no dishonour wait upon*t.
To preserve tlicni, I'll accept any danger.
Eub. There is no other way — and yet my
heart
Would be excus'd— but 'tis to save his life.
Mac. Speak it, Eubulus.
Eub. In your oar 1 shall;
It sha'not make a noise if yon refuse it.
Mac. Hum! tho' it stir my blood. 111
meet. Arcadius,
If this preserve thee not, I must unseal
Another mystery. [Exeunt.
Enter Sophia, Lysimachus,Cas$ander, Chariiia^
Lt/sander^ Fhilocles, and Jntigonut.
Sophia. We owe to all your loves, and will
deserve.
At least by our endeavours, that none may
This day repent their prayers. My lord*
Cas$. Madam, [protector!
I have no such title now, and am blest to
lose
That name so happily : I was but trusted
With a glorious burden.
Sophia. YoQ have prov'd [still
Yourself our faithful counsellor, and must
Protect our growing state: a kingdom's
sceptre [sits heavy
Weighs down a woman's arm; tnis crown
Upon my brow already; and we know
There's something more than metal in this
wreath
Of shining glory; but your fiiitJi and coansel^
^That are I'auiilur with mysteries.
And depths of state, have power to make us fit
For such a bearing, in> which both you shall
Do loyal service, and reward your duties.
Cass. Ilcav'n preserve your highness!
Sophia. But yet, my lords and gentlemen^
let none [doms^
Mistake me, that, because I uige your wis->
I shall grow careless, and impose on yon
The managing of this great province ! uo^
We will be active too; and as we are
In dignity above your persons, so
The greatest portion ot the difficulties
We call to us, you in your several places
Relieving us with your experience.
Observing in your best directions
All uKxlesty, and distance ; tor altho'
We sure but young, no action shall forfeit
Our royal privilec;e, or encourage any
To unrevercnt boldness. As it will become
Our honour to consult, ere we detenniiie.
Of the most necessary thing of state;
So we are sensible ot any check *',
But in a brow, that saucily controls
Our action, presuming on'oar years
As few, or frailty of our sex ; that head
Is not secure, that dares our power or justice.
Phil. Sh'has a brave spirit! l»ok fiow thc^
Grows pale already ! [protector
S(»phia. But I speak to you
Are perfect in obedience, and may spare
This thfine; yet 'twas no immaterial
Part of our character, since I desire
All should take notice I liave studied
*' So ice arc sensible of a check.] SeWard would read.
So were not sensible of any check.
But iii a brow, &c.
We h.ive adopted Sunpsons reading, which he thus explains: * Even the !east seeming
* dialike to our judgment expreuad by a wrinkled brom, ue arc sensible of\ &c/
The'
Actt.]
THE CORONATION.
2or
Tlie knowledge of myself; by which I ^all
Better distinguish of your worth and persons
In vour relations to us.
l^tan. This language
Is but a tlireatening to somebody.
Sophia. But we miss some, that use not
to absent
Their duties from us ; whereas Macarius ?
Cats. Itetir'd to grieve, your m^esty hath
given
Consent Arcadios should enter list
To-day r with young Seleucus.
Sophia. We purpose
Enter Gentleman.
They shall proceed. What's he ?
PhU. A gentleman
Belonging to Seleucus, that ^ves notice
He is prepar'dy and waits your royal pleasure.
Sophia. He was compos*d for action. Give
notice
To ArcaHias, and admit the challenger!
Let other princes boast their gaudy tilting,
And mockery of battles ! but our triumph
Is celebrated with true noble valour,
Enter Seleucus andArcadius at several doors^
their Pages before theniy hearing their
Targets.
Two youn^ men spirited enough to have
Two kingdoms 4tak'd upon their swords.
Lysimachus,
Do not they excellently .become their anns ?
H'were pity but they should do something
more
Than wave their plumes. [A shout within."]
What noise is that ?
Enter Macarius and Eubulus.
Mae. The people's joy, to know us re-
concird,
Is added to the jubilee o'th* day :
We liave no more a taction, but one heart.
Peace flow in every bosom 1
JBie*^ Throw away [friends
These instruments of death, and like two
Embrace by our example.
Sophia, This unfei^*d i [^madam,
^fae. Bj our duUes to youraelt! Dear
Command them not advance: our houses
from
This minute are incorporated ; happy day !
Ottr eyes, at which before revenge look'd
forth.
May clear suspicion. Oh, my Arcadius !
Eub. We've found a nearer way to friend-
ship, madam.
Than by exposing them to fight for us.
Sophui. If this be faithful, our desires are
bless'd.
We had no thought to waste, but reconcile
Your blood this way, and we did pro«
J?bcsy'»
This happy chance: spring into either's
bosom,
Arcadius and Seleucus ! — What can now
Be added to this day's felicity ? [lord,'
Yes, there is something, is there not, my
While we are virgin-quccu ?
Cass, Ha ! that string
Doth promise musick.
Sophia. I am yet, my lords,
Your single joy ; and when I look upon
What I liave took to manage, the great care
Of this most flourinhing kingdom, I incline
To think I shall do justice to myself
If I chuse one, whose strength and virtue
may
Assist my undertaking : think you, lords,
A husband would not help ?
Lvsan. No question, madam ;
And he that you propose to make so bless'd.
Must needs be worthy of our humblest duty«
It is the general vote.
Sophia. We will not then
Trouble ambassadors to treat with any
Princes abroad ; within our own dommion.
Fruitful in honour, we shall make our choice;
And that we may not keep you over long
In th' imagination, from this circle we
Have purpose to elect one, whom I shall
Salute a king and husband.
Lysan. Now my lord i^ysimachus!
Sophia. Nor shall we in this action be ac^
cus'd
Of rashness, since the man we shall declare
Deserving our affection hatli been early
In our opinion, (wliich had reasob first
To guide it, and his known nobility)
Long married to our thoughts, will justify
Our fair election.
Phil. I^ysimachus blushes.
Cass. Direct our duties, madam, to pray
for him! [She comes from the state.
Sophia. Arcidius, }'ou see from whence we
come;
Pray lead us back : you may ascend.
Cass. How's this? o*er-reach*d ?
Arc. Madjun, be charitable to your hum-
blest creature !
Do not reward the heart, that falls in duty
Beneath your feet, witli making me the bur-
den
Of the court-mirth, a mockery for pages !
Twere treason in me but to think you me^m
thus.
Sophia. Arcadius, you must refuse my love.
Or shame this kingdom.
Phil, Is the wind in that corner?
Cas». I shall run mad, Lysimachus !
Lysim. Sir, contain yourself.
Set, Is this to be believ'd?
Mac. What dream is this?
Phil. He kisses her! now, by this day, Fni
glad on't.
Lytatu Mark tlie protector !
'* And ve did prophesy.] «. e« Foresee* Symp$on,
Ant.
tOB
THE CORONATION.
[Act 5.
Ant. Let blm fret hi9 heart-stringy!
Sophia. Is the day doady on the sodden ?
Arc, Gentlemen,
It was not my ambition ; (I durst never
Aspireso high in thought) but since her m ajesty
Hath pieas'd to call me to tliis^ honour, I
Will study to be worthy of her ghice.
By whom I live.
Sophia. The church to-raorrow shall
Connrm our marriage. Noble Lysimachus,
"We'll find oat other ways to recompense
Your love to us. Set forward! Came, Ar«
teditts !
[Ejevnt Sophia, Arcadius, and PMlocUt^
Mac. It must be so; and yet let me con-
sider!
Com. He insnlts already ! Policy, assist me
To break his neck !
Lysim. Who would trust woman?
Lost, in a pair of minutes lost! How bright
A morning rose but now, and now 'tis nigliU
lErcuni.
ACT iir.
Enter Poiidora and Servant.
Tolid. (^H, where sliall virgins look for
^^ fjuth hereafter.
If he prove false, after so many vows?
And yet, if I consider, he was tempted
Above the strength of a young lover: two
Such glories courting '^ his acceptance, were
Able to make disloyalty no sin,
At least not seem a fault : a lady first,
Wliose very looks would thaw. a man more
frozen • ftlian winter;
Tlmn th* Alps, quicken a soul more dead
Add to her beauty and perfection.
That she's a queen, and brings with lier a
kingdom ^
Able to make a ereat mind forfeit Heaven.
What could the frailty^ of Arcadius •
Suggest, t' uDspirit him so much as not
To fly to her embraces ? — You were present
When she declar*d herself?
~ Serv. Yes, madam.
PoUd. Tell me, [queen
Did not he make a pause, when the fair
A full temptation stood him }
Serv. Very little ^ [sooner
My judgment could disdngoish : she did no
Propound, but he accepted.
PoUd. That was ill. [nutes ;
He might with honour stand one or two mi-
Methinks it shonld have startled him a little
To have remember'd me ; I have deserv'd
At least a cold thought. Well, pray eive it
him. [ Folid. gives him a letter.
Serv. I shall.
Polid. When?
Serv. Instantly.
Polid. Not so;
But take a time when his joy swells him most,
When his delights are high and ravishing,
When you perceive hissoul dance in his eyes.
When she, that must be his, hath dress'd her
beautY, [pids
With all her pridey and sends a thousand Cu-
To call hixB^to the tasting of her lip ;
Then give him this, and tell him, while I live
I'll pray for him.
Serv. I sliall. [Extunt.
Enter Cassander and Lyshnachus,
Can. There is no way but death.
Lysim. That's black and horrid!
Consider, sir, it was her sin, not his;
I cannot accuse him ; wliat man could carry
A heart so frozen, not to melt at such
A slorious flame ? Who could not fly to suck
A happiness?
Caat4 Have you ambition
To be a tame tool? See so vast an injury.
And not revenge it? Make me not suspect
Thy mother for tliis sufferance, my son.
Lysim. Pray hear me, sir.
Cats. Hear a patient gull,
A property? T1m>u hast no blood of mine.
If this affiroDt provoke thee not : how canst
Be charitable to thyself, and let him live •
To dory in thy shame? Nor is he innoceot;
He had before crept slily into her bosom^
And practis'd thy dishonour.
■ Lysim. You begin
To stir me, sir.
Cass. How else Could she be guilty
Of such coiit<.>mpt of tliee, and in the eye
Of all tlie kingdom ? they conspir'd this stain,
Wlien they had cunning meetings. Shall thy
love rLysimachos
And blooming hopes be scatterVd tbasy and
Stand idle gazer?
JL^sim. What, sir, will hit death
iVflvanta^e us, if she be false to me?
5m> irreligious? and to touch her person-^
Pause, we may be observed.
Enter Philocles ondLytander.
Tis the protector
Phil. Alas, poor gentleman! I pity bis
Neglect, but am not sorry for his fatoet*
Tis a strange tarn.
Lysan. The whirligigs of woipen!
■' Such gloriotts courting.'} Corrected in 17M).
PhiL
Act S.]
THE CORONATION.
209
Phil. Yoar grace's servant.
Cass, I am yours, gentlcrneii ;
And should be happy to deserve jour loves.
PkiL Now ^e can flatter.
Ly^an, Not, .sir, to enlarge
Your sufferings, I have a heart doth wish
The queen had known better to reward
Your love and meriL
Lys'm. If you would express
Your love to me, pray do not mention it.
I must obey my fate.
PhiL She will be married
To t other gentleman for certain tlicn?
Cast, I hopeyouUl wish 'em joy.
PhiL Indeed! viriH, sir.
Jbfsan. Your grace's servant ! [Exeunt,
Cass. We are grown
Hidiculous, the pastime of the court •! —
Here comes another.
Enter Seleucus,
SeL Where's your son, my lord ? [tress:—
Cass. Like a neglected servant of his mis-
Ikl. I would asL him a question.
Cass. What?
SeL Whetlicr the quecn^
As 'tis reported, Ipv'd him: he can tell
Whether slie promised what they talk of^ mar-
riage.
Cass. I can resolve you that, sir.
>^/. She did promise ?
Lass. Ye?.
Sei. Then she's a woman; and your son —
Cass. What?
Scl. Not
VorUiy his blood and expectation,
^ Iflie be calm.
Cass. There's no opposing destiny.
&•/. Yd cut the throat —
Cass. Whose throat? [don, sir !
SeL The destiny's ; that's all. Your par-
lam Seleucus still; a poor shadow
O'tb* world, a walking picture! it concerns
Xot me; I am forgotten by my stars.
Cass. The queen, with more discretion,
might ha' chosen thee.
^W. Whom?
Cass, Tliee, Seleucus.
fee/. Me?
I cannot dance, and frisk with due activity !
M? IkkIy's lead, I've too much phlegm; what
bliould I
Do with a kingdom ? No, Arcadius
Becomes the cushion, and can please. Yet,
setting
Aside tte trick that ladies of blood look at,
Apotlierman might make a shift to wear
Richcioaths, sit in the chair of st^te, and nod,
Dare venture on discourse that does not
trench
On compliment, and think the study of arms
And arts more commendable in a gentleman,
Than any galliard*°.
Cass. Arcadics
And you were reconciVd?
SeL We? yes; oh, yes.
But'tis not manners now to say we are friends;
At our equality there had been reasou.
But now suhjcct'wn is the word.
C^iss. They are not yet married ?
Scl. ril make no oath upon't. My lord
Lysimachus,
A word ! You'll not be angry if I love jrou ?
May not a bntchclor be made a cuckold ?
Li/sim. How, sir!
Cass. Lysimnchus, this gentleman
Is worthy our embrace ; he's spirited,
And may be useful.
Sel. Hark you ; can vou tell [mean
Where's the best dancin^master? An you
To rise at court, practise to caper: farewt?ll.
The noble science tliat make^ work for cut*
Jers!
It will be out of fiisliion to wear swords;
Masques and devices, welcome ! I salute you.
Is it not pity any division
Should be heaniout of niusick? Oh, 'twill be
A n excellent age of crotchets, and of canters !
By, captains*', that like fools will spend
your blood
Out of your country ! you will be of less
Use than your feathers; if you return unr
raaim*d,
You shall be beaten soon to a new march,
When you shall think it a discretion
To sell your glorious buffs to buy fine piimps.
And pantaUes : this is, I hope, no treason.
Enter Arcadius, leading Sophia, Charilla,
Enbttlus, Lysandcry Philocles, and.PoU*
doras Scrrant^**
Cass, Wo't stay, Lysimachus?,
hysim. Yes, sir, and shew
A patience above her injury. [Assume
Arc. This honour is too much, madam I
Your place, aiid let Arcadius wait still ;
Tis happiness enough to be your servant.
Cass. Now he dissembles.
Sophia. Sir, you must sit.
Arc. I am obedient. [Music heard,
Sophh. Tliis is not music £lanciu>ly.
Sprightly enough; it feeds the soul with me-
llow says Arc&ius?
Arc. Give me leave to tl^ink,
There is no harmony but in your voice,
And no( i^n accpnt of your heav'nly tongue>
Galliard.'] The galliard is a lively air in triple time; Drossard intimates that it is the
same with the Romanesca, a favourite dance with the Italians.'
^j , Sir Joitn Hawkins, Hist. Music!:, vol. iv. p. 38r»
' Buy captainf, that like fools if you return utmiann*d.] Both errors corrected by
'Seward.
" Polidora, Servant.] Corrected by Sympson.
VOLUL ^ ^ ^ T.e But
210
THE CORONATION.
[Act 3.
But strikes me into raptare : I incline
To think the tale of Orpheus no table ;
Tis possible lie might enchant* the rocks.
And charm the forest^ soften Hell itself^
With his commanding lute ; il is no miracle
To what you work, wliose evVy breath con-
veys
Tlie hearer into Heav'n : how at your lips
Winds gather perfumes, proudly glide away.
To disperse sweetness round about the world !
Sel. Fine stuff!
Sophia. You cannot flatter.
Arc. Not, if I should say [wonder.
Nature had plac'd you here the creatures?
And iier own spring, from which all excel-
lence [when
On earth's derii'd, and copied forth; and
The character of fair and good in others
Is quite worn out, and lost, looking on you
It is supplied, and you alone' made moriiil,
To feed and keep alive all beauty. [men ?
Sel. Ha! ha! Can y<}ii endure. it, geutle-
J.y$an. What do you mean?
SeL Nay, ask him what he means;
Inline is a down*right laugh.
Sophia. VV^ell, sir, proceed, [themselves.
Arc, At such bright eyes the stars do light
* At such a forehead swans renew their white,
From such a lip the mornintz gathers blushes.
Sel. The morning is more modest than thy
praises:
What a thing does He make her?
Arc. And when you fly to Heav'n, and
leave tliis world [you,
No longer maintenance of goodness trom
Tlien poetry shall lose all use witii us.
And be no more, since nothing in your al>
sence
Is left, that can be worthy of a vqrse.
SeL Ha, lia!
Sophia. Who's that?
Sel. Twas I, madam.
Arc* Seieucus?
Ctfsi. Ha!
SeL Yes, sir; *twas I tliat laugh*d.
Arc. At what?
SeL At nothing.
Lysan. Contain yourself, Seieucus.
Euh. Arc you mad ? [sir ?
Sophia. Have you ambition to be punish'd,
SeL I need not; 'twas punishment
Btiough to hear him make an idol of you;
He left out the commendation of your pa-
tience.
I was a little moved in my nature,
To hear his rhodoirontados, and make
A monster of his mistress ; which
I pitied first; but seeing him proceed, (tions.
I guess'd he brought you mirth with bis inv^i*
And so made bold to laugh at it.
Sophia. You're saucy! [merry.
We'll place you where you 3hall not be so
Take him away !
Lysan. Submit yourself.
Arc. Let me
Plead for his pardon.
SeL I would not owe
My life so poorly ! Beg thy own : when you
Are king ynu cannot bribe your destiuy.
Eub. Ciood madam, liearme! I fear he is
distracted. [terofasoui
Cass. Urave boy ! — ^Thou shouldst be mas-
Like his; thy honour's more concem'd*^.
SeL *Tis charity ;
Away wo' me ! B*y% madam** !
Cass. He has a daring spirit.
[Exeunt SeL Euh. Cass.
Arc. These, and a thousand more affronts,
I must
Kxpect; your favours draw them all upon me :
In my fir^t state I had no enemies;
I was secure, while I did grow benesitli
Tills expectation; humble vallies thrive with
Their bosopis full of flowers, when the hills
melt
With lightning, and rough anger of tlie clouds.
Lctme retire.
Sophia. And csm Arcadius
At such a breifth be mov'd? I had opinion
Your courage durst have.stood a tempest for
Our love : can you for this incline to leave
What pther princes should in vain have sued
. for?
How many lovers are in Epire now [pert
Would throw themselves on danger, not ex»
One enemy, hut empty their own \ eins.
And think tlie loss of all their blood rewarded,
To have one smile of us when they are dying J
And shall this murmur shake you?
Arc. Not, dear madam;
My life is such a poor despised thing.
In value your least graces, tliat to lose
It were to make myself a victory,
It is not for myself I fear : the envy
Of otl^rs cannot fasten wound in me
Greater, than that your goodness sliould be
So daringly. [check'd
Sophia, Let not those thoughts afAict thee,
^' Brave hoy, Sfc.'] This speech was joined to that of Euhulus, 'till Mr. Seward disco*
vered the error.
*♦ -' 'boy, madam ?] We find afterward Seieucus sent to prison, for which there is
now no express command given by tlie queen ; and in the next place it is evident that she
had call'd mm hoy^ to which. Boy, madam, is an answer. I'he words omitted, might pro-
bably come in between Eubulus and Cassander^s speeches, and miglit be to this eflect.
Away with that audacious boy to prison. ' Scicard.
What occiirrM to me upon reftding this passage was this, that 6oy is bnly a corruption of
6y, and designed as an ironical taking leave of the queen on his going to prison. Sympson,
'^Sympson is undoubtedly right.
White
Act 3.J
THE CORONATION,
211
While we have power to correct th' offences.
Arcadius, he miue ! This stiall confirm it.
[Kisses him.
Arc I shall forget, Tbeen
And lose my way to Heav^ii that touch hatl
Eooagh to have restorM me, and infused
A spirit of a more celestial nature.
After the tedious absence of my soul.
Oh, hless me not too much! one smile a day
Would stretch my life to immortality'*.
Poets, that wrap divinity in tales, [gels !
Look liere, and give your copies forth of an*
What blessing can remain ?
Sophia, Our marriage.
Arc> Place then some horrors in the way
For me, not you, to pass; the journey's end
Holds out such glories to me, 1 should tliink
Hell but a poor degree of suffering for it.—
[Servant delivers km a paper,
Whnt*8 that? some petition? a letter to me?
* You had aPolidora.' Ha! that's all! [forth,
Fth' minute when my vessel's new launched
With all my pride, and silken wihg&about me,
I strike upon a rock: what pow^r can save
me?
' Youliad a Polidora!' There's a name!
Killed with grief, I can so soon foi^et her.
Serv, She did impose on me this service,
sir ; [you.
And while she lives, she says, shell pray for
Arc, She lives ! [fame
That's well; and yet 'twere better for my
And honour, she were dead. What fate hath
Upon this tearful precipice ? ' [plac'd me
Serv. IIe*s troubled.
^rc. I must resolve : my faith is violated
I Already; yet poor loving Polidora
^ Will pray forme, siie says; to tliink she can,
Itenders me hated to myself, and every
Thought's a tormentor; let me then be just
Sophia* Arcadius! [dora,
Arc, Tliat voice prevails again. Oh, Polir
Thou must forgive Arcadius; I dare pot
Turn rebel to a princess : I shall love
Thy virtue, but a kingdom has a charm
To excuse oar frailty. Dearest madam !
Sophia, Now set forward.
Arc, To perfect all our joys!
Enter Macanus and a Bishop,
Mac, I'll flight their glories.
Cass. By wbkt means ?
Mae. Observe.
Arc Our good uncle, welcome !
Sophia, My lord Macarius, we did want
your person ; |[share.
There's something in our joys wberem you
Mae. This yon intend your highness* wed*
iSu/^Ata. We are going — [ding-day?
Mac. Save your labour;
Tve brought a priest to meet you«
Arc. Reverend father !
M>a» Meet lis? Why?
Mac. To tell yon that you must not marry.
Cass* Didst thou hear that, l.ysimachub?
Ljfsimi And wonder wliat will follow.
Sophia, We must not marry?
Bishop, Madam, 'tis a rule [dare '
First made in Heav'n; and I must need* de-
You and 'Arcadius must tie no knot
Of man and wife<
Arc, Is my uncle mad ?
Sophia. Joy lias transported him.
Or age has made him dote : Macarius,
Provoke us not too much; you will presume
Above our mercy.
Mac, rU discharge my duty, [you know,
Could your frown strike me dead.— My lord^
Whose character this is ? .
Cass, It is Thcodosius*,
Your grace's father.
Bishop. I atn subscrib'd a witness*
Phil, Upon my life, 'tis his.
Mac, Fear not; I'll cross tliis match*
[Adde to Cassander*
Cass, I'll bless thee foi^t.
Arc, Uncle, d'ye know what you do,
Or what we are going to finish ? You will
not break [foot'a
The neck of my glorious fortune, now my
r t(i' stirrups, and, mounting, throw me o'er
the saddle ?
I hope you'll let one be a king. — Madam,
'Tis aa you say, my uncle is something craz'd,
Tliere's a worm in's brain, but I beseech you
pardon liim : [talk'd
He is not the first of your council, that hat
Idly. D'ye hear, my lord-bishop, I hope
you have more
Religion than to join with him to undo me.
Bishop, Not I, sir; but I am commanded
by oath and conscience,
To speak truth.
Arc, If your truth should do me
Any hai-ra, I shall never be in cliarity
With a crozier's staff; look to*t !
Sopliia. My youngest brother ?
Casg: Worse and worse! my brains!
[Eieit.
Mac, Deliver*d to me an infant with this
writing.
To which this reverend father is a witness.
Liftan, This he whom we so long thought
dead, a child ? [to trust him
Sophia, But what should make my father
To your concealment? give abroad hii death.
And bury an empty coffin ?
Mac, A jealousy he had
Upon Cassandcr, wliose ambitious brain
He iear*d would make no conscience to depose
His son, to make Lysitnacbus king of £pire.
^ Sophia, He made no scruple to expose me
To any danger? [then
Mac. He secur'd you, madam, *
By an early engagement of your affection
To Lysimachus, exempt this testimony &
** To mortality.] Corrected in 1750.
£e2
md
212
THE CORONATION.
[Act 4.
Had he bcjen Arcadius, and my nephew,
I needed not obtrude him on the state ;
Your love and marriage Imd made him king
Without my trouble, and sav*d tliat ambition.
There was necessity to open now
liis birth and title.
Fhil. Demetrius alive? [they talk of?
Arc. What riddles arc these? Whom do
Chmiei. We congratulate your return to
life and honour, L^ou>
And, as becomes us, with one voice siilute
Demetrius, king of Epire. [sister ;
Mac, I am no uncle, sir: this is your
I should hare sQflfer'd incest, to have kept you
longer i'th' dark : love, and be happy both !
My trust is now discharg'd.
Lf/san, And we rejoice.
Arc, But do not mock me, gentlemen;
IVIay I be bold upon your words to say
I am prince Theodosius' son ^
Mac. The king.
Arc, Youli justify it?
Sister, I'm very glad to see you.
Sophia, i am
To hnd a brother, and resign my glory.
My triumph is my shame. [EjH.
Enter Cassander,
Cass. Thine ear, Lysimachus.
Arc. Gentlemen, I owe
Unto your loves as large adcnowledgment
As to my birth, for this great honour ; and
My study shall be equal to be thought
Worthy of botli. [Exit Sophia.
Cass. Thou art tnrn'd marble*
' LysifH. Tliere will be the less charge fur
my monument.
Cass. This must not be: sit fast, young
king! [Ei'iU
Lysan. Your sister, sir, is gone.
Arc. My sister should have been my
bride* That name
Puts me in mind of Polidora; ha!
Lvsandcr! Philocles! gentlemen! fme
If yon will have me tbmk your hearts allow
Theodosius' son, oh, quickly snatch some
wings,
Express it in your haste to Polidora ;
Tell her, what title is new dropt from
Heav'u
To make her rich, only created for me ;
Give her the ceremony of my queen ;
With all the state that may become our^
bride, [there ?
Attend her to this throne. Are you not
Yet stay! 'tis too much pride to send foe
her;
We'll go ourself ; no honour is enough
For Polidora, to redeem our fiiult ;
Salute her gently from me, and, upon
Your knee, present her with this diadem !
Tis our first gift ; tell her Demetrius fol-
lows
To be her guest, and give himself a servant
To her chaste bosom ; bid licr stretcli her
heart
To meet me ! I am lost in joy and wonder t
[Exeunt,
ACT IV.
Enter Cassandety Euhulus, and .tidier.
Cass.
. ^nyiiEllE'S the captain of the castle?
^ ^ Soid. He'll attend your honours
presently.
Cass. Give him knowledge we expect him.
Sold. I shall, my lord. [Exit.
Cass, lie is my creature, (fear not!)
And shall run any course thdit we propound.
Eub. My lord, I like the substance of
your plot, - [quence
nis promising; but matters of this conse-
Are not so easily perfect; and it does
Concern our heads to builcl upon secui-e
Principles : tho' Scleucus, I confess,
Carry a high and daring spirit in him,
^is hard to thrust upon the state new settled
Any impostor; and we know not yet
Whether he'll undertake to play the prince ;
Or, if he should accept it, with what cunning
He can behave himself.
Cass. My lord, affairs
,0f such a glorious nature are half fiaisVdi
When they begin with confidence*
Euh Admit
He want no art, nor courage, it must rest
Upon the people to receive his title ;
And with what danger their uncertain breath
May flatter ours, Demetrius scarcely warm
In the king*s seat, I may suspect.
Cass. That reason
Makes for our part ; for if it be so probable*
That young Demetrius sliould be living, why
May not we work them to believe Leonatus,
The eldest son, was by some trick preserv'd.
And now would claim his own? There were
two sons.
Who in their fathers life we suppos*d dead;
May not wc find a circumstance to make
This seem as clear as t'other ? Let the vulgar
Be once posscss*d, we'll carry Epire from
Demetrkis, and the world.
Eub, r could be pleas'd ^
Enter Pokanus,
To sec my son a king. — ^Tbe captain's here.
Poleanus^ I wait your lordship's pleasure.
Cm*^ We come to visit your l«te prisoner.
IwUl
Jtet4.]
THE CORONATION.
fits
I will not doiibt, bot joa entreat him fiiirly ;
lie Mrill deserve it for himself, and you
Be fortunate in any occasion
To hftTc exprrssM your service.
PaUoHtu. Stf-, the knowledge
Of my lionourafole. lord his father, will
Instruct me to behave myself with all
Unpccts becoming me, to such a son.
Cass. These things will least
Oblige you; but how bears he liis restraint?
Folamus. As one whose soul's above it.
Eub. Patiently ? [great command
FofeanuB. With contempt rather of tite
Which made him {)riHon«r: he will talk
So stmngc>ly to himl^elf ! [soiuctimes
Eub. He's here.
Enter Seleucus,
Sel. Why was I born to bo a subject? Hfis
SoonanswerM sure; my fatlierwas no prince.
Tint's all : the same ingredients use to make
A man, as active, tho' not royal blood.
Went to my composition, and I
Was gotten with as g^uod a wiH, perhaps.
And my birth cost my mother as much sorrow,
As Fd been born sui emp ror.
Oiss, While I look
Upon him, something in his face presents
A king indeed.
Lub. He does resemble much
Tbeodosius too.
Cass. Whose son we would pretend liim :
This will advance our plot.
ScL Tis but a name,
And mere opinion, that prefers one man
Above anotlier : I'll imn^une then
I aoi a prince, or some bnive thing on earth,
And see what follows. But it must not be
My single voice will carry it;, the name
Of king must be attended ^rith a troop
Of acclamations, on whose airy wings
He mounts, and, once exalted, tlurefttens
lleav'n.
And all the staf^. IIow to acquire this noise,
And be the tliint^I t;^ of— Aien have risen
From a more cheap Mobility to empires.
From dark orig^mus, and sordid blood ;
Nay, some thal^had no futhers, sons o'th*
earth.
And flying people, have aspirM to kingdoms,
Alide nfttioDS tremble ^^, nay, have practised
frow/iis
To aWe the world : their memory is glorious.
And 1 would hug them in their shades.. But
«fiat*s
All Uiis to me, that am I know not what,
And less in expectation ?
Po/canus. Are you serious ? [us?
Can. Will you assist, and run a late with
Foleauus. Comttiand my life; I owe it t^
your favour.
IStl. Ai^cadius was once as far from king^'.
As I ; and had we not so cunnipgly
Been reconciled, or one, or both, had gone
To seek our fortunes in another world.-^
What's the device now ? If my death be nent,
Tl)e summons sliali not make me once louk
pale. [biiug
Cass, Chide your too vain suspicions ; we
A life, mid liberty, with what else can make
lliy ambition huppy : th' hast a glorious Uamc 1
We come t* advance it*
SeL How?
Cass. Ilave but a will, [thee to.
And be what thy own thoughts dare prompt
A king !
SeL You do not mock me, gentlemen f
Vou are my father, sir.
Eub, This minute shall
Declare it, my Seleuous : our hearts swcll'd
With joy, with duty rather — Oh, my boy !
6V/. What is the mystery ?
PoUanus. You must be a king, [dulous :
Cass, Seleucus, stay! thou*rt too incrc^
Let not our faith and study to exalt thee
Be to rewarded !
Eub. I pronounce thee king !
Unless thy spirit be turu*d coward, and
Thou foiut t accept it.
<Se/. Kins of what?
Cass, Of Epire. . [Mtfier,
SeL Altho' the queen, since she sent me
Were gone to Heaven, I know not how
That title could devolve to me.
Cass. We have [hex
No queen, shice he that shotild have married
Is.prov'd her youngest brotlier, and now king
In his own title.
SeL Thank you, gentlemen !
There's hope for me.
Cass. Why, you dare fiaht witli him.
An teed be, for the kingdom ?
SeL WithArcadius?
If you'll make stakes, my life against liis
crown, [son,
ril fight with liim, and you, and your fine
And ali the courtiers one after another.
Cass, Two'notcome to tliatu
SeL Vm of your lordship's mind :
So, fare you well!
Cass. Vet stay and hear.
SeL What, that you fiavc betray'd me ?
Do, tell your king! my life is grown a burden^
And ni confess; and make your souls look
pale, rbatticmeiu
To see how nimble mine shall leap this
Of flesh, and, dyings laugh at your poor
malice.
^ Tremble, any hate practWd frowns.'\ Amended by Sympsoa.
*' As far from heine,
As I.] This is true indeed, yet no mighty discovery, nor what the poets designed him
^ say; but the true lection, and what the place requires absolutely, is this;
■ - Yi9» OS far from king^ Hymps^n.
Otnnes^
214
THE CORONATION*
[Act 4«
Omnes, No more; long live Leonatps,
king ofEpire!
SeL Leonacus? Who's that? [have been
Cast* Be bold, and be a king! Our brains
Working to raise you to this lieight. Here
are
None but friends : dare you but call yourself
Leonatus, and but justify with confidence
What we*ll proclaim you, if we do not bring
The crown to your head, we will forfeit ours.
Eub, The state is in distra<fUou — Arcadius
ts proved a king — there was an elder brrither —
If you dare but pronounce you arc the »ame,
Foi^et you arc my son — [plotted
Poleanui. These are no trifles, sir : all is
1"* assure your greatness, if you will be wise,
And take the fair occasion tliat's presented.
SeL Arcadius, you say, is lawful king )
And now, to depose him, you would make me
An elder brother; is't not so?
Cast, Most right [true meaning —
SeL Nay, right or wrong, if this be your
Omnc<. Upon our lives!
SeL I'll venture mine.
But, with your pardon, wlK>se brain was this?
From whom took this plot life ?
Eub. Mv lord Cassander. [and think
SeL And you are of his mind r and you?
Tliis may be done ?
Eub, The destinies shaVt cross us,
If YOU have spirit to undertake it.
icL Undertake it ?
I am not us'd to compliment : Pil owe
My life to you, my fortunes to your lordship.
Compose me as you please ; and when you*ve
made
Me what you promise, you shall both divide
Me equally* One word, my lord ! Td rather
[Apart to Eubtihs,
Live in the prison still, than be a property
T' advance his politick ends.
Eub, Have no suspicion !
Cass, So, so! I see Demetrius' heels
already [Aside^
Tripped up, and I'll dispatch him out o'th*
Whicn gone, I can depose this at my leisure.
Being an impostor ; tnen m^ son stands fair.
And may piece with the prmcess. We lose
time : [court.
What think you? If we first surpriie the
While you commaml the castle, Vre shall ctirb
All opposition.
Eub, Let's proclaim him first.
I liave some faction ; the people love me ;
They gain*d to os, well fall upon the court.
Catt, Unless Demetrius yield himself, lie
bleeds.
SeL Who dares call treason sin, when it
succeeds ? [Exeunt,
Enter Sophia and Charilla.
Char, Madam, you arc too passionate, and
lose X
The greatness of your soul, with the expence
Of too much grief, for that which Providence
ilath«as'd you of, tlie burden of a state
Above your tender bearing.
Sophia, Tbou'rt a fool,
And canst not reach the spirit of a lady
Bom great as I was, and made only less
By a too-cruel destiny! ' Above
' Our tender bearixwr What goes richer to
Tlie composition otmsln t)utn oure?
Our soul s as free, and spacious, our heart's
As great, our wiJi as large, each thought as
active,
And in this only man more proud than we.
That would have ixn less capable of einpires
But search the stories, and the name ofqueen *
Shines bri;;htwith glory, and some prccedests
Above man's imitation.
Char, I grant it, [madam.
For th* honour of our sex; nor liave you.
By any weakness, forfeited command :
He that succeeds, injustice was before you.
And you have gain*d more, in a royal brother.
Than you could lose by your resign ofEpire.
Sophia. This I allow, Charilla, I ha* done;
Tis not die thought I am deposed alUicts me
(At tlie same time I feel a joy to know
My brother living) ; no, there is another
Wound in me above cure*
Char. Virtue forbid !
Sophia. Canst find me out a surgeon for tiiat?
Cher. For what ?
Sttphia. My bleeding fame.
Cha?\ Oh, do not injure
Your owii clear innocence.
<So/7Aia. Don't flatter me:
I have been guilty of an act will make
All love in women qoestion'd; is not that
A blot upon a virgin^s name ? my birth
Cannot extenuate my sliaine ; I luu
Become the stain of Epire !
Char. It is but
Your own opinion, madam, which presents
Something to fright yourscll^ which cannot be
In the same shape so horrid to our sense.
Sophia, Thou would st, but canst not ap"
pear ignorant: [take
Did not tlie court, nay , the whole kingdom.
Notice I lov*d Lysimachus?
Char, True, madam.
Sophia, No, I was talse !
Tho counsell'd by my father to afieet himj
I liad my politic ends upon Cassander, >
To be absolute queen, flattering his son with
hopes
Of love and marriage, when tliat very day
(I blush to think) I wrong'd Lysimachus,
That noble gentleman : but Heav'n punish*d
me!
For tho' to kaow Demetrius was s blening,
Yet who will m>t impute it my dislionour ?
Char, Madam, you yet may recompense
Lysimachus:
If you all'eci him now, yon were not fiilse
To him, whom then you lov'd not ; if yoo can
Find any gentle passion in your MUl
Act 4.]
THE CORONATIOK^
«15
To enterUun his thoaglit, no doubt hisbeart,
Tho' saii, retahis a D^le will to meet it:
Hit love was firm to yoa, ami cannot be
Unrooted with one stonn.
Sophia, He will notsnre [mock'd him,
Trust any language from her tongue that
Aitlto' my soul doth weep for it, and is pu-
nished
To love him above the world.
Enter Lytimachus*
Char. He's here, ' ^
As Fate would have him reeoncird : be free,
And speak your thoaglits.
Lyttja. Ir', madam, I appear
Too bold, your charity will sign my pardon '
1 heard you were not well, which niade me
liaste
To pay tlie duty of an humble visit.
Sophia. You do not mock me, sir ?
Lysijfi. I'm confident
You think me nut so lost to manners, in [me
The knowledge of your ptsson, to bring with
Such rudeness ; I have nothing to present.
But an heart full of wishes for your health.
And what else may be added to your happi*
ness.
Sophia, I thought you had been sensible —
Lytwi. How, madam? [spend
Sophia. A man of understanding j «ui you
One prayer for me, remembring the dishonour
i I have done Lysimachus?
1 Lysim. NoAing cr*n defitce [for you.
I That part of my religion in me, not to pray
Sophia. It is not then impossible you may
Foigive me too : indeed I have a soul
Hs foil of penitence, and something else.
If Muoliing would allow to giv't a name.
Lytim. What, madam?
Si^hia. Love; a love that should redeem
! My past offence, and make me white again.
j Lytim, I hope no sadness can possess your
thoughts •
or me* I am not worthy of this sorrow :
But if you mean it any satisfaction
For what your will hath made me suffer, 'tis
Bat a «trangc overflow of charity.
To keep me still alive. Be yourselfi madam,
ADd let no cause of mine be guilt/ of
This rope upon your eyes; my name's not
worth
The least of all yonr tears.
Sophia, You think 'em couuterfeit?
Lftim, Altho' I may
Sospea a woman's smile hereafter, vet
I would believe their wet eyes; and if this
Be what you promise, for my sake, I hs^ve
But one reply.
Sophia. 1 wait it.
I^Hm. I have now
Another mistress —
Sophia. Stay!
lysoR. To whom I've made,
Sioce your revolt from me, a new chaste vow,
Winch not the second malice of my fote
Shall violate : and she d^fserves it, madam.
Even for that wherein you're f ^cellent,
Beauty, in which she shines equal to you ;
Her virtue, if she but maintain what now
Slie is mistress of, beyond all competition.
So rich she cannot know to be improved,
At least in my esteem : I may offend,
But truth shajl justify I have not fiatter*d her.
I beg your pardon, and to leave my duty
Upon yonr hand. All that is good fiow in you !
Sophia. Did h^ not say, Charilla, that he had
Another mistress f
Char. Such a sound, methought.
Came from him.
Sophia. Let's remove ! here's too paucb air;
Jlie sad note multiplies.
Char. Take courage, madam.
And my advice. He has another mbitress }
If he have twenty, be you wise, and cross him
With entertaining ttvice as many servants;
And when he sees your humotir, he*ll return
And sue for any livery. Grieve for this?
Sophia. It must be she ; 'tis Polidora has
Taken his heart ; she live my rival ?
liow does the thought inflame me ?
Oar. Polidoni? [he loo «
Sophia. And yet she does hot jOstly, and
I would have robb'd her of Arcadius' heart.
And they will botli have this revenge on me.
But something will rebel. [ExcutU,
Enter Demetrius, Fhilocles, andl^samder.
Dem. The house is desolate; none comes
forth to meet us ;
She's slow to entertain us. Philodes,
I prithee tell me, did she wear no cloud
Upon her brow? was't freely that she said
We should be welcome ?
P/ft7. To my apprehension ;
Yetr'tis my wonder she appears not.
Lytan. She,
Nor any other. Sure there's some conceit
l'^ excuse it.
Dem. Stay ! who's this ? Observe what fol-
lows, [sir.
Phil, Fortune ? some mask to entertain you^
Enter Fortune crowiCd, attended with Youth,
Health, and Pleasure,
Fort. Not yet? What silence doth inhabit
here?
No preparation to bid Fortune welcome?
Fortune, the genius of the world ? Have we
Descended from our pride and state, to come
So far, attended with our darlings. Youth,
Pleasure, and Health, to be neglected thus?
Sure this is not th^lace. Call hither Fame!
Enter Fame,
Fame. What would great Fortune?
Fort. Know
Who dwells here.
Fame. Once more I report; great queen,
I This is the house of JLove.
Fcrt.
uo
TOE CORONATION.
fAct 4.
F&rL It cmuQt, he;
This place has too much shade, uidaooks o^ if
Jthad been quite forgotten of the spring.
And sun-beams: Lov^ affects society
And heat"; ^^e bJI i? cold i^ the av? .of
winter*';
?fo harmony to o^ch the b«iay ear
Of pasgengers; no object pf^ehght.
To take the wandring eyes ; no song, up growi
Qfjovers, »o 'complaint of willow garlands;
liove has a beacon upon his palace-top,
?f flaming iiearts, to call the wesiry pilgnm
o rest, and dwell with him; I se^ no fire
•To rest and dwell with li^m ; I tec no fire
To threaten, or^o warm : can Love dwell h^re ?
Famfi. If there .be noble Ix>ve upon the
world.
Trust Fame, and find it here.
Fort. Make good your boas,t.
And bring him Xo us. ,, , * ,
Van. What does mean all this?
J^/$an. I told you, sir, we Mipuld haye.spnsie
device.
Entfr Ldve.
Tlierc's Cupid now! thatlitUc genjtlcmap
JIns troubled every masque at court tliis sev^n
D«n. No more. ly^ar.
Love. Welcome to Love^ how much you
honour me !
Tt had become me, that upon your summons,
I should have waited iij>on mighty Fortune;
But since you have vouclisafd to visit me.
All the delights Love cs>n inv<>nt shal) flow
To cntertoin you. IVlusic, tlu^* the air
Shoot your enticing harmpny I
Fort. We cau)e
To dance and revel with you.
Lore. I am poor
In my ambition, and want thought to reach
How much you honour Love. ' iVanve.
Enter Honour.
Hon. W^hat intrusion's this?
Whom do you ?.eek here?
Jj)re' 'Tib Ilonouj'.
Fort. He's my servant.
Jj09€. Fortune is come to yisit us.
Hon. And has
Corrupted Love I Is this thy faith to her,
Ou whom we both wait, to bctniy her thus
To Fortune's triumph ? Take her giddy wheel.
And be nd more companion to Honour:
I blush toknow thee ! Who'llbcUeve therecan
Be truth in Love hcreafteri
Lave. I have found
My Qycs, and see my shame, and with k this
Prpud sorceress, from whom, nx^d all lier
charms,
I fly again to Honour: be my guanH
Without thee I am lost, and cannot bout
The n\critx>f ei name. [Exit Honwr^
Fort. Despis*d ? I shall
Remember this affront.
Dem. What mpral's this?
[Exeunt Masqump
Re-ent^er Honour, with the Crown upon a
mourning Cushion.
What melancholy plyoct strikes a sudden
Chillncss thro* all iay.vcii^, and. turns me ice?
It is the same I sent^ the veiy ^ame,
As tiic first pledge pf her ensuipg greatness:
Why, in this mourning liv'rv, if 3ie live
To whom I ^nt it? Haf whfit shape of
sorrow ?
Enter Polidora, in mourning.
It is not PoUdora! she was f*ir
Enough, an<j wanted not the setting off .
With such a black: if thpu be*?t Polidora,
Why mourns my love ? It neither does become
Thy fortujie, nor my joys.
Polid. But it become^
My griefs ; this habit ijts a fiincral,
And it were sin, my lord, uot to lament
A friend new dead.
D(m. And I yet livipg ? Can
A sorrow enter b.ut upon thy garment.
Or (Jisconiplejtion thy attire, wliilst I
Enjoy a Id^ for thee ? Who c;^u descnie,
Weidi'd with thy hving comforts, but a piece
Of ttlT tliis cerpmony ? Give liim a name.
Polid. He was Arcadiu?*
Denu Arcadius? [once.
Polid. A gentleman tl«t lov'd roe clearly
And docs compel these poor and fruitless
drops.
Which willingly would f4ll upon his Itearse,
T' embalm him twice.
Dem. And are you sure he's dead? \)yi
Polid. As sure as you are living, sir; and
I did not close his eyes ; but he is dead.
And I shall never see the same Arcadius.
He was a ipan so rich ip all that's good,
(At least I thought him so) so perfect iu
The rales of honour, whom alone to imitate
Were glory in a prince : nature hcr$clti
'Till his creation, wrought imperfectly.
As shje hud 'made but trial of the rest,
To mould him excellent**.
*8 Here qU w cold as tW liairs of winter.] The amendment in the text was made by Theob«ld.
»» He was a man, &c.] Drydcn has a passage similar to this m All tor Love.
« So perfect, that the vei^ gods who form'd you wonder d
* At their own skill, and cried, * A- lucky hit
« Hath mended our design !' Their envy hmder d,
* Or you had been immortal, and a pattern,
' When Heaven would work for ostcntatipn jake,
* To copy out ag^n.' H. ,
Act 4.]
tHE CX)RONATION.
SIJT
Diem. And b hit dead f
Come, shame him not with praises ; recollect
Thy tcatier*d hopes, and let me tell my best
And dearest Polidora, that he lives,
Still lives to banour thee !
Poiid, lives ? where ?
Dem. Look here ;
Am not I worth your knowledge?
Polid. And m^ duty ;
Yon are Demetnus, king of Epire, sir.
I could not easily mistake him so
To whom I gave my heart.
Dan. Mine is not changed,
Sot still hath fed upon thy memory :
Tliese honours and additions of state
Are lent me for thy sake. Be not so strange !
Let me not lose my entertainment, now
I am improved, and rais'd unto the height
beneath which I did blush to ask thy love!
FolkL Giveme your pardon, sir I Arcadius,
At our last meeting, without aigument
To move him, more than his affection to me,
Vow'd he did love me, love me above all wo*
men,
And to con6rm his heart was truly mine.
He wish'd — I tremble to remember it-*
When he forsook his Polidora's love.
That Heaven might kill his happiness on
earth : [promise
Was not diis nobly said? Did not this
A truth to shame the turtle's?
Dem. And his heart
Is still the same, and I thy constant lover.
Polid. Give me your leave^ I pray! I
would not say
Arcadins was perjor'd ; bot the same day.
Forgetting all bis promises and oaths.
While yet they hung upon his lips, forsook
me,
(D'ye not remember this too ?) gave his faith
From me, transported with t^ noise of
greatness,
And would be married to a kingdom.
Dem. But
Heaven pennitted not I should dispose
"What was ordain*d for thee.
PoUtL It was not vi||ue
In him ; for sure he found no check, no sting.
In his own bosom, but gave freely all
The reins to blind ambition.
Dem. 1 am wounded ! |joys,
The thot^ht of thee, i'th' throng of all my
Dke poison poured in nectar, turns me frantickt
Bear, if Arcadius have made a fault,
Ijst not Demetrius be puiiisb'd for*t!
^e pleads, that ever will be constant to thee.
Poiid. Shall I believeman s flatteries a(;Hiii,
Lose my sweet rest, and peace of thouglit
again ? [virtue
Be drawn by you from the straight paths of
Into the maze of love ? [chides me ;
Dem, I see compassion in thy eye, that
If I have either soul, but what's contain'd
Within these words, or if one syllable
Of their full force be not made good by me,
May all relenting thoughts in you take end,
An.l thy disdain be doubled! From thy
pardon,
1*11 count my Coronation ; and that hour
Fix with a nibrick in my calendar 3®,
As an auspicious time to entertain [now
Aftairs of weight with princes. Think who
Entreats thy mercy! Come, thou shalt be
And divide titles witii me. [kind,
Polid, Hear me, sir :
I lov'd you once for virtue, and have not
A thought so much unguarded, as to be
Won from my truth and innocence, with any
Motives of state to affect 3L0U. [here^
Your bright temptation mourns whi'e it stays
Nor can the triumph of glory, which made
you
Forget^me so, court my opinion back.
Were you no king, I should be sooner drawu
Again to love you ; but *tis now too late ;
A low obedience ^hall become me best.
May all the joys I waJit
Still wait on ygu ! If time hereafter tell you.
That sorrow for your fault hath struck uie
dead, [pity.
May one soft tear, dropt from your eye m
Bedew my hearse, and I aihall bleep securely !
I have but one word more : for goodness'
sake,
For your own honour, sirf correct your passion
To her you shall love next, and I forgive
you. [Exit.
Dan. Her heart is frozen up, nor can
Thaw it to any softness. [warm prayers
Phil, ril fetch her, sir, again.
Dem. Persuade her not. [to triumph.
PAiL You give your passion too much leave
- Seek in anotlier what she denies.
Enter Macarius, 1
Mac. Where is the king? Oh, sir, yon art
A dangerous treason is aioot. [undone;
Dem. What treason? [claim'd
JIfac. Cassander and Eubulus have pro«
Another king, whom they pretend tb be
Leonatus, your elder brother, he that was
But this morning prisoner in the castle.
Dem.ii^\
Mac. The easy Epirotes
Gather in multitudes i' advance his title ;
They have seizM upon the court. Secure
your person, f [rectioiu
Whilst we raise power to curb tins insur-
Ant. Lose no time tlien.
Dc7n. We will not arm one man.
Speak it again! have I a brother living,
And must be no king ?
Mac. What means your grace ? [exalts
Dem. This news doth speak roe tiappy; it
My heart, and makes me citable of more
Than twenty kingdoms !
'® Pij vith a nibrick m my calendar.] i. e. Consider it as a redrlettcr day.
VOL-IIL Ff PhiL
!1B
THE CORONATION.
[Acts.
Fhil, Will you not, bit, stand
Upon your guard ?
Dem. I'll stand upon my honour:
Mercy relieves me.
Lymn, Will you lose the kingdom ?
licm. The world*s too poor to bribe me.
Leave me all.
Lest you extenuate my fame, and I
Be thought to hare redeemed it by your
counsd !
You shall not share one scruple in tlie ho*
nour.
Titles may set a g^oss upon our name.
But virtue only is the soul of fame.
Mac. He's strangely possess'd^ gentlemen*
ACT V.
Enter Philoclet and Lytander»
Phil. XJEIIE'S a strange turn, Lysander.
"• Lysan. Tis a kingdom
Easily purchas'd : who will trust the faith
Of multitudes ? .
Phil. It was his fault, that would
So tamely give his titlo to their mercy.
The new king has possession.
Lysan. And is liKe
To keep it. We're alone ; what dost think of
Tliis innovation? Is it not a fine jig f
A precious cunning in the late protector,
To shuffle a new prince into the state?
Phil. 1 know not how they've shuffled.
but, my head on% [lookto't!
A fidse card's tum'd up trump : but, fates
Enter Cauaader and Enbulus.
Euh. Does he not carry't bravely ?
Cass. Excellently.—
Philocles! Lysander!
Phil. Lysan. Your lordship's servants!
Cuss. Are we not bound to Heaven, for
multiplying
Tliese blessings on the kingdom" ?
Phtl. Heaven alone
Works miracles, my lord.
L^san. I think your lordship had
As little hope once to see these princes revive.
Cass. Here we
Must place our thanks, next Providence, for
preserving
So dear a. pledge 3^.
" Are ve not bound to Heaten.] The retorting of these very vrords by Philocks in the
next scene upon Cassander, led Mr. Seward, Mr. Theobald, and myself to the asBuraooe of
their belongmg to Cassander here, and accordingly I bavt placed his nama beibre
them. Sympson.
^* Phil. Here we must pldte.'] I once imagined that this was a speech with action, and
might easily be understood, by supposing PhUocles to point to Eubulu$; but I believe Mr.
Seward has more happily conjectured it ought to belong to Catsander, Siymp90n*
^3 zoorthily
Manage the province, ani advance ike honour
0/our dear country.] To manage the province of our demr country^ and advance the
honour of our dear country, seems a httle inaccurate: perhaps we shoolu read^
. *■■ worthily
» Manage this province; or, my province,
i. e. The chMiVf^ I have undertook, &c. Sympson^
Cm.
inter Lconatus, attended.
Euh. The king!
Leo. It is our pleasure
The number of our guard be doubled. Give
A laigess to the soldiers; but dismiss not
The troops 'till we command.
Cass. May it please —
Leo. It will not please us otherwise, mw
We've tried your fiuth ! [lon^
Eub. Does he not speak with confidence?
Leo. My lords and gentlemen, to whose
faith we must [o^ty^
Owe (next to Heaven) our fortune and our
After a tedious eclipse, the day
Is brieht, and we invested in those honouiB
Our blood and birth did challenge.
Cas$. May no time
Be reeister'd in our annals, that shall mention
One that had life t'oppose your sacred person !
Leo. Let them, whose title's foig'd and
ilaw'd, suspect
Their state's security ! Our right to Epire
Heaven is oblif^d to prosper: treason hat
No face so black to night it. All my cares
Level to this, that I may worthily^^
Manage the province, and advance the honoui
Of our dear country: and, be confident.
If an expence of bfood may give addition
Is ■
Of any happiness to you,
Offer my heart the sacrifice, and rejoice
To make myself a ghost, to liave inscribed
Upon my marble but whose cause I died ^r.
Eub. May Heaven avert such danger!
4ce 5.]
THE CORONATION.
tl9'
Cats, Excellent pnnce^
In whom we see the copy of his father!
None bat the son of Theodosiusy
Could have spoke thilis.
Lto, Yoa're pleas'd t^inteipret well.
Yet, gi?e me leave to say in my own justice,
Fve bat exprebs'd the promptness of my soul
To serve you all; hut tis not empty wishes
Can satisfy our mif^hty charge, a weight
Would make au Atlas double. A king's name
Doth sound bannoniously tomen at distance ;
And tiiose, who cannot penetrate be .ond
The bark and out-skin of a commonwealth
Or state, have eyes but ravished with the
ceremony [not
That must attend a prince, and understand
What cares allay the glories of a crown :
But good kings find and feel the contrary.
Yoti've tfied, ray lord, the burden: and ^n
tell
It would re<|uire a pilot of more years
To steer this kingdom, now impos*d on me
Byiostice of my birth.
Cats. I wish not life '
But to partake those happy days which must
^cceeo these fair proceeaings: we are blest !
Bat, sir, be sparing to yourseltl we shall
Hazanl dur joys in you too soon; tlie burden
Of state^fiairs impose upon your council.
Tis fitter tliat we waste our lives, than you
Cdl age too soon upon you with the trouble
And cares that threaten such an undertaking:
Preserve your youth !
Leo. And chuce you our protector?
Is't that you would conclude, my lord? We
will -
Deserve our subjects* faith for our own dake.
Not sit an idle gazer at the helm«
Enter Messenger^
PfuL How ! observed you that? Mark how
Caasander's planet-struck. [for alt that.
Bub, He might have look'd more calmly
I begin to fear; but do not yet seem
tvoubled^^. [must secure
Leo. With what news travels nis haste? I
Myseif betimes; not be a king in jest.
And wear my crown a tenant to their breath.
Catf. Demetrius, sir, your brother.
With other traitors that oppose your claims.
Are fled to th' castle of Nescorius,
And fortify —
Mem. 1 said not so, my lord.
Can, 111 have it thought so; hence !
[Exit Mettenger.
Leo. Plant force to batter
The walls; and in their ruin bring us word
They live not.
Eub. Good sir, hear me !
Cats. Let it work. [crown
Were Demetrius dead; we easily might un-
This swoln impostor, and my son be fiiir -
To piece with youn^ Sophia, who, I hear,
Repents her late atiront.
Eub. Their lives may do [nings !
You service ; let not blood stain your begin-
The people, not yet warm in their allegiance.
May think it wordi their tumult to revenge it,
With hazard of yourself.
Leo. Who dares but think it ?
Yet, ofier first our mercy: if they yield, [sel :
Demetriusmustnotlive — -My lord, your coun-
What if he were in Heaven?
Cass. You have my
Consent. — You shall not stay long after him.
[Asulc.
Leo. Sophia's not my sister: to prevent all
That may endanger us, we'll marry her;
That done, no matter tho' we stand discovered ;
For in her title then we're king of Epire,
Witliout dispute.
Cass. Hum !-»In my judgment, sir,
That wo'not do so well.
Leo. What's your opinion? [so cunning?
Cass. He countermmes my plot : are yot;
Leo. What's that you mutter, sir?
Cass. I mutter, sir? [poster
Leo, Best say I am no king, but some im-
Rais'd up to gull the state.
Cass. Very fine! To have said within
Few hours you'd been no king, nor like to be.
Was not i^th' compass ofhiglntreason, I take
it. [mov'd; speak not.
Eub, Restrain your anger! the king's
Cass. I will speak louder: do I not know
him ? . [throne
That self-same hand that raised him to the
Shall pluck him finom it ! Is this my reward ?
Leo. Our guard ! To prison with him !
Cass. Me to prison ?
leo. Off with his bead !
Cass. My head ?
Eub. Vouchsafe to hear me.
Great sir !
Leo, How dares he be so insolent^*?
Cass. I hW wrought myself into a fine con-
D'ye know me, gentlemen? fdition !
FhiL Very well, ray lord : [ing
* How are we bound to Heaven formultiply-
* Tliese blessings on the kingdom.'
Leo. We allow it. [ear,
Eub. Counsel did never blast a^priuce's
*♦ Eub. He might have locHed.] If die reader will consider this answer, he will find that
hfsander^ and not EuhuluSy should be prefix'd before it. St/mpson.
* If the reader will consider this answer, he will find,' that Lysander could not speak it,
•or any bat a partisan in the plot fi)r elevating Seleucus. Eubulus means by it to continue
the deceit on Cassander, till he procures his dismission to the castle of Nestorius.
*' Cas. How dares he be so insolent ff] Tis posaihle that this line belongs to Cassander;
but I tliink more probable it should be Leonatus'sj and accordingly I have prefixed his name
*" •• Sympson.
Ff2 Lee.
tou,
ffO
THE CORONATION.
tAct ».
Letk Conrey him to th« sanctuary of rebels,
Ne8torius*hoube, vthere our pruud brother has
Enscons'd himself! the/U entertaia him
lovingly;
He'll be n good addition to the traitors.
Obey me, or you die tbr't! — What are kings.
When suhjerts dare aili-ont 'em ?
Cass. I jihall vex
Thy soul rbr this.
I €0. Away wiiii him ! When kings
Frown, letoBeiulcrs tremble! — This flows not
From any cruelly in my narurc, but
The fare of an u«ur|.«er: he that will
Be conrirm'd great without just title to it
Must Jose compassion; know what'ssood, not
do it. » \E.xeunt,
Enter Polidora and her Servant.
SerTT. Madam, the princess Sophia !
Foiid, I attend her highness.
Enter Sophia.
How much your grace honours your hmnble
servant !
Saphia. I hope my brother's well.
PoUd. I hope bo too, madam, [your guest.
tSophia. Do you but hope? He came to be
Poiid, We are all his, whilst he is pleas'd
to honour [dam.
This poor roof with his royal presence, ma-
Sophia. I came to ask your pardon, Poli-
dora. [me ;
Poliil, You never, madam, tiespa^s'd upon
Wrong not your goodness.
Sophia, I can be but penitent,
^Unless you point me out some other way
To satisfy.
Folid. Dear madam, do not mock me !
Sophia. There is no injury, like that to love;
I find it now in my own suflTerings:
But tho' 1 would have robb'd thee of Arcadins,
Heaven knew a way to reconcile your hearts.
And punishM me in those joysyou have found.
I read the story of my loss of honour,
Yet can rejoice, and heartily, that you
Have met your own again.
FoJid, Whom do you mean ?
Sophia. My brother.
Polid. He's found to himself and honour :
He is my king; and tho' I must acknowledge
He was the glory of my thoughts, and I
Lov*d him, as you did, madam, with desire
To be made his, reason and duty since
Form'd me to other knowledge, and I now
Look on liim without any wish of more
Than to be call'd his subject.
Svfhia. Has he made
Himself less capable, by being king ?
Pofid. Of what?-
Sophia. Of your affection?
Polid. With your pardon, madam,
Love, in tha^ sense you mean, left Polidora
When he forsook Arradius: I disclaim
All ties between us, more than what the name
Of king must challenge from my obedience.
Sophia [adde]. This does confinn my je»-
lousy: my heart! —
For my sake, madam, has he lost his value?
Poitd. Let me beseech your grace, I may
have leave
To answer in some other cause, or person !
This argument but opens a sad wound
To make it bleed afresh ; we may cliange this
Discourse: I would elect some subject whosA
Praises may more delight your ear than this
' Can mine. Let's talk of young Lysimachus !
Sophia. Ha! my presaiging fears 1
Po/ifl?. How does your grace ? [machus;
Sophia. Well. You were talking of Lysi-
Pray give me your.opinion of him.
Polid. Mine? pjim
It will be much short of his worth : I think
A gentleman so perfect in all goodness,
Tlyit if tliere be one in the world deserves
The best of women, Heaven created htm,
To make her happy.
Sophia. You've in a little, madam,
Express'd « volume of mankind, a miracle.
But all have not the same degree of £eutb :
He is but young —
Polid. What mistress would desire
Her servant old? He has both spring to plesm
Her eye and summer to return a l^rvesl.
Sophia. He's black —
Poiid. He sets a beauty off more rich.
And she that's fisur will love him: faiut com*
plexions
Betray effeminate minds, and love of change;
Two beauties in a bed compound few men ;'
He's not so fifiir to counterfeit a woman,
Nor yet so black but blushes may betray
His modesty.
Sophia. His proportion exceeds not—
Polid. That praises him : and a well-corn
pacted frame
Speaks temper, and sweet flow of elements;
Vast buildinss are more oft for show than use :
I would not have my eyes put to the travel
Of many acres, ere I could examine
A man from head to foot ; he has no greai^
But he may boast an elegant, composition.
Sophia. I'll hear no more ! You nave so &it
outdone
My injuries to you, that I call back
My penitence; and most tell Polidora,
This revenge ill becomes her. Am I thoagbl
So lost in soul to hear, and forgive this ?
In what shade do I live ? or shall I chink
I have not, at the lowest, enough merit.
Setting aside my birth, to poize with yours?
Forgive my modest thoughts, if I rise up
My own defence, and tell this unjust Iflny,
So great a winter hath not frozen yet
My cheek, but there is something Natnra
planted
That carries as much bloom, and spring upon*t
As yours ! What flame is in your eye, but may
Find competition here? (for^ve again.
My virigin honour t) what is m your lip
To tice th' enamour'd soul to dweli with more
Ambition,
Act 5-3
THE CORONATION^
H%
AmbitioD, than the jetHanwitber^d blush
Jhat speaks the innocence of minef Oh,
brother!
Enier Demetfim.
DeoL T\\ talk with ^ou anon. Mt Polidora!
AIk>w thy patience 'till my breath recover.
Which now comes laden with the richest news
Tbv ear was ever blest with.
Sophia. Both yonr looks
And voice express some welcome accident.
Dem, Guess what m wish could make me
fortmiate,
And Heaven hath dropt that on Demetrius.
, Sophia. What means this extasyf
Pflfw. Twere sin to busy [I could
^ Thy thoughts upon't; ril tell thee.— That
Retain some part! it is too wide a joy
^ To be express*d so soon ; and yet it falls
* In a few syllables — tboju wo't scarce believe
lam no king, [me!
Sophia. How's that?
Folid. Good Heaven forbid !
Dan. Forbid ? Heaven has relieved mcwith
a mercy
Iknew not how to ask : I have, they say,
An elder brother living, crown'd already:
I only keep my name Demetrius,
Without desire of more addition
Than to return thy servant.
Polid. You amaze me I
Can you rejoice to be deposM ?
Dem. It but
Translates me to a fairer and better kingdom
' Id Poliiiura.
Polid. Ale?
Dem. Did you not say, fme
Were I no king, you could be drawn to love
4gaiQ? That was consented to in Heaven.
A kingdom first betray*d my ambitious soul
To forget tljee : that, and the flattering glories.
How willingly Demetrius does resign,
The angels k no.v !■ Thus naked, without titles,
I throw mp on thy charity ; and shall
Boast greater empire to be thine again, than
To wear the triumphs of the world upon me.
Enter Macariui.
Mae. Be not so careless of yourself! the
people
Gather in multitudes to your protection,
Oflfering their lives and fortunes, if they may
But see you, sir, and hear you speak to *em:
Accept their duties, and m time prevent
Yonr ruin.
Sophia. Be not desperate ; 'tis counsel —
Dem. You trouble me with noise ! — Speak,
Polidora! [My fears
Folid. For yonrown sake, preserve yourself!
Distract my reason.
Enter Antigonu$,
Ant, Lord Lysimachus^
With fomethins that ooncemt your safety^ ia
Fled hither, and desires a present bearing.
Mac His soul i« honest: be noty sir, a mad-
man,
And for a lady give up all our freedoms f
[Exit.
Polid. I will say any thing, hear Lysimachui.
Sophia, Dear orother, hear him 1
Enter Ly^imachut,
I^fkn. Sir, I come to yield
Myself your prisoner: if my fitther have
Myself, declare my innocence, but either.
By my unworthy life, secure your person,
Or by what death you shall impose, reward
The unexpected treason.
Sophia. Brave young man!
Did you not hear him, brother ^
Lytim. I'm not minded !
Polid. Bewitness, madam, Iresignmy hearti
Tt never was another's. — You declare
Too great a satisfisction. — I hope
This will destroy your jealousy.— ^
Remember now your danger!
Dem, I despise it !
What fate dares injure me f
La/iim, Yet hear me, sir ! [jpy.
Sophia. Forgive me, Polidora? yon are hap-
My hopes are remov'd further : I had thought
Lysimachus had meant you for his mistress.
Tis misery to feed, and not know where
To place my jealousy.
Enter Macariui*
Mac. Now 'tis too late !
You may be deaf, until the cannon make
You find your sense ; we are shut up now by
A troop o( horse : thank yourself!
Polid. They will
Admit conditions —
Sophia. And allow us quarter ?
XA shout withinm
Po/ii. We are all lost!
Dem, Be comforted !
Enter Aniigontis,
Ant. News!
My lord Cassander's sent by the new king
To bear us company.
Dem. Not as prisoner?
Ant. It does appear no otherwise. The sol-
diers
Declare how much they love him, by their
noise
Of scorn and joy to see him so rewarded.
Dem» tt cannot be!
Ant. You'll find it presently: [him
He curses the new king, talks treason 'gainst
As nimble as he were in's shin^^. He's here.
'* As nimble as he were in^s shirt.] This may allude to Hieronimo's appearing in his shirt
•a the tta^Cj in the Spanish Tragedy^ uid inveigJUog against thamurderer of his so'nr ' R.
Enter
i2t
THE CORONATION.
[Act*.
Jlnier Cauander.
Com, Oh, let me beg untQ my knees take
root
r th' earth. Sir. can yoa ptircbn me ?
D^Tii. For what? [treason:
Cats, Fortreason^desperate^xnoicmaiicious
I have undone you, sir .'
Dem. It does appear
You had a wnlL [can ;
Ca»&, Y\\ make you all the reeompense I
But ere you kill me, hear me ! K now the man
Whom I, to serve my unjust ends, advanc'd
X'your throne, is an impostor, a mere coun-
terfeit,
Eubulus' son. [Exit Ant.
Dem, It is not then our brothi^r ?
Can, An insolent usurper, proiiSi and bloody
Sel^ucus. Is no leprosiy upon me ?
There is not punishment enough in nature
To quit my horrid act; I have not in
My stock of4)lood, to satisfy with weeping ;
Nor could my soul, tho' melted to a flood
Within me, gushout tears to wash my stain oC
Dem, How ! an impostor? What wiU be*
come on's now ?
We're at his mercy.
Ccn» Sir, the people's hearts [see
Will come to their own dwelling, when they
I dare accuse myself, and suffer for it. [not
Have courage then, young king ! thy fate can*
Be long compeird.
Dem. Rise, our misfortune
Carries this good ; altho' it lose our hopes.
It makes you friend with Virtue : we'll expect
What Providence will do.
Cam. You are too merciful.
Xyt Ml. Our duties shall beg Heaven still to
preserve you. .
Either Antigonus.
Ant. Omr enemy desires some parley, sir.
Lysim, Tis not amiss to hear their propo-
sition.
PoUd, ni wait upon ^ou. •
Dem. Thou art my angel, [ourselves !
And canst best instruct me I — Boldly present
You'll with's, Cassander?
Cim. And in death be blest
To find your charity. [Exit.
Sophia. Lysimachus I
Lt/nim. Madam ? [the small time
Sophia. They will not miss your presence,
Is spent in asking of a question.
Lytim. I uait your pleasure.
Sophia. Sir, I nave a suit to yon.
l.yiim. To me ? it must be granted.
Sophia. If you
Have cancelled your kind opinion of me,
Den^ me not to know who natb succeeded
Sophia in your heart? I beg the name
Ot your new mistress.
37
- at zphose names
Lysim. You shallknow her, madam,
If but t: ese tumults cease, and fate allow o*
To see the court again. I hope ^ull bring
No mutiny against ber. But this is
No time to talk uf iove : let me attend you !
Sophia. I must expect, 'till you are pleas'd
to satisfy ^ •
My poor request. Conduct me at your plea-
sure. [Eieuttt,
Enter LeonatwM, Eubulut, Biihop, Lysanderp
and FhUocles.
Jjeo. They are too slow ! dispatch new
messengers,
T entreat em fairly hither. I am exiasied !
Were you wituess for me too? Is't possible
I am what this a£rms,. true Leouatiis ?
And were you not my Either? Was [ given
In trust to you an inniiit?
Euh. Tis a trut^i [plied
Our soul's bound to acknowledge : you sup-
The abseuce and opinion of my son.
Who died but to make you my greater care.
I knew not of Demetrius; but supposed
Him dead indeed, as Epire thought you were.
Your father s character dotli want no testi-
mony, [metnus.
Which, but compared with what concerns De-
Will prove icselt king Theodosius' act,
Your royal father.
Bi&hop. I amsubscrib'd to both his legacies^
By oatli oblig'd to secresy, until
Thus fairly summoned to reveal the trust.
Euh. Cassander had no thought you
would prove thus.
To whose policy I gave this aim, ahho*
He wrought you up to serve bnt as liis engine
To batter young Demetrius : for it was
Your father's prudent jealousy that made him
Give out your early deaths, as if his soul
Prophesied his own first, and fear'd to leave
Either of you to the unsafe protection
Of one, whose study would be to supplant
Your right, and make himself the king of Epire.
Bishop. Your sister^ fair Sophia, in your
father's
Life, was design'd to marry with Lysimachns;
That yarded her; altho' slie us'd some art
To quit her pupillage, and bein^ absolute,
Dociar'd love to Demetrius, which enforc'd
Macarius to discover ficst your brother.
Leo. No more! lest you destroy again
Leonatus, [yet ?—
With wonder of his fate! Are they not come
Something it was I felt within me envy
Of youiig Demetrius' fortune; tliere were
seeds
Scatter'd upon my heart, that made it swell
With thought of empire : princes I see cannot
Be totally eclips'd. But wherefore stay
Demetrius and Sopbia, at whose names
A gentle spirit walk'd upon my blood ^^ ?
Enter
A gentle spirit walk'd vprni mf bloodf] This would imply, that before h% knew his rela-
tion
Act 5.]
THE CdRONATION.
29Z
Enter Demetrius, PoUdorOyS&phiay Macariu$,
Oissandery and l^umachus,
Euh. They're here.
Leo. Then thus I flj into tlieir bosoms !
Nature h«is rectified in me, Demetrius,
The wandrings of ambition. Our dear sister^
Yoa are aniazM ; I did expect it •. read
Assumnce there ! the day is big with wonder.
Mm, What means all tliis?
Leo, Lysimachos, be dear to us !
Cassaoder, you are welcome too.
Can. Not I;
I do not look for^t; all this sha*not bribe
My conscience to your faction, and make
hU false a^rain. Seleucns is no son
Of Theodosins: my dear countrymen,
Correct your erring duties, and to that,
Your lawful king, prostrate yourselves ! De-
Doth challenge aJl your knees. [metrins
Dem, All love and duty
Flow from me to my royal king, and brother!
I am confirm'd.
Gust. You are too credulous !
What can betray your faith so much?
Leo. Sophia, you appear sad, as if your will
Gave no consent to this day's happiness.
Sophia. No joy exceeds Sophia's for your-
sdf. [hend
Jjfum. With your pardon, sir, I appre-
A cause that makes her troubled : she desires
T) know what other mistress, since her late
Unkindness, I have chosen to direct
My faith and service.
Leo. Another mistress?
I^nau Yes, sir.
JjUK And does our sister love Lysimachus?
Soplua. Here's something would conf^.
Leo. He must not dare
To Aftront Sophia.
Ca»9. How my shame confounds mc !
I beg your justice^ without pity, on
My age.
Leo, Your penance shall be, to be faithful
To our state hereafter.
Omnes, May you live long
Alid happy, Leonatos, king of Epire !
Leo. fint Where's your oSier mistress?
l^nm. Even here, sir. [sir?
JUo. Oar sister? is this another mistress,
L^tim. It holds [gan
To prove my thoughts were so : when she be*
Her sorrow for neglecting me, that sweetness
Deserv'd I should esteem her another mistress
Than when she cruelly forsook Lysimachus.
Your pardon, madam! and receive a heart
Proud with my first devotions to serve you !
Sophia. In this I*m crown'd again 1 now
mine for ever I
Leo. You have deoeivM her happily.
Joy to you both !
Dem. We're ripe for the tftme wishes;
Polidora's part or me.
Poiid. He all my blessing.
Leo. Heav'n pour full joys upon youl
Mac. We're all blest:
There wanu but one to fill your arms*
Leo. My mistress
And wife shall be my country, to which I
Was in my birth contracted ; your love, sinoi^
Hath play'd the priest to perfect whdt wsis
ceremony.
Tho' kin^oms by just titles prove OQr40wn,
The subjects' hearu do best secure a crown.
[Exeunt omnet.
tknk to his brother and sister, lie had often had, by secret * Instinct, a love for them: bat ns
no hint of this appears in any thing he before says or does, I prefer the present tanse :
■ tpalks iipou my blood ?
This expression is noble, and seems taken from Genesis. 2%e spirit of God mov'd tipoa th§
fiee of the waters, Seward.
I conceive, that the poet designed here to express, how dormant that affection which
ou^t to be toward brethren, though strangers to each other, had lain in Seleucus; and
upon this account I would suppose, that a word of a stronger import may yet bid fiurer for
loe true one : I read thus,
A gentle spirit wakes upon my blood ? Syn^son*
We have retained the old reading, as thinking it far preferable t* either of the variations.
EPILOGUE.
There is no Coronation to-day.
Unless your gentle votes do crown our play.
If smiles appear within each lady's e)re.
Which are the leading stars in this fair sky,
Our solemn day sets glorious; for then
We hope, by their soft influence, the men
Will gnice what they first shia'd on; make't
appear, [ear
(Both) how we please, and blets oor covetous
With your applause; more weleoDM than
Che beUs
Upon a trittrnph, bonfires, or what-dsa
Can speak a Coronation ! And tho' I
Were late depos'd, and spoii'd of migcsty.
By tlie kind aid of year hands, gentlemen,
I quickly may te crown'd a queen again,
THE
THE SEA-VOYAGE'.
A COMEDY.
this Pby is in the Commendatory Verses by Oardmer ascribed to Fletcher alone, and was
first printed in the folio of 1647. It was revived by Tom Durfey, with altemtions, in
the year 1686, and exhibited at the Theatre-Royal, under the title of Tlie 'Commonwealth
of Women^ and lit the same time printed in quarto.
1»ERS0NS REPRESENTED.
Men.
Alb£BT, a trench Pirate, in lave with
Aminta.
TiBALT Du Pont, a merry Gentleman, frieftd
to Albert,
Master ^ the Ship, an honest merry Man,
takuURZ, an usuring Merchant*
Franville, a vmrirgloriout Gallant*
MoRiLLAT, a $hallow^ained Gentleman,
Boatswain, an honest Man,
Sebastian, a noble Gentleman of Portugal,
HuAand to Rotellia.
NicusA, Nephew to Sebastian; both cast upon
adesart Island*
Raymond, Brother to Aminta.
Surgeon*
Sailors*
W0)C£N«
AicTNTA, Mistress to Albert, a noble French •
Virgin.
RosELLiA, Governess qfthe Amazonian Por*
tugals,
CLARlNtA, Daughter to RoselUa, in love
with Albert.
Cr^ale''^' V^"""^ ^""^^ ^''^' ^ '*•
Wta; i Female Commonwealth.
The SCENE, first at Sea, then in the Desart Islands.
' This play, as it stands in all the former copies, has not received so much injury in its
»ense as measure, and so we have not so mucn cause to complain of the former as of the
latter; yet cause there is, as the reader will see in the following notes. Mr. Shirley, who
published the old folio edition, seems to have had little care of making our poets appear to
advantage, wlien he sent this play into the world in so unpoetical a dress; 1 own the restoring
of the measure cost me abundantly more application and pains than the correcting the text;
but yet the reader fnust not expect that musical, exact flow of numbers which our modem
eentlemen of Pamassns are so careful about, here, any more than in Shakespeare: however,
I chink I may remark once for all, both upon our authors and him, that whenever any
nibject requires the sublime, the pathetick or descriptive, there the numbers are equal to
both the sentiment and diction, and the happy mixture is capable of transporting any soul
wlio has the least taste for the beauties of poetry. Sympson,
In ' restoring the measure' (as Mr. Sympson calls it) he has tacitly interpolated, and
omitted in a manner unprecedented in any editors but those of these Works in 1750. The
variations, both avowed and secret, we may safely pronounce to be almost all for the worse^
Bad unworthy mention ; those which are otherwise, shall be properly noticed.
vot m.
o«
ACT
t^6
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
[Act Kr
ACT I.
A Tempest f liunder and Lightning,
Enter Master and two Sailors:*
Master. X AY lier aloof, the sea grows dan*
-■-^ gerous :
How*t spits against the clouds ! how it capers,
And how tho fiery elenVent frights it back!
There be devils dancing in the aif) I think.
I saw a dolphin hang i'tli' horns oW moon.
Shot from a wave. Hey-day^ hey-day, how
she kicks and yerks!
Down with the main-mast ! lay her at haU!
Furl up all her linens, and let her ride it out !
i Sailor, She'll never brook it, Master;
She's so deep laden that she'll bulge.
Master. Hang her !
Can she not bufi'et with a storm a little ?
How it tosses her! she reels like a drunkard.
2 Sailor. We liave discover'd the iand^
sir; pray let's make in !
She is so drunk else she may chance
To cast up all her lading.
1 Sailor. Stand in, stand in !
We are all' lost else, lost and pcrish'd.
Master. Steer her a-starboard there !
Q Sailor. Bear in with all the sail we can !
Sec, Master,
See what a clap of thunder there is! what
A face of Heav'i) ! how dreadfully it looks!
Master. Thou rascal, thou fearful rogue^
th*hast been praying!
I see it in thy face; thou hast been mumbling.
When we are split, you slave* ! Is this a time
To discour^ige our friends with your cold
orizons ?
Call up the boatswain. How it storms ! hoUa !
Enter Boatswain,
Boats. What shall we do, Master? Cast
over all her lading ?
She will not swim an hour else.
Enter Albert, Trantnlle, Latmire, Tibalt Du-
Font, and Morillat.
Master. The storm is load; we cannot'
Hear one another. What's the costst ?
Bouts. We know
Not yet ; shall we make in ?
Alb. What comfort, sailors ?
* When 7ce are split, you slave.] The accurate Sympson reads.
When we are splitTi>o, slave.
3 We have sprung Jive leaks, and no little ones;
Still rage; besides, her ribs are open.] Here the words still rage, sJioiild either be in •
parenthesis with a note of admu^tion, (still rage/) or else, which is mow probable, from
the defect in the measure, something is lost, and I believe the origioal was^
five leaks, and no little ones ;
The winds still rage; besides, her ribs are open,
or perhaps. The seas. Sympson.
We think tJie first coiyecture best*
I never saw, since I haVe known tlie act,
(Which has been this twenty years) so rude
In what state are we ? [a tempest.
Master. Dangerous enough, captain :
We have spnmg five leaks, and no^ Iktie
ones;
(Still rage !) besides, her ribs are open ^,
Her ruddtr almost spent: prepare yourselves.
And have good courages ! Doath comes but
once;
And letr him come in all hijr frights !
A^b. Is't not possible
To make in to the land ? Tis here before us.
Mor. Here hard by, sir.
Master. Death's nearer, gentlemen.
Yet, do not cry ; let's die like mea f
I'ib. Shairshoise tiie boat out,
And go all at one cast? The more the merrieff
Enter Aminta,
Master, You are too hasty, monsieur; do-
you long
To be i'th' fish-market before your time?
Hold her up there !
Aminta. Oh, miserable fortune !
Nothing but horror sounding in mine ears;
No minute to promise to my frighted soul !
T»^. Peace, woman ! [howling!
W^e ha' storms enough already; no more
Aminta. Gentle master!
Master. Clap this woman under hatches. .
Alb. Prithee speak mildly to her.
Aminta. Can no help^-
Master. None, that I know.
Aminta. No promise from your goodness —
Master, Am I a god ? For Heaven's sake,
stow this woman! [to your business!
Tib, Go, take vour gilt prayer-book, and
Wink and die! There an old haddock stays
for you. [tlic terrors,
Aminia. Must I die herein all the frights^
The thousand several shapes death triusnphs
No iriend to counsel me? [in?
Alb, Have peace, sweet mistress I
Aminta, No kindwed's tears upon me^
Oh, my country !
No gentle hand to close mine eyes?
Alb. Be comforted ; |^same mercy.
Heaven has the same powV still, aad the
^t I.]
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
2Q7
Aminta. Oh, that wave will devour me !
Master. Carry her down, captain,
Or, by these hands, Tll^ve no more direction,
Let the ship. sink or. swim ! We ha' ne*er bet-
ter luck [with us,
When weVe such stowage as these trinkets
These sweet sin-breeders*, how can lleaven
sinile on us,
When such a burden of iniquity
lies tumbling, like a potion, in oar ship's
belly? [Exit.
Tib, Away with her! and, if. she nave a
prayer [ly,
Tint's fit for such an hour, let her say't quick-
And seriously ! [Exit.
Alb. Covfic; I see it clear, lady ;
Come in, and take some comfort ! I'll stay
wiih you. [should I hope ?
Aminta. Where should I stay? to wliatend
Am I not circled round with misery?
Confusions in their full heights dwell about
me ! [y^">
Oh, monsieur Albert, how am I bound to curse
(If curses could redeem me) how to hnte ybu !
You forc'd roe from my quiet, from my friends,
Even from their arms that were as dear touie
As dav-li{;ht is, or comfort to the wretched;
Yoa forc'd my friends, some from their peace-
ful rest, [t^roaos ;
Some your relentless sword gave their last
('Would I had therebeen numbered !) and to
fortune's [tlier
Nei'er-4(Rtisfied afflictions you turn'd my bro-
And those few friends I'd left, like desperate
creatures, [pities.
Jo their own fears and. the world's stubborn
Oh, merciless]
Alb. Sweet mistress!
Atninta. And whether they are wandring
to avoid you, ['em —
Or whether dead, and no kind earth to cover
Was this a lover*s part? but lleaven has
found ^ou.
And in his loudest voice, his voice of thunder,
And in the mutiny of his deep-wonders % '
He telltf you now, you weep too late.
Alb. Let these tears
Tell how I honour ^ou ! You know, dear lady.
Since you were mme, how truly J have lov d
you.
How sanctimoniously observ'd your honour:
Not one lascivious word, not one touch, lady,
No, not a hope that might not render mc
The unpolluted servant of your chastity.
For you I i>ut to sea, to seek your brotiier?,
(Your captain, yet your slave) that his redemp-
tion.
If he be living where the sun has circuit.
May expiate your rigour, and my rashness.
Aminta. The storm grows greater; what
shall we do ?
Alb. J^efsiu,
And ask Heaven's mercy! My strong mind
yet prcKages>
Thro' all these dangers, we shall see a day yet
Shall crown your pious hopes, and my fair
wishes. [Exit with Aminta.
Enter Master, Sailors, Gentlemen, and. Boat'
swain.
Master. It must all overboard.
Boats. It clears to seaward, Master.
Mftster. Fling o'er the lading there, and let
us lighten her, Felse !)
(All the meat, and the cakes; we are all gone
That we may find her leaks, and hold her irp!
Yet. save some little biscuit for the lady,
1'ill we come to th* land^l
Ijam. Must my goods over too?
Why, honest Master, here lies uUmymon^y^
The money I ha' rak'd by usury.
To buy new lauds and lordsliipsin newcoun-
^ tries, [been
'Cause I WAS banish'd from mine own: I ha'
This twenty years a-raising it.
Tib. Out .with it I
The devils are got together by tlie ears.
Who &hall hu'jt; and here they quarrel in the
clouds.
Lam. I am undone, sir ! [perish.
Tib. And be undone; 'tis better than we
J^tn, Oh, save one chest of plate !
Tib. Away with it histily, smlors !
It was some pawn that he has got unjustly;
* <y Aif de^ wonders.] Deep wonders may be good English, but it is not very intelligible
«8 it is here circumstanced ; the addition of a single hyphen makes all clear, deep^wonderx.
Sympson*
* For you I put to sea, to seek your brother.! This, if it has any meaning, mast signify that
his sole end of putting to sea was to find out her brother, and yet, act iii. scene l, Franville
iays positively, that they were bound
For happy places, and mostfiartile islands;
but that afterwards
- She turn'd the captain's mind, S^.
This inconsistency might possibly be owing to some over and above complaisant player, who
was willing .to ennance the value of Albej-Va sen'ice, and make him compliment his mistress,
not only at the expence of our poets, but even of truth itself. Sympton.
This assertion here'is too positive, and too much pursued, and the circumstance too unim-
portant to be ascribed to tlie interpolation of a player. If there is an inconsistency, it is
more probably owing to the inadvertency of the authors.
' ^ Fling <fer the ladings &c-] Tlie giving this and the following four lines to the Master
(which was before a continuation of the BixUswains speech) is recommended by Sympson.
G g 2 Down
f9ft
THE SEA-VOYAGB.
[Ajctl.
Down with it low enough, and let crabs breed
Master, Over with the trunks too. [in't !
Enter Albert.
Alb. Take mine, and spare not.
Master^ We must over with all.
Fran, Will ye throw away my lordship that
Isold, [sea with?
Put it into cloaths and necessaries, to go to
lU, Over wi't ! I love to see a lordship sink:
Sir, you left no wood upon% to buoy it up;
You might ha' 8av*d it else.
Fran, I am undone
For ^\ef.
4lb, Why, we're all undone c would you
Be only hnppy?
Xom. Sir, you may lose too.
T<6. Thou liest! I ha* nothing but my skin,
And my cloaths; my sword here, and myself;
Two crowns in my pocket, two pair of cards^.
And three false dice: I can swmi like a fish,
Eascal ; nothing to hinder me.
^oats. In with her of all hands !
Master, Come, gentlemen; come,captiiip;
ye must help all.
My life now for the land ! Tis high and rocky,
And full of perils.
Alb. However, let*s attempt it !
Master. Then cheer lustily, my hearts !
[Exeunt.
Enter Sebastian and Nicusa.
Seh. Yes, 'tis a ship ; I see it now; a tail
ship !
She hiis wrought lustily for her delivemnce.
Heaven's mercy, what a wretched day has
here been ! [no misery,
I>iicusa, To still and quiet minds that knew
Jt may seem wretched ; but with us 'tis ordi-
nary : [terror.
Heaven has no storm in store> nor earth no
That can seem new to ns.
Seb, 'Tis true, Nicusa:
If fortune were determiii'd to be wanton,
Aiid would wipe out the stories of men's mi-
series,
Yet we twoliving, we conld cnMsher parpo»;
For 'tis impossible she should cure us.
We are so excellent in our afHictions :
It would be more than glory to ber biindneiSy
And stile her power beyond her pride, to
3uit us.
Nicusa. Do they live still?
Seb. Yes, and make to harbour.
Nicusa. Most miserable mcp ! I grieve
their fortunes.
Seb. How happv had they been, had th^
sea cover'd 'em f
They leap from one calamity to another;
Had they been drown'd, they'd ended all tlieif
sorrows.
What shouts of joy they make !
[Shout within^
Nicusa. Alas, poor wretches !
Hod they but once experience of this island,
They'd turn their tunes to waitings.
Seb. Nay, to curses,
That ever they set toot on such calamities:
Here is no thing but rocks and barrfinness*,
I{un<;er and cold, to eat ; here's no vineyards
To chear the heart of man, no crystal rivers.
After his labour to refresh his body.
If he be feeble; nothi^ig to restore him,
But heav'nly hopes: Naturp, that made those
remedies, [tresses,
Dares not come here, nor look on our dis^
For fear she turn wild, like the place, and
barren. [what we were !
Nicusa. Oh, uncle, yet a little memory of
Twill be a little comfort in our calamities:
When we were seated in our blei^d homes.
How happy in our kindreils, in our fiunilies^
In all our fortunes —
Seb. Curse on those French pirates
That displanted us ! That flung us from that
happiness
. We round there, constrained us to sea.
To save our lives, honours, and our riches.
With all we had, our kinsmen and our jewels,
In hope to find some place free from such
robbers ! [where
Where a mighty storm severed our bariu, that
7 Two pair of cards.] i. e. Two packs cf cardsy as they are now called. They were for-
merly called, as here, pairs of cards. Thus in ' Tiie honorable, historie of the Frier Bacon
* and Frier Bougay, by Robert Greene, 1630,* ' Have you not good tippling houses there? may
< not a man have a lusty fire there, a pot of good ale, a p aire 0^ cardcs, a s wining piece of
* chalke, and a brown toast that will clap a white wastcoat on a cup of good dnnke r IL
* Here's nothing but rocks and barrenness^
Hunger and cold to eat; here's no vineyards^ &c.] Nothing but rocks and barrenness tomtf
is intelligible and good language, but surely no poetical license will excuse what follows,
Hunger and cold to eat ;■■
I would read,,/br meat; i. e. instead of meat, and propose to supply the measure thus.
There's nothing here but rocks and baiTenness,
Hunger and cold for meat; here arc no vineyanis, &c. Setoard,
I would read and point thus.
Here's nothing here but rocks and barrenness.
Hunger and cold; nothing to eat; no vinevards— ~-
^S I have not alter'd the text, the reader may take his choice. Sympson,
We do not understand why meat is better than eat; the sense i» tlie same ; and the rest
of the variation is iinauMiorized,
Act I.]
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
Sl{9
)lj wife, my daaghter, and my noble ladies
That went with t^r, virgins and loYing souls,/
To scape those pirates**
Ni'usa, They are living yet; such ^ood-
Des!» cannot perish. [again.
Seb, But never to me, cousin, never to me
'Wliac hears tlieir flag-staves?
NkiiM. The arms of France sure.
Nay, do not start I we cannot be more mi-
serable;
Death is a cordial now, come ^ben it will. '
Seb, They get to shore apace; they'll fly
as last ' [which swims there f
,Wheu once they find the place. What's that
iViciua. A strong young man, sir, with a
handsome woman
^anp;in(^ about his neck.
ScB, That shews some liono^r:
May thy jbrave charity, whatever thou art.
Be spoken in a place that may renown thee,
Aud not die here !
Nieu»a. Tiie boat, it seems, tum*d over,
So forced to their shafts; vetqil are landed*
They're pirates, on my life.
Sib, They wi^ not rob us;
For none will take our' misery for liphe^
Come, cousin, let's d«icend, ai)d try th^ip
pities!
If we get off, a little hope wa^cs wi|b t^s;
If not, we shall but }oad this wretclied Tsland
With the same shadow^ ^tjU, tliat must grow
shorter. [^xeunt.
Enter Albert, Aminta, Tibalt, MorUlat, La-
murej Mastpr, Frauvilie, Surgearif and
, Sailort,
Tib. Wet come ashope^, iny urates ! we^re
safe arriv'd yet. [man lost :
Matter. Thanks to Heaven's goodness, no
The ship rides fair too, and her leaks in good
plight. [ — How does my dear?
Aib. The weather's lurn'd more courteous.
Alas, iiow weak she is, and wet !
Atninta. I am glad y^t, I scap'd with life:
Which certain, noble captain, nest to Hea-
ven's goodness,
I must thank you for; and, which is more.
Acknowledge your dear tenderness, your firm
love.
To your unworthy mistress; and recant too
(Indeed I must) those harsh opinions,
Those cruel unkind thoughts, I heaped upon
you :
Further than that, I must foigetyonr injuries,
Ho far I am tied and fettered to your service;
fielieve me, I will learn to love.
Alb. I thank yon, madam;
And it shall be my practice to serve.
Wluit cheer, companions?
• Wet come luhore — arrived yet.
Mast. Thanki^l W^ tome alluding to welcome^ is exceeding right and proper here
in Tibalfs moutb, whose droll character is well supported throughout tlie play. Sytnpsoru
'^ Furfd.] Perhaps from the Freuch word perle^ rough, rugged, not mnooth. Cotgrave's
Dictionary. JL
Box
Tib. No great clieer, sir ; a piece of sonsed
IJiscuit, [order.
And half an hard egg; for the sea has ta'en
Being young and strong, we shall not surfeit,
ca|9tain.
For mine own part, FU dance till I am dry:
Come, Sui^eon, out with your clyster>pipe,
And strike a galliard. [fair weather.
Alb. What a brave day again ! and what
After so foul a storm !
Loofi' Ay, an*t pleas'd the Master,
He might ha' seen this weather, and ha' sav'd
our goods. [and healths.
AU). Never think on 'em! we've our lives
Lam. I must think on *em, and think 'twas
u^ost maliciously
Done to undo me.
Fran. Aud me too; I lost all:
J ha'n't another shirt to put upon me^
Nor deaths, but these poor rags:. I bad
fifteen
Fair suits, the worst was cut upon ta&ty.
Tib. I am glad you ha' lost: give me* thy
hand! [vxitb scabs?
Is tliy skin whole? Art thou not puri'd'^
No antient monuments of madam Venus ?
Tb' hast a suit then will pose the cunning'st
tailor,
That will never turn fashion, nor forsake thee,
Till thy executors, the worms, uncase thee;
They take off glorious suits, Franville ! thou'f t
happy
Thou art delivered of 'em ; here arc no brokers.
No alchyraists to turn 'em into metal ;
Nor lecither'd captains.
With ladies to adore 'em ! Wilt thou see
A dog-fish rise in one of thy brave doublets,
And tumble like a tub to make thee merry ?
Or an old haddock rise with thy hatch'd sword
Thou pnid'st a hundred crowns for ?
A mennaid in a mantle of your worship's?
Or a dolphin in your double ruff?
Fran, " Ye'r«: merry;
But if I take it thus, if I be foisted
And jeer'd out of my goods —
Lam. Nor I, I vow thee !
Nor master nor mate—I see your cunning.
Alb. Oh,
Be not angry, gentlemen !
JIfor. Yes, sir, we've reason s
And some friends I can make.
Mast, What I did, gentlemen,
Was for the general salety ; if ye aim
At me, I'm not 8(i tame-^
Tib, Pra^ take m^ counsel ;
Gallants, fight not till the surgeon be well !
He's damnable sea-sick, and may spoil nil ;
Besides, h'has lost his fiddlestick, and the
best
S30
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
f Act 1.
Box of boar*»>^alto. Wb j do you make such
And I land your swords? [faces,
silb. Will) wuulil ye fight with, gentlemen ?
Wh' lias done ye wrong? for shame, be better
temper'd ! .[*^^*»
No sooner come to giye thanks for^our safe-
But we must raise new civil broils amongst4is,
Indame those angry powers, to shower .new
vengeance on us: [murs,
What can we expect for these unmanly mur-
These strong temptations of their holy pities,
'But pla|;ues in another kind, a t'uiler, so
dreadful
That the singing storms are slumbers to itf
Tib, Be men, and jule your minds*!
If you will nepds 6ght, gentlemen.
And think to raise new riclies by your va^
lours,
Have at ye ! I have little else to do now;
•I liave said my prayers. You say you have lost,
And make your loss your quarrel, [ter,
And grumble at my captain here, and th' mas-
Two worthy persons, indeed too worthy for
such rascals,
Thou galloon gallant, and Mammon yoi^
That build on golden mountains ! tliuu mo^
ney-maggot ! . [miserable.
Come, all draw your swords ! Ye say ye're
Alh. Nay, hold, good Tibalt!
Tib. Captain, let me correct 'em I —
I'll make ye ttn times worse ! — I will not
leave 'em — [eating ;
Por look ye, fighting's as nourishing to me as
I was horn quarrelling.
Master. Pray, sir! [*em! —
Tib. I will not leave 'cm skins to cover
Do you grumble when yc are well, ye rogues ?
Master, Noble Du-Pont !
'Tib. Ye have cloaths now, and ye prate.
Aminta, Pray, gentlemen, for my sake, be
at peace !
Let it beconie me to make all friends !
Fran, You've stopt our angers, lady.
A/b* Tl^is !?lews noble. [a biscuit ;
Tib, Tiswell; 'tis very well ! There's half
Break it amongst ye all, and thank my bounty.
This is cloaths and plate too; come, no more
quarrelling !
Aminta. But ha! what things are these?
Are they human creatures?
Enter Sebastian and Nieusa,
Tib. I've heard of sea-calves.
A/b. They're no shadows sure; »
They've legs and arms.
Tib. They hang but lightly on tho'. [faces?
Aminta, flow they look f Are they men's
2\b. I hey have horse-tails growing to *em,
Goodlv long manes.
Amintti, 'Las, wliat sunk eyes they have !
How they are crept in, as if they had been
Sure they are wretched men. [frighted !
Tib. Where are their wardrobes? [tiers?
Look yc, Franville, here are a couple of cour-
Ammta, They kneel: alas, poor souls!
Alb. What m ye? speakrl
Are ye alive ? or wandhng sliadowa,
Ihat iind no peace on earth, till ye reveal
Some hidden jsecret ?
Seb, We are men as .you are,
Onljx>ur miseries make us seem monslers.
If ever pity dwelt iii noble heartt^r-
^/6.\Ve understand '^mooot! Pravfliatk
''em, geutlrmen ! rchanJty ;
Seb. Or that Heaven's plcas'd wiui human
If ever ye :have heard the name of ^iend^hip.
Or sufFer'd in yourselves the least aiilictions;
Have gentle /athecs that have bred ye ten-
derly, [tunes;
And motliers that -have w^t/Qnyouriiusfor-
Have mercy on our miseries^
Alb. Stand up, wretches.
Speak boldly, apd have release!
A'm:'^^ If ye be Christians,
And by that blps^ed name bound. to .rdieve us,
Convey us from this island !
AIL Speak I .what are ye ? [more,
Seb, As you arc, gentle born ; to tell ye
Were but to number up our own calamities,
And turn your eyes wild with perpetual
weepings^
Jliese many years inihis most wrctchcdialand
We two have liv'd, ,the scorn and.gapie of
fortune:
Bless yourselves f«>m it, noble gciitlcmen !
The greatest plagues that human nature sufierB
Arc seated here^ wilcjuess and w^ts inuu-
me»ibie !
Alb. How came ye hithcrf
Kieusa. in a ship, as you do, and Cas you
might have been, [noble use)
Had not Heav'n pr^ierv'd ye for some more
Wreckt desperately; our men and all con-
sum'd,
But we two, that still live, and spin out
The thin and ragged threads of our misfor^
Alb, Is there no meat above ? [times.
Seb. Nor meat nor quiet :
No summer liere, to promise any thiog ;
Nor autumn, to make full tlie^tiapers'liands;
I'he earth, obdurate to the tears of Heav'n,
Lets nothing shoot but poison'd weeds;
No rivers, nor no pleasant groves* no beasts:
All that were made for man's use fiy this de-
sart; ^
No airy fowl dares make his flight o'er it.
It is so ominous. [ture,
Serpents, and ugly things, the shames of Na-
Roots of malignant tastes, foul standing war
ters:
xSometimes we find a fulsome sea*root.
And that's a delicate; a rat sometimes,
And that we bunt like princes in their plea^
sure ; [quet.
And when we take a toad, we make a bau-
Amintd, For Heav'n's sake, let's aboard !
Alb. yy^e know no furtlier ?
I^icusa, Yes;
We've sometimes seen the shadow of a place
luliabiccd, and heard the noise of hunters,
And
id l.j
And have attempted to find it: so far as a
rirer, [rocks,
Deep, slovT, and dangeroas, fenced with high
We've gone; but, not able t'atchieve tliat
hazard,
Reuini'd to our old miseries. If this
Sad story may deserve your pities —
Alb, Ye shall [ries.
Aboard with us; we will relieve your mise-
Seb. Nor will we be unthankful for this be-
neiit;
Ko, gentlemen, well pay for our deliverance:
Look, ye that plough tlie seas for wealth and
pletisures, [tions,
That outHTun day and night with your ainbi-
Look on those heaps! they seem liard ragged
quarries; (
■Reroove, aud view 'em fully! [jewels!
Master, Oh, ileav'n, they're gold and
Seb, Be not too hasty ! Here lies another
heap«
Mor, And here another, all perfect gold I
Alb. Stand further off!
Tou must not be your own carvers.
Jjim, We have shares, and deep ones.
Tran. Yes, sir, we will^ maintain t: ho, fel-
low-sailors! [all this.
Lam, Stand all to your freedoms I I'll have
Tron^ And I this.
m. You shaU be hane'd first.
Lam. My losses shall be mac^e good.
Frafu So shall mine, or with my sword 111
do'L—
All that will share with us, assist us !
Tib. Captain, let's set in !
Alb. This money will undo us, undo us all.
S^* This gold was th* overthrow of my
happiness :
I had command too, when I landed here.
And led young, higli, and. noble spirits under
mc: [tltfir captain.
This cursed gold enticing 'em, they set upon
On me that own'd this wealtl^ and this poor
gentleman ; [own
Gave us no few wounds, fbrc'd ua from our
And tlien tlieir civil swords, who should be
owners, [own lives ;
And who lords over all, turned against their
First, in theh* rage consum'd the ship,
(That poor part of the ship that scap'd the
first wreck) [and careful !
Next, their lives by heaps : oh, be you wise
ljam4 Well ha' more : sirrah, come shew it !
Fran. Or ten times worse afflictions than
thou speak'st of—
Alb. Nay, an ye will be dogs— [Beott'evi.
Tib, JLet roe come, captain !
This golden age must have an iron ending.
Have at the bunch ! [He beats *em off", l&it*
AmJttita, Oby Albert ! oh, gentlemen ! oh,
friends! [Exit.
Seb, Come, noble nephew \ if we stay
here we die: ^ [th' spuil ;
Here rides their ship vet; all are gone to
Let*s make a quick um^:
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
831
Ntrusa, Away, dear uncle !
Seb. This gold
Was our o'erthrow.
Nicusa, It may now be our happiness.
[ Exeunt^
Enttr Tibalt, pursuing and beating the rest.
Tib. You sliall have gold! yes, I will crara
it int'ye ! [ye.
You shall be your own carvers ! yes. 111 carve
Mar. I'm sore : I pray hear reason I
Tib. rii hear none :
Covetous base minds have no reason.
I'm hurt myself; but, whilst I have a leg left,
I will so haunt your gilded aoub— How d ye,
capttiin ?
You bleed apace; curse on the causers ou't?
You do not taint?
Alb. No, no; I'm not so happy.
Tib. D'ye howl ? nay, ye Reserve it :
Base greedy rogues! Come, shall we make an
end of em? [sake, spare 'em !
Alb. They are our countrymen ; forHeav'nV
Alas, they're hurt enough, and they relent now.
Afninta [above]. Oh, captain, captain !
Alb. Whose voice is that ?
Tib. The lady's.
Aminta. Look, captain, look ! you are un*'
done: poor captain !
We're all undone, all, all! we areall mise-
«'ahle ! [your ship i
Mad wilful men, ye are undone : yoiir ship^
^/6. What of her? ^
Aminta. She is under sail, and floating;
See, where she flies ! See, to your shames, you.
wretclies, [gold !
These poor starv'd things that shewed you
[Lamure and FranvilU go up to see the ship.
1 Sailor. They have cut the cables, ['em.
And got her out; tlje tide too has befriended
Master. Where are the sailors that kept
her? [money.
Boats. Here„here i'th' mutiny, to uke up
A nd left no creature ; left tlje boat ashore too :
This gold, this dainn'd enticing gold !
a SaUor. How the wind drives her.
As if it vied to force her from our iiiries f ~
Ixim. Come back, good old men !
Fran. Good honest men, come back !
Tib. The wind's against ye^ speak louder!
Lam* Ye shall have all your gold again.
They see us.
Tib. Hold up your hands, and kneel, and
howl, ye blockheads*
They'll have compassion on ye?
Yes, yes, 'tis very likely; ye\e deserv'd it.
D'ye look like dogs qow? Are your mighty
Abated ? fcouraEeit
Alb. I bleed apace, Tibalt.
Tib. Retire, sir;
And make the best use of our miseries I
Tivey but begin now.
Sinter Aminta. ,
Aminta. ^r9 ye alive cttU ?
Aih.
332
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
[Actl
Alb, Yc8, sweet,
lib. Help him off, lady, [something
Aud wrap him warm in your arms ; here is
That's comfortahle ; ofTwitlihim handsomely!
I'll come to ye Straight, but vex these i-ascals
a little. [Extunt Albert and Amirita*
Fran, Oh, I'm hungry, and hurt, and I aili
weary.
2U, Here is a pestle of a Portigue, sir!
^is excellent meat with Sour sauce :
And here's two chains; suppose *em sausages!
Then there wants mustard; but th^ ftarfiil
surgeon
Will supply ye presently".
Lam. Oh, for that surgeon ! I shall die else.
Tib. Faith there he lies in tlie same pickle
too. [are lost;
Surgeon. My salves and all my instruments
And I am hurt and starv'd : good sir, seek for
5ome herbs!
Tlb^ Hei-e'd herb-graceless; will that senr^?
Gentlemeo, will ye go to stipper^
Omnes. Where is the meat? [is there?
Tib, Where is the meat ? W hat a Teal-voice
Fran, Would we had it,^ sir, or any thiii)^
else! [but that
7/6. I would now cut your throat, you dog,
I wo'not do you sQch a courtesy,
To take you from the benefit ot starving.
Oh, what a comfort will your worship hare
Some three days hence ! Ye things beneath
pity!
Famine shall be your harbinger : [hangings^
You must not lodk for down-beds here, nor
Tho' I could wish yc strong ones; [bers,
Yet there be many lightsome cool star-cham-
Open to every Sweet air, I'll assure ye.
Ready provided for ye, and so I'll leave ye:
Your first course is served ; expect the second!
[ExU.
Fran, A vengeancof on these jewels 1
Lam. Oh, this cursed gold! [Exeunt,
ACT IL
Enter Albert and Aminta,
Alb, A LAS, dear soul, you faint !
•^ Aminta. You speak the language
Which I should use to you. Heav'n knows
my weakness
Is not for what I suffer iii myself,
fiut to imagine what you endure.
And to what fate your cruel stars reserve- you.
. Alb. Do not add to my afflictions by
Your tender pitiesi Sure we have chang'd
. sexes:
Vou hear calamity witli a fortitude [fer.
Would become a man; I like a weak girl suf-
Aminta. Oh, but your wounds,
fiow fearfully they gape ! and every one
To roe's a sepulchre. If I lov'd truly, •
(Wise men affirm^ that true love can do won-
ders) [cur'd,
These bath'd in my warm tears would soon be
And leave no orifice behind. Pray give me
leave
To play the sumon, and bind 'em up!
The raw air rankles 'em. ^
. Alb. Sweety we want means.
Aminta, Love can supply all wants.
Alb. What have ye done, sweet?
Oh, sacrilege to beauty! there's no hair
Of these pure locks*%'by which the greatest
king [ters.
Would not be gladly bound, and love his fet'
Aminta. Oh, Albert, I offer
This sacrifice of service to the altar
Of your staid temperance, and still adore it:
When with a violent hand you mademeyoors,
I curs'd the doer; but, now I consider
How long I was i:* your power, and with
what honour
You entertain'd me, (it being seldom seen.
That ^outk and heat of blood could e'er pre*
sen be
Laws to itself) your goodiless is die Letlie
In which J drown your injVies, and now live
Truly to serVe ye. How do j'ou, sir? Receive
you
The least ease from my service ? If you do,
I'm largely recom^nsed.
Alh. You good angels
That are eR{^d,when man's ability fiiils,
To reward goodness, look upon this ladyi
" But ih^ fearful surgeon will supply ye present ly.
Lam. OA, for that surgeon, I shall die clfc.] Peatfid^ in the present passage, k an epi-
thet which carries neither sense nor humour. If we would make lUalt congruous with him-
self; methinks it should be done by reading in both lines thus:
But th' careful surgeon, &c.
To which Lamure sliould answer;
Oh, for that careful sui^^n, I shall die else. Sympson,
'^ Ohy sacrilege to beauty! &:c'.] This is seemingly from Tasso^ book 10, stanz, 1J2, wheit
ErndtMi binds up Tancrei% wounds with her hair.
' For with her amber locks cut off, each wound
' She tied : ^ happy man, so cur'd, so bound.* ■ Symfiom*
Tho'
Act 3i]
Tho' hunger gripes my croaking entrails.
Yet, when I kiss these ruhies, tnetliinks
Fm at a banquet, a refreshing banquet.
Speak, mj bless'd one ; art not hungry ?
Aminta. Indeed I could eat, ta bear you
Alb. Blush, unkind nature, [company.
If thou bast power or being! To Itear
Thyself, and by such innocence, accused,
Must print a thousand kinds of shames upon
Thy various face: canst tbou supply a
drunkard, [wines,
And with a prodigal hand reach choice of
Till he cast up thy blessings ? or a glutton,
That robs the elements tp soothe his palate,
And only eats to beget appetite,
Not to be satisfied ? and sutfer here [guest,
A viigin, which the saints would make their
To pine for hunger? [Honu within.] Ha! if
my sense
Deceive me not, these notes take being from
The breath of men. Confirm me, my Aminta !
Again ! This way the gentle wind conveys it
Hear ^ou nothing? [to us.*^.
Aminta. Yes; it seems freehuntera musick.
Alb. Still 'tis louder; and I remember the
Portugals
Informed us, they had often heard such sounds,
But nc*er could touch the shore from whence
it came.
Follow me, my Aminta ! My good genius.
Shew me the way! Still, stilfwe are directed ;
When we gain the top of tliis near rising hill|
We shall know further.
i Exeunt f and enter above.
ephyrus, [us :
On's dewy wings, carries perfumes to cheer
The air clears too; and now we ciay discern
anotlier island.
And questionless, the seat of forfaate men :
Oh, that we could arrive there !
Aminta, No, Albert;
It b not to be hop*d : this envious torrent
Is cruelly interpos'd ; we have no vessel
That may transport us, nor liath nature given
Us wings to fly.
Alb. Better try all hazards.
Than perfsh here remediless ; I feel
^ew vigour in me, and a spirit that dares
More than a man, to serve my fair Aminta :
These arms shall be my oars, with which TU
swim, [wings,
And my zeal to save thy innocent self, like
Sbidi bear me up. above the brackish
waves.
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
nd
Aminta. Will ye then leave me? ^iU
now I ne*er was wretcl v;H **.
Alb. My best Aminta, I swear by good*
ness, 'tis not
Hope, nor fear, of myself, that invites me
To this extreme ; 'tis to supply thy wants :
and believe me,
Tho' pleasure met me in most ravishing forms.
And happiness courted me to entertain her^
I would nor jcat nor sleep, till I returned
And crown'd thee with my fortunes.
, Aminta. Oh, but your absence-^ [ni*y>
Alb. Suppose it but a dream, and, as you
Endeavour to take rest! And when that sleep
Deceives your hunger with imagined food.
Think you have sent me for discovery
Of some most fortunate continent, yet ua*
known,
Which you are to be queen of !— ^
And now, ye pow'rs tliat e'er heard lover%'
prayers,
Or cherish'd pure affection, look on him
That is your votary; and make it known,
-Against all stops, you can defend your
own ! [Exeunt,
Enter Hippolita, CrocalCy and JuUtta.
Hip. How did we lose Clarinda ?
Croc, When we belie v'd the stag was spent.
And would take soil, the sight of the Black
Lake,
Which we supposed he chose for hisJast refuge.
Frighted him more than we that did pursue
him. [terrible
Jul. That's usual ; for death itself is not so
To any beast of chaso.
Hip. Since we liv'd here.
We ne'er could force one to it.
Croc. 'I'is 8f} dreadful, [air
The birds that with their pinions cleave th«
Dare not fly o'er it. When the stag turn'd
Ai)d we even tir'd with labour, [head,
Clarinda, as if she were made of air
And fire, and had no part of earth in her,
Eagerly pursu'd him : [yields
Nor need we fear hef safety; this place
Not fawns nor satyrs, or mosi lustful .iicn;
Here we live secure.
And have among ourselves a commonwealth.
Which in ourselves begun, with us must end.
Jul. Ay, there's the misery!
Croc. But being alone,
Allow me freedom but to speak my thoughts !
The strictness of our governess, that forbids us,
■' Again, this way the gentle zcind conveys it to us.] Sympson seems positive Uiat * the
^word again is only an order for the horns to sound a second time,' and therefore places it
as a marginal direction : but we think it might very well be a part of the text.
*♦ Aminta. Will ye then leave me f
Allj. Till now I ne'er was wretchid.] This is the most material corruption in the sense
that I have met with in this play. The pretty softness and tender fears of AmirUa ara
given to Albert. I read,
Aminta* Will ye leave me then? 'till now I ne'er was wretched.
Alb. My best Aminta, I swear by goodness, 'tis
Not hope, &c Seward,
VOL. III. H h On
234
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
On pdn of death, the sight and use of men.
Id more than tyranny : for herself, she*s past
lUiose youthful heaLs, and feels not the want
Of that which young maids long for : and
her daugliter,
The fair Clarinda, tho' in few years improved
In height and large proportion, came here so
young,
1 hat, scarce rememhriug that she had a father,
She never dreams of man ; and should she
see one,
In my opinion, a* would appear
A strange beast to her.
Ju/. Tis not so with us. [made for
Hip. For my part, I confess't, I was not
This single life ; nor do I love hunting so.
But that I had rather be the chase myself.
Croc, By V'enus (out upon me! I should
have
Swofn by Diana), I'm of thy mind too, wench :
And thu' I liave ta'en an oath, not alone
To detest, but never to think of man,
JlvVy hour something tells me Vm forsworn ;
For, I confess, imagination helps me
Sometimes, and that's all's left for us to feed on ;
We might starve else ; for if I've any plea-
sure in
This life, hut when I sleep, I am a Pagan.
Then, from tlie courtier to the country clown^
I have strange visions —
Jul. Visions, Crocale ?
Croc. Yes, and fine visions too ;
And visions I hope in drean\s are harmless.
And not forbid by' our canons. The last
night
(Troth, 'tis a foolish one, but I must tell it)
As I lay in my cabin^ betwixt sleeping and
Jlip. Upon your back ? [waking—
Croc. How should a young maid lie, fool^
When she would be intranc'd ?
Hip. We are instructed;
Forward, I prithee.
Croc. Methought a sweet young mai^,
In years some twenty, with a downy chin.
Promising a future beard, and yet no red
one*^,
Stole slily to my cabin all unbrac'd.
Took me in's arms, and kiss'd me twenty
Yet still I slept. [times ; '
Jui. Fy ! thy lips run over, Crocale.
But to the re^t!
Croc. Lord, what a man is this,
Thought I, to do this to a maid! Yet then
For my life I could not wake. The youth,
A little daunted, with a trembling hand
Heav'd up the cloaths.
Hip. Yet still you slept?
Croc, rtaitli, I did.
fAct s;
by my
And when, methoughts, he was ^
side.
Thinking to catch him, I stretch'd out both
mine arms ;
And when I felt him soty I shrieked out.
And wak'd for anger.
Hip, Twas a pretty dream!
Croc. Ay, if it had been a true one.
[Albert discovered fyif^ along upon tkeihon,
Jul. But stay!
What's here cast on the shore f
Hip. It is a man :
Shall I shoot him ?
Croc. No, no, 'tis a handsome beast ;
'Would we had more o'th' breed! Stand
close, wenches,
And let^s hear if he can speak !
Aib. Do I vet live ?
Sure it is air I breathe ! What place is this f
Sure something more than hunum keepf
residence here,
For I have past the Stygian gulph.
And touch upon the blessed shore: 'tis so;
This is th' Eljrsian shade; these, happy spirit!.
That here enjoy all pleasures !
Hip, He makes towards us.
Jul. Stand, or I'll shoot!
Croc. Hold ! he makes no resistance.
Alb. Be not offended, goddesses, tlAt I fall
Thus prostrate at y(»ur feet! or, if not such.
But nymphs of Dian's train, that range these
groves.
Which you forbid to men; vouchsafe to know*
I am a man, a i^icked sinful man :
And yet not sold
So far to impudence, as to presume
To press upon your privacies, or provoke
Your heavenly angers! 'tis not for myself
I beg tlius poorly; for I'm already wounded.
Wounded to death, and faint; my last
breath is fur
A virgin, comes as near yourselves in all
Perfection, as what is mortal may
Resemble things divine. Oh, pity her,
And let your charity free her from that desart.
If beav'nly charity can reach to hell;
For sure that place comes near it! and
where-e*er
My ghost shall find a6odc, eternally
I b\m\ pour blessings on ye!
Hip. By my life,
I cannot hurt him !
Croc. Tho* I lose my head for't.
Nor I ; I must pity him, and will.
Enter Clarinda,
Jul. But stay!
Clarinda !
*' And yet no red one."] Painters used frequently, in the times of our authors, topourfrSv
Judas with a red beard. In manyof our old plays, a Judas beard, or .Tudas-coloured beard,
are mentioned ; and to this circumstance, joined to Judas's being a deceiver, our author
seems here to allude. See Leland^s Collectanea, vol. v. p. 295, where it is said, p^interd
Consumtly represented Judas the traytor with a red beard, R,
3ee also p. 195, of this volume.
Cler.
Ad 2.]
Ciar, What new fame have ye found here ?
Ha!
"What beast is this lies wallowing in his gore?
Croc Keep off^! '
Ckr. Wherefore, I pcay? I never turn'd
From a fell lioness robVd of her whelps;
^nd shall I fear dead carrion?
JuL Ohy but—
Ciar, But, what is't ?
Hip. It is infectious.
Clar. Has it uot a name ?
Cfiic. Yes;
Bat such a name, from which, as from tlie devil,
Your mother commands us fly.
CUar, Is it a man ?
Croc. It is.
Clmr. What a ^rave shape it has in death !
How excellent would it appear, liad it life !
Why should it be infectious ? I have heard
My mother say, I had a &ther;
And was not he a man ?
Croc. Questionless, madam.
Clar. Your iiithers too were men ?
JuL Without doubt, lady.
Clar. And without such it is impossible
We could have been ?
H^}. A sin aj^nst Nature to deny it.
Clar. Nor ^i you or I have any hope to
be a mother,
Without the help of men.
Croc. Impossible! [that knew
Clar. Which of you then, most oarbarous,
You from a man had beiu)^) and owe to it
The name of parent, durst presume to kill
The likeness of that thing by which you are?
Whose arrows made tliese wounds ? speak,
or, by Dian,
Without distinction Fll let fly at ye all!
Jul. Not mine.
Mip. Nor mine.
Croc. TLs strange to see her mov'd thus.
Restrain your fury, madam ! had we kilPd liim,
W'e had but perfonn*d your mother's com-
mand, [things,
Clar. But if she command unjust and cruel
We're not t' obey iL
Croc. We are innocent : [shore.
Some storm <^id cast him shipwreck'd on the
As you see wounded: nor durst we be surgeons
To such youur mottier doti) appoint for death.
Clar. Wtak excuse ! wljere's pity ? [ful,
VVbere*ssoft compassion? Cruel and ungrate-
Did Providence offer to your charity
But one poor subject to express it on.
And in't to sliew our wants too ; and could you
So carelessly neglect it?
Hip. For aught I know, [mother,
He's living yet ; and you may tempt your
By giving him succour.
Clar. lia! come near, I charge ye.
So! bend his body softly ; rub his temples;
Nay, that shall be my office : bow the reel bteals
Ifito his pale lips! Run and fetch the sim^ples
With which my mother heal*d my arm, wlien
Was wounded by the boar. [last I
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
535
Croc. Do ; but remember
Her to come after you, that she may beliold
Her daughter's charity !
Clar. Now he breathes! [Exit Hip.
The air passing thro' th' Arabian proves
Yields not so sweet an odour : prithee t;vsre i^
Taste it, good Crocale! yet I envy theo
So great a blessing. Tis not sin to touch
Tbese rubies, is it?
Jul. Not, I think. [could
Clar. Or thus to live, camelion-like ? I
Resign my essence to live ever thus.
Oh, welcome ! Raise him up gently. Some
soft liand [W hat fury.
Bound up tliese wounds: a woman's hair?
For which my ignVnnce does not know a name,
Is crept iuto my breast ? But I forget
Enter HippoUta.
, My pious work. Now if this juice hath
power.
Let it appear! His eye-lids ope: prodigious!
Two suns bi^ak from these orbs ][this?
Aib. Ha! where am I? what new vision's
To what goddess do I owe this second life ?
Sure thou art more than mortal!
And any sacritice of th,anks or duty
In poor and wretched man to pay, comes short
Of your immortal bounty : but to shew
Fm not unthankful, thus in humility
I kiss the happy ground you have' made sacred.
By bearing of your weight.
Clar. No goddess, friend, [are;
But made of that same brittle mould as yon
One too acquainted with calamities,
And from that apt to pity. Charity ever
Finds in the act reward, and needs no trumpet
In the receiver. Oh, forbear this duty !
1 have a hand to meet with yours, and lips
To bid yours welcome.
Croc. I see that, by instinct,
Tho' a young maid hath never seen a man.
Touches have titillations, and inform her.
Enter Rosellia,
But here*4 our governess: now I expect a
storm. [unspotted mind,
Ros. Child of my flesh, and not of my fair
Unhand this monster!
Clar. Monster, mother?
Kos. Yes;
And every word he speaks, a syren's note,
To drown the careless hearer. Have I uot
taught thee
The falshood and the perjuries of men,
On whom, but for a woman to shew pity,
Is to be cruel to herself? The sovereignty
Proud and imperious men usurp upon us.
We confer on ourselves, and love those fetters
We fasten to our freedoms. Have we, Clar
rinda.
Since thy father's wreck, songht liberty.
To lose It uncompell'd ? Did fortiine guide,.
Or rather destiny, bur bark (to which
We could appoint no port) to tliis blest place,
H h « Inhabittd
S50
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
[Act 5.
Inhabited heretofore by warlike women, •
That kept men in subjection? did we then,
By their example, after we had lost
All we could love in man, here plant ourselves.
With execrable oaths never to look
On man, but as a monster? and wilt thou
Be the first precedent to infringe those vows
We made to lle:;ven ?
Ciar. Hear me, and hear me with justice!
And as you are delijrhted in the name
Of mother, hear a daughter that would be
like you ! [iieixe
Should all women use this obstinate abbti-
You would force upon us, in a few years
The whole world would be peopled only witli
beasts,
J£ip, We must and will have men.
Croc. Ay, or we'll shake off all obedience.
Ros. Are ye mad ? can no persuasion
alter ye?
Suppose you had my suffratre to your suit.
Can this shipwreck'd wretch supply ye all ?
Alb. Hear me, great lady !
Fve fellows ill my mi^t.-y. not far hence,
Ipivided only by this hellish river,
There live a company ot wretched men^
Such as your chariu may mnke your slaves:
Imagine all the miseries mankind
IVlay suffer under, and they groan beneath 'em.
Ciar. But are they like to you ?
Jul. Speak they your lan^ua^e ?
Croc. Are they able, lusty men?
Alh. They were, good ladies,
And in their May of youtl., of gentle blood,
And such ps may deserve ye: now cold and
hunger
Have let en'u their ptrfection; but, restored
To what the v were, 1 doubt not they'll appear
your favours.
Jul. This is a blessing
We durst not hope for.
Clnr. Dear motlier, ben't obdurate !
Jlos. Hear then my resolution, and labour
not
To add to what Y\\ grant! for 'twill be frait-
less. - /
You shall appear as good as angels to these
wretched men ;
In a smad boat we will pass over to 'em.
And bring 'em comfort : if you like their
persons, [nothing —
And they approve of yours, for we'll force
And gince we want ceremonies.
Each one shall chuse a husband, and enjoy
His com any a month ; but that expir'd.
You shall no more come near Vm : if yon /
prove fruitful.
The males ye shall return to them, the females
We will resene ourselves. This is the ut*
most
Ye shall ever obtain.— As ye think fit,
'Ye may dismiss this stranger, and prepare
To-morrow for the journey. [Exit.
Clar. Ccme, sir, will ybu walk ?
We'll shew you our pleasant bowers, and
something vou
Shall find to cheer your heart.
Alb. Excellent lady,
Tl o' 'twili appear a wonder, one near starv'd
ShouM refuse rest and meat, I must not take
Your noble oifer: I left in yondef desart
A virgin ulmost pin'd.
C(ar. She's not your wife ? [dangerous
Alb, No, lady, but my sister. — Tis now
To speak truth. — To her I deeply vow*d
Not to taste food, or rest, if fortune brought
it me.
Till I blest her with my return : now if
You please t* afford me an easy passage to her,
And some meat for her recovery,
I shall live your slave, and thankfully she shall
Ever acknowledge her lite at your service.
Clar. You pleud so well, I can deny yoB
nothing :
I myself will see you furnished, and with
The next sun visit and relieve thee.
Alb. You're all goodness ! [Esewit.
ACT III.
Enter severally, Lamurey Franville, ar^
Morillat,
Lam. f^H! what a tempest have I in my
^-^ * stomach ! [ache ;
How my empty guts cry out! my wounds
Would they would bleed again, that I might
Something to quench my thirst ! [get
Fran. Oh, Lamure, the happiness my dogs
had [storehouse,
When I kept house at home I they had a
A storehouse of most blessed bones and
crusts.
Happy crusts ! Oh, how sharp hunger pinches
Tn*» '
\ExU.
Mor. Oh, ray importunate belly ! I have
nothing to satisfy thee: [carry me,
F\'e sought as far as my weak legs woirfd
Yet can find nothing, neither meat nor water,
Nor any thing that's Tiourishing. Mv belly
Is grown together like an empty satcliel.
lie-enter Franville.
Lam. How now ? what news ?
Mor. Hast any meat yet?
Fran. Not a ih that I can see ;
Ucre
Act 3.]
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
t9r
Here be goodly qnarrieSy but they be cruel
hard to gnaw.
I ha' got some mad (we will eat with spoons),
Very good thick mud ; but it stinks damnably:
There's old rotten trunks of trees too,
But not a leaf nor blossom in all th' island.
Lam, How it looks!
Mor. It iitinks too.
Lam. It may be poison.
Fran, Let it be any thing, so I can get it
down! Why, man,
Poison*s a princely dish !
Mar. Hast thou no biscuit? [doublet,
No crumbs left in thy pocket? hcre*s my
Give me but three small crumbs.
Fran. Not for three kincrdoms.
If I were master of 'em. Oh, Lamure,
But one p«*or joint of mutton we ha'scom'd,
man!
Lam. Thou dpeak'st of paradise.
Fran. Or but the snutk of those healths
we have lewdly
At midnight flang away !
JIfor. Ah, but to lick the glasses!
Enter Surgeon,
what
Frum, Here comes the Surgeon
hast thou discovered ?
Smile, smile, and comfort us.
Surgeon. I am expiring ; [tlemen ;
Smile they that can ! 1 can find nothing, gen-
Here's nothing can be meat, without a mi-
racle.
Oh, that I had my boxes and my lints now,
My stupes, my tents, and those sweet helps
of nature,
What dainty dishes could I make of 'em !
JWbr. Hast ne'er an old jjuppository ?
Surgeon, Oh, would I )md, sir! [dial,
Lam. Or but the paper where such a cor-
Potion, or pills hath b<'en entomb'd ?
Fran. Or the blest bhuider where a cool-
ing-clister — [any old poultices?
Mar. Hast thou no searcloths left? nor
Fran. We care not to what it hath been
ministerM. [ties, gentlemen.
Surgeon. Sure I have none of these dain-
Fran. Whcie*s the [shouUler*
Great wen thou cut'st from Hugh tlie sailor's
That would serve now for a mobt princely
banquet.
Surgeon. Ay, if we had it, gentlemen :
I flung it overboard, slave that I was !
Lam. A most unprovideut villain !
Su'geon, if I had any thing that were but
supple now ! [men,
I could make s.tllads of your shoes, gentle-
And rare ones ! any thing unctuous.
Mor. Ay, and tlien we might fry the soals
i*tli' sun;
The soals would make a second dish.
Lam. Or souse 'em in the saltpwater ;
An inner soal well sous'd —
Enter Aminta.
Fran. Here comes the woman ;
It may be she has meat, and may relieve us !
liCt's withdraw, and mark, and then be readys
She'll hide her store else, and so cozen us.
Aminta. How weary and how hungry am I,
How feeble and how faint is all my body I
Mine eyes, like spent lamps glowing out'%
grow heavy,
My sight forsaking me; and all my spirits,
As if they heard my passing-bell go for me.
Pull in their powers, and give me up to de»-
tiny.
Oh, for a little water ! a little, little meat^
A little to relieve ine, ere I perisli I
I had whole floods of tears awhile that nou*
ris *d me, [bert I
But they are all consumed for thee, dear M"
For thee they are spent, for tliou art dead;
Merciless Tate has swallowed thee ! — Oh ! I
Grow heavy ; sleep's a salve for misery ;
Heav'n look on me, and either take my life.
Or make me once more happy !
Lam. She's fast asleep already.
Why should she have this blessing, and wt
wake still.
Wake to our wants?
Mor. This thing hath been our overthrow.
And ail these biting mischiefs that fall on us
Are come thro* her means.
Fran. True ; we were bound, ye all know.
For happy places, and most fertile islands.
Where we had constant promises of all things:
She turn'd tiie captain's mind, and must have
him go
In search, I know not of who, nor to whatend ;
Of such a focil her brother, and such a cox-
comb her
Kinsman, and we must put in every where:
Slie has put us in now, Tfaith!
Lfim. Why should we
Consume thus, and starve, have nothing to re*
lieve us,
And she hve there, that bred all our miseries,
Unronsted or unsod?
Mor. Vvc read in stories —
Lam. Of such restoring meats we have ei-
amnles, [lent;
Thousand examples, and allowM for excel-
Women that have eat their children, men
Their slaves, nay their brothers; but these are
nothing; [chattels);
Husbands devoured their wives (they are their
And of a schoolmaster that in a time of famine
Powder'd up all his scholars.
Mor, She's young and tidy ;
" Like spent lamps glowing out.] Perhaps going out; for though glowing out may properly
express the blaze which the candle often exerts before it is extinguished, yet this is not a cir-
cumstance proper to the context. The light o^ Aminta^ eyes was fading'^radually. But as
the former is poetical, I would not propose a change of the text. Sumird,
In
9S8
THE SEA-VOYAGR
[Acts.
in my conscience, sbe^'U eat delicately, just
like yoting pork,
A little lean. Your opinion. Surgeon ? .
Surgeon. I think she may be made good
meat ; bnt lo^k,
We shall want salt.
Fran. Tush, she needs no powdering.
Surgeon. I grant you, [means.
But to suck out the humorous parts. By all
Let's kill her in a chafe; she'll eat the sweeter.
Lam. Let's kill her any way, and kill her
quickly:
That we might be at our meat !
Surgeon. How if the captain —
Jdtor. Talk not of him, he's dead, and the
rest famished.
Awake her, Surgeon, and cut her throat ;
And then divide hex, every man his share !
Fran. She wakes herself.
Aminta. Holy and good things keep me !
What cruel dreams have I had ! Who are these?
Oh, they're my friends ! For Heav'n's sake,
gentlemen.
Give me some food to save my Hie, if ye
Have aught to spare, a little to relieve me,
I may bles^ ye ! for, weak and wretched,
ready to perish,
£v'n now I die
Mor, You'll save a labour then:
You bred these miseries, aud you shall pay
for't. . [not.
We have no meat, nor where to have we know
Kor how to pull ourselves from these afflic-
tions; [Ittded;
We are starv'd too, famish'd,all our hopes de-
Yet, ere we die thus, well have one dainty
meal,
Aminta. Shall I be with ye, gentlemen f
Lam. Yes, marry shall ye ; in our bellies.
We love you well — [lady !
Aminta. What said you, sir?
Lam. Marry, well eat your ladyship.
Fran. You that have buried us in this base
island ;
Well bury you in a more noble monument.
Surgeon. Will you say your prayers, that I
may perform, lady?
We're wondrous sharp-set. Come, gentlemen;
Who ai-e for the hinder parts?
Mor. I.
Fran. I.
Lam. And L
Surgeon. Be patient !
They will not fall to every man's share.
Aminta.' Oh, hear me.
Hear me, ye barbarous men !
Mor. Be short and pithy;
Our stomachs cannot stay a long discourse.
Surgeon. And be not fearful ; for 111 kill
you daintily.
Amirita. Are ye not Christians ?
Lam. Why, don't C hristians eat* •, woman ?
Enter Tihali, Matter, and Sail&rs.
Aminta. Eat one another? 'Tis most imr
Surgeon. Come, come! [piooi*
Aminta. Oh, help, help, help!
Tib. The lady's voice ! [latns? I hart
Stand off, slaves ! what do you intend vil*
Strength enough left me, if you abuse this soul,
to— [my liAs :
Master. They would have rayish'd her, upon
Speak ! how was it, lady?
Aminta. Foig^ve 'em! 'twas their hungers.
Tib. Ha! their hungers?
Master. They would have eaten her,
Tib. Oh, damned villains !
Speak; is it true?
Surgeon. I confess an appetite.
Tib. A n appetite ? I'll fitye for an appetite!
Are ye so sharp-set, that her flesh must serve
you? [ships.
Murder's a main good service, with your wor-
Sioce ye would be such devils, why did you
Begin with one another handsomely, |no|
And spare the woman to beget more food onf
Aminta. Good sir —
Tib. You shall grow mummy, rascals;
111 make ye fall to your brawns, and your but-
tocks.
And worry one another like keen bandogs,
Aminta. Good sir, be merciful!
Tib. You shall know what 'tis to be damn'd
canibais.
Anunta. Oh, my best friend !
Enter Albert.
Alb. Alas, poor heart! Here, [jou*
Here's some meat and sovereign drink to ease
Sit down, gentle sweet!
Aminta. I am bless'd to see you.
Tib. Stir not within forty foot of this food !
If you do, dogs—
Otnnet. Oh, captain, captain, captain !
Alb. Ye shall have meat, all of you.
Tib. Captain, hear me first: hfurk! 'ds so
inhuman
I would not ha' the air corrupted with it.
[Whispers.
Alb. Oh, barbarous men ! Sit oown, Du-
Pont ! good Master,
And honest sailors!
IV6. But stand you off, and wait
Upon our charity; (I'll wait on you else!)
And touch nothmg but what is flung to ye.
As if you were dogs; if yon do, [carving!
Ill cut your fingers, friends; 111 spoil your
Aminta. There, wretches, there!
Tib. Eat your meat handsomely now.
And give Heaven thanks!
Alb. There is mor'e bread.
Tib. See,
They snarl like dogs! Eat quietly, you rascals.
Eat f|uietly.
*' Don't Christians cat women ?j Amended in 1750.
Alb.
AdS.]
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
t39
AB. Thtn^s drink too.
T}b, Carney come, I [feit.
Will fill you each your cups ; ye shall not sui^
Jmiuta. And what have you discovei^d ?
JUb. Sweet, a paradise,
A paradise inhabited widi angels ;
Sach as you are ; their pities make 'em angels;
They gave me these viands, and supplied me
With these precious drinks.
Ammta. Shall not we see 'em?
Alb, Yes, they will see you:
Out of their charities, having heard our story,
Theyll come, and comfort us, come presently;
We shall no more know wants nor miseries.
Amnta. Are they all women ?
ABf, All, and all in love with us.
Jjmn/a. How? [fortunes;
Alb. Don't mistake; in love with our mis*
Tbeyll dierish and relieve our men.
lib. Do you shrug now,
And pull up your noses ? You smell comfort.
See, they stretch out their legs like dottrels'^,
Each like iT new Saint Dennxs^^ !
Alb. Dear mistress, [here,
When you would name me, and the women
CsU me your brother ; you I'll call my sister:
And pray observe this all. — Why do you
diange colour, sweet?
Aminta. Eating too much meat.
Alb. Sauc*d with jealousy:
Fj) fy> dear saint ! i*faith, you are to blame ;
^e you not here ? here fixed in my heart?
Omnes. Hark, hark!
Enter RoselUa, Clarimla^ Crocak, Hippolita,
and Juletta.
Alb. They're come ! Sumd ready, and look
nobly.
And with all humble reverence receive 'em !
Oar lives depend upon their gentle pities,
And death vyaits on their anger.
Albr. SS&fe the/re fairies.
716; Be tliey devils, devils of flesh and blood,
Al^er so long a Lent, and tedious voyage,
To me they're angels.
Fron. Ob, for some eringoes^' !
Loan. Potatoes, or cantharides !
Tib. Peace, je rogues.
That buy abilities of your apothecaries!
Had I but took the diet of green cheese
And onions for a month, I could do wonders.
JRos. Are these tlie jewels you run mad for?
What can
Yoa see in one of these, to whom you would
Vouchsafe a gentle touch ? Can nothing per-
suade you
To love yourselves, and place your happiness
In cold and chaste embraces of each other?
Jul. This is from the purpose.
Hip. We had your grant
To have them as they were.
Clar. It is a beauteous creature ;
And to myself I do appear deform'd,
When I consider her : and yet she is
The stranger's sister ; why then should I fear?
She cannot prove my rival.
Km. * When voii repent
That you refus d my counsel, may it add
To your afflictions, that you were forewarn 'd^%
Yet leap'd into the gulph of your misfortunes !
But, have your wishes.
Master. Now she makes to us. [bert,
Aminta. I am instnicted : but take heed jU-
You prove not false !
Alb. You are your own assurance.
And so acquainted with your own perfections.
That weak doubts cannot reach you; tliere-
fore fear not !
Rot. That you are poor and miserable men.
My eyes inform me; that without our suc-
cours,
Hope cannot flatter you to dream of safety.
The present plight you are in can resolve you;
That to be merciful is to draw near
The heav'nly essence ; whether you will be
Thankful I do not question ; nor demand
W^hat country bred you, what your names,
what manners :
To us it is suflicient we relieve [.You,
Such as have shapes of men ; and I command
As we are not ambitious to know
Further of you, that you on pain of death
Presume not to enouire what we are,
Or whence deriv'd !
Alb. In all things we obey you ;
And thankfully we ever shall confess
Ourselves your creatures!
Ros. You sp^k as becomes you.
Pirst then, and willingly, deliver up
Those weapons wc could force from you.
Aib, We lay 'em down most gladly at your
feet. [wench ;
2 16. I have had many a combat with a tall
But never was disarm *d before.
Ros. And now, hear comfort :
Your wants shall be supplied; and tho* it be
A debt women may challenge, to be sued to,
Especially from such they may command.
" Dottrek.'l A dottrel is a silly kind of bird, which imitate the actions of the fowler, *till
tt last be is taken : if the fowler stretches out a leg, the bird will do so too. So, in the Devil
15 an Ass, by Ben Jonson, act iv. scene 5,
* We have another ie^ strained for this dottrel.*
See Whalley's note. R.
" Each like anew St. Dcnnit.'] The lec^end o£St. Dew «« affirms, that, afler that saint was
beheaded at Paris, he walked from theuce ^^ith his head in his hand to a town four miles
from the place where he \\m executed. R.
** Eringoes — Potatoes.] See note 43 on the Elder Brother.
** Tbatyou vere forward.] Amended by Syuipsou.
W>
rio
tHE SEA-VOYAGE.
[Acts.
We jdve up to you that power; and therefore
Freely eacn make his cfioice.
Fran, Then here T fix.
Mor. Na^, she is mine: I ey'd her first.
Lam, This mine !
Tib. Stay, [lant;
Good rascals! youVe too forward, sir Gal-
You are not giving order to a tailor
For the fashion of a new suit :
Nor are you iu your warehouse^ master Mer-
chant! [bettere;
Stand backhand give your betters leave, your
And grumble not! if you do, as Hove meat,
I will so swinge the salt itch out of you. —
Captain, Master, and the rest of us,
That are brothers, nnd good fellows, we have
been [follies:
Too late by th* ears, and yet smart for our
To end therefore all future emulation,
If you please to trust to my election,
You shall say I am not partial to myselQ
I doubt not give content to all.
Omnes. Agreed, agreed ! [discreetly
Tib, Then, but observe how learned and
I will proceed; and, as a skilful doctor
In all the quirks belonging to the game.
Read over your complexions ! For you, cap-
tain, [serv*d.
Being first in place, and therefore first to be
I give my judgment thus : for your aspect.
You're much inciin'd to melancholy, and tliat
Tells me the sullen Saturn had predominance
At your nativity; a malignant planet !
And if not qualified by a sweet conjunction
Of a sofland ruddy wench, born under Venus,
It may prove fatal ; therefore to your arms
I give this rose-check*d virgin.
Clar, To my wish !
rill now I neVr
*Till now I neVr was happy.
Aminta. Nor I accursed.
Tib, Master, * [ceivc too)
You're old, yet love the game, (that I per-
And if not well spurr*d up, you may prove
rusty;
Therefore to help you, here's a bradamonta.
Or I am cozened iu my calculation.
Croc, A poor old man allotted to my share !
Tib, Thou wouldst have two, nay, I think
twenty :
But fear not, wench ; tho*he be oldhe*s tough :
Look on his making; he'll not fail, I war-
Ros, A merry fellow ! [rant thee.
A nd were not man a creature I detest,
I ctiuld endure his company.
Tib, Here's a fair herd
Of does before me ; and now fora barren one!
For tho' I like the sport, I do not love
To father children. Like the grand signior,
,Thus I walk in my seraglio,
And view 'em as I pass; then draw I fbith
My handkerchief,and having made my choicei
I tlius bestow it.
Jios. On me ?
Tib, On you : and now
My choice is made, to it, you hungry rascab!
Alb, Excellent!
Bm, As I love goodness*',
It makes me smile, i' th' beightb of all mj
fears. [behold
Clar, What a strong contention you maj
Between my mother'^ mirth and anger!
Tib. Nay, no cojness ! be mistress of your
I must and will enjoy you. [wonl!
Ro$. Be advis'd fool !
Alas, I am old ! how canst thou hope content
From one that's tiity ?
rt6. Never talk of it ; [wards^
I have known good ones at threescore and up-
Besides, the weather's hot.
And men that have experience faer fevers;
A teniperatediet is the only physic. Your julips,
Nor giiiacums, prunellos, camp hire-pills, nor
Goord-vi-ater, come not nearyour old woman;
Youthful stonlaciisare still craving, tho' there
be [believe me,
Nothing left to stop their mouths with ; aud
I am no frequent giver of those bounties.
Laugh on, laugh on, good gentlemen ; do !
I shall make holiday and sleep, when you
Div i' th' mines 'till your hearts ache.
Kos. A mad fellow !
Well, sir, I'll give you hearing, and, as I like
Your wooing aud discourse : — But I must tell
you, sir, [sent,
That rich widows look for great sums in pre*
Or assurances of ample jointures.
Tib. That to me is easy,
For instantly I'll do it. Uearnie, comrades!
Alb, Whatsay'st thou, Tibalt?
Tib. Why, that to wooe a wench with
empty hands [gold,
Is no good heraldry; therefore, fat's to th'
And bhnre it equally ; 'twill speak for us
More than a thousand compliments or cringes,
Ditties stolen from Petrarch, or discourse
From Ovid : besides, 'twill beget us respect;
And if ever fortune frienid us with a bark,
Largely supply us with all provision.
Alb. Well advis'd ; defer it not.
Tib. Are ye all
Contented?
Omnes, We are.
lib. Let us away then!
Straight we'll return, and you shall see our
riches. [Eievnt
Ros. Since I knew what wonderand amaze
tuent was^*,
I ne*er was so transported.
*' Aminta. An I love, &c.] It seems clear that this speech belongs to Roicllia: her pre-
ceding speeches, 'and those that follow from her and Clarinda, shew it.
'* kus. Since I knew what wonder and amazement teas, &c.] Seward gives this speech to
Clarinda^ to whom he thinks it must belong, ' unless RoscUia had spoke it below^ upon sight
* of lier t»wn treasure.'
Clar.
Act 4.]
TIIE SEA-VOYAGE-
9il
C/ar. Why weep you, gentle maid ?
There is no danger here to such as you $
Bsnish fear! for with us I dare promise
Yoa shail meet all courteous entertainment.
Croc. We esteem ourselves most happy in
Hip. And bless L>'^°'
Fortiiue that brought you hither.
C/flT. Hark iu your ear?
I love you as a friend already; ere lonig
You shall call mc by a nearer name : 1 wish
Your brothec well ; I know you appreliend
Aminta, Ay, to my grief I do ! [me.
Alas, good ladies, there is nothing left me
Bot thanks, to pay you with.
Ciar. That's more than yet
You stand engaged for.
Enter Albert, Tibalt, and the rest, with Trea-
sure.
Ros. So soon returned f ^
Alb. Here ; see the idol of the lapidary !
Ttb, These pearls for which the slAvish ne^
gro dives
To th' bottom of the sea ! [chant touches
Lam. Tu set which th' indu&trious mer-
At either pole !
Fran, 'the uevei^failing pnrcha<ie
Of lordships, aud of honours 1
Mur. The world's mistress,
That can give ever^ thing to the possessors !
Master. For which the sailors scorn tcm«
pescuous windsj
And spit defiance in the sea !
m. Speak, lady !
Look we not lovely now ?
Rus. Ye», yes. — Oh, my stars !
Be now for ever blessed, that have brought
To my revenge these robbers ! — Take your
arrowh,
And nail these monsters to the earth [
Alb. What mean you, lady ?
In what have we offended ?
Ro$. Oh, my daugliter!
And you companions with me mall fortunes.
Look on tiiesc caskets, and these jewels!
These were <iur own, wheu first we put to sea
With good Sebastian ; and these the pirates
That not alone deprived him of this treasuity
But also took his life.
Croc. Part of my present *
I well remember was mine own.
Hip. And these
Were mine.
JuL Sure I have worn this jewel.
Ros. Wherefore do you stay then^
And not perform my command?
Alb. Oh, Heaven !
What cruel fate pursues us !
Tib. I'm well enough .serv'd,
That must be offering jointures, jewels.
And precious stones, more than I brought
with me.
Ros. Why shoot vou not?
Clar. Ilijar me, dear mother;
And when the greatest ci*uelty is justtc*e,
Do not shew mercy ! Death to these starvM
wretclje.s
Is a reward, not punishnient : let *em live
To undergo the full weight of your di^plea'•
sure. [ments
And that they may have sense to feel the tor-*
They have deserv'd, allow 'em some small
pittance,
To linger out tlieir tortures.
Ros. 'Tis well counsellVl !
Onmes. And we will fbliow't
Alb. Hear us speak.
Ros. Peace, dogs^. — [reason.
Bind 'em last ! When fury hath git'n way to
I will determine of their sufferings,
Which shall be horrid. Vengeance, tho' blow*
pac'd, .
At length o'ertakes the gnilty , and tlie wrath
Of the incensed Powers will fall most sure
On wicked men, when they are mobt secure.
[Exeunt,
*
ACT IV.
Unter Raymond, Sebastian, Nicusa, and
Sailors^
1 Sailor. XJERE's nothinf^ sir, but poverty
-■•-■' and hunger;
No promise of inhabitance; neither track
Of beast, nor loot of man ! We liave searched
all
This rocky desart, yet can't discover any
Assurance here is, or hath been, such men.
S Sailor. Not a relique of any tiung they
wore.
Nor mark left by 'em, either to find relief.
Or to warn others from the like misfortune !
Believe it, these fellows are both false, aud,
VOL.IiL
To get a little succoen* in their misery,
Have framVl this cunning tale.
Rat/m. The ship, I know, is French, and
own'd by pirates.
If not by Albert, my arch enemy.
You told me too there was a woniau with 'em,
A young and handsome woman.
Seb, There was so, sir.
R/iy. And such and such young gallants.
Nicusa. We told you true, sir ^
That they*d no means to quit this island—
Raym. And that
Amidst their matiny^ to save your lives^
You got their ship ^
Seb. AU 19 most certaioi sir.
1 i Raym.
S48
THE SEA-VQYAGE.
[Act 4.
M 1^1 1» «<»«• M*%n^f yrrijMit iwivutu vr^
e« [ssiy, sir?) liere in
". The earth can't swa^w ^em;
lia^. Where arr they then? where are
tl)ese men.
Or woman ? Wc are landed where your ftiitbs
Did R<:sure us we could not miss their siglits.
For this news we took ye to our mercy,
Keliev'd ye^ when the furious sea and taiuifec
Strove wiiR^li should first devour ye; cLoath'd
And chcribh'd ye; us'd ye as those ye say ye
are, [shew us
Fair gentlemen. Now keep yotir words, and
This company your own free pities spoke of,
These men ye left in misery; the woinan*!
Men of those noble breedings ye pretend to
Should scorn to lie, or get t^ir food with
fklshood :
Come, direct us.
Seb, Alas, sir, tliey are gone ; [not.
But by what means, or providence, we know
2 Stiilar. Was not the captain
A fellow of a fiery, yet brave nature,
A middle stature, and of brown complexion ?
JNicum. He was, sir.
Ratpji. '^fwas Albert,
Ami my ponr w latched sister!
1 SaUor. Twa» he certain; [sea.
I ha' been at sea with iiim, many tunes at
Raym. Come, shew us these men ;
Shew us presently, and do not dally with us!
Seb. We left 'em here^ (what should we
This place<
^Sailor.
they have
No wmgs ; they can't fly sure^
Kai/m, You told us too
Of heaps of treasure, and of sums eonceal'd.
That set their hearts a-<firc ; we see no such
thing.
No such sign-r what can ye say to purge ye?
What have ye done with these men ?
Nicvio. We, sir ?
Raym, You, sir;
For certain I believe ye saw such people.
• Seb. By all that*s good, by all tnat*s pure
By fdi that's holy — [and honest,
Raym, I dare not credit ye ;
Ye've so abus'd my hope, that now I Iiate ye.
1 Sailor, Let's put em ia their ra«;ged
cloaths again, [e*en
Captain, for certain they are knaves; let's
J^eliver 'em to tlieir old fruitful farm ;
Here let 'em walk the island ! [cies.
jSc6. If ye do so, we shall curse your mer-
Nictisa. Ilather put us to sea again.
Rtiipn, Not so; [tians,
Yet this I'll do, because ye say yeVe Chris-
Tho' I hardly credit it. Bring in the boat,
A nd ail aboard again, but these two wretches!
Yet leave 'eiu four days' meat. If in that
time
(For I will search all nooks of thia strange
island)
I can discover any track of these men, [ye;
Alive or dead, I'll bear ye off, and honour
If not, ye've fouud your graves : so, farewell !
'^ [Exeunt.
NicuMa. That goodness dwells above, and
knows us innocent, [us!
Comfort our hves, and at hi5 pleasure quit
Seb. Come, cousin, come ! Old Time wilk
end uur story ;
But no time- (if we end well) ends our glory.
lExeunt.
Enier RjoUllld^ Qlarinda^ Crocaic, Hippo^
liia, ^ndJuUttu,
Roi, Use 'em with all the aftisterity that
may be ;
They arc our slaves ! Turn all tliose pities,
Those tender reluctation^ chat sliould Us
com«> your sex.
To stem anger ! and when ye look upon *eia.
Look with those eye5 that wept tliose bitter
sorrows, ^
Those cruelties ye suflTer'd by their rapines ?
Some five days hence that blessed hour comesy
Most happy once to me, that knit this hand
To my dear husband';;, [hoftr, ladies-^
And both our liearts in mutual bands. That
Ciar. What of that hour ?
Rait. Why, on tliat hoar, danghter.
And in the height of all our celebrations^
Our dear remembrances of that dear man.
And those that suffered with him, our fair
kinsmen, «
Their lives shaUfall a sacrifice to vengeance,
Their lives that ruin'd his ; !tis a full justice.
I will look glorious in their bloods; and the
i\lost noble spirit of Sebastian, [pirates.
That perish'd by tlie pride of these Freuch
Shall smile in Heav'n, and bless the hand
that kill'd 'em.
Look strictly all unto your prisoners ;
For he that makes a scape beyond my ven-
geance,
Or entertains a hope by your fair usage —
Take heed, I say ! she tliat deceives my
trust — [ligl»t
Again take heed ! her life — and that's but
Neither; her life, in all the tortures
My spirit can put on —
Omti^, We shall be careful.
Ros. Do so. [Exit.
Clar, You're angry, mother, and you're
old too, [per you.
Forgetting what men are ; but we shall tern-
How fare your prisoners, ladies? in what
forms
Do they appear in their afUictions?
Juf. Mine fare but poorly; for so Vm
'TIS uou» of my fault. [commanded ;
CVar. Of what sort are they?
Jul. They say they're gentlemen, but they
shew iiiungrels.
Clar. How do they su&r?
Jul. Faith, like bnyt;
Tliey are fearful in all fortunes; when I smiley
They kneel and beg to have that face con-
tinued.
And, like poor slaves, adore the grownd I ge
on: '
When
Actf]
THE SEA-VOYAGE-
84d
When I frown, they hang their most dejected
heads, [of bread,
Like tearful sK^ep*hoands: shew 'em a crust
They'll baintjoe presently; and skip like npes
For a sup of wine. I'll wliip 'em like hack-
nies,
Saddle em, ride 'em, do what I will with 'em.
Ctwr. Tush, these are poor things. Have
they names like Christians f
JuL Very fair names; Franville, Lamure,
and iXlorillat ; [very handsomely,
And brag of great kindreds too. They oHer
But that I mn a fool, and dare not venture.
Tbey are sound too, o*my conscience.
Or very near upon it.
Clmr. Fy; away, fopl!
JuL Tl)ey tell mC; if they might fafe brought
before you, [quence.
They would reveal tbings of strange conse-
C/dr. Their base poor fears !
JuL Ay, that makes me hate 'em too;
For if they were but manijr to tlieir sufferance,
Sure I sliould strain a point or two.
Ciar. An hour hence I will take a view
of *cm, [too ?
And liear Iheir business. Are your men thus
Croc. Mine? no^ gentle madam; mine
were -not cast
In such base moulds: afflictions, tortures,
Are names and natures of delight to my men ;
All sorts of cruelties they meet like pleasures.
I have but two, the one they call Du-Pont,
Tibalt Du-Pont; the other the Ship-Master.
Clar. Have they not lives and fears ?
Croc. Lives they have, madam ; [nions
But those lives never link'd to such compa-
As fears or doubts.
Clar, Use 'em nobly;
And where yon find fit subjects for your
pities,
Let it become ve to be courteous !
My mother will not alvrays be thus rigorous.
Hip. Mine are sailors, madam ; but they
sleep soundly,
And seldom trouble me, unless it be .
Wlien they dream sometimes of fights and
tempests;
Then tliey roar and whistle for cans of wine,
And down they fling me; i^d in that rage,
(For they are violent fellows) they play suc)i
freaks!— >
If tbey have meat, they thank me ; if none,
They heartily desire to be ha&g'd quickly ;
And this is all they care.
Clar. Look to 'em diligently, [serve.
And where your pities tell ye they may de-
Give comfort !
Omnet. We will. [Exeunt,
Clar. Come hither; be not frighted I
Enter Aminta.
Think not ye steal this liberty, for we give it.
Your tender innocence assures me, vii-gin.
You had no share in those wrongs these men
didos;
I find you are not liardenM in such mischiefs.
Your brother was misled sure, foully misled.
Aminta. How much I fear these pities !
Clar* Certain he was, so much I pity him;
And for your sake, whose eyes plead for
For Iiis ow n sake— [liim ; nay/
Aminta. Ha!
Clar, For I see abont him,
(Women have subtle eyes, and look narrowly)
Or I am m|ich abus'd, many fair promises ;
Nay, beyond those too, many shadow'd vin-
Aminta. I tliink he'e good. [tues.
Clar. I assure mysel f he will be ;
And out of that assurance take this comfort,
(For I perceive your fear hath much de-
I love your brother — [ jected you)
Aminta. ftladam? [favour,
Clar. Nay, do not take it for a dreamt«of
That comforts in the sleep, and awake
Indeed I loye him. [vanishes :
Aminta. Do you indeed ? [safety !
Clar. You doubt still, 'cause you tear liis
Indeed he is the sweetest man I ever siiw ;
I think the best. You may hear without
blushes; [courtesy.
And give me thanks, if you please, for ray
Aminta. Madam, I ever must: — Yet,
witness Heaven, [madam,
They are hard pull'd firom me, — Believe me,
So many imperfections I could find*-
(Forgive me, grace, for lying!)— and such
wants—
(Tis to an honest use)— such poverties,
Both in his main proportion, and liis mind
too — [lewdly^
There are a hundred handsomer — (I lie
Your noble usage, madam, hath so bound
That I must tell you — [me to you,
Clar, Come, tell your worst.
Aminta. He is no husband for you:
I think you mean in that fair way.
Clar, You've hit it.
Aminta, I'm sure [jgrerous, madam,
YouVe hit my heart. — Y^ou will find him dan-
♦As tickle as the flying air, proud, jealous.
Soon glutted in your sweets, and soon for*
getful.
I could say more; and tell you I've a brother,
Another brother, that so far excels this.
Both in ^icornamenf^of man, and making—
Clar. If you
Were not his sister, I should doubt you mainly,
Doubt you for liis love, you deal so cunningly.
Do not abuse me ; I have trusted you
With more than life, with my fii-st love; be
Of me! [careful
Aminta. In what use, madam ?
Clar. In this, lady:
Speiik to him for me; you have power upon
him;
Tell him I love him, tell him I dote on lum ;
It will become your tongue.
Aminta. Become ray grave !
Oh, fortune, oh, ciirs'd fortune!
Clar, Tell iiim his tibeity,
I i S And
M4
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
[Act 4.
Aminla. Then pray like her Uiat seat *eau
Dp you like wealth,
Apd mu6t uoequaVd beauty ?
Alb, Peace! indeed ,
You'll make me «ngry,
' Aminta, 'Would I were dead that ask it!
Then you might freely like, Und I forgive you.
Alb. What like? and who? Add not more
misery
To a man that's fruitful in afflictions!
Who is*t you'd have me like/ who sent these
Aminta. I must telj. {comforts \
Alb. Behold!
Aminta. But be you tjetnperatej
rf yoif be bold, I die! The young fair virg^in—
(Sorrow hatii made me old !) Qh, hearken.
And wisely hark — the governesb's daughter,
That star that strikes this island lull of ponder,
That blooming sweetness —
Alb. What of her?
Aminta. She sent it; [you,
^nd with it — it must be out! — SJie dotes oa
And mu^j; enjoy you ; else no joy must fiii4
you, [this?
Alb, And have you the patience to dehver
Aminta. A sister may say much, and mo*
Aib, A sister? [desdy.
Aminta. Yes, that name undid you.
Undid us both : had you nam'd wife, sh* bad
fear'd you, [shunnM, yea
And fear'd the sin she foUow'd; she bad
Her virgin modesty had not touched at you :
But thinjving you were free, hath kindled a fire,
1 fear will hardly be extinguished.
Alb. Indeed I playM tlie fool.
Aminta. 0)i, my best sir, take hee<).
Take heed of lies! Truth, tho' it trouble
some minds, [dangerous,
Some wicked minds, tliat are both dark and
Yet it preserves itself, comes off pure, in-
nocent.
And, like the sun, tho' never so eclips'd,
Must break in glory. Oh, sir, lie no more!
■ Alb. You've read mc a fair lecture.
And put a spell upon my tongue for feigning.
But how will you counsel now ?
\Aminla. You must study to forget me.
Alb. lio^vj
Aminta. Be patient!
Be wise and patient^ it concerns you highly.
Can you lay by our loves ? But why should
I doubt it ?
You are a man, and men may shift afFectious;
Tis held no sin. To come to the point ;
Youmust lose me; many and mighty reasons —
Alb. Hear me, Aminta ! [feeds you ?
Have you a man that loves you too? d«t
That sends you libcrtv? has this great governess
A noble son too, young, and apt to catch you?
Am I, bcrnuse I am in bonds, and miserable,
J My health deca/d, my youth and strengih
. half blasted,
^' And though be.neaihl\ The sli^t corruption of And though for Although^ Mr. Seward
saw and correcUrd with me. Sympfon* < « •
My
And all tliose with him, idl oar wealth and
jeivels —
Good sister, for I'll call you so—
Aminta. I shall, Jady —
E'en die, I hope.
Ciar. litres meat and wine, (pray take it)
And there he lies : give him iV bat liberty' you
please, ' [please, sister !
But stili conceal'd ; what pleasure you shall
He shall ne'er want again. Nay, see an
you'U take it !
Why do you study thus?
Aminta. To avoid miscliiefs ;
Jf they should happen —
Clar. Go, and- b^ happy for mie.
Aminta. Oh, blind fortune !
Yet happy thus far, I shall live to see him.
In what strange desolation lives heher^ now,
Sure thip curtfiiu will reveal.
Enter Albert.
Alb. Who's that ? ha ! [fort ;
Some gentle ))and, I hope, to bring mc com-
Or, if It be my death, 'tis sw eetiy shadow'd.
Aminta. Have you foi^ot mc, sir?
Alb. My Aminta f
j^ffiin^fl. She, sir, [shadow;
That walks here up and down an jcropty
One, that for some few houi-s
But wanders here, carrying her own sad coffin,
Seeking some desart place to lodge her griefs
in.
Alb. Sweet sorrow, welcome! welcome,
noble grief!
|Iow got you this fair hberty to see me ?
J'or sorroii's in your shape are strangers to me.
Aminta. J cotne to counsel you.
Alb. You're still more welcome;
Tor good friends in afilijctions give good
counsels.
Pray then proceed.
Aminta. Pray eat first ; you sh^w faint :
][Iere*s wine to refi*esh you too.
Alb. I thank you, dear.
lAminta. Drink again ! [weep ?
Alb. Here's to our loves ! — How ! turn and
JPray pledge it! This happiness we have yet
left.
Out hearts are free — Not pledge it? why ?
^\ 1 tho' beneath the axe, this health wefe holy^^ .
Why do you weep thus ?
Aminta. I conie to wooe you.
Alb. To wooe me, sweet? I'm woo'd and
won already ; ' . > s - [comes you !
You know Tin your^ This pi-etty way be-
But you'd lieCcivemy sorrowt{;.that is your
intent. - ■■ (vfeep-, hut smile.
Aminta. I would I could! -il should not
J>'ye like your meat and wine? .'.•••
Alb. Like it? •
^m^nta. Do you like your liberty f
Alb. All these I well may like.
JAy fortune iike ray waining sel^ for this
dcspis'd ?
Am I for this forsaken? A new love chosen,
And my aifectiousy like my fortunes, Wan-
derers ?
Take heed of lying, you tliat chid me for it,
And shevv'd how deep a sin it was, aud dan-
serous, [me dearly.
Take heed yourself J You swore you lovd
No few nor little oatlis you swore, Aminta;
Those seard with no small faith, I then
assur'd myself:
Oh, seek no new ways to cozen truth !
Aminta. I do not : by Love itself, I love
thee,
And ever must, nor can all deaths dissolve it !
Alb^ Why db you* urge mc thus tlien ?
Aminta. For your safety;
To preserve yoiir life. [gives k,
Alb. My life, I do confess, is hers; she
And let her take it back ! 1 yield it. [it;
My love's entirely thine, none shall touch at
I^one, my Aminta, none.
Avdnla, YouVe made me happy ;
And noiv I ktiow you're .mine^rortttney I
scorn thee!
Go to yonr rest, and 111 sit by you : whilst
Vve time I'll be your mate, and comfort you;
Por only I am trusted. You shall want
Nothing, not a liberty that I can steal you.
* Alb. May we not celebrate our loves^
Aminta?
And where our wishes cannot meet-^
Atninta, You're wanton ;
But with cold kisses I'll allay that fever,
(I.x)ok tor nb more) and tliat in private' too !
Believe me^ I shall blush else. But, lei's
We arc both lost else. ' ' [consider ;
Alb. Let's inj andpitsvent fate. [Exeunt.
Enter Crocale, JuJetta, Tibalt, and Master.
Tib. You do well to air us, ladies; we
shall be musty else.
What are your wise wills now?
Croc, You're very crank still.
Tib. As crank as a holy fViar fed with
hail-stohes.
But do ye bring us out to bait, like bulls ?
Master. Or are you weary of the charge
yc're at?
Tiira us abroad again ; let us jog, ladies ;
We're gross, and coarse, unlit for your sweet
pleasures. [grass.
Tib. Knock off our shoes, and turn's to
Croc. You are
Determined still to be stubborn then?
It well becomes yoa.
Tib. An humour, lady, that
Content^ a prisoner : a sullen fit sometimes
Serves for a second course.
Jul. Ye may as well be kind,
And gain our favours ; gain meat and drink,
and lo *
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
945
To rest your bones.
Tib. My bones have borne me thu& long.
And had their share of pains and recreations;
If they fail now, they are no fair companions.
Croc. Arc ye thus hui-sh to all our sex ?
Master. We can't
Be merry without a fidler : pray strike up
Your tabors, ladies.
Croc. Tlie fools despise us.
Jul. Wc know
Yc're very hungry now.
Tib. Yes; 'tis very wholesome, ladies;
For we that have gross bodies must be careful.
Have ye no piercing air to stir our stomachs.^
We are beholding to ye for our ordinary.
Jul. Why, slaves, 'tis in our p«wer to
Master. Very likely: [hang ye.
Tis in our powers then to be hang'd, and
scorn ye.
Ilanging^s as sweet to us as dreaming to you.
Croc. Come, be more courteous.
Jul, Do, and then ye shall
Be pleas'd, and have all necessaries.
Tib, Give me
Some ratsbf^ne then.
Croc. And why ratsbane, monsieur?
Ti6. We live like vennin here, and eat up
your cheese, [>vould bite at ;
Your mouldy cheese, that none but rats
Therefore 'tis just that ratsbane should re-
ward us. [broken ;
We are unprofitable, and our ploughs are
There is no hope of harvest tliis year, ladies.
Jul. Ye shall have all content.
Master. Ay, an we'll serve your uses.
I'd rather serve hogs, there is more de
mt;
delight
Your greedy, appetites are never satisfied;
Like hungry camels just, sleeping or' waking
You chew the cud still.
Croc. By this hand we'll starve ye.
Master. 'Tis a' noble courtesy: I had as
lief ye
Should* famish me, as founder mc ; to be
Jaded to death, is only fit for a hackney.
Here be certain tarts of tar about me,
And parcels of potargo in my jerkin:
As long as thtse last— .
Jul. Which will not last ever.
Tib. Then we'll eat one another, like
good fellows.
A shoulder of his for a haunch of mine !
Jul. Tis excellent !
Tib. 'Twill be, as we'll dress it, ladies.
Croc, Why sure ye are not men ?
Master, Ye had best come search us ;
A seaman is seldom without a salt eel.
I'ib. I am bad enough.
And in my nature a notorious wenclier ;
And yet ye make me blush at your im-
modesty. / [things?
Tell me, good Master, didst e'er see such
Master. 1 could like 'em, the' they were
lewdly giv'n, %
If they could say no; but, fy on 'em!
They gape like oysters.
Well, ye may hang, or starve us,
But
246
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
[Act 4.
But YOur commanding impudence sliall never
Fear us^^. Had ye by blushing signs^ soft
cunnings,
Crept into us, and shew'd us your necessities;
We'd met your purposes, supplied your wants.
We are no saints, ladies :
I love a i;nod wench as I love my Jife,
And with my life I will maintain my love;
But such a sordid impudence 1*11 spit at.
Let's to oar dens again ! Come, noble Master !
You kiiow our minds, ladies: this is the
faith
In which we*U die. [Exe, Tibalt and Master.
Croc, I do admire 'em.
Jk/. They
Are noble fellows, and they shall not want
For this.
Croc. But see, Clarinda comes. Farewell!
V\\ to my charge. ' [Exit.
Enter Clarinda,
Clar. Bring out those prisoners now, and
let me see 'em,
And hear their business.
JhL I will, madam. [Exit.
Clar. I bopfs she hath preyaird upon her
brother. [happiness
Sh^ has a sweet tongue, and can describe the
My love is ready to fling on him.
And sure he must be glad, and certain won-
der, [island.
And bless the houf that brought him to this
I long to hear the full joy that belabours with.
Enter JuUtta, Morillaty Franville, and La-
mure,
Mor, Bless thy divine beauty !
Fran. Mirror of sweetness !
Lam, Ever springing brightness!
Clar, Nay, stand up, gentlemen ; and leave
your flatteries. [have
Mor, She calls us gentlemen ! Sure we shall
Some meat now ! [Heav'n,
Clar. I am a mortal creature; worship
And give these attributes to their divinities.
Methmks you look but thin.
Mor, Oh^we are starved.
Immortal beauty.
Lam. We're all poor starved knaves.
Fran. Neither liberty nop meat, lady.
Mor. We were handsome men, and gentle-
men, and sweet men, [ties;
And were once gracious in the eyes of beau-
But now we look Uke rogues, like poor starv'd
rogues. [now ?
Clar. What would ye do, if ye were to die
jFVan. Alas, we were prepaid. If you win
hang US|
Let's haxn a good meal or two to die with.
To put us in heart !
Mor. Or if you'll drown us,
Let us be drunk first, that we may die SMirily.
And bless the founders!
Clar. Ye sha'u't die so hastily.
What dare ye do to deserve my favour?
Lam, Put us to any service.
Fran, Any bondage.
Let us but live !
Mor. We'll get a world of children;
For we know yo're heinously provided that
way:
And you shall b^t us when we ofiend you.
Beat us abundantly, and take our meat from
us. ^ [shew ye poor ones.
Clar, These are weak abject things, that
What's the j^eat service ye ^o oft have threat-
en'd,
If ye miffht sfe me, and win my favour?
Jul. That business of discov'ry?
Mor. Oh, I'll tell ye, lady.
Lam. And so will I.
Fran, And I. Pray let me speak firpt f
Mor. Good no confusion {
We arc before a lady that knows manners:
And, by the next meat I shall eat 'tis certain,
This little gentlewoman that was taken with
us —
Clar. Your captain's ^ter? she you mean?
Mor. Ay, ay ;
She is the business that we'd open to yon.
You're cozen'd in her.
Clar. How ! whatis't you would open*'?
Fran. She is no sister.
Mor. Good sirs, how quick ypu are i
She is no sister, madam.
Fran. She is his—
Mivr. Peace, I say !
Clar, What is she ?
Mar, Faith, sweet lady,
She's, as a mf^n would say, his-*
Clar. What?
Lam. His mistress. [his—
Mor, Or, as some new translators read,
Clar, Oh me ! [unless
Mor. And why he should delude you tlius,
He meant some villainy — ^These ten weeks be
has
Had her at sea, for bis own proper appetite.
Lam. His cabin^mate, 111 assure you.
Clar. No sister, say ye ? "[beauty.
Mor. No more than I am brother to your
I know no twny he should juggle thus.
Clar. Do not lie to me ! [empty!
Mor. If ye find me lie, lady, bang me
Clar. How am I fool'd! Away with 'on,
Juletta,
And feed 'em — [inc,
But, hark ye, with such food, as they've p^^
New misery !
Fran. N or meat nor thanks for all th^ ?
Clar, Make 'em more wretched.
Oh, I could burst ! curse and kill now,
** Fear tts.] i. e. Make ut. fear.
^' How ! what is" I you would open ^] This speech, so evidently Clarinda\ is in all the edi*
lions given to Lamure.
Kill
Act 5.]
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
S4T
Kill SD J thing I meet. Juletta, follow xne.
And call the re*>t along !
Jul» We follo-vVy madam. [Exeitnt,
Enter Albert and AnUnta,
Aminta, I must be gone now^ else she may
suspect me.
How shall I answer her ?
Alh Tell her directly. [vident:
Amiiita, That were too sodden, too impro-
Fires of this nature must be put out cunningly ;
They w'dl waste all come ne4u:'eni else. Fare*
Ooce more ! [well.
Alh. Farewell, and keep my love entire !
Na)- kiss me once again ! Metliinks we sliould
Aminta. Ob, be wise, sir. [not part«
Alb, Nay, one kiss more !
Aminta. Indeed you*re wanton;
We may be taken too.
Enter CUtrindOy JulettOy Crocak, and Hippo*
lita.
Clor, Out, thon base woman !
By Heaven, 1*11 shpot 'em both \
Cruc. Nay, stay, brave lady, hold !
A sudden death cuts off a nobler vengeance.
C/ar, Am I made bawd to your lascivious
meetings ? [vjUaiu :
Are ye grown so wise in sin? Shut up tliat
And /sirrah, now expect my utmost anger.
Let him there starve f
Alb. I mock at yoor mischiefs ! [EJtit.
Ciar. Tie that fiike witch unto that tree ;
there let ^ [snakes
Tlie savage beasts gnaw off her sweetness, and
Embrace her beauties ; tie her, and watch
Relieve her I [that none
Hip. We could wish you better fortune,
lady;
But dare not lielp you.
Amnta, Be your own friends; I th <Dk ye !
[Exeunt,
Now, only my last audit, and my greatest!
Oh, Heav n ! be kind unto me ;
And, if it be thy will, preserve—
Enter Raymonds
Raum. Who's this?
Sure tis a woman. I have trod tliis place.
And found much footing; now I know 'tisi
peopled.
I la ! let me see ! it is her face ! Oh, Heav*o !
Turn this way, maid !
Aminta. Ol¥, Kaymoad, oh,- brother !
Raiftn. Her tongue too! 'tis my sister!
What rude hand —
Nay, kiss me first; oh, joy !
Aminta^ Fly, fly, deer brother !
You are lost else.
Jul. A man, a man, anew man;
Itoym. What are tliescT
Enter Juletta, CrocaUy and Clarinda,
Croc. An enemy, an enemy !
Clar, Dispatch him;
Take him oft ; shoot him straight!
Jtd^m. I dare not use my swoid, ladies,
Againbt such comely foes.
Aminta, Oh, brother, brother!
Clar. Away with 'em, and in dark prisons
bind 'em ! [mother^
One word replied, ye die both. Now, brave
Follow thy noble anger, and ill help thee !
lEjKunt,
ACT V.
Enter BmtlUaf Clarinda^ Crocale, Juletta^
and Hippolita,
iU. T AM deaf to ail your intreaties; she
•^ that moves me
For pity or compassion to these pirates.
Digs up her father's, or her brother's tomb,
Atid spurns about their ashes.—
Couht^t thou remember vUiat a father thou
Hadst aoce, 'twould steel thy heart 'gainst
^lish pity :
B^ his memoryyand the rememl^^aace of
His dear embraces, I am taught, that in
A noble cause revenge is noble: ai|d they
Shall fall the sacrifices, to appease
His wand ring ghost and my incensed fury.
Clar. Tlie uew-come prisoner too ?
JRoi. He too :— Yet, that we may learn
Whether they are the same, or near allied
To tlvo^ that forc'd me to this cruel course,
Btitter their poor allowance, and permit W
To meet together, and confer.
Within the distance of your ear ! Perhaps
I'bey may discover sometliing that may kill
Despair in me, and be a means to save 'em
From certain ruin.
Croe. That shall be my charge.
Roe. Yet, to prevent
All hope of rescoe (foi^this new-come captain
Hath botli a ship and men not far off from usy>
Tho' ignorant to find the only port
That can yield entrance to pur nappy island)
Guard tlie place strongly ; and, ere the next
sun
Ends his diurnal progress, I will be
Happy in my revenge, or set 'em fi^ee.
[Exeunt,
Enter Crocale, Juletta, and Hippblita*
A table furniihed.
Croc. So, serve it plentifully, and lose not
time
T'en^
248
THE SEA-VOYi^GE.
T' enctairti' th^ cauSe; there is a main design
That hangs apon this bounty. See the table
Furnish*d with winetdo; that discovers ^-
crets [too
Which tortures cannot open : open the doo rs
O' th' several prisons, and give all free en-
trance [all.
Ihto this room ! Undiscovered I can here mark
Enter Tibalt and Master.
Here's capuin Careless, and the tough ship-
master; [they look!
The slaves are nos'd like vultures: how wild
Tib. Ha!
The mystery of this some good hobgoblin
Rise and reveal !
Master. I am ffmaz'd at it;
Nor can I souhd th' mtent.
Tih, Is not tlii^ bread?
Substantial bread, not painted I
Master, But take heed !
You may be poison'J.
Tib. I am sure I'm fomish'd ; [guts
And famine, as the wise man says, gripes the
As much as any mineral. This may be treacle
Sent to preserve me after a long fast;
Or, be it viper'a spittle, VH run the hazard.
Master. We're past all fear ; I'll fcike part
Tib. Do ; [with yon.
And now, i'feitli, how do you feel yom-sclf?
I find great ease in't. What's here ? wine,
an't be [fools may ulk
Thy will ! strong lusty wine ! [drinks,] Well,
Of Mithridate, cordials, and elixirs;
But from my youth this was my only physic*
Here's a colour !
What ladv's cheek, tho' cerus'd o'er, comes
near it?
It sparkles too, hangs out diamonds: Oh,
My sweetheart, how I will hug thee ! again,
and again! [favours,
They are poor drunkards, and not worth thy
That number thy moist kisses in these crystals.
Master, But, monsieur.
Here are suckets, and sweet dishes.
Tib. Tush! boy's-meat !
Fm past it : here is strong food, fit for men.
Nectar, old lad ! Mistress of merry hearts,
• Once more I am bold with you.
Mastex, Take heed, man !
Too much will breed distemper.
Tib. Hast thou liv'd at sea
The most part of thy life, whereto be sober.
While wehavev\ine aboard, is capital treason.
And dost thou preach sobriety ?
Master, Pritnee, forbear;
We may offend in it ; we know not for whom
It was provided.
Tib, I am sure for nn- ; [hang me ;
Therefore, footra ! when I am full, let 'em
I care not !
Enter Alberty Aminta, Rat/mond, Lamure,
Morillat, and Franville, severally.
Master. This has been his temper ever.
[Act 5.
See, provoking dishes; Candied eringoes,
Ami potatoes!
Tib. I'^llnot touch 'em; I will drink;
But not a bit on a march ;
ril be an eunuch rather.
Master. Who are these ?
Tib. Marry, who you will ;
I keep my text here.
Alb, Raymond.^
liaym. Afbert ?
Tib, Away ! I'll be drunk alone;
Keep off, rogues, or I'll bjlch ye into air;
Not a drop here ! [such auger!
Aminta. Dear brother, put not in your eyes
Those looks, poison'd with fury, shot at liira,
Reflect ori me. Oh, brother, look milder, or
The crystal of his temperance will turn
Them on yoOrself.
Alb, Sir, I have sought you \oiig foceaa
To find vour paixlon; you have plou^fi'd the
To wreak your vengeance on me, for the rape
Of this fair virgin. Now our fortune guides
OS (nitber
To meet on such hard ferms, that we need
A mutual pity of our present state,
Than to expostulate of breaches past.
Which cannot be made up. And tho' it be
Far from your power to force me to confess
That I have done you wrong, or, such sub-
missron [gcr.
Failing to make my peace, to vent your an-
You being yourself stav'd, as I, to otliers;
Yet for your sister's siake, her blessed sake,
In part of recompense of what sh' has suffered
For my rash folly, tlie contagion
Of my black acticniH catching hold upon
Her purer iimocence, I crave your mercy ;
And wish, however several motives kept us
From being friends while we had hope to live,
Let death, which we expect, and caimot fly
End all contention ! [froi%
Tib. Drink upon it; it
Is a good motion ! ratif/t in wine.
And 'tis authentical!
Raym. Wlien I consider [o«
The ground of our long difference, and look
Our not-to«be-avoided miseries.
It. doth beget in me, I know not how,
A soft religious tenderness ; which tells me,
Tho' we have many faults to answer for
Upon our own acconnt, ou^ father's crimes
Are in us punish'd. Oh, Albert, the course
They took to leave us rich was not honest ;
Nor can that friendship last which virtue
joins not. [pals
When first they forc'd th' industrious Porta-
From their plantations in the Happy Islands —
Croc. This is that I watch for. [men,
liaym* And did omit no tyranny which
Innr'd to spoil and mischief could inflict
On the griev'd sufferers; when by lawless
rapine [sow'd;
They reap'd the harvest which their labours
And' not content to force 'em from their
dwelling,
But
Act 5.]
THE SEA-VOYAOE.
«49
But kid for 'em at sea, to ravisli from 'em
Tbe last remainder of their wealth; then,
then.
After a long pursuit, each doubting other.
As guilty of the Portugals' escape,
They did begin to quarrel, like ill men :
(Forgive me, piety, that I call 'era so!)
No longer love or correspoudcnce holds
Than it is cemented witn prey or profit :
Then did they turn those swords they oft
bad bloodied [selves.
With innocent gore, upon their wretched
And paid the foHeit of tlieir cruelty
Shewn to Sebastian and his colony,
By bring fiital enemies to each other.
Tbeiicc grew Amiiitu*s rape, and my desire
To be reveng'd. Ami now observe the issue!
As they for spoil forgot compassion
To women (who should ever be exempted
Fmm the extremities of a lawful war),
We now, young able men, are fall'n into
The hands of women ; that^ against the soft,
Soft tenderness familiar to their sex^
Wilf shew no mercy.
Enter Crpcale.
s Croc. None, unless you shew us
Oar long-lost husbands.
We are those Portugais you talk*d of.
Ravm. Suy!
I met upon the sea in a tali ship,
Two Portugais, famish'd almost to death.
Ttb, Our ship, by this wine,
And those the rogues that stole her,
Lett us to famish in the Barren Islands 1
Raym, Some such tale they told me;
Aad Bometliing of a woman, which I fiml
To be my sister.
Croc. Where are these men f
Raym. I
Left 'em, supposing tliey*d deluded me
With fbig'd talbs, m the island, where they
said [owners
They had liv*d many years, the wretclied
Of a huge mass of treasure.
Alh. Tlie same mcr.
And that the fatal muck we quarrellM for.
Croc, They were Portup;als, you say?-
Raym. So they profess*d. [save your lives:
Croc. They may prove such men as may
And so much I am taken with fair hope.
That I will hazard life to be resolv'd on'c
Uow came you hither?
Rcync My ship lies by the rii'er's mouth ;
That can convey ye to these wretched men
Which you desire to see.
Croc. Back to your prisons,
And nmy for the success ! If the^ be those
Which I desire to find, youVe saie ; if not,
Prepare to die to-morrow ! for the world -
Cannot redeem ye.
Alb, Howe'er, we are arm'd
For either fortune. [Exit.
Tih. What must become of me now, '
That I am not dismiss'd ?
VOL. m.
Croc. Oh, sir, I purpose
To have your company.
Tib. Take heed, wicked woman 1
I'm apt to mischief now.
Croc. You can*c be so
Unkind to her that giTes you liberty*
Tib. No,
I shall be too kind, that's the devil on't !
i*ve liad store of good wine; and, when Vm
drunk,
Joan is a lady to me, and I shall lay
About me like a lord. I feel strange modons!
Avoid me, temptation !
Croc, Come, sir; I'll help you in.[£jre»ti/.
Enter Sebaitian and Nicusa,
Nicusa. What may chat be
That moves upon the lake ?
iSe6. Still it draws nearer;
And no V I plainly can discern it c
It is the French ship.
Nicusa, la it a woman.
Who seems t' invite us to her.
Seb. Still she calls
With signs of love to hasten to hen
So lovely hope doth still appear,
I feel nor age, nor weakness.
Nicuta. Tbo* it bring death.
To us 'tis comfort^ and deserves a meeting:
Or else fortune, tu^d with what we've suf-
fer-d.
And in it overcome, as it may be,
Now sets a period to our misery. [Exeunt^
[Horrid Mutic.
Enter severally Raymond^ Albert, andAmnta.
Raym, What dreadful sounds are these?
Aminta, Infernal music.
Fit for a bloody feast.
Alb. It seems prepai'd
To kill our courages, ere they divorce
Our souls and bodies.
Raym, But they that fearless fall.
Deprive them of their triumph.
An Altar prepared. Enter Rotellia, Clor^
rinda, Juletta, Hippolita, ^c.
'Aminta, See the furies,
In tlieir full trim of cruelty!
Ro8. Tis tlie last
Quty that {, can pay to my dead lord.
Set out the altar! 1 myself will be
The priest, and boldly do those horrid rites
You shake to think on. Lead these captains
nearer;
For they shall have the honour to fall first
To my ^bastian's aslies. And now, wretches.
As I am taught already, that you are,
And lately by your free confession,
French pirates, and the sons of those I hate
E'en equal with the devil; liear, with horror^
What 'tis invites me to this cruel course.
And what you are to sufifer ! No Amazons we.
But women of Portugal^ that must have from
you
K k Sebastian
250
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
[Acts.
Sebastian and Nicosa : we wrt they
Tliat groan'd beneath your fathers* wrongs !
Those wretched women [We are
Tiieir injuries pursu'd and overtook,
And fi^pm the sad remembrance of our losses
We are taught to be cruel. When we were
fijic'ti [rapine,
From that sweet air we breathed in, by their
And sought a ^lace of being, as the seas
And winds co. spir'd with their iJl purposes,
To load us wi«h alflictions, in a storm [us,
TVjat fell upon us, the two ships that brought
To setk new fortunes in an unknown world,
Were sev-rM; throne bore ail the able men,
Our treas .re and our jewels; in the other
We wom-.n were embark 'd, and fell upon,
After lonj tossing in the troubIe<l main,
This plea: ant island; but in few months
The men th At did conrluct us hither died :
We long before had given our husbands lost.
Remembrin^ what we'd suffer'd by the French,
We took a solemn oath, ne'er to admit
The curs*d society of men. Necessity
Taught us those arts, not usual to our sex;
And the fertile earth yielding abundance to us.
We did resolve, thus slinp'd like Amazons
To end our lives : but when you arrivM here.
And brought as presents to us ourown jewels.
Those which were borne in the other ship^
How can ye hope to 'sc .pe our vengeance?
Aminta. It boots not then to swear our
innocence ? [owners ?
Alb. Or that we never forc'd it from the
Haym, Or that there are a remnant of that
And not far off? [wreck,
Km, All yon affirm, I knowfis [throats;
But to win time; therefore prepare your
The world bhall not redeem ye ! And, that
your cries
May find no entrance to our ears, to move
Pity in any, bid hiud music sound [*em
Their fatal knells! If yf have prayers, use
Quickly, to any power will, own ye: but —
J^nter Crocale, Sebastian, Nicusa, and Tibalt.
Ha ! who are these? what spectacles of mis-
fortune ? [der ?
Why are their looks so full of joy and won-
Croc, Oh, lay by
These iustrunu*nts of death, and welcome to
Your arms what you durst never hope t*
embrace !
This is Sebastian ; this Nicusa, madam;
Prtserv*d by miracle. Look up, dear sir.
And know your own Rosellia ! be not lost
In wonder and amazement; or if nature
Can, by instinct, instruct you what it is
To be bless'd with the name of father^ freely
En joy't in this fair vir]^in !
Scb. Tho* my misenes,
And many years of wants I have endur'd.
May well deprive me of the memory
Of all joys past; yet, looking on this building,
This ruin'd building of a heav'nly form
In my Rosellia, I must remetnber
I am Sebastian.
jR(W. Oh, my joys!
Seb, And here,"
I see a perfect model of tbyselfi
As thou wert when thy choice first made
thee mine : [with time,
These cheeks and fronts, tho* wnnkled now
Wliich art cannot restore, had equal purenes
Of natural white and red, and as much
ravishing : a
Which, by fair order and succession, I see
Descend on her ; and may thy virtues wind
Into her form, and make her a perfect dower,
No part of thy sweet goodness wanting to her!
I will not now, Rosellia, ask thy fortunes,
Nor trouble thee with hearing mine;
Those shall hereafter sene to make glad hoars
In their relation. All past wrongs forgot,
Tm glad to see you, gentlemen ; but most,
That it is in my power to save your lives ;
You sav*d ours, when we were near starv'd at
sea,
And I despair not — for, if she be mine,
Rosellia can deny Sebastian nothing.
Rot, She does give up herself.
Her power and joys, and all, to you, to be
Discharged of 'em as too burdensome;
Welcome in any shape!
Seb, Sir, in your looks ^^, I read
Your suit of my Clai-inda; slie is yours.
And, lady, iPt be in me to confirm
Your hopes in this brave gentleman, presume
I ajn your sen-ant.
Alb. We thank you, sir.
Aminia. Oh, happy hour!
Aib, Oh, my dear Aminta,
Now all our fears are ended.
Tib. Here I fix ;
Slie*s mettle, steel to the back, and will cut
My leaden dagger, if not as*d vrith discrecioD.
Croc. You^'e still no changeling.
Seb. Nay, all look chearfully; for none
shall 1 e
Denied their lawful wishes. When a while
WeVe hererefi-esh'd ourselves, we will return
To our sev'i*al homes: and well that Voyage
ends.
That makes of deadly enemies, faithfitl
friends! [Exeunt anna.
*• Sir, in your looks,
I read your suit of my Clarinda ; — ] Perhaps the reader would wish to know whom
the old gentleman means hero. I can think of no one but JSicusn his nephew. Yet this is
but a guess, and if the reader imagines anyone of the company (Albert taid Jibait excepted)
de&er^'esC/arirziiu better than her cousin, let him reject mine, and enjoy hisowu opinion. Sympson.
When Aminta depreciates ./4/6<^r^, in her conversation with C/<^riJu/a, she recommends iSay-
mond to her: it is most likely, therefore, he is the person intended by the poet to possess her.
THE
THE COXCOMB.
A COMEDY.
The Commendatory Verses by Gardiner and Hills, speak of this Comedy as the prodaction
of Fletcher alone ; but the Prologue mentions it as the joint performance of both Authors.
It was first printed in the folio of 1647 ; and appears to have been revived at the Theatre
Koyal about the end of the last century, when a Prologue was spoken by Joe Uaincs*
We do not know of any performance of it since tliat time.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Men.
Antonio, the Coxcomb.
Me-KCVRY J felloa^traveller with Antonio.
RrcARDo, a young Gentleman in hoe with
rwla.
Pedro ' > ^^^^^ merry Gentlemen, friends
Silvio, 3 '^^«''^''-
Valerio, a Country Gentleman.
Curio, Kinsman to Antonio,
Justice, a shallow one.
Akdrugio, Father to Viola.
Alexander, Servant to Mercury's Mother.
Mark, the Justice's Clerk.
Rowland, Servant to Andrvgio.
Tinker.
Constable,
Watch.
Drawer.
iviusicians,
WOUBN.
Maria, Wife to Antonio.
Viola, Daughter to Andrugio,
Mother to Mercury.
Mr»op.. !^''*-^-^-
Dorothy, the Tinker's Trull.
SCENE, England'
PROLOGUE.
This Comedy, long forgot, by some thought
dead.
By us preserr'd, once more doth raise her head,
And to your noble censures does present
Her oQtward form, and inward ornament.
Nor let this smell ofarrogance,8ince *tis k nown,
The mdcers, that confessed it for their own.
Were this way skilful, and without the crime
Of flatteries 1 may say may please the time.
The work itself too, when it first came forth.
In the opinion of men of worth, [rude
Was well rebeiv'd and favour'd, tho' some
And harsh among th' ignorant multitude,
(That relish eross food better than a dish
Thiit*s cook'd witli care, rwud serv'd in to the
wish
Of curious palates) wanting wit and streni^th
Truly to judge, condemn'd it for the length* :
That
' Englandf France.] As the scene never changes from England through the whole play,
tod, as I remember^ the word FraTtce does not occur above once in this piece, I have made
no scruple ta expel and explode what never possibly could have stood in the author^s manu-
sctipt. Sympson,
* -'^-^ condemned it for the length;
That faults rrform'd.'] In the Stationers* Preface to the edition of 1647, we liave these
words: * When these Comedies and l^^edies were presented on the stage, the dctors omit-
Kk2 <ted
£52
THE COXCOMB.
That fkult's refbrm'd; and now 'tit to be tried
Before such judges 'twill not be denied
A finee and noble hearing ; nor fear I
But *twill deserve to have free liberty.
[Actl.
And give y<m cause (and with content) to
say,
Their care was good that did revive this play*
ACT I.
Bic, Let all the stored vengeance of Hea-
ven's justice —
Vioia. Jso mure ! I do believe you. The
dance ended,
Which thi.s free woman's guests have vow*d
to have [me
Ere they depart, I will make home, and store
With all the jewels, chains, and gold ait*
trusted
Unto my custody; and at the next comer
To my father's house, before oue, at the iiir*
Be ready to receive me ! [thesl»
liic, I desire
No bond beyond your promise. Let's go in!
1 o talk thus nuicli before tlie door may breed
Suspicion.
Enter Mercury and Antonio,
Violti. Here are company too.
Ric, A way ! [loves
Those oowers that prosper true and hooest
Will bless our undertakings.
Vhlu^ Tis my wish. sir.
[Exettnt Bic. and Vkifu
Men; Nay^ sir, excuse me I I havedrawo
you to
Too much expence already in my travel,
And you have been too forward in your lore^
* ted some icene» and passages (with the author^ consent) as occasion led 'em! and when
* private friends desired a copy, they then (and justly too) transcribed what they acted* But,
* now you have both all that was actedy and all that was not ; even the perfect full originals,
< without the least mutilation : so that were the author* living (and sure they can never die)
* they thenMelves would challenge neither mart nor leu than what is here publisiied.'—But
what a glaring contradiction to this whole j>assage are the words of the prologue, cited at ti»e
head of this note? Was it not condemned for its length by the ignorant multitude ? And upon
reviving of it, is it not as plain as words can make it, that it was mutilated then } What other*
sense can we put upon this passage ? That fault** refhrtnd — Who the curtailer or curtailen
were, is not pos^ble now to be known : I could have wished that he, or they, wlio unde^
took the charge of reforming the lettgth of this piece, had had sufficient wit and strength to
have gone through that business neatly. But it seems as if his or tlieir judgment was as little
in the shortning, as the rabble's was in condemning it for its length. Had we but the original
manuscript, I don*t doubt but we should see a strange difference betwixt that and the play,
lis it now stands. Tlie first note on this performance is a specimen, to let the reader see
what strange work ha^ been made by the reviver, or revivers of this piece: and how little
he or they thought on (supposing thc^ knew it) tliat rule of Horace,
Versate diu, fuidferre recusent,
Quid valeant Humen Sympson,
The Stationers' Preface is no ' (glaring contradiction to tlie prologue,' but rather confims
the assertion, that the ^ Actorp (with the author^s consent) omitted scenes and passages, si
< occasion led them, and aflcnw^utls transcribed what they acted: but the booksellers gsve
* all that was acted, and all that was mat! Who the curtaileis wecti tberefiire^ is easily
known; certainly tB£ Acroas, with the autbob's co|iS£iiT»
1^
Enter Ricardo and Vh/a.
JUc, T £T usmake use of Uiisstohi privacy,
-"-^ And not lose time in protestation,
mistress !
For 'twere in me a kind of breach of faith,
To say again I love you.
Viola. Sweet, speak sofUy;
For tlu/ the venture of your love to me
Meets with a willing an^ a full return,
Should it arrive unto my ^titer's knowledge,
This were our last discourse.
lUc, How shall he know it? [advancement,
Viola, His watching cares are such, for my
That every where his eye is fix'd upon me:
This night, that does afford us some small
freedom.
At the request and much intreaty of [me;
The mistress of the house, was liardly given
For I am never suffer'd to stir out.
But he hath spies upon me: yet, I know not,
You have so won upon me, that could I.think
Yon would love faithfully (tho' to eutertain
Another thought of you would be my death)
I should adventure on his utmost anger.
Ric, Why, do you think I can be false?
Viola. No, faith!
You liave an honest face ; but, if you should —
Act 1.]
To make mj wnnU your own ; allow me man*
ners ! [crease
Which yon muflt grant I want, should I in-
The bond in which your courtesies have tied
me^
By still consumbg of yon : give me leave
To take mine own ways now, and I shall
often, [thank you.
With willingness, come to visit you, and
ilttf. By this hand, I could be angry!
What do you think me?
Must we, that have so long time been as one,
Seen cities, countries, kingdoms, and their
wonders, ^
Been bedfellows, and in our various journey
M ix'd all our observations, part (as if
We were two carriers at two several ways.
And as the fore-horse guides, cry God be
with you)
Without or compliment, or ceremony }
In travellers that know Transalpine garbs,
Tho' our desi^s are ne*er so serious, friend,
It were a capital crime; it must not -be;
Nay, what is more, yon shall not. You ere
long [mine
Siall see my house, and find what 1 call
Is wholly at your service.
Merc Tis this tires me ! —
Sir, I were easily woo'd, if nothine else
But my will lay i'th' choice; but tis not so :
My friends and kindred, that have part of me.
And such on whom my chiefest hopes de-
pend,
Justly expect the tender of my love
After my travel; then my own honesty
Tells me 'tis poor, having indifTerent means
To keep me m my quality and rank,
At my return, to tire another's bounty.
And let mine own grow lusty: pardon me!
AfU, I will not, cannot ; to conclude, I
dare not :
Can any thing conferr'd upon my firiend
Be burdensome to me ? For this excuse,
Had I no reason else, you should not leave
me; ^ [said!
By a traveller's faith, you should uot! 1 have
And then, yon know my humour, there's no
contending.
THE COXCOM&
S5S
Mere. Is there no way to 'scape this intin-
dation ?
I shall be drown'd with folly, if I co ;
And, afier nine days, men may take me up
With my gall broken.
Ant. Are you yet resolv'd ?
Merc, 'Would you would spare me!
Ant, By this light, I cannot.
By all that may l^ sworn by !
Merc. Patience help me.
And Heaven grant his folly be not catching !
If 't be, the town's undone : I now would give
A reasonable sum of gold to any sheriff
That would but lay an execution on me.
And free me from his company. While he
was abroad.
His want of wit and language kept hiixnlumb ;
But Balaam's ass will speak now, without
spurring.
I Ant. Speak, have I won you ?
Enter Servant and Mimciani*
Merc, You're not to be resisted,
Serv. Be ready, I entreat you I Tho danca
done,
Besides a liberal reward, I have
A bottle of sherry in my .power, shall heg^t
New crotchets in your heads.
Musicians. Tush, fear not us!
We'll do our parts.
Serv, Go m.
Ant, I know this fellow.
Belong you to the house f
Serv. 1 serve the mistress, [inform her.
Ant. Pretty and short! Pray you, sir, then
Two gentlemen are covetous to be honoured
With her fair presence.
Sety. She shall know so much.
This is a merry night with us, and forbids not
Welcome to any that looks like a man :
111 guide you the way.
Ant. Nay, follow! I've a trick in't.
[Exeunt.
Enter Uberto, Silvio, Ricardo^ Maria, Pedro,
Portia, Viola, with others.
Uherto. Come, where is this masque ' ?
Fairest, for our chear,
Our
' Came, wher^s this masque f fahrest, for our chear,
Our thanks and service, may you long survive
To joy in -many cf that nights.
Maria. Ithankycu,
Uberto. We must have music too, or else you give us
But ha^ awelcome,
Maria. Prt^ you, sir, excuse me.
Silvio. By no means, lady:
Uberto. tlV// crown our liberal feast,
With some delightful strain fitting your hve
And this good company,
Maria. Since you enforce it,
I will not plead the excuse of want of skill.] Quod dedit principium adveniens 9 may full
» well be appbed to the cmrtailer of this comedy, as the booby cai>tain of whom it was first
•poke^ That a masqae was in (he original^ is plain from tho question, Where's this masque f
but
fi54
TIlE COXCOMB.
tActL
Oar dianks and service ; ma^ you long survive
To joy ill many of these nights!
Maria. I thauk you ! [you give us
Uberio. We must have music too; or else
<B\xt half a welcome.
Maria. Pray you, sir, excuse me!
Silvio. By no means, lady.
Uberto. WVll crown your liberal feast
With some delightful strain, fitting your love
And this good company.
Maria. Since vou enforce it,
I will not plead tne excuse of want of skill.
Or be or nice or curious: every year
I celebrate my marriage-night, and will
Till I see my absent husband.
Uberto. Tis fit freedom.
SUvio, Ricardo, thou art dull.
Enter Servant.
Ric. I shall be lighter when
IVe had a heat.
Maria. Now, sir, the news ?
Serv. Mistress,
There are two gentlemen —
Maria. Where?
Serv. Complimenting
Who should nrst enter.
Maria. What are they?
Serv. Heav'n knows!
But for their strangeness — ^bave you never seen
A cat wash her face ?
Uberto. Yes.
Serv, Just such a stir they keep :
If you make but hasten you may see *em yet
Before they enter.
Enter Antonio and Mercury,
Maria. Let *em be what they will.
Well give them fair entertain, apd gentle
Ant. It shall be so. [welcome.
Merc. Then let it be your pleasure.
Ant. Let's stand aside, and you shall see
Fine sport anon. [us have
Metx, A fair society;
Do you know tliese gentlewomen ?
Ant. Yes.
Merc. What are they ? [her
Ant. The second is a neighbour's daughter ;
Name's Viola. There is my kinsman's wife;
Portia her name, and a friend too.
Merc, Let her.
What's she that leads the danoe?
1 Serv. A gentlewoman.
Merc, I seetliat.
1 Serv, Indeed?
Merc. What?
1 Serv. A gentlewoman.
Merc. Udsfoot! Good sir, vhat's she that
leads the dance ?
2 Serv. My mistress.
JWerc. What else?
2 Serv. My mistress, sir.
Merc. Your mistress? A pox on you.
What a fry of foob are here? I see 'tis treason
To understand in this house : if Nature were
not
Better to them than they can be to tbemsdves^
Thej^ would scant hit their mouths. My
mistress?
Is there any one with so much wit in's head,
That can tell me at the first sight, [dance?
What gentlewoman that is that leiids thr
Ant. Tis my wife.
Merc. Hum!
Ant. How dost thou like her}
Merc. Well;
A pretty gentlewoman!
Ant. Pritliee be quiet.
Merc. I would I could !
Let never any hereafter that's a man,
That has affections in him and free passions^
Receive the least tie firum such a fool as this is.
That holds so sweet a wife!
Tis lamentable to consider truly [wrong
Wliat right he robs 'himself of, ana what
He doth the youth of such a gentlewoman,
That knows her beauty is no longer hers
Than men will please to make it so, and
use it, •
Neither of whicl) lies freely in a husband.
Oh, what liave I done, what have I done ?
Coxcomb !
If I had never seen, or never tasted,
The goodness of thiskix, I had been a made
man;
But now to make bim cuckold is a sin
'Gainst all forgiveness, worse than any
murder: [ways!
I have a wolf by th' ears, and am bitten both
Ant. How now, friend? vt^bat are yoo
thinking of? [be gone.
Merc, Nothing concerning you: I must
Ant. Pardon me, I will have no going, sir.
Merc, Then, good sir, give me leave to
go to bed :
Im very weary and ilKtemper'd.
Ant. You shall presently; the dance isdone^
1 Serv. Mistress, these are the gentlemen.
but it had been better never to have told us that, except it liad been exhibited. Again, if
thei/ were to have music, some deli^ktjul strain; nho was to play ? Maria it seems, for ^e
says, she won^t plead the excuse of vant of skilly but 'tis too plain she does no such thing.
Further, we have a little lower a dance, but 'tis a dance without music, and yet 'tis quite
clear the performers were actually in the house. Syn^son.
We do not believe any thing toritten by the authors is omitted :— The masque was^ we
apprehend, only an antic dance. It is not clear that Maria more than prepares to play,
when she is interrupted by the Servant -inoouncing Meroif^and Antonio. The dance must
have been without music, or the dialogue between the Servant^ Mercury, «nd AntomOf
which passes during the dauce, could not be heard.
Maruu
i
Act 1.]
TIIE COXCOMB.
fidj^
Maria, My husband! Welcome home,
Merc, She s lair still ; [dear sir !
Ofay that I were a knave, or durst be one.
For thy sake, Coxcomb! He that invented
honesty
Undid me.
Ant. I thought you had not known me.
Yoa*re merry ; *tis well thought. And Itow
These worthy gentlemen ? [is*t with
Uberto and SUvio, We^re glad to see
You here again.
Ant. Oh, gentlemen, what ha* you lost ?
Bat get you into travels ; there you may learn —
I cannot say wliat hidden virtues.
Merc, Hidden from you, I'm sure.
My blood .boils like a furnace ! Siie*^ u fair one.
Ant, Pray entertain this gentleman \> itU all
The courtesy iitting my most especial friend.
Mana, What this poor house may yield,
to make you welcome.
Dear sir, command, withoutmore compliment.
Aferc. I thank you! — She is wise, and
speaks well too :
Oh, what a blessing is gone by me, never
To be recover'd ! VVell, 'twas an old shame
The devil laid up for me, and now h' has hit
me home.
If there be any ways to be dishonest,
And save myself yet — No, it most not be!
Why should I be a fool too ? — Yet those eyes
Would tempt another Adam ! How they call
• .to mc, [any thing !
And tell me — 'Sfoot, tliey shall not tell me
Sir ; will you walk in ?
Ant, How is't, signer ?
Merc. Craty a little. [power, pray
ilaria. What ail you, sir? What's in my
Make use ol; sir.
Merc. Tis that must do me good !
She does not mock me, sure !-— iVn't please
you, nothing;
My disease is only w'eariness.
Vberio. Come, gentlemen !
We w^ill not keep yuu from your beds too long.
Ric, I ha' some business, and 'tis late, and
Far from your lodging. [y.#u
Silvio. Well?
[Exeunt. Manent Ant. Maria, and Merc.
Ant. Come, my dear Mercury 1
m bring you to your chamber; and then I
am
For you, Maria: tbouVt a new wife to me
now.
And thou shalt find it ere I sleep.
Merc. And I
An old ass to myself! mine own rod whips
roe! —
Oood sir, bo more of this ; 'tis tedious !
You are the best guide in your own house ;
^0, sir. [Ejceunt Ant. and Maria.
fThis fool and his iair wife have made me
frantic;
From two such physics for the soul deliver
me ! [Exit,
Enter Ricardo, Uberto, Pedro, and Silvio,
Uberto. Well, you must have this wench
it if. I hope so ; [then ?
I'm mach o! th* bow-hand else.
Fedro. 'vVould I were hang'd, [ture
Tis a good loving little fool, that dares i-en*
Herself upon a coast she ne'er knew yet !
But these women ! when they are once thir>
God speed t))e plough ! [teen,
Silvio. Faith, tliey vnil venture further for
Than a merchant, [their lading
And thro' as many stonns, but tiiey*ll be
fraughted ; [stowage*
They're made like carracks, only strength and
Juc. Come, come, you talk, you talk I
Silvio. We do so. But,
Tell nte, Ricardo, wo*t thou nuirry her?
Ric. Marry her? why, what sliould I do
with her i [all shares in her,
Pedro. Pox, I thought we should have had
Like lawful prize. [don me :
Ric. No, by my faith, sir ; you shall par-
I launch'd her at my own charge, without
And so ril keep her. [partner%
Ukerto. What's the hour?
Ric. Twelve. [yet scarce eleven,
Uberto. What shall we do tlie while? Tis
Silvio. There is no standing here ; is ncX
Ric. Yes. [this the place?
Fedro, And to go back
Unto her father*s house may breed suspicion:
Let's slip into a tavern for an hour;
Tis very cold.
Uberto. Content; there's one hard by.
A quart of burnt sack will recover us :
I am as cold as Christmas. Tliis stealing flesh
I* th* frosty weatlier may be sweet i' th* eating.
But sure the woodii.en have no great catch
Shall'sgo? [of it.
, Jlif. Thou art the strangest lover of
A tavern ! What shall we do there now I Lose
The hour and ourselves tgo ?
Uberto. Lose a pudding! [muzzle us?
What dost thou talk o'th* hour? will one quart
Have we not ears to hear, and tongues to ask
The dra werb,but we must stand liere like bawds
To watch the minutes?
Silvio. Prithee content thyself* ! [ing^
We shall scout here, as tho' we went a-hay-
And have some mangy 'prentice, that, can't
sleep [go, sirs?
For scratchingyoxTr-hear us. Come, will you
When your love-fury is a httle frozen.
You'll come to us,
Ric. Will you drink but one quart then ?
Fedro. No more, i'laith.
Silvio. Content!
Ric. Why then, have with you !
But let's be very watchful.
♦ Silvio. Prithee contend Ibi/scff.] Probably this belongs to Ricardo, and We shall tcout
here, to Silvio. Sj/mpson.
JJbcrto,
i56
THE COXCOMa
[Aai.
Uherto, AswatclifulasthebeUmftn. Come;
I'U lead.
Because I liate good manners; tbev*re too
tedious. [Exeunt.
Enter Vwla, with a Key and a little Casket,
Viola, The nii^ht is terrible, and I encTos'd
With that my virtue and myself hate most.
Darkness; yet must I fear, that which I wish,
Some company ; and every step I take
Sounds louder in my fearful ears to-night.
Than ever did the shrill and sacred bell
TImt rang me to my prayera. Tlie house will
rise
When I unlock the door ! Were it by dajr,
I*m bold enough, but then a thousand eves
Warn me from going. Might not Heav'n have
made
A time for envious prying folk to sleep.
Whilst lovers met, and yet the sun have
shone?
Yet I wa8~^ld enough to steal this key
Out of my father's chamber; and dare yet
Venture upon mine enemy, the night,
Arm'd only with my love, to meet my friend.
Alas, how valiant, and how 'firaid at once
Love makes a virgin ! I will throw this key
Back thro' a window : I have wealth eaough
in jewels with me, if I hold his love
I steal 'em for. Farewell, my place of birth!
I never make account to look on thee again;
And if there be, as I have heard men say.
These houshold gods, I do beseech them
look [fire.
To this my charge ; bless it from thieves and
And keep, *till happily my love I win.
Me from thy door, and hold my father in !
[Exit.
Enter Ricardo^ PedrOj liber to^ Silvio, and
Draxter with a Candle.
Ric. No more, for God's sake !
How's the night, boy ?
• Drawer. Faith, sir, 'tis very late.
Uberto. Faith, sir, you lie ! is this your
Jack i' th* clock-house' ? [you varlcL
Will you strike, sir? Give's some more sack,
Ric. Nay, if you love me, good Uberto, go !
X am monstrous hot with wine.
Uberto, Quench it again with love ! [then
Gentlemen, I will drink one health more, and
If my 1^ say me not shamefully nay,
I wiU go with you. Give me a singular quart f
Pnwer. Of what wine, sir? fat the bar!
Uberto. Of sack, you that speak, confusion
Of sack, I say ; and every one his quart.
What a devil, let's be merry!
Drawer. You shall, sir. [ExU»
Pedro, We will, sir ; and a dried tongue.
Silvio. And an olive, boy, and a whole
bunch of fidlers ! |^be claw*d.
My head swims plaguily; 'uds precious, I shall
Enter Drawer with four Quarts of Wvue^
Rac. Pray go? I can drink no more; think
on your promise;
Tis midnight, gendemen. Xi^<>^ !
Uberto. Oh, that it were dumb midnight
Not a word more ! every man t>n's knees,
And betake himself to his ^nt : here's to
your wench, signor!
All this, and then awa]^.
Ric, I cannot drink it.
Pedro, Tis a toy, a toy; away wrt !
Uberto. Now dare I
Speak any thing to any body living !
Come, Where's the fault? Off with it.
Ric. I have broke [made it;
My wind. Call you tliis sack? I wonder who
He was a sure workman, for 'tis plaguy
Is it gone round ? [strong work.
U&rto. Tis at the last. Out of my way,
Is the moon up yet ? good boy !
Drawer, Yes, sir.
Uberto, Where is she, boy?
Drawer. There, sir. [boy.
Uberto. We shall have rain and thunder,
Drow^. When, sir? [boy.
Uberto. I cannot tell; but sure we sha%
Drawer. The gentleman is wine-wise.
Uberto. Dravrer!
Drawer. Here, sir.
Uberto. Can you procure ?
Drawer. What, sir?
Uberto. A whore, or two, or three,
As need shall serve, boy ? [ney, boy.
Silvio. Ay, a good whore were wortli mo-
Drawer. I protest, sir, we are alto^ther
unprovided. [not 'vise us
Ric. The more's the pity, boy; can yoa
Where, my child ?
Drawer. Neither, in troth, sir^.
' Is this your Jack i'th* clpck*house ?
Will you strike, fir i] In Shakespeare's King Richard III. the King says to Buckinghan^
* ■ like a Jac/c, thou keep*st the stroke
* Betwixt tliy begging and my meditation ;'
en which passage are the following notes :
An image, like those at St. Dunstan's church in Fleet-street, and at the market-hoasd
at several towns in this kingdom, was usually called a Jack 4^ the clock-house. See Cowle/s
Discourse on the Government of Oliver Cromwell, liichard resembles Buckingham to one
of those automatons, and bids lihn not suspend the stroke on the clock-bell^ iynt strike, that
the hour may be past, and himself be at liberty to pursue his meditations. Hamkuis.
So in The Fleire, a comedy, 1610 — * Their tongues are, like a Jack dthe clocks still ia
'* labour.' Steevens.
* Drawer. Neither in troth, «(>.] This little speech itf only in the first folip.
Pedro,
Actl.|
•THE COXCOMB*
5257
Fedro. Why, where were you brought up,
hoji
No inkling of a whored no um, my boy?
Uberto. It cannot sink in my head now
that thou shouldst marry;
Why shouldst thou marry, tell me?
Ric. I marry? FU be hang*d first.
Some more wine, boy !
Silvio, Is she not a whore
Translated? An she be, let's repair to her !
Ric I cannot tell ; she may be an offender :
But, signor Silvio, I shall scratch your head;
Indeed I shall.
SUvi(K Judge me, I do but jest
With thees what an she were inverted, with
Her heels upward, like a traitor^s coat, what
care I? [for her?
Uberto. Ay, hang her ! shall we fall out
Jiic. I am a little angry. But these
wenches !
Did you not talk of wenches ?
Silvia, Boy, lend me your candle !
Drawer, Why, sir ?
^vio. To set fire to your rotten ceiling:
You'll keep no whores, rogue, no good mem-
Droiper. Whores, sir? [bers!
Silvio. Ay, whores, sir ; do you think we
With your hogsheads? [come to lie
JUc, I must beat the watch ;
I have long'd for it any time this three weeks.
Silvio. We'll beat tlie town too, an thou
wilt ; we're proof, boy !
Shall we kill any body?
Etc, No ; but we'll hurt 'em dangerously.
Vtferto, Silvio, now must I kill one; I can-
not avoid it.
Boy, easily afore there with your candle I
Where's your mistress ?
Drover. A-bed, sir.
Silvio, With whom?
Drawer, With my master. [up than to
Uberto, You lie, boy ! she's better broiiglit
lie with her husband ; has he no( cast his
head yet?
Next year hell be a velvet-headed cuckold.
Drawer. You are a merry gentleman.
There, sir; take hold ! [Exeunt.
Enter Viola,
Viola, This is the place ! I have out-told
the clock
For haste; he is not here. Ricardo? No!
Now every power that loves and is belov'd.
Keep me irom shame to-night ! for you all
know
Each thought of mine is innocent and pure,
As flesh and blood con hold. I cannot back;
I threw the key within, and, ere I raise
Mv father up to see his daughter's shume,
111 set me down, and tell the northern wind,
That it is gentler than the curling west.
If it will blow me dead ! But he will come.
I'faith, 'tis cold.' If he deceive me thus,
A woman will not easily trust a man.
Hark! wkat*s that;
VOL, m.
Silvio [within]* Thou'rt over long at thy
pot, Tom, Tom :
TbouVt over long at the pot, Tom. [Singing,
Viola. Bless me! Whu's tliat?
Fedro [within]. Whoo !
Uberto [within]. Tliere, boys ! [fly;
Viola. Darkness, be thou iny cover, I must
To tliee I haste for help. — They have a light:
Enter Ricardo, Fedroy Uherto, Silvio, and
Drawer, with a torch.
Wind, if thou lov^st a virgin, blow it out !
And I will never shut a window more.
To keep thee from me.
^ic. Boy!
Drawer. Sir?
JRif . Why, boy !
Drawer. What say you, sir?
Mic, Why, boy, art thou drunk, boy t
Drawer. What would you, sir?
Ric. Why, very good ! where are We?
Uberto, Ay, that's the point.
Drawer. Why, sir, you will be at yout
lodging presently.
Ric. rll go to no lodging, boy.
Drawer. Whither will you go then, sir?
Ric. ril go no further. piere all night.
Drawer^ For God*s sake, sur, do not stay
Ric, No more I will not :
Boy, lay me down, and roll me to a whore.
Uberto. And me. »
Fedro. There spoke an— —
Silvio [iinging]. Then set your foot to my
foot, and up tails all ! [tnake !
Viola. Tlmtis Ricardo: what a noise they
It is ill done of 'em. Here sirs ! Ricardo I
JRic. What's that, boy?
Drawer. 1'is a wench, sir : pray, gentle*
men, come away I
Viola, Oh, my dear love ! how dost thou?
Ric, Faith, sweetheart,
Ev*n as thou seest.
Fedro, Where's thy wench?
Uberto. Where's this bed-worm?
Viola. Speak softly, for the love of Heaven !
Draicer, Mistress,
Get yowggne, and don't entice the gentlemen,*
Now you see they're drunk ; or, 1*11 call th«
watch.
And lay you fast enough.
VioUt. Alas, wlmt are you ? •
Or, what do you meau? Sweet love, there's
the place ? fril feese thee.
Ric. Marry, sweet love, e'en nere : lie down;
Viola. Good God! What meau you?
Fedro. I will have the wench.
Uberto. If you can get her.
Silvio, No, I'll lie with [morrow.
The wench to-night,- and she shall be your» lo^
Fedro. Let go the wench !
Silvio. Let you go the wcnrh !
Viola, Oh,gentleuien,Hsynu had motheni-*
Uberto. They had uo mothers; tliey're the
sons of bitctses.
Ric. Let that be maintain'd \
-L 1 Silitios
25«
THE COXCOMB-
[Acid,
Silnio, Marry tlieA—
Viola. Oh, blesb me, Heav'ii!
Uberfo. IIow nmny is there on s?
Bic. About five.
Uhcrto. Why then, let's fipht three to three.
Sihio. Content. [Drazi^ and fall dozifn,
Drazcer. The watch! the watch! the
watch ! Where are you ? l^*/{^'
Jlic. Where are these cowards? [Exii.
Pedro, There's the wliore.
Viola. I never saw a drunken man before;
But these I think are so.
Sihioi Oh!
JRedro. I miss'd you narrowly there.
Viola. My state is such, I know not h#w-
to think
A prayer fit for me; only I could njove,
That never maiden more' might be in love !
[Exit.
'Enler Dnacer, Constable, and Watch.
Watch, Where are they, boy ?
' Drawer. Make no such haste, sir ; they are
No runners. ^
Uherto. I am hurt, but that's all one;
I shall light upon some of ye. Pedro,
Thou art a tall p;endeman I let me kiss thee!
Watch. My friend —
Vberto. Your friend ? you lie !
Bic. Stand further off!
The watcli? yon're fall of. fleas.
Const. Gentlemen,
Either he quiet, or we must make you quiet
/tw. Nay, good Mr. Constable, be not 99
rigorous! [ofiustice!
Vberto, Mr. Constable, lend roe thy hand
Const, That I wiW, sir.
Ubcrto. Fy, Mr. Constable !
What goUs you have? Is justice
So blind you cannot see to wash your hands?
I cry you mercy, sir; your gloves are on.
Drawer. Now you are up, sir, will you go
to bed ? [ther pillow.
Fedro. I'll truckle here, boy; givemeano^
Drawer, Will you stand up, and let me lay
it on then?
Pedro, Yes. [they are np^
Draarcr. There; hold him two of ye. Now
Be going, Mr. Constable.
Hie. And this way, and that way, Tom.
Vberto. And here away, and there away,
Tom. [the wronl;.
Silvio. This is the right way, the osier's
Pedro. Th' otlicr's the wrong.
Omnes. ThouVt o^er long at the pot, Tom,
Tom. [whoop! ha, boys!
JUc. Lead valiantly, sweet constable!
Const. This wine hunts in their heads.
jRic. Give me the bill, for I will be tlie jer-
Const. Look to him, sirs1 [ge&ot.
Kic. Keep your ranks, you rascals, keep
your ranks' \Exeunt^
ACT IL
Enter Mercuri/,
Mere. T CANNOT sleep for thinking of
-■- this ass's wife !
ni be gone presently ; there's no staying here,
With this devil about me.— Ho ! This is the
house of sleep. [this love
Ho ! again there ! 'Sfoot, the darkness, and
1 ogether will make me lunatic. Ho !
Enter a Servingman above, unready.
Serv, Who calls there ? [a candle.
Merc, Pray take the pains to rise and light
ikrv. Presently.
Merc, Whs ever njan but I in such a stocks?
AVell, this shall be a' warning to me, and
A faFr one too, how I betray myself
To such a dunce, by way of benefit.
Eiiter Servingnian.
Serv. Did you call ?
Merc, Yes : pray do me the kindtiess, sir,
to let me out,
• muster before dinner^
And not enquire wliy, for I most ne^s b#
Serv. Not to-night, I hope, sir. [gone.
Merc. Good sir, to-night;
I would not have troubled you else;
Pray let it be so !
Serv. Alas, sir, my master will beoffendeA
Merc, That I have business? no, I warrant
you.
Serv, Good, sir, take your rest,
Merc. Pray, my good friend.
Let me appoint my own rest.
Serv. Ves, sir. ^ [sider yoa.
Merc. Tiien shew m<? the way out; I'll cotf-
»S<'ri;. Good I<ord, sir—
JVitrc* If I had not ,
An excellent tcmper'd patience, now should
I break
This fellow's head, and make him UBderstand
'Twere necessary ; the only plague
Of this house is tli' unhandsoino love of set-
lants.
That never do their duty i'th' right place,
But when they muster before dinner',
^ And
And suc^ the table vith a >roo(kn daggen] Th« difficulties in tins f astage are ^hat in
Actl]
THE COXCOMa
U9
And sweep the table with a wooden dagger.
And then the/re troablesome too, to all
men's shoalders. —
The woodcock's flushM again ; now I shall have
A new stir«
Enter Antonio.
Ant, Why, how now, friend? what do you
up so late? [speak.
Are YOU well ? do yon want any thing? Pray
Merc, Only the cause 1 rise for.
Ant. What knaves are these ?
What do Tou want ? Why, sirrah !
Merc. 5}othing i' th' world, [he gone :
Bat th* keys to let me out of doors ; I must
fie not against it, for you cannot stay me.
Ant, Be gone at this time? that were a
merry jest. [use on't,
MtTc. If there be any mirth in*t, make you
But I must go.
Ant, W^hy, for love's sake ?
Hprc, Twill benefit [cause.
Your understanding nothing to know the
Pray go to bed; I'll trouble your man only.
Ant. Nay, sir, you have rais'd more, that
has reason
To curse you, an you knetv all: my wife's up.
And coming down too.
Mere. Alas, it will be
A trouble: pray go up to her, and let me
Disturb no more; it is unmannerly.
Enter Maria, as out of bed.
Ant, She's here already.
Sweetheart, how say you by this gentleman ?
He would away at midnight.
Maria. That I am
Sore he will not.
Merc, Indeed I must,
Maria, GockI nr.
Let not your homely entertainment press you
To leave your bed at midnight ! If you want
What my house, or our town, may afford you,
Make it your oivn fault if you call not for it.
Pray go to bed again ! let me compel you :
I^ sure yoa*ve no pow'r to deny a woman.
The air is piercing;
And, to a i>ody beaten with long travel, *
Twill prove an ill physician.
Merc, If she
Speak longer I shall be a knave, as rank
As e'er sweat for it. — ^Sir, if you will send
Your wife up presently, I'll either stay
With you (d ye mark me ?) or deliver you
So jost a cause, that you yourself shall thrust
Me out of doors, both suddenly and willingly.
Ant, I'd fiiiu bear that, 'faitli !-!-Pray thee
go up, sweetheart !
Tte half persuaded him ; besides, he hath
Some private business with mc.
Maria. Good night, sir I
And what content you would have, I wish
with you. [Exitm
Merc. Could any man that liad a back ask
Oh, me! oh, roe! [more?
Ant. Now deal directly with me :
V/hy should you go? [cause;
Merc. If you be wise, do not enquire the
'Twill trouble you.
Ant. Why? prithee why. ^
Merc, rfaith,
I would not have you know it; let me go I
Twill be far better for you.
Ant. Who is that,
That knocks there? is't not at the streetj-doorf
Scn\ Yes, sir.
Ant. \yh()\ there? cannot you speak?
Viola [rnthm], A poor
Distressed maid; for God*s sake, let me in!
Merc, Let her in, and me out together;
'tis but one labour: [seems
Tis pity she should stand i'th' street. U
She ku(Avs you. [iguorant;
Ant. There she shall stand forme: you're
This is a common custom of the rogues
That lie about the loose parts of the city.
Merc. As how? ["iftht.
Ant. 1 o knock at doors in dead time of
And use some feigned voice to raise com-
passion;
And when the doors are open, in they rush^
And cut the throats of all, and take the booty:
We cannot be too careful.
Vhla [within]. As ever you had pity.
Let me m ! I am undone else.
^Ji^ Who are you?
Viola. My name is Viola, a gentlewoman
That ill diance hath distressed : you know my
father. [one
Merc. Alas of God ! we'll let her in; 'tis
O'th' gentlewomen were here in the evening;
I know her by her name : poor soul ! she'i
cold,
I warrant her; let her have my warm bed.
And I will take her fortune: come, pray
come!
Ant, It is not Viola, that's certain;
She went home to her father's, I am sure.
Vio/a, Will not you be so }:ood to let me in?
Ant. I'll be so good to have you whipt away.
If you stay a little longer. She is gone,
I warrant her. Now let me know your cause»
For I willhear't, and not repent the knowing.
Merc, Since you are so importunate, I'll
tell yon:
I Iovc\our wife extremely. *
AjU. Very well.
Ma-c. And so well tliat I dare not stay.
Ant. Why? [and blood,
Merc. For wronging you: I kno\\ I'm flesh
all appearance cannot be got over, without a greater knowledge of the customs and manners
of our author's times than I am maister of. . Sympurn.
This seeme to be a temporary allusion, of which, it is probable, nn explanation can now be
vbtuned.
Lli} And
««•
THE COXCOMB.
And voa have done me fiiendshipt infinite
aim often.
That roust require me honesty and a true man;
And I will be so, or Til break my heart.
Ant. Why, you may stay for all this, roe*
thinks. [no saint,
Merc. No ; tho' I would be good, I am no
Nor is it safe to try me: I deal plainly.
Ant, Come, I dare try you; do the best
you can.
Merc. You shall not :
When I am right again, Fll come and see you ;
Till when, 1*11 use nil countries, and all means.
But I w ill lose this folly ; 'tis a devil !
Ant. Is there no way to stay you?
Merc. No; unless [men
You'll have me such a villain to you, as all
Shall spit at me.
Ant. Does she know you love her?
Mcfc. No, 1 hope not: that were recom-'
pense
Fit for a rogue to render her.
Ant. If ever any
Had a faithful friend, I am that man, and I
IViay glory in it ! This is he, that ipsCy he,
That passes all Christendom for goodness.
J^e biiall not overgo me in his friendship ;
'Twere recreant and base, and I'll be hang'd
first ;
I am resolved : go thy ways; a wife
Shall never part us : I've consider'd, and
I find her notliing to such a friend as thou art.
ril speak a bold word ; take your time and
wooe her,
(You've overcome me clearly) [me.
And do what's fitting with her — vou conceive
I'm glad at heart you love her, by tliis light!
Ke'er stare upon me, for I will not fly from't !
}f you had spoken sooner, sure you had been
serv'd !
Sir, you're not ev'ry man. Now to your task!
I give you free leave; and the sin is mine^
II there he any in it.
Merc. Hell be hang'd
Before he makes this good : he cannot be
So innocent a coxc* mb; hccan tell tensure! —
If I had never known you, as I have done,
I might be one, as others, perhaps sooner;
But now it is impossible, there's too
Af uch good between us.
Ant. Well, ihou'rt e'en the best man —
% can say no more, I am so overjoy'd ! [go
You must stay this night, and in the morning
As early as you please ; I have a toy for you.
Merc. 1 thought this pill would make you
sick. [notice.
Ant. But where you mean to be I must have
And ii roust be hard hy too : do you mark me?
J^Jerc. Why, what's the matter?
Ant. 1 here is a thing in hand.
Merc. Why, what thing?
Ant. \ sound one> if it take right, and you
be not
[Act J,
Peevish. We twa will be Tyould Kttle think it)
As famous for our friendships-
Merc. How?
Ant. If Heaven please.
As ever Damon was, and Pytheas;
Or Pylades and Orestes : or any two
That ever were : do you conceive me yet?
Merc. No, by my troth, sir! — Hell not
help me up, sure ? [tliiak
Ant. You shall anon; and, for our names,!
They shall live after us, and be rememl.ec'd
Whde there's a story, or 111 lose ray aim.
Merc. What a vengeance ails hel How do
Ant. Yes, faith, [you?
We two will be such friends as the wot14
shall ring of.
Merc. And why is all this?
Ant, You shall enjuy my wife*
Merc. Away, away f
Ant. The wonder must begin.
So ] have cast it, ('twill be scurvy else)
You shall not stir a foot in i : pray be <^et
Till I have made it perfect.
Merc. What shall a man do with thii
wretched fellow ?
There is no mercy to be us'd towards him;
He is not capable of any pity ;
He will, in spite of course, be a cuckold";
And who i;an helpit?^Must it begin so^
Think again. [needs, sir?
Ant. Yes, marry must it;
And I myself will wooe this woman for yoa:
Do you perceive it now? ha? Jmatter.—
Merc, Yes; now I have a little sight i'tb'
Oh, that thy head should be so monstroas,
That all thy servants' hatsmav hangupon't!^
But do you mean to do this? [for you.
Ant. Yes, certain ; I will wooe her, and
Strive not against it ; 'tis the overthrow
Of the best plot that ever was then*
Merc. Nay,
I will assure you, sir, I'll do no harm; —
You have too much about you of your own.
Ant, Have you thought of a place yet?
Merc. A place ?
Ant, Ay, a place where yon will bide :
Prithee no more of this modesty ; 'tis finlish!
Ai; we were not detennine<l to be
Absolute friends indeed, 'twere tolerable.
Merc. I have thought, and you shall beu
from me. [glory!
Ant. Why, this will gain me evenastiog
I have the better of him, that's my comfort!
Good night ! [Exit.
Merc. Good night !
Well, go thy ways ! thou art the tidiest wittol
This day I think above ground ;
And yet thy end for all this knust be XDody.
[ExiU
Enter Tinker and Dorothy,
Tinker. Tis bitter cold. A plague upoi
these rogues.
5 In tpight (/cpmse.] Seward would substitute courttn/ for couru.
How
^t5?,J
THE COXCOMB,
tot
How wary they «re grown ! not a door open
But doable-barred; not a window, [now,
fiot op with a case of wood, Hke a spice-hox ;
And their locks unpickable ! the very smiths
That were half V6ntnr6rs, drhik penitent sin-
gle ale:
This is the iron age the ballad sings of.
Wfeil, I shall meet with some of your loose
linen yet; [shew
Good fellows must not starve ; here's he shall
You God-»»mighty's dog-bolts, if this hold.
Dor, Faith, tnou art but too merciful, that's
thy fftcdt;
Hioa art as sweet a thief, that sin excepted.
As ever buffered ; that is a proud word,
And ril maintain it.
Tmker. Come, prithee let's shog off*.
And hrowze an hour or two'*^; there's ale
vill make [thing now,
A cat speak at the Harrow : we shall get no-
Without we batter; it is grown too near
Voniing; the rogues sleep sober, and are
watchful. [fiinction.
Dor, We want a boy extremely for this
Kept under for a year, with milk and knot-
graf'S.
In my time I have seen a boy do wonders:
Robin the red tinker had a hoy, [years,
(God rest his soul, he suffer'd'this time four
For two spoons, and a pewter candlestick),
That sweet man had a boy, ns I am cursten'd
whore,
Wonld have run thro' a cat-hole ; he would
Have boulted such a piece of linen in an
evening — [let's go!
Tinker. Well, we will have a boy. Prithee
I am vengeance cold, I tell thee.
Dor. ril be hang'd
Before I stir without some purchase ! By these
Teu bones, I'll turn she-ape, and untile a
house.
Bat I will have it 1 It may be I have
A humour to be hang'd, I cannot tell.
Enter Viola,
Tinker. Peace, you flca'd whore ! thou hast
a mouth like a blood-hound:
Here comes a night-shade.
Dor. A gentiewoman^whor^;
By this darkness, 1*11 case her to the skin.
Tmker. Peace, I say ! fmal night!
Viofa, What fear have T endur d this dis-
And what disgrace, if I were seen and known!
In which this darkness only is my friend,
That only has undone me. A thousand curses
Light on ray easy, foolish, childish love.
That durst so lightly lay a confidence
Upon a man, so many being false!
My weariness, and weeping, mokes me sleepy;
I must lie down.
Tinker. VV hat's this f a prayer, or
A homily, or a ballad of good counsel?
She has a gown, I'm sure.
Dor. Knock ont her brains!
And then she II never bite.
Tinker. Yes, I will knock her.
But not yet. — You ! woman !
Viola. For God's sake, what are you?
Tinker. One of the -grooms of your ward«
robe. Come,
Uncase, uncase! By'r lady, a good kereey!
Viola. Pray do not hurt me, sir.
Dor. Let's have no pity ' * ; [whistle.
For if you do, here's that shall cut your
Viola. Alas, what would you have? 1 am
as miserable
As you can make me any way.
Dor. That shall be tried, [you pleasure.
Viola. Here, take my gown, if that will do
Tinker. Yes, marry will't. Look in the
There may be birds. * [pockets, Doll;
Dor. They're flown, a pox go with them !
I'll have this hat, and this ruff too; I like it:
Now will I flonrish like a lady brave,
I'laith, boy. [seeming,
Viola. You are so gentle people, to my
That by my truth I could live with you !
Tinker. Could you so ?
A pretty young round wench, well-blooded ; I
Am for her**.
Dor. But by this, I am not ; cool [on't,
Your codpiece, rogue! or I will clap a spell
Shall take your edge off with a very ven«
geance. '
Tinker. Peace, horse-flesh, peace ! I'll cast
off my Amazon ;
Sh'
• Shog &ff^ This cant word is nsed by Nym, in Shakespeare's Henxy V. act ii. scene 1 :
* Will you shog off^ I would have you solus.'
Agftin^ in Marston's What You Will, act v. scene 1:
< why then, capricious mirth,
< Skip light moriscoes in our frolick blood,
* Flagg'd veins, sweet, plump with fresh-inAised joys^
* Laughter, pucker our cheeks, make shoulders $hog
'With chucking lightness, &c.
AgpuSy in Jack Dmm^ Entertainment,
* List to the music that corrupts the gods,
* Subverts even destiny, and thus it shogg. R.
'^ Browie an hour or tzpo.] The text is from Mr. Theobald's margin. I conjectured 4ve
Aonld read rouse^ i. e. carouse, but it is a matter of no great moment. Syntpson.
" Xf*** Aaw n(i ;?i/y.] i. tf. No crying ont for pity. Synipson,
l^ Am for her, thieves.] Thieves has stolen into the text liere very unaccountably. If tho
speech
SOS
TIIE COXCOMB.
[Act 2i
Sh' has Mralk'd too loiig» and is indeed no*
torious, [worthies.
SheMl fight and scold, and drink like one o'th'
Dor, Uds precious, , [ticeing?
You ;|rouug contagious whore, must you be
And, is your flesh so rank, sir, that two may
live upon't ?
I'm glad to hear your curlal's *' grown so lusty;
He was dry-founder'd t'other day ; wehee,
My pamper'd jade of Asia'*!
viola. Good ^voman, do not hurt me ! I
am sorry
That I have given any cause of anger.
Dat. Either bind her quickly, and coine
away, or by
This steel V\\ tell, altho'I trass for company !
Now could I eat her broil'd, or any way,
, Without vinegar : I must have her nose !
Viola, Bv any thing you love best, good
sir! good woman!
Tinker, Why her nose, Dorothy ?
Dor. If I have it not, [withal.
And preseudv, and warm, I lose that I go
Tinker, 'Would the devil had that thou
goest withal, , [whelps,
And thee together! for sure he got thy
If thou hast any ; he's thy dear dad *^. Whore,
Put up your cut-purse ! an I take my switch
up, [your bung, whore I
Twtll be a black time with you else; sheath
Dor, Will yon bind her? [both.
"We shall stand here prating, and be hang'd
Tinker^ Come, I must bind you: not a
word; no crying! [not crv.
Viola, Do what yon will, indeed I will
Tinker. Hurt her not: if thou dost, by ale
and beer,
ni clout thy old bald brain-pan with a piece
' Of brass, you bitch incarnate.
\Ej:eunt linker and Dor,
Viola, Oh, Heav u, to what am I reserv'd !
tbiit knew not.
Thro' all my childish hours and actions,
[More sin than poor imagination,
And too«much loving of a faitliless man.
For which Vm paid ; and so, that not the day
That now is rismg to protect the harmless, I
speech is, or is not curtaiFd, as I can't promise, yet there is no reason for thieves standing
hero, as there is nothing to which it can probably refer. There are but two ways I know
of tliat we can rid the text of it ; tlie first is by expunging it, as I have done, and the second
by supposing that it is a corruption of this, and situate in a wrong place^ and that the pas-
sage once run tlius,
A prettv young round wench well blooded, this^
I'm for hit' Sympum,
'^ CortalL] In Ben Jonson's Masque called Chloridia, a postillion says, * Look to my
* curtail (according to which we have reformed the orthography); and Mr. Whalley says,
*• A curtal is a small horse; properly, one who hath his tail doc/^d or curtailed,^
** Mv pamper d jade of Asia.] This is plainly meant as a burlesque on this line in
Harlow^ Tamerlane :
* Holloy you pamper'd jades of Asia;'
"ivhich is also ridiculed m the Second Fart of Henry IV. act ii. scene 4. I?.
*5 She's ih If dear dad, ] Common sense, us Mr. Seward saw too, calls out tox
change of sAt's into hc^s. Sympson,
'^ Ostend.} See Bote 13 on the Woman's Prizt.
Yah
And give the innocent a satlctuary
From thieves and spoilers, can deurcr mcL
From shame, at least suspicion!
Enter Valeria.
Val. Sirrah, lead down
The horses easily! I'll walk a-foot
Till I be down the hill. 'Tis very eariy;
I shall reach home betimes. How now?
who's there ? [yet
Viola, Night, that was ever friend to lovers,
Has raia'd some weary soul, that hates his bed,
To come and see me blush, and then huigli
at me.
VaL H'had a rude heart that did this.
Viola. Gentle sir.
If you have that which honest men call pity.
And be as far from evil as you shew.
Help a poor maid, that this night, by bad
fortune.
Has been thus us'd by robbers, [help thee!
Vol. A pox upon his heart that would not
This thief was half a lawyer, bv his bands.
How long have you been tied here ?
Viola. Alas, [perish'd.
This hour, and with cold and fear am almost
Val, Where were the watch the while?
Good sober gentlemen !
They were,4ike careful members of the dty.
Drawing in diligent ale, and singing catches.
While Mr. Constable contriv'd the toasts.
These fellows should be more severely pu«
nish'd [whips;
Than wandring gipsies, that ev'ry statute
For if they'd every one two eyes apiece more^
Three pots woula put tliem out. «
Viola. 1 cannot teU ;
I found no Christian to give me succour.
Val. When they take a thief,
I'U take Ostend again '^ : the whoresons
Drink opium in their ale, and then they sleep
Like tops ; as for their bills, they only serv*^
To reach down bacon to make rashers on.
Now let me know to whom I've done tbii
courtesy,
That I may thank my ^arly rising for it,
Viola, Sir, all I am, you see.
ictt.]
THt COXCOMB.
2GS
VaL Tmi liaTe a nnme, Fm sure^ and a
kindredy
A father, friend, or BOtnethiDg tdat muM own
you. — [were these to rob her !
She's a handsome young wench : what rogues
ViohL Sif, you see all I dare reveal ; and, as
Tou are a gentleman, press me no further!
For tliere begins a grief, whose bitterness
Will break a stronger heart than I have in me ;
And 'twill but make yon heavy with the
hearing:
For yovx own goodness sake, desire it not!
VaL Tf you would not have me enquire that,
fiow do you live then ?
Viola. How I have liv'd, is
Still one question, which must not be resolv'd :
How I desire to live, is in your liking ;
So worthy an opinion I have of you.
Vol, Is in my liking ? How, I pray thee ?
tell me! [power. —
riaith, ni do you any good lies in my
She has an eye would raise a bed-rid man :
Come, leave vour fear, and tell me; that's a
g6od wench!
Viob, Sir, I would serv6—
Val. Who wouldst thou serve ? Don't weep,
And tell me
Viola. Faith, sir, even some good woman;
And such a wife, if you be married^
I do imagine yours.
Val. Alas! thou'rt young and lender;
Let me sec thy band I This was neVr made
to wash.
Or wind up water, beat cloaths, or rub a floor.
By this light, for one use, that shall be
nameless, [on !
lis the best wanton hand that e*er I look'd
Piola. Dare you accept me, sir.? my heart
is honest;
Among your virtuous charitable deeds,
I This will not be the least.
' VaL Thou canst in a chamber?
Viola. In a chamber, sir?
I VaL I mean, wait there upon a gentle-
woman.—
I How quick she is! I like that mainly too';
m have her, iW I keep her with main
strength,
I Like a besieg'd town ; for I know I shall
I llave th' enemy afore me within a week.
! Viola. Sir, I can sow too, and make pretty
laces, [women ;
Dress a head handsome, teach young gentle-
For in ail these I have a lUtle knowledge.
! VaL Tis well ; — no doubt I shall en crease
that knowledge. [me! —
I Kke lier better still ; how she provokes
Pretty young maid, you shall serve a good
gentlewoman,
TIh)' I say it, that will not be unwilling
Vou should please me, nor I forgetful if you
Viola. I am the happier. [do.
VaL My man shall make some shifk to
carry yon
Behind him : can you ride well?
riola. But I'll hdd fast.
For catching of a fall.
VaL That's the next way [go i
To pulf another on you.— 1*11 work her as I
I know she*s wax ! Now, now, at this time
could I
Beeet a worthy on this weneb.
Viola. Sir, for [tenfold I
This gentleness, may Heav'n requite you
VaL Tis a good wench! however other*
use thee,
Be "sure I'll be a loving master to thee.
Come ! [Exeunt^
Enter Antonio like an Irish Footman, with a
Letter.
Ant. I hope Fm wild enough for being
known !
I've writ a letter here, and in it have
Abus'd myself most bitterly, yet, ail
My fear is, not enough,
For that must do it, that must lay it on :
I'll win her out o* th' flint; 'twill be more
Now for my language ! [famous.
Enter Servant.
Serv. Now, sir; who'd you speak with?
Ant. Where be thy mastres, man ? I'd
I have a letter. [spake with her :
Sero. Cannot I deliver it? [not, man.
Ant. N'o, by my trot and fait, canst thou
Serv. Well, sir, I'll call her to you; pray
simke your ears
Without a little. [Exit.
Ant, Cran a cree, do it quickly !
This rebel tongue'^ sticks in my teeth
Worse than a tough hen : sure it was [ple%
Ne'er known at Babel ; for they sold no ap*
And this was made for certain at the first
Planting of orchards, it is so crabbed.
Enter Maria'and Servant.
lilaria. What's he would speak with me I
Serv. A Kilkenny ring;
There he stands, madam. [friend ?
Maria. Wliat would yon hftve witli me,
Ant. He has a letter for other women;
wilt thou read it ?
Maria. From whence ?
Ant, De crosse Creest, from my master !
Maria. Who is your master?
Ant. I pray do you look..
iWiaWa, Do you know this fellow ?
Serv. No,
Madam, not I, more than an Irish footman.
Stand further, friend; I do not like youf
rope-runners. [trowsers*^!
What stallion rogues are these, to wear such
The very cotton may commit adulter^'.
** Thit rebel tongue.] See note 26 on this Play.
U To xuar iuch dowiets.] The variatioQ by Symf^on^
Ifan'o,
»«.
tHE COXCOMB*
Maria, t can't ^nd whose hand this should
he; rilread:
* To the beauteous wife of don Autonio/
Sure this is some hlind scribe ! Well ! now
what follows? [that
Ant. Pray God it take ! I have given her
Will stir her conscience ; how it works v^rith
her!
Hope, if it he thy will, let the flesh have it !
Maria. This is the most abhorr'd, intole-
rable knavery, [more
That e*er ^lave entertain'd! Sure there is
Than thine own head in
This villainy; it goes like practised mischief.
Disabled in his body? Oh, good God!
As I live, he lies fearfully, and basely.
Ha! I should know that jewel; 'tis my hus-
band I—
Come hither, sirrah ; are you an Irishman ?
Ant, Sweet woman, a cree, I am an Irish-
man, [your trick, sir ?
Maria. Now I know't perfectly: is this
111 trick you for it ! — How long have you
This gentleman ? [served
Ant. Please tbec, a little day,
0 my Mac Dermond put me to my maatree. —
Tis done, I know.
Afaria. By my faith, he sneaks as well
As if he had been lousy for tlie language
A year or two. Well, sir, you had better
Have kept in your own shape, as I will use
you. [trial ?
What have I done, that should deserve this
1 never made him cuckold, to my knowledge.
Sirrah, come hither j
Ant. Now will she send some jewet,
Or some letter; I know her mind as well !
I shall be famous.
Maria. Take this Irish bawd here —
Ant. How!
Maria. And kick him 'till his breeches
And breech be of one colour, a bright blue
both ! [dare not
Ant. I may be well swing'd thus, for I
Reveal myself: I hope she does not mean it.
[ifcrvant kicks him.
Oh hone! oh hone! oh, St. Patrick! oh,
Oh, sweet woman ! [a cree !
Maria. Now turn him.
And kick him o' t'other side ! tliat's well.
Ant. Oh, good waiting-man 1 I beseech
thee,
Qood waiting-raan !*-A pox fire your legs;
Maria. You rogue.
You enemy to all, but little breeches, [ter?
How dar'st thou come to me with such a iet-
Ant. Prithee
Pity th' poor Inshman i-*All this makes fx
me:
If I win her yet, I'm still more glo^ous.
Marif^, Now could I weep at what Fve
done ; hut I'll
Harden my heart again. — Go, shut him up
Until my husband cornea home. Yet thoi
much [not thoa
Ere you go, simdi Thatch'd-Head f wouldsl
Be whipt, and think it iubtice? —
Well aquavitof barrel, 1 11 bounce you. [gry !
Ant. I pray, do^ I bebcech you, be not an-
Ufariu. OH, you bobby-headed rascal. 111
have you flead.
And trossers'^ made of thy skin to tumble in.
Go, away with him ! let nim see no sun.
Till my husband copi4} home. — Sir, I
Shall meet with you for your knavery,
I fear it not.
4nt. Wilt thou not let me go f—
I do not like this.
Maria. Away with him I [a*lent hair,
Serv. Come, I'll lead you in by your jack-*
Go quietly, or Til make your crupper crack !
Maria. And, do you hear me, sirrah f
when you've doue,
Make my coach ready^
Sere. Yes, forsooth. [Exit with Anttmuh
Maria. Lock him up safe enough. —
I'll to this gentleman, and know the reason
Of all this business, for I do suspect it;
If he have laid this plot, I'll ring him such a
peal
Shall make his ears deaf for a month at least
[Exit,
Enter Ricardo.
Ric. Am I not mad? Can this weak-tem-
per'd head, [wroog
That will be mad with drink, endure the
That I have done a virgin, and my love?
Be mad, for so thou ought'st, or I will beat
The walls and trees down with thee, and will
let
Either thy memory out^ or madness in!
But sure I never lov*d fair Viola,
I never lov'd my father, nor my mother.
Or any thing but drink ! Had jf had love^
Nay, had I known so much charity*'
As would have sav'd an infant fr^m the fin^
I had been naked, raving in the street,
With half a face, gashing myself with kniveS}
Two hours ere this time.
Enter PedrOy Silvio, and Vberto.
Pedro. Good morrow, sir !
Ric. Good morrow, gentlemen!
Shall we go driuk again ? I luive my wits*
'« Trossers.] Trossers appear to have been loose breeches : the word is still presenred^ but
now written trorcncrs. Steepens,
'^ Had 1 knoicn so much charity.] The omission of a particle here hurts the sense, as well
as the measure : to know so much charity j is to posbess so much charity ; but to knw so
tnuch OF charity f is to l)ear or read so much o^it, as that it is a duty to save an infiuit from
Uie fire ; which is a stronger exdufiqa qf himself to all pret^ce <|f ch^ity. Scuard.
We think the old reading rigbw
Pidro»
Mt Si]
TH£ COXCQMBt
^5
fetka. $Ck bare I, but tiicy're unsettled
'Would I'd sonHi porridge ! [pues :
jRic TUe tavi;ru-bo> wa» here tbi:i uioru-
iiig wit^ Die,
And toid i««9 that there wab a ge^^UewoopaQ,
Which Uq took for a whore^ that hu'^ ou me,
For wlM>m we quarrell'd, and I know not
Fe4ro, rfaith, nor I. [what.
Uberto. I have a glimmering
Of soDie such thing.
Ric. Was it you, Silvio, [Pedro.
That made me drink ao much? 'twas you or
Fedro, I know not who.
Silvio. We were all apt enough. [me,
Ric, But I will lay the fault ou none hut
That I would be so entreated ! — Couir, Silvio,
Shall we go drink again ? Coni6, gentlemen,
Why do you stay ? Let's never leave off mow,
Wbilbt we have wine, and tliroats ! I*il prac-
tise it,
Till I have made it my best quality ;
for what is btbt for me to do but that?
For Heav*n sake, come and drink ! When I
'^ am nam*d, [mean you?
Men shall make answer, ' Which Kicardo
\ ''The excellent drinker ?' X will have it so.
I Will yoti go drink I
I - Silvio, We drunk too much too lately.
I Hie. Why, there is then the l^ss behind
I to drink : [abroad,
LeVb end it all! dispatch that» wVll senci
i And purchase lUl the wine tlie world can
yield, [earth,
And drink it o^; then take the fruits o* th'
I)istii the j uice from thc>ni, and drink that off;
We 11 catch the rain before it fall to ground.
And drink off that, that never more may
gn>w^°;
Well set our moutlis to springs, and drink
them off;
And all this while we*ll never think of those
I' lliat love us best, more than we did. last
I niglit.
[l We will not give unto the poor a drop
Of all this drink ; but, wheu we see them
weep, [too:
Well run to them, and drink their tears off
\Vt*ll never leave whilst there is lieat or
j moisture
I In this lai-ge globe ; but suck it cold and dry.
Till we liave made it elemental earth,
I Merely by drinking.
i'earo. Is it flattery,
I To tell you, you arc mad ?
I Ric. If it be false, .
Tltere's no such way to bind me to a i^an;
He tbat will have me lay my goc^ds and lands,
Hy htb down lor him, need no more but say,
* aicardo, tliou ar;t mad !' and then uU these
Are at his service; J:hen lie pleases me,
And maketi lae think that I had virtue in me.
*** That never more way ^oip.] i. e. That
is strong, but not very clear. Seward,
** Audr. Where f\ Dropped since first folio.
VQL. III.
Tliat I had love and teadernoss of h^art;
I'hnt, tho' I have committed such a fault
As never creature did, vet ruuuing ixuid,
i\$ huiKiSt men should do tor such a (:rime,
I have express'd some worth, tho' it be late :
But I, alas, have none of tliese in me.
But keep my wits still like a frozen man.
That had no tire within him.
Silvio. Nay, good Kicardo,
Leave this wild talk, and send a letter to her!
X will deliver it.
Ric. Tis to no purpose ;
Perhaps she's lost last night ; ^or, if she is
Gpt home again, she's now so strictly look'd
to,
The wind can scarce oomr to her : or, admit
She were herself, if she would hear from me,
From me unworthy, that have us'd her thus,
She were so foolish that she were no more
To be belov'd.
Enter Andrugio, and Servant with a Night*
gown.
Sere. Sir, we have found this night-gotvi|
she took with her.
And. Where*'?
Ric. Where? where? speak quickly !
jSeirv. Searching in thf suburbs,
We found a tinker and his whore tliat had
It in a tap*hou5a, whom w^ apprehended^
And they ponfess*d they stole it from her.
^ic. And murdered her ?
Silvio. Wliat ail you, max^ ?
Ric. W^hy, all tins doth i^o( make
MeiQad. [else.
Silvio. It does ; you would not o^er tliis
Good Pedro, look to*s sword I
Sen?, They do deny
Tlie killing of ^r, but swore they
Left her tied to a tree, i'th' fields next those
Suburbs that are without Our Lady's gate.
Near day, and by the road, so that some
passenger
Must ufttds UMty .her quickly. [I will only
Andr. The will of Ueav n be done I Sir,
Entreat you this, that as you were the greatest
Occasion of her loss, tliat youll be pleas'd
To urge your friends, and be yoiuself earnest
I' th' search of her: if she be found, she is
yours, [people
If she please. I myself only will see tliebc
Bett<y examin'd, and after toUow
Some way iu aearch. Uod keep you, gentle^
men ! [£j/<.
Silvio. Alas, good man ! [this lump
Ric, What tivnk ye now of me ? I think
Is nothing but a piece of phlegm congeal'd,-
Without a soul ; ibr where tl)ere*s so much
spirit
As would but warm a flea, those faults of
mine
nothing more way ever grow. The expression
Mm
Would
266
THE COXCOMB.
[Acts.
Would make it glow and tene in this dull
heart,
And run like molten gold thro* every »iny
'Till it could burst these walls, and fly away.—
Shall I entreat you all to take your horses,
And search this innocent?
Pedro. With all our hearts, [come there
ittc Do not divide yourselves, till you
Where they say she was tied: FllfbUow too,
But never to return till she be found.
Give me my sword, good Peflro ! I will do
No harm, believe roe, with it; I am now
Far hetter^temper^d : if I were not so,
I hai'e enow besides. God keep you all,
And send us good success !
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
Enter Mercury and Servant.
Mere. XJiTHO is it? can you tell?
^ ^ Serv. By my troth, sir,
I know not; bat it is a gentlewoman.
Mere. A gentlewoman** ? I'll lay my life
yon puppy [up the bed.
Has sent his wife to me : if be have, fling up
Serv. . Here she is, sir.
Enter Maria, with a Letter.
Maria. I'm glad I found you, sir. There,
take your letter, [wrong !
And keep it til! you have another friend to
l^s too malicious &lae to make me sin ;
You have provok'd me to be that I love not,
A talker, and you shall
Hear me. Why should you dare f imagine me
So light a housewife, that, from four hours'
knowledge.
You mieht presume to offer to my credit
This nide and ruflian trial ? I am sure
r never courted you, nor gave you tokens,
That might concern assurance*' : you-re a
fool! , [letter.
Merc. I cannot blam^ you, now I see this
Tho' you be angry, yet with me you must not,
Unlefas you'll make me guilty of a wrong
My worst aflections hate.
Maria. Did not you send it?
Merc. No, upon my feith;
And which is more, I understand it not:
The hand is as far from my knowledge,
As the malice.
Maria. This is strange!
Mere. It is so, -[ful,
And had been stranger^ and indeed more hate-
Had I, that have receiv'd such courtesies,
** Merc. A gentleman.'] lliere is neither sense nor humour in tliis answer, and our authors
mast undoubtedly have wrote it, gentlewoman. Sympvm.
*3 Concern aswrance^ Though the sense of this place be not hard to find out, yet I am
afraid the expression is not very justifiable ; as the word iokent occurs in the line above, I
once thought we should read conn^ny or contain assurance. Smnpson.
^ Than the manner.] Manner is certainly, as Mr. Seward saw with me, a corruption, and
Che true reading, which he concurred in, mattery t. e. the substance or contents of the letter
to which his name was subscribed. Sympwn.
Jlfa^/^r is probably right; yet manntff is used in old books for the facts taken in the
MAKKKft.
Sere
And owe so many thanks, done this base of-
fice.
Maria. Your name is at it.
Merc. Yes, but not my nature ;
And I shall hate my name worse than the
manner'*, [tooos;
For this base broking. Yon are wise and vir-
Reroove this fault from me ;
For, on the love I bear to truth and goodness.
This letter dare not name me for the author.
Maria. Now I perceive my husband's
knavery !
If my man can but find where he has been,
I will go witli this gentleman, whatsoever
Comes on't ; and, as I mean to canr it.
Both he and all the world shall think it fit,
And thank me ibr it.
Merc. I must confess I loved you at first;
Howe*er this made me leave your house un-
mannerly,
That might provoke me to do something ill.
Both to your honour and my fiiith, and not
To write this letter, which I hold so tiuly
Wicked, that I won't think on't.
Maria. I do believe you, and since I see
youVe free, [not
My words were not meant to you : but this is
The half of my affliction.
Merc. It is pity [quire?
You should know more vexation ; may I en-
Maria. Faith, sir, I fear I've lost my bus*
band. P*'»
Merc. Your husband? it can't be. J pity
How she is vex'd !
Enter Servant.
Maria. How now? what news? Nay, speak,
For we must know.
Act 5.]
^THE COXCOMB.
fW
Sero. Faitb, I have found at length.
By chance, where he has been.
Maria. Where?
Sen, In a blind rwithhim!
Ottt-hoose i' th' saburhs: pray Goa all be well
Marui. Why? [comeofhimy
Serv, Tliere are his cloaths : buCy what's be-
I cannot yet enqoire^'.
Biaria, Vm glad of tliis. — [do?
Sure they have murdered hiin ! What sliall I
Merc. Be not so griey'd, before you know
the truth ! fsudden'st
YouVe time enough to weep. 1 his is the
Mischief-— Did you not bring an officer
To search there, where you sav you found his
cloaths? [the fellow with him ;
&rv. Yes; and we search'd it, and charged
Bat he, like a rogue, a stubborn rogue, made
answer, [there,
He knew not where he was ; he had been
But where he was now he could not tell :
I tell you true, I fear him.
■ Mttria, Are all my hopes and longings to
enjoy him,
After this three years* travel, come to this ?
Serv, It is the rankest house in all the city.
The most curs'd roguy bawdy-house ! Hell
fire it! [you go home?
Merc, This is the worst I heard yet. Will
ni bear you company, and give you the
Best help I- may : this being here will wrong
yon. [lov'd
Maria, As you're a gentleman, and as you
Your dead friend, let me not go home !
That will but heap one sorrow on another.
Merc. Why, propose any thing, and I'll
perfonn*t:
I am at my wits* end too.
Serv. So am I. Oh, my dear ma&ter!
Merc. Peace, you great fool !
Maria. Then, good sir, carry me td some
retir*d place.
Far from the si^ht of this unhappy city;
Whither you will indeed, so it be mr enough !
Merc If I might counsel you, I tlunk ,
'twere better
.To go home, and try what may be done yet;
He may be at home afore you; who can tell?
Maria. Oh, no; 1 know he*s dead, I know
' he's murder*d 1 [too.
Tell me not of ^oin^ home! you murder me
Jferc. Well, since it pleasesyou to have it so,
I will no more persuade you to go home;
111 be your guide in the country, as your erief
Doth command me. I've a mother, dweUing
from ^ [homely,
Thisplaoe tome twenty miles : the house, tho'
Yet able to shew somethins like a welcome;
Thither 1*11 see you safe, wiui all your sorrows.
Maria. With all the speed that may be
Uiought upon !
I have aooacn here ready ; goodjir, quickly 1— .
I'll fit you, my fine hinband !
Merc. It shall be so :
If diis fellow be dead, I see no band
Of any other man to tie me from my will ;
And 1 will follow her with such careful
service.
That she shall either be my love, or wife.
Will you walk in ?
Maria. I thank you, sir ; but one word
with ray man,
And I am ready !— Keep the Irish fellow
Safe, as you love your life, for 1^ I fear
Has a deep hand m this ; then search again.
And get out warrants for that naughty man
That keeps the bad house, that he may
answer it!
If you find the body, give it due burial.
Farewell! You duul hear from me. Keep
allsafo!
Serv, Oh, my sweet master!
[£revnf.
Antonio, knocking within.
Ant. Man-a-cree,
The devil take thee, wilt thou kill me here?
I prithee now let me so seek my master ;
I shall be very cbeel else.
Enter Servant.
Serv. Do you hear, man-a-cree?
I'll cnee your coxcomb, an you keep not still;
Down you rogue !
Ant, Good sweet fact sarving-man,
Let me out, I beseech de, and by my trot
I will give dy worship two shillings in good
To buy dy worship pipins. [<^ot,
Serv, This rogue thmks
All the worth of man consists in pipins: by
this light,
111 beat rebellion out of you for ever** !
Ant. Wilt thou not hear me, man?
Is fet! ril give thee all I have about me. •
Serv. I thank you, sir; so I may have
picking work*^.
• Ant. Here is five shillings, man.
Serv. Here is a cudgel,
A very good onel
Enter two Servants.
2 Serv. How nwv? what*s the matter?
Where is the Irishman ?
1 Serv. There, a wyth take him ^'!
H^
*^ I catmat yet enquire.] EnquirCy means here, Jind out. Symptoj^.
^* PU beat rebellion out of' you for ever.] A second slur this upon the >ebellipus Irish.
Symjson,
work."] Meaning he was lousy. Sympson, ' *
This expression seems to be equivaleut to that now used by the^ul-
A wyth appears to have been a band or h»ltcr» * I heard a tale of a
M m 3 * butcher,
*' May have pi
*» A wyth take him^
gar, a hatter take kirn.
266
tHE COXCOMS.
[kctU
He makes more noise «l!one th^K, thah ten
lawyers
Can do >vith dmtble fees, and a scurvy case**.
^ Scrv. Let liim out ! I must talk with him.
Enter Antonio.
Ant. Wilt thou give me
Some drink, oh hone? I am very dry, man.
2 Serv. You shall have that shall quench
youf. thirst, my friend.
Ant. \^t dost thou mean, man^
2 SffT. jEven a good tough hoiker.
Ant. A halter? oh hone!
2 Serv. Sirrah,
You are a mischievous rogue, that's the truth.
Ant. No, fet I am not.
1 Serv. Shall I knock out his brains?
I have kill'ddogs have been worth three of him
For all uses.
2 Serv. Sirrah, the truth on't is,
You must with me to a justice. Oh, Roger,
Roger!
1-Serv. WTiy, what's the matter, William?
2 Serv. Heavy news, Roger,
Heavy news; God comfort us!
1 Serv. What is*t, man ? [weary
Ant. What's the matter now ?— I am ev'n
Of this way : 'would I were out on*t!
2 Serv. My master sure
Is murder'd, Roger, and this Cursed rogue,
I fear, has had a hand in't.
Ant. No, fet, not!
1 Serv. Stand away!
rU kick it out of him : come, sirrah, mount ;
I'll make you dance, you ^rascal! kill my
master?
If thy breech were cannon-proof, having this
Good cause on my side, I would encounter it;
Hold fair. Shamrock !
Ant. Why, how now, sirs!
Ymi will not murder me, indeed ?
U Serv. Bless us, Roger!
Ant. Nay, I am no spirit.
2 Serv. flow do you, sir?
This is my very master*
* butcher, who driving two calves over a common, that were coupled, together by the necks
<'witb an o<dten zcyth. In the wa^^ where they should pass, there lay a poor lean mare, with
* a gall'd back, to whom they coming (as chance lell out) one of one side, and the other of
* the other, smelling on her, (as their nmuner is) the midst of the wyth tliat was betwixt
* their necks rubbed her and grated her on the sore back, that she started and rose op, airi
* hung them both on her back as a beam ; wliich bein^ but a rough plaister to her raw uleer,
* she ran away with them (as she were frantic) into the fens, where the butcher could hot
* follow them, and drowned both herself and them in a quagmire. Now the owner of the
< mare is in law with the butcher for the loss of his mare, and the butcher interchangeably
« indicts him for his calves.' Pierce Fenileisc his Supplicatha to the Devily by Tho. NiHhtt
1693, p. 15.
This whimsical story so much resembles the case of Bullum and Boatum, told by the late
Lecturer on Heads, that he might almost be suspected to have borrowed the idea (rom
Nash. R.
^9 With double, and a scurvy case.] Mr. Seward proposed reading douhlfuly or douhle and
scutvy, Ve. doubly scurvy. I only suppose a word has been dropt here by chance^ and that
the whole ran once,
double fees, and a scurvy cause.
i. s. doubly paid to pleacTa scurvy cause. Sympson.
Empty
Ant^ Whyj weTI >hoiM|h ^^t ;
But you've « hea^ root of yotir owa*
Where's my wife ?
1 Serv. Alas, poor sorrowful gientlewoiniin^
She chinks yo\iVe dead, und ♦las given o'er
housekeeping.
Ant. Whither is she gone ilien ?
1 Serv. Into tlje country
With the gentleman, yourfrichd, sir.
To M»e if she can wear her sorted (wl
there:
She weeps and takes on too —
4nt. This fiills out pat;
I shall be everlasting for a name!—
Doyou hear ? upon your lives and faithsto me,
Not one wonl I am living !
But let the same report pass along,* that
I am murdcr'd still.— I'm made for ever!
1 Serv. Why, sir ? fy»w.^
Ant. I have a cause, '^sir; that's'enoughfor
Well, if I bfe not famous, I am wrong'd much :
For any thing I know, I will not trouble him
This week at least ; no, let them take their
One of another! [way
1 Scro. Sir, will you be still an Irishman i
Ant. Yes, a while. [more ?
2 Serv. But your worship will be beaten no
Ant. No, I Ihank you, William. [doit
"1 Serv. In truth, sir, if it must be so, ill
Better than a strangter.
Ant. Go ; you'reknares both!
But I forgive you. — I am almost mad
With the apprehension of what I shall be.—
Not a word, I charge you ! [Exeunt.
Enter Valerio and Viola.
Vol. Come, pretty soul, we now are ne«f
our home, [Mil,
And whilst our horses ate walk'd down th«
Let thou and I walk here over this close!
The footway is more pleasant. Tis a timq^
My pretty one, not to be wept away,
For every living thing is ftiU of love ;
Art not thou so too ? ha ?
Viola. Nay, there are living things
<&ct5j
TUB COKCOVIS.
2^
Emphr of love, or I had not been hete; *
I BHty&r mjBelfy akis, I have too much.
VmL it camioC be, [gi^ce,
' That 60 moch beauty, so muHXi youtli and
I Should hme too much o£ iove.
Vioia. Pray what is love ?
I For I am full of that I do not know. ^
VaL U^y, love, fair maid, is an eMrenie
desire,
TWs not to be eKamin'd, but fuldird ;
' To %sk the reason why thou art in love,
Or what might lift the noblest end in love.
Would overthrow that.kindly^risiHg wanatli,
That many times slides gently o'er tiie heart ;
I'troald make thee grave ^d staid, thy
j thoughts would be
I like a thrice-married widow, full of ends,
I And void of all compassion ; and, to fright
i thee
I pKim«ttdi' enquiry, whereas thou art now
Living in i^nornnoe, mild, fresh, And sweet.
And b«t«u(teea, the knowing what love is
''< Woold make thee -six and forty.
Vioia, 'Would it wouldmake me nothing ! —
I have heard
Scholars affirm, the world^s upheld by love^
fiat I believe, wooien nuiintain all tlus;
For there's no love in men.
VbL Yes, in -some men.
Viola. I know them not.
VaL Why,. there islo^e in me.
Fio^. There's charity Tm bure towards me.
Vol, And love.
Which I will now express ; xuy pretty maid,
I dare not bring thee home ; my wite is foul,
And therefore envious ; she: is very old, •
^Aodthefefoie jealous; ihou art fair and
young,
A^l^eet fit for her unlucky vices
To work upon ; she never will endure thee.
Viola^ Sne may endure, •
If site be aught but devil, all the friendship
That I will h<^d with you. Can she endure
I ihoukl be thankful to you ? may I pray
Foryou and her? will she be brought to think.
That all the honest industry I have
Deaervea brown bread ? If this ma^ be endor*d,
^'11 pick a quarrel with a sleeping child,
I!*e she £ill out with me.>. [someness.
VmI, Bat, tmst me/aliedoes hate, all hahd-
Viola, How fell yon in love>with:8iieh a
VaL I never U>v'd her. [creatiue f
Vioia, And yet mariied her?
VaL She was a rich one.
Viola, Attd yon awere, I wanant you,
She was a fiur one tlien too.
VaL Or, Mfeve me,
I think I had not had her.
Viola, Are you men [place.
All such ? 'VVouid you would wall us in a
Wliere all we women that are innocent
M»ht live together ! •
Vol. Do not weep at this :
Altho' I dare not, for some weighty reason.
Displease my wife, yet 111 forget not thee.
Violu, What will ^you -do widi me ?
Vol. Thou slmlt be placed [roioient
At uiy inau's house, and have &\\c\i tuod and
As can be bought wltli money : these wlute
hands
Sliall uuver leaun to work, but tjieyshall play.
As thou sayst tliey were wont, {teaching tlie
strings
To move in order, oj^what else thou wiit.
Viola. I thank you, sir; but pray you
cluath me poorly,
And let my labour get me means to live!
Vol. But, fair one, you I know do so
much hate
A foul ii^ratitude, you will not look
I should do tiiis for nothing.
Viola, I will work
As much out as I can, and take as little; and
That you shall have as duly paid to you
As ever servant did.
VuL But give me now .
A trial of it, that I may believe!
•We are alone; shew me how tiiou wilt kiss
And hug nie liard, when I have stol'ii away
From my too-clamorous wife that watches me.
To spend a blessed hour or two with thee !
Viola, Is this tlie love ypu mean? You
would have that
Is not in me to give ; you would Imve lust.
VaL Not to d issei able, or to mince the word,
rris lust I wi«^ iudeed.
Viola. And, by my troth, [kindly,
J have it not! For HeavVs sake, use me
Tho' I be good, and siusw perhaps.a monster,
As this world goes !
VaL 1 do but. speak to thee;
Thy answers are thv own ; I compel none -.
But if thou refuse this motion.
Thou art not then for me. AIas,.good soul?
What profit can thy work bring pie ?
Viola, But I ^ear: I pcay go! for lust,
they say, will grow
Outrageous, being denied. I^ive you tlMmks
For all your courtesies, and there's a jewel
•That's worth the taking, that I did preserve
Safe from the robbers. E'ray you leave me here
Just as you found me, a poor innocent,
And Ueav'n will bless you tor it!
Vol. Pretty maid,
I am no robkier, uor no ravisher.
I pvay thee keep thy jewel. I. have* done
No wrong to thee. Tbo'thou be'st virtuous,
And in extremity, I do not know
That I am bound to keep thee.
Vioia, No, sir;
For God 8 sake, if you know an honest man
In all these countries, give me some directi9n5
To find him oat!
VaL More lion«0t tlmn myself, [liiin
Good sooth, I do^ not know : I would have
With thee, with thy conserit; and who would
not.
In all these parts, is past my memory.
I'm sorry for thee. Farewell, gentle maid :
God keep thee safe! [EjU.
VioU.
270
THE COXCOMB.
[Ad 3.
Viola, I thank you, sir ; and yoo !
Woman, they say, was only made of man :
Methinks 'tis stranue they should be so un*
like!
It may be, all the best was cut away
To make the woman, and the nanght was left
Behind with him. — 111 sit me down and
weep! [earth:
All things have cast me from 'em bat the
The evening comes, and e\'ery little flower
Droops now, as well as I.
Enter Nan and Madge, with Milk'-pails.
Nan, Good Madge,
Let's rest a little; bv my troth, Vm weaty.'
This new pail is a plaguy heavy one; 'would
Tom [ard'st
Were Itang'd for chusing it ! 'tis the nntow-
Fool in a country. [too, Nan.
Madge. With all my heart, and i thank you
Viola. What true contented happiness
dwells here,
More t1i^ in cities! 'Would to God my father
Had liv'cl like one of these, and bred me up
To milk, and do as they do! Methinks 'tis
A life that I would chuse, if I were now
To tell my time again, above a prince's. —
Maids, [of milk,
For chart^, give a poor wench one draught
That weanness and hunger have nigh ^misli'd !
Nan, If I'd but one cow's milk in all the
worid, [more ! the cheese
You should have some ou*t: there; drink
jjhall pay for it. Alas^ poor lieart, she's dry.
Madge. Do you dwell hereabouts?
Viola, No; 'would I did! [cousin Sue
Nan, Madge, if she does not look like my
O' th* Moor-iune, as one thing can look like
another. [Sue well :
Madge, Nay; Sue has a haxel eye, I know
And, by your leave^ not so trim a body,
neither;
This is a feat-bodied thing, I tell you.
Nan. She laces close [too.
By the mass, I warrant you; and so does Sue
Viola. I ^nkyou for your gcsntleness, fistir
maids.
Nan. Drink a|ain, pray thee! [thee for*t!
Viola. I'm satisfied; and Hearn reward
Yet Uitts far 111 compel you, to accept
These Wifies^toysonly that express my thanks,
For greater worth I'm sure they have not in
them.
Indeed you shall; I found them as I came.
Nan, Madge ! look you here, Madge !
Madge. Nay, I have as fine a one asyou;
IS you;
pn't:
All gold, and painted, and a precious stone
I %> arrant it cost a crowa» wench.
Nan, But mine
Is the most sumptuous one that e'er I sayr.
Viofa. One favour you must do me more.
Are well acquainted here. [for you
Nan, Indeed we'll do you any kindness,
sister. [place,
Viola, Only to send me to some honest
Where I may find a service. [last week.
Nan. Uds me, our Dorothy went away but
And I know my mistress wants a maid, and
why [wench.
May she not be plac'd there? This is a likely
I tell you truly, and a good wench, I warrant
her. [have serv'd
Madge, And 'tis a hard case, if we that
Four years apiece, cannot bring in one ser-
vant;
We will prefer h6r. Haik yoa, sister !
Pray whatf s vour name I
viola. Melvia. [milk a cow ?
Nan, A feat name, f faith! And can yea
And make a merry-bush ? That's nothing.
Viola, I shall learn quickly, fserve a pig?
Nan. And dress a house with flowers? and
(This you mast do, for we deal in the dairy)
And make a bed or two?
Viola, I hope I shall. [^^ ^^ "^^
Nan, But be sure to keep the men out;
All that you make else, I know that by my
self;
For I have been so tousM among 'em in
My days! Come, you shall e'en home with us.
And be our fellow; our house is so honest,
And we serve a very good woman, and a gen-
tlewoman! [dajs
And we live as merrily, and dance o' good
Afler even-song. Our wake shall be on Suji-
day } [mighty cheer then,
, Do vou know what a wake is? We have
Ana such a coil, 'twould bUssye! Yoo most
Be so bashful, youll spoil all. [not
Madge. Let's home, for God's sake!
My mistress thinks by this time we are lost.
Come, we'll have a care of you, I warraot
you : [b6ni,
But you must tell my mistress where you were
And every thing tlmt belongs to you, and the
strangest things
You din devise, for sheloves those estremdy;
'TIS no matter whether th^ be true or no,
she's not so scrupulous.
You must be our sister, and love us best,
And tdl tts every thing; and when odd wetr
ther
CoQies, we'll lie together: will you do this?
Viola, Yes.
Nan. Then home again, o' God's name?
Can you goc4;>ace?
viola, I warrant you. [ExewU.
ACT
Act 4.]
THE COXCOMB.
S71
ACT IV.
Enter Pedro and SUvIq*^, ttveralltf.
PednK TJOW now? any good news yet f
"• Sihkh Faith, not any yet.
Pedro. This comes o* tippling: would
'twere treason,
Au't please God, to drink more than three
Draughts at a meal.
SUvio. When did you see Ricardo?
Pedro. I cro8s*d hun twice to-day.
Silvio. You have heard of
A young wench that was seen last night?
Pedro. Yes.
Silvio. Has Ricardo heard of this ?
Pedro. Yes; and I think
He*s ridden after. Farewell ! I will liave
Another ronnd.
Silvio. If you hear any thin^
Pray spare no horse-flesh; I will do the like.
Pedro. Do. [Exeunt.
Enter Jjfieardo and Vakrio.
I Ric. Sir, I did think 'twas you, by all de-
FoiLTisso; [scriptioiis.
I took her up indeed, the manner how
You*7e heard already, and what she had
abont her,
(As jewels, gold, and other trifling things)
And what my end was, which, because she
slighted,
I left her there i* tli* fields. [rogne,
Itk. Left i*th' fields? Could any but a
That had despis'd humanity and goodness,
Heav'n*s law and credit, and had set himself
To lose his noblest part, and be a beast.
Have left so innocent unmatched a virtue
To the rude mercy of a wilderness? [house I
Val. Sir, if you come to rail, pray quit my
^' Enter Pedro and Uberto teveralbf.'\ The dissonance between the persons in the stage
direction, and those in the text, is too giarine to be overlooked. S^fvupton.
^^ To heepoffhalfa day f] Tis pity this fine passage sliould lie clog'd with the least ob-
scurity. But what is ka^'a day here} The twelve hours of the night? Or may day here
signify the open air, as the miners use it in Derbyshire? When the^ ore is brought from
nnder ground, they say. Its brought to day. If this last may be allowed, the sentiment is
extremely just, lb keep off' only half the inclemency of the air. St^mpton.
The eipression, we tliink, means to keep of the weather during half a day : 'The twelve
' hours of the night,' b a ridiculous preciseness.
3> . — i that prime
The maiden blouonu.] Here we have another difiiculty to encounter, which I am afraid
is not capable of being explained into sense, and therefore must be cured another way. To
frime blossoms, i.e. to nip, or make them wither, is, I fancy, an expression for which thei«
can be found no authority, and so the less likely to have any claim for a place here. There
are two ways of nuiking this passage sense; the first is by reading thus, that prune, &c,
which Mr. Seward concurred with me in ; the other, and which I like better, is this;
- that pine
The maiden blossoms. Sympson*
Perlmps prime the maiden blossotnsy might have been intended to signify to cut them eff in
their pkimc.
Tlie
I do not use to have such language ^ven
Within my doors to me. As for your wench,
You may go seek her witli more patience;
She's tame enough, I warrant you.
Ric. Pray forgive me,
(I do ocmfess my much foivetfulnets)
And weigh my words no further, I beseech
you, [seix'd me,
Tlum a mere madness ! for such a grief has
So strong and deadly, as a punishment.
And a just one too.
That 'tis a greater wonder I am living.
Than any thing I iitter. Yet, let me tell yon
Thus much ; it was a fiiult for leaving her
So in the fields;
Val. Sir, I will think so now ;
And credit me, you have so wrought me with
Your grief, that I do both foigive and pity
you: {b^re»
And if youll please to take a bed this night
To-morrow I will bring you where I left her*
Ric. I thank you, no ! Shall I be so an*
worthy
To think upon a bed, or ease, or comfort,
And have my heart stmy from me, God
knows where,
Cold and forsaken, destitute of firiends.
And all good comforts else, unless some tree,
Whose speechless charity must better ours,
With which the bitter east winds made their
sport
And sung thro' hourly, hath invited her
To keep off half a day3'>? Shall she be thus.
And [ draw in soft slumbers? God forbid !
No, nieht and bitter coldness, I provoke thee.
And ail the dews that hang upon tliy locks.
Showers, hails, snows, frosts, and two-edg'd
winds that prime^'
272
TOE COXCOMB.
[Act 4.
The maiden blossoms ; I provoke you all^
And dare expose this body to your sharpness^
Till I be made a laud-mark !
Vol. Will you then stay
And eat with me ?
Ric. You're angry with me, I know you're
You would not bid me eat else. My poor
mistress^
For aught I know, thou'rt famish'd; for what
else
^ Can the fields yield thee, and the stubborn
season.
That yet holds in the fruit? Good gentle sir,
Think not ill manners in me for denying
Your offered meat! for sore I cannot eat
While I do think she wants. Well, I'm a rash
cal,
A Tillain, slate, that only was begotten,
To murder women, and of them the best.
VaL This is a strange affliction ! If you will
Accept no greater courtesy, yet drink, sir.
Ric. Now I am sure you hate me : an you
knew
What kind of man I am<*as indeed 'tis fit
That every man should know me, to avoid me.
If you have peace within you, sir, or good*
• iiesB,
Name that abhowr'd word drinkno more unto
me!
You had safer strike me.
I pray you do not, if you love me, do not!
VaL 8ir, I mean no iHt by't,
. Ric. It may be so;
Nor let iTie see none, sir, if y(vu love Heav'n !
You know not what offence it is unto nic;
Xor, good now, do not ask me wliy: and I
warn
You once ajrain, let no man else speak of it!
1 fear your servants will be prating to me.
K«/. Why, sir, what ail vou?
jRir. I hate drink, there s fl>e end on't;
And that man that drinks with meat is
damn*d''^.
Without an age of prayers and repentance;
And there's a hazard too: good sir, no more!
If you will do me a free courtesy,
TlJat f shall know for one, go take your horse,
And bring fhe to the place where you left her.
VuL Snice you are so importunate, I will:
But I will wish, sir, you had sta/d to-night;
Upon mv credit, you shall see no drink.
Ric, be gone I the hearing of it makes me
Enter Mother, Viola, Nan, and Madge,
Mot her. Is this the wench ? YouVe brought
me some catch, I warrant.
I low daringly she looks upon the matter!
Madf^c. Yes, forsooth, this is tlie maideo.
Mother. C^nie hither! Would you serve?
Viola. If it shall please you to accept my
service ; [you,
I hope I shall do something that shall like
Tho'it be but truth, and often praying (or you.
Mother., You are vcry^curious of your hand
snethinks,
You preserve it so with gluvet : let me see it!
Ay, marry, here's a hand of marchpane,
wenches !
This pretty palm r.ovrr »(new sorrow yet:
How soft It is, l warrant you, and supple!
O'my word, this is titter ior a pocket, Joae,
To filch withal, than to work: I fear me,iittle
You are no better than yon should be; go to!
Viola. My conscience yet is btit one mt-
nesstome, [cence:
And that, Heav'n knows, is of mine iniio-
'^ris true, I must cdnfess with shame enough.
The time that I have led yet never taught me
What 'twas to break a sleep, or to be weaiy.
Mother. You can say well;
If you be mine, wench, you must d'> well too,
For words are but slow workers : yet, so much
Hope I have of you, that I'll take you, so
You will be diligent, and do your duty.
How now ?
Enter Alexander.
Alex. There is a messenger come
From your son, that brings youwoidheil
retum*d
Fro^ travel, and will be liere this n5ght.
Mother. Now joy upon thee for it ! thoa
art ever
A bringer of t»ood tidings ; there, drink that!
In trotiMh' hast much contented mT. My son?
Lord, how thou hast picas d me ! shall I see
njy win v [same,
Yet ere I die ? Take care my house be hand-
And the new stools set out, and boughs and
rushes ^rpct,
And flow'rs for the window, and the Torkey
And tl»e great parcel salt, Nan, with the cru-
ets !
A ikI prithee, Alexander, go to th' cook,
A tid bid him ?pare for nothing, my son's come
Who's come with him? [home!
Sir^ wifl you be entreated to forbear it? Alrr. I hear of none yet, but a geutlcwo-
I shall be mad else. man. [mau !
Val. 1 pray no more of that ! Mother. A gentlewoman ? what gendewo-
I'm quiet; I'll walk in, and away straight. Alex. I know not: but such a on^ there i%
Ric. Now I thank you ! But what you do, he says. [himsetf
Do m a twinkling, sir ! Mother. Pray God he have not cast away
Val. As soon as may be. [Exeunt. Uj>on some snout-fair piece! I do not like it.
^^ And that man that drinks uith meat is damned.] As the line is deficient by a syllfthle)
why may we not pre&en-e the sentiment, and restore the measure^ by reading thus;
And tliat man that drinks without meat is dainn'd. Svtnpson,
Alei.
Act 4.]
THE COXCOMB.
270
Alex, No^ sure my master has more discre-
tion, [welcome.
Mother. Well, be it how it will he shall be
Sin, to yoar tasks, and shew this little novice
How to bestir herself! I'U sort out things.
[EjU.
Madge. We will, forsooth : I can teUyou,
my mistress
L a stirring woman.
Nan. Lord, how she'll talk sometimes !
It IS the maddest cricket —
Viola. Methinks she talks well,
And shews a great deal of good housewifery.
Fray let me deck the chambers, shall I?
iViw. Yes,
You shall; but do not scorn to be ndvis*d.
Sister, for there belongs more to that ihan
You are aware on: wliy [ings?
Would you venture so fondly upon thescrow-
There's mighty matters in them, 111 assure
you.
And in the spreading of a bough-pot; you «
May miss, if you were ten ye<irs elder, if
Yot^ take not especial care before you.
Viola. I will learn willingly, if that he all.
Nan, Sirrah, whertf is't they say my youug
master hath been? [where they
Madge. Faith I know not; beyond the sea,
Are born without noses.
Nan. Jesse, bless us! without noses?
How do they do for handkerchiefs?
Madge. So Richard says :
And,sirrah, their feet stand in their foreheads.
Nan, Tliat's fine,
By my troth! These men have pestilent run-
ning heads then.
Do tl]«y speak as we do ?
Madge. No, tliey never speak.
Nan. Are they cursen*d ?
Madge, No, tliey call tliem infidel^;
I know not what they are.
Nan, Sirmh, we shall have [home.
Fine courting, now my young master is come
Were you never courte«l, sister?
Vioia. Alas, I know it not. '*
Madge. What is that courting, sirrah?
Nan. I can tell, for
I was once courted in the matted chamber :
Yea know the party, Madge ; faith, he courted
finely !
Madge. Pray thee what is't ?
Nan. Faith, notliing, but he was somewhat
Figent with mc; fitiith, 'tis fine sport, this
courting.
Alex, [within'] Where be the maids there?
Madge. We snail be bang'd anoni Away,
good wenches!
And have a care you dight things handsomely;
I will look over you. [Extunt.
Enter Mercury and Maria.
Merc, If your sorrow
Will pve you so far leaver pray think yourself
Most welcome to tliis place, for so upon
My life you are; and tor your own fair sake,
VOL III.
Take truce awhile with these immoderate
mournings ! [may.
Maria. I thank yon, sir; I shall do what I
Pray lead me to a chamber.
Enter Mother and Alexander,
Merc. Presently.
Before your blessing, mother, I entreat you
To know tills gentlewoman, and bid her weW
come;
The virtuous wife of him that was myself
In all my travels! [Kneels,
Mother. ludeed she is most welcome ; so
are you, son. [me
Now, all my blessingon thee, thou hast made
Younger by twenty years than I was yester-
day ! [man ?
Will you walk in ? What ails this gentlewo-
Alas, I fear she is not well : good gentlewo*
Merc. You fear right. [man !
Mother. Sh'has fasted over-long;
You shalt have supper presently o'th' board*
Mertj. She will not eat, I can assure you,
mother.
For Ooj's sake, let your maid conduct her up
Into some fair-becoming chamber, fit for
A woman of her being, and as soon as may be I
I know she's very ill, and would have rest.
Mother. There is one ready for her, tlje
blue chamber. [her door,
Merc. Tis well : 111 lead you to your cham-
And there I'll leave you to your quiet, mis-
tress, [one!
Maria. I thank you, sir ! Gfood rest to every
You'll see mc once again to-night, I hope.
lExit.
Merc. When you shall please, FU wait
upon you, lady.
Mother. Where are these maids? Attend
«pon the gentlewoman,
And see siie want no good thing in the house I
Good night wit!i all my heart, forsooih !—
Good Lord,
How you are grown ! Is he not, Alexandef ?
Alex. Yes, truly; he's shot up finely, God
be thanked !
Merc. An ill weed, mother, will do so.
Alex. You say true, sir; an ill weed throws
^apace. [very quickly.
Merc. Alexander the sharp, you uike mc
Mother. Nay, I can tell you, Alexander
Do you read Madcap still ? [will do it,
Alex. Sometimes, forsooth.
Mother. But, fuitb, son, what countries
have you travcU'd? [fore me ;
Merc. WJiy, many, mother, as they lay be-
Francc, Spain, Italy, aud Germany,
And other provinces, that I am sure [them.
You are not better'd by, when you hear of
Mother. And can you these tongues pei**
Mer, Of some ' [fectly?
A little, mother.
Mother. Pray, spout some French, son.
Merc. You understand it not; and to vour
ears 'twill ^
THE COXCOMB.
S74
Go like An unshod cart upon the stones,
Only a rough unhandsome sound.
Mother. Faith, I would fain
Hear some French.
Alex. Good sir, speak some French
To my mistress.
Merc, At your entreaty, Alexander, .
I will. Who shall I speak lo?
Alex. If your worship
Will do me the favour, sir, to me.
Merc. Monsieur poUron,
Cocu, couUlonj bahez mon c^ !
Alex. Out, monsieur.
Mother. Ha, ha, ha! this is fine indeed !
God's blessing on thy heart, sou ! By my troth !
Thou'rt grown a proper gentleman! Cullen
and vullen, [yond the seas !
Good God, what aukward words they use be-
lia, ha, ha !
Alex. Did not I answer right?
Merc. Yes, good Alexander,
If you had done so too. But, good mother,
I am very hungry, and have rid far to-day,
And am festing. [seutly.
Mother. You shall have your supper pre-
My sweet son. . [ended,
Merc. As soon as you please ; which, once
1*11 go aod visit you sick gentlewoman.
Mother. Come then ! [Exeunt.
Enter Antonio like a Post, with a iMter.
. Ant. I*v^ ridden like a fury, to make up
tliis work ;
And I will do it bravely, ere I leave it.
1 his is the house, I am sure.
Enter Alexander,
Alex. Who would
You speak with, sir?
Ant. Marry, sir, I'id speak with
A gentlewoman came this night late here from
the city :
I have some letters of importance to her.
I am a post, sir, and would be dispatch'd
t In haste.
Alex. Sir, cannot I deliver 'em?
For, tlie truth is, she's ill, and in her cham-
ber, [with her.
Ant. Pray pardon me; I must needs speak
^hly business is so weighty.
. Alex. I'll tell hetad.
And bring you present ivord. • [Exit.
Ant. Pray do so, and Til attend her.
pruy God, the grief of my iratigin'd death
Spoil not what I intend! I hope it will not.
[Act^
JU^wter Alexander,
Alex. Tho' she be very ill, and desires no
trouble.
Yet, if your business be so urgent, you may
Come up and speak with her.
Ant. I thank you, sir;
I follow you. [Exeuntm
Enter Maria.
Maria. What should this fellow be,
I'th' name of iieav'u, that comes with sucb
post business?
Sure my husband hath revcal'd himseli^
And in this haste sent after me. Are you
The post, my friend ?
Enter Antonh.
Ant. Yes, forsooth, mistress,
Maria. What good news hast thou brought
me, gentle post?
For I have woe and grief too much already.
Ant. I would you had less, mistitss, I
could wish it.—
Beslirew my heart, she moves me cruelly!
Maria. Have I found you oncemoreji^ler?
Well, jewel, thou hast only virtue in thee.
Of all I read of yet: what ears has this ass
To betRiy him with!— Well, what's your bu-
siness then ? [vant, mistresSr
Ant. I've brought a letter from your ser-
in haste. [still.
Maria. Pray give it ti)e; I hope the best
Ant. This is the upshot, and t know Tve
hit it !
Well, if the spirits of the dead do walk,
I shall hear more of this an hundred years
hence. [have special care;
Maria {reading^. By any means, you most
For now the city is possessed for certain.
My master is made away j winch, for aught I
k«ow,
Is a truth indeed. [danger,
Good mistress, leave your grief, and see your
And let tJiat wise and noble gentloroan
With wliom you are, be your right-band in all
thin.s !
Ant. Now do I know I have the better on't!
By th' languihhing of her eye at this near in-
stant, •
It is still simming in her blood, in coining
Somewhat to turn Mercury, I know it.
Maria, lit is my husband, and 'tis reason*
able [will bt
lie should command in all thmgs : since he
An ass against tlie hair^^, at his own peril
2' Against the hair.] In the First Part of Henry IV. AYorcester says,
* The quality and hair of our attempt
* Brooks no division^'
and Dr. Johnson remarks, that * the hair seems to be the complexion, tlie character. Tho
• metaphor appears harsh to us, but, perhaps, was familiar in our authors' time. We still s»y,
* something is against the hair, as against the grain, that is, against the natural tendency ;' and
Mr. Steevens adds, ' In an old comedy called the Family of Love, I meet with an expresaoa
« which very well supports Dr. Johnson's first explanation : "They say, X am of the right Aflir,
«< and indeed thev may stand to't/' '
•^ • Be
Act 4.]
TH£ COXCOMB.
Q7&
Be it l-^V i^moromg yoo shall liBve« packet,
Till when I mast entreat you stay ; you shall
Not lose by it.
AfU. I do not doubt it» mistress;
ril leave you to your rest, and wait your
Seasure. [o*th* bouse;
brta. Do; and seek out the gentleman
Bid bim come to me presently.
Ant. Who? Mr. Mercury?
Maria, Do you know him, post ?
Ant» Only by sight, forsooth :
Now I remember, your servant willed me
To let you know, tie is the ouly man
You and your fortunes are now to rest upon.
Maria,' Pritliee, no more ; I know all this
already* [for ever !
Ant, 111 take my leave now, — I am uiarle
Maria, Good night! [Exit Ant,
I am provided for you, my fine youth.
[Exit,
Enter Mother ^ heating Viola^ and Alexander
with a broken glass,
Mather. FU make thee have more care.
Viola, Good mistress, pardon me !
Mother, Thoult ne*er ne good, I warrant
thee!
Can your fine fingers hold no faster ?
viola. Indeed,
It was against my will.
Mother, y\]exander, [man,
Let's see the glass ! As I'm true kirsome wo-
It is one of the crystal glasses my cousin
sent me ! [not be mended.
And the baggage hath broke it where it can-
Alexander, can Humphry mend this^ think
you?
Alex, No, truly, this will ne'er be meuded.
Viola, Truly,
I meant but to wash it for the gentlewoman
That's sick above, and shaking out tlie water,
Knock'd it against the pail -side.
Mother. Did you so ?
Be sure I'll stop it ! 'twill make a good gap in
Your quarter's wages, I can tell you.
Viola. 1 pray forgive me,
And let me have no wages this first quarter.
Mother, Go, w himling, and fetch two or
three grating loves
Out of tbe kitchen, to make eingerbread of.
Tis such an untoward thing!
[Exit Viola,
Alex, She's somewhat simple,
jlndeed ; she knew not what a kimnel'* was;
Sii^ wants good nurture mightily.
Mother. My son tells me, Alexander,
That this youtig widow means to sojourn here ;
She oilers largely for her board, I may
Offer her good clieer. Prithee make a step
r th* morning down to th' parsonage for some
pigeons!
What, are you mftd there? what noise is that ?
Areyou at bowls within ? Why do you whine ?
Enter Viola zeeepmig.
Viola, I have done another fault; I beseech
Sweet mistress, forgive roe ! [}i^^>
Mother, Wlmt's the matter?
Viola, As I was reaching for tlie bread that
lay [meat.
Upon the shelf, T have thrown down jthe niiuc'd-
That should have made the pies to-morrow.
Mother, Get thee [lot thou !
Out of my house, thou filthy destroying har»
I'll not keep thee an liour longer, [my fault,
Viola, Good mistress, beat me rather for
As much as it deserves { I do not know
Whither to go. [doors!
Mother, No, I warrant thee; out of my
Viola, ludeed I'll mend. I pray you speak
for me 1 [but the pie-^lea^,
Alex, If thou hadst hurl'd down any thing
I would have spoke for thee; but now I can-
Find in my heart. [not
Mother. Art thou here yet? I think I must
have must I?
An officer to thrust thee out of my doors,
Viola, Why, you may stop this in my wages
too;
For God's sake, do ! I'll find myself this year,
And let me stay.
Mother. Thou't spoil ten times as much.
I'll cudgel thee out of my doors.
Viola. I am assur'd you are more merciful,
Than thus to beat me and discharge me too.
Mothtr. Dost thou dispute with me? Alex-
ander, carrjj
The prating Hiding forth. [a jewel
Viola. Good mistress, hear me \ I have here
My mother lefk me, and 'tis something worth :
Receive it; and when -all my faults together
Come to tlie worth of that, then turn me forth ;
'Till then, I pray you keep me.
Mother. What jiggumbob have we here?
Pray God, you have not pilfer'd this some-
where.
ITioo'rt such a puling thing ! Wipe your eyes,
And rise ; go your ways. Alexander,
Bid the cook mince some more meat. Come,
And get you to bed quickly, that you may
Up betime i'th' morning a-milking.
Or you and I shall fall out worse yet.
[Exeunt Mother and Alex.
Viola. Sh' has hurt ruy arm :
I am afraid she's a very angry wpman,
But, bless him, Heav'n, that did me the most
wrong !
I am a&id Antonio's wife should see mo;
She will know me.
Mother [within^ IMelvia!
Viola, rm coming; she's not angry again,
I hope. [Exit,
inter Mercury,
Merc, Now what am I the better for en-
joying
3* KmmeL'l Or kemthft^ is a powdering-tub. Sympson,
Nn2
Thb
279
THE COXCOMB.
[Acts.
This woman, that I lov'd so ? All I find,
That I before ima^n'd to be happ^,
Now I have done it, turns to nothing else
But a poor, pitied, and a base repentance.
Udsfoot, Vm monstrous angry with myself!
Why should a man, that has discourse and
reason, [things.
And knows how near he loses all in these
Covet to have his wishes satisfied } [shame.
Which, when they are, are nothing but the
I do begin to loatn this woman strangely,
And I think justly too, tliat durst adventure
Flinging away her modesty, to take
A stranger to her bed, (hei* husband*s body
Being scarce cold i'th* earth) for her content.
It was no more to take my senses with.
Than if I had an idle dream in sleep :
Yet I have made her pr9misc8, which grieves
me, [me !
And I must keep*em too. — I think she hunts
The devil cannot keep these women off,
When they are flesh'd once^'.
Entef Maria in night attire.
Maria, To bed, for God*s sake, sir!
Why do you stay here? ijome are up i*th*
house; [bed.
[ heard tlie wife. Good dear sweetheart to
Merc. Why, I am going ! Why do you fol-
low me? [^etyou
You would not have it known, I hope. Pray
Back to your chamber ! the door's hard by.
For roe.
Let roe alone ; I warrant you !— This 'tis
To thresh well, I have gat a customer I
Will you go to bed ?
Maria. Will you ?
Merc, Yes, I aro going,
Maria. Then remember your prcnnise you
made to marry me.
Merc, I will; but it was yoair&ult, that it
came [bnoce:
To this pinch now, that it must need remem-
For, out of honesty, I offered you
To marry you first; why did you sbu:k that
offer ? [of it,
Maria, Alas, I told you th' inconvenience
And what wrong it would appear to th* world.
If I had married you in such postp-haste
After bis death : beside, the foolish people
Would have been bold to have thought we
had lain
Together in his time, and like enough
Imagined we two had murder*d him. [saint,
Merc, I love her tongue yet ! If I were a
A gilded saint, and such a thing as this
Should prate thus wittily and feelingly
Unto my holiness, I cannot tell.
But I fear shrewdly I should do something
That would quite scratch me out o' th'kalen-
dar; [mad
And if I stay longer talking with her, tho'I*!!
At what I have dune already, yet I shall
Forget myself again : I feel the devil
Ready to hold my stirrup. — Pray, to bed !
Good night!
Maria. This kiss ! good night, sweet \ave.
And peace go with thee ! — ^Thou hast piov'd
thyself
Th' fjonestest man tliat ever was entic'd
To tbnt sweet sin, as people please to call it.
Of lying with another's wite; and I,
I think, the honestest woman, without
Blushing, that e'er lay with another roan.
I sent my husband into the cellar, post.
Fearing, and justly, he should have known
him ; / [end.
Which I did not purpose 'till I had had ni^
Weil, now this plot is perfect, let him brag
on"t. ' [Exit,
ACT V.
Enter Justice and Curio with a paper.
Just, "D Y'RLADY, sir, youVe rid hard, that
-*-^ YOU have.
Curio, Tney that have businci>s muiitdo so,
I take it. [friend ?
Just. You say true. When set you out, my
Curio, About ten o'clock; and I have rid
all night. [seen the day
Jus^ By th'mass, you're tough in<ieed. I've
. I would have rid too with the proudest of them,
And fling dirt in their faccb, and I've done't
with
This foohsh body'*, sir, many a time:
But what can last always? Tis done, 'tis done
now sir ! [cloths,
Age, care, and office, bring us to our fooi-
Tbe tnore the pity !
Cttrio. I believe that, sir;
But will it please you to read the business?
Just. My tnend^ I can read, and I can tell
you when. ^
Curio. 'Would I could too, sir! for m;
haste requires it.
Just. Whence comes it, do yod say ?
Curio. Sir, from the city.
35 Fletched once.] Correrted in 1750.
3^ This foolish boy.] Asftojf has nothing to which it can be rcferr'd, I conjectured we sboaU
read body, and Mr. Theobald, I found, had wrote the same ia his mareio. SvawsoH.
JuU.
Act 5.]
THE COXCOMB.
277
Jtat, Oil, item the city; 'tis a reverend
place — [roory,
CttruiL Ad his justice be as short as his me-
A dadgeon-dagger^^ will serve him to mow
down [this?
^m withal : what clod-pole commissioner is
JuU, And, hf my fiuth, gpvern*d by worthy
Discreet and upright. [members,
Curio. Sir, they're beholding to you ;
You've given some of them a commendation,
Tbey were not worthy of this twenty years.
JuU. Go to, go to! you have a merry
meanixig;
Fve fbnnd you, sir; i'faith, you are a wag;
Away, fy! — Now 1*11 read your letter.
Curio. Pray do, sir. What a misery it is
To have an uieent business wait the, justice
Of such an old tuff-taffata, that knows not, -
Nor lean be brought to understand, more
sense
Tlian how to restore suppress'd ale-houses.
And have his man compound small trespasses,
For tea groatp!
Juti. Sir, it seems liere your
Business is of a dee{>er circumstance ,
Than I conceived it for. — What do you
mean, sir? [your worship.
Curio, Tis for mine own ease, I'll assure
Jtut. It shall not be, i'faith, friend. —
Here I have it,
Tiiat one Antonio, a gentleman —
I take it so; yes, it is so— a gentleman.
Is lately thooj^ to have been made away ;
And, by my fmth, upon a parlous ground too,
If you consider. Well, tnere^s knavery in't ;
I see that without spectacles.
Curh. Sure this tellow
D«ds in revelation, he's so hidden :
Go Uw ways! thou wilt stick a bendi, spit^'
as formally.
And shew thy agpt and hatch'd chain, as well
As the best of them. [it.
Just. And now I haveconsider'd, I believe
Curio. What, sir?
JuMt. That he was murder'd.
Curio. Did you know him ?
Just. No.
Curio. Nor how it is suppos'd ?
Just. No; nor
I care not two-pence, those are toys ; and yet
I verily believe he wns murdered,
As sure as I believe thou art a man.
J never fiiil'd in tliese things yet. Ware a
man
That's beaten to these matters ; experience
Is a certain conceal'd thing that fails not.
Pray let me ask you one thing ; why do you
ooDie to me? [you,
Curio. Because the letter is addressM to
Being the nearest justice.
Ji^. The nearest? is that all ?
Curkf* I think it 1)e, mr;«— •
I would be loth you should be the wisest.
Just. Well, sir,as'tis, I will endeavour in it^
Yet, irt had come to roe by name, I know
not,
But I think it had been as soon dispatch'd
As by another, and with as round a wisdom,
Ay, and as happily ; but that's all one :
I've borne this place this thirty years, and
upwards,
And with sufficient credit, and they may
When they please know me better. To the
Well! [nearest?
Curio. Sir, 'tis not my fault, for had I known
You sooner —
Just.^ I thank you, sir; I know it«
Curio. I'll be ^worn
You should have play'd, for any business now.
Just, And furtiier, they have specified
noto me.
His wife's sorely suspected in this matter.
As a main cause.
Curio^ I think she be, sir, for
No other cause can be yet found, [whooa^
Just. And one Mercury, a traveller, with
They say directly she is run away,
And as they think this way.
Curio. I knew all this before, [breeding;
Just. Well, sir, this Mercury I know, and*8
A neighbour's child hard by : you have been
Sir, in cominsf hither. ['^^PPyf
Curio. Then you know where
To have him, sir?
Just. I do, sir ; he dwells near me.
Curio. I don^bt your worsliip dwells near a
knave then. [wonder
Just. I think so ; pray put on ! But 'tis a
To see how graceless peopje are now given.
And how base virtue is accounted with tbem«
That should be all in all, as says a wise man !
I tell you, sir, and *txs t:rue, that there have
been [make
Such murders, and of lale days, as 'twould
Your very lieart bleed in you ; and some of
them.
As I shall be enabled, I wiU tell you.
It fell out of late days—
Curio. It may be so,
But will it please you to proceed in this?
Just, An honest weaver, and as good a
workman
As e'er shot shuttle, and as close— •
But ev'ry man must die — this honest weaver,
Being a little mellow in his ale—
That was the evidence verbatim^ sir —
God bless the mark, sprung his neck just in
this place : [live.
Well, Jarvis, thou hadst wrongs, and" if f
Some of the best shall sweat foVt! Then a
wench^-
Curio, But, sir, you haveforgot my business.
^' Dudgeanrdagger.'] Cotgrave explains dag^e a rocUes, a Scottish dagger, or dudgeon
haft dagger. JL
^* Stick a btfH^h SfU.] Amended in 1750.
Juit,
S78
THE COXCOMB.
[Acts.
Jiat, A sober pretty maid, aboot seventeen
They say, certainly, nowsoeVer 'tis shufBed,
She burst herself, and fondly, if it be so,
With farmety at a churching ; but I think
The devil had another agent in't ; [fbr't.
Either of which, if I can catch, shall stretch
Curio, I'his is a mad justice, that will
hang the devil !
But I would you would be short m tliis, before
That other notice can be given.
Just. Sir, , ^
I'll do discreetly what is fitting. ^Vh«t,
Antonio !
Serv. Uoithin] Your worship!
Just. Put on your best coat,
And let your fellow Mark go to the constable^
And bid him aid me with all the speed he can.
And all the power; and provide pen and ink to
Take their confessions; and my long sword '^ !
I cannot tell what danger we may meet with.
You'll ^owith us?
Curio. Yes ; what else ?
I came to that end, to accuse both parties.
Just. May I crave what you are^
Curio, Faith, sir, one
That to be known would not profit you, more
Than a near kinsman of the dead Antonio's.
Just. Tis well. I'm sorry for my neigh-
bour, truly, fmother :
That he had no more grace ; 'twill kill his
She is a good old woman. Will you walk in ?
I will but put my cloak on, and my chain off,
And a clean band, and have my shoes black'd
over,
And shift my jerkin, and we'll to our business ;
And you shall see how I can boult these
matters.
Curio. As soon as't please you, sir.
[Exeunt,
Enter Valeria and liicardo.
Vol. This is tlie place ; here did I leave
the maid
Alone last night, drying her tender eyes,
Uncertain what to do, and yet desirooa
To have me gone.
JUc. How rude are all we men,
That take the name of civil to onrsdves!
If she had set her foot upon an earth
Where people live that we call bajrl^uousy
Ttio' they had had no house to bring her to^
They would have spoifd the glory that dit
spring [hands
Has deck'd the trees in, and with willii^
Have torn their branches down ; and eter;
man
Would have become a builder for ^er sake.
What time left you her here?
Vol. I left her, wlien
The sun had so much to his set, as he
Is now got from his place of rise.
Bic. So near [Viola!
The night, she could not wander far. Fair
Val. It is in vain to call ; she sought a
Without all question.- [boow,
Jti>. Peace!— Fair Viola!
Fair Viola ! — Who should have left her hne
On such a ground > If you had meant to lose
her, [bere
You might have found there were no echoes
To take her name 3', and carry it about.
When her true lover came to mourn for her,
Till all the neitrhbonring vallies and the hills,
Resounded Viola ^ and such a place
You should have chose ! You pity us
Because the dew a little wets our feet^;
(Unworthy far to apck her, in the wet!)
And what becomes of her? where wandei^d
she, ^ [eyes
With two showers raining on her, from bee
Continually, abundantly, from which
Tliere's neither tree nor house to shelter
her?—
Will you go with roe to travel?
Vol. Whither?
B,ic. Over all the world. (jonrney
Vol. No. by my foith ; I'll make a shorter
When I do travel.
3" Long mori.'\ In Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, Capnlel says, * Give me niy hȤ
sword ;'iind Dr. Johnson remarks, ' The long swoi'd was the sword used in war^ which wa&
sometimes wielded with both hands.'
'9 — If yo». had meant to lose her^
You might have found there were no echoes here
To take her name.] Sympstm reads,
■ ■ If you meant to lose her.
You might have found uhere there no echoes were
To take lier name;
but surely the old text conveys the same sense.
♦° You pity us because
The dew a little, &c.] Hicse lines are so unworthy of our authors, that I can hardlT
think 'em theirs ; and I am sure the author of Jeronimo (whom our poets, as well as Shake*
gpcare and Jonson, abuse) might, when they quote in derision this^line of his,
* Who calls Jeronimo from his naked bed ?'
have justly retorted,
■■ where wandred she,
With two showers raining on her, from lier eyes
Continually, abundantly, from which
There's neither tree nor house to shelter her? • Sympson*
BiV.
Acts.]
THE COXCOMB.
*r9
Etc, But there is no hope
To rain mv end in aaj shorter way.
Val. Why^wlttt'svoorend?
Ek. It u to search the earth,
TliJ we have found two in the shapes of men^
As wicked as oarselves.
VaL Twere not to hard
To find out those.
Bic. Why, if we find them out,
U were the' better; for what brave villainy
Miglu we four do ! — We would not keep to-
gether;
For every one has treachery enough [ Asia ;
For twenty countries: one should trouble
Aoodier should sow strife in Afnca ; [rope,
But you should plav the knave at honiciu £u-
And for America let me alone.
VaL Sir, I am honester
Than yoa know how to be, and can no more
Be wroi^d but I shall find myself a right.
J^. If you bad any spark of honesty,
You would not think that honester than I
Were a praise high enough to serve your turn :
If men were commonly so bad as I,
Thieves would be put in kalendars for saints;
And bones of murareR. would work miracles.
I am a kind of knave, of knave so much,
There is betwixt me, and the vilest else —
But the next place of all to mine is yours.
Enter Viola, Nan, and Madge, with Pails.
VaL That last is she; 'tis slie !
Kic. Let us away;
We shall infect her ! let her have the wind,
And we will kneel down here.
Viola. WencheSy away !
For liere are men.
Val. Fair maid, I pray you stay.
[Takes hold ^ Viola.
Viola. Alas! again?
Ric. Why do you lay hold on her?
I pray heartily, let her go. [hurt her.
VaL With all my heart ; I do not mean to
Ric. But stand away then! for the purest
bodies
Will soonest take infection ; stand away !
Bat for infecting her mvself, by Heav*n,
I would come there, and beat tbee further offl
Viola, 1 know that voice and face,
Val. y ou*re finely mad !
God b'w'ye, sir! Now you are here together,
Fli leave you so; God send you good luck,
both!
Wlien you are soberer you*ll give me thanlcs.
[Exit.
Madge. Wilt thou go milk ? Come.
Nan. Why dost not come?
Madge. Sne nods, she's asleep.
Nan. What, wcrt up so early ?
Madge. I think yon [away.
Man's mad to kneol there. Nay, come, come
Uds body. Nan, help ! slie looks black i'th'
She's in a swoon. [face;
Nan. An you be a man, come hither,
And help a woman !
jRic. Com^ hither? You are a fool.
Nan. And you a knave and a beast, tliat
vou are. [near
Kic. Come liither? 'twas my being now so
That made her swoon; and you arc wicked
people,
Or you would do so too: my venom eyes
Strike innocency dead at such a distance;
Here I will kneel, for this is out of distance.
Nan. Thou'rt a prating ass! there s no
gopdness in thee,
I warrant How dost thou? \ Viola recovers,
Viola. Why, well. {
Madge. Art thou able to go? fable
Viola. No ; pray go you and milk: It I be
To come, I'll follow you; if not, I'll sic here
Till you come back.
Nan. I'm loth to leave thee here with yon
wild fool. [not hurt me.
Viola. 1 know him well ; I warrant thee hell
Madge. Come then. Nun. [Ere. Maiils.
Ric. How do you ? Be not fearful, for I hold
My hands before ray mouth, and speak, and so'
M V breath can never blast you.
Viola. Twas enough
To use me ill, tho' you had never sooglit me
To mock me too: why kneel you so far oft7
Were not that gesture better us'd in prayer?
Had T dealt so with you, I should not sleep,
Till Heav'n and you liad both forgiven me.
Ric. I do not mock ; nor lives there such a
That can do any thing contemptible [villain
To you : but I do kneel, because it is
An action very fit and reverent,
In presence of so pure a creature ;
And so far off, as fearful to offend
One too much wrong*d already.
Viola. You
Confess you did the fault, yet scorn to coma
So far as liitlier, to ask pardon for't;
Which 1 could willingly aftbrd to come
To you to grant. Good sir, if you have
A bitter love, may you be bless'd together!
She shall not wish vou better tliau I will.
I but ofiend you ! l^re are all the jewels
I stole; and all the love I ever had
I leave behind with you ; TU carry none
To give another: may tlie next maid you try.
Love you no worse, nor be no v\orse than 1 !
Ric. Do not leave lue yet, for all ray fault !
Search out tlie next things to impossible.
And put meonihem; when they are effected,
I may with better modesty receive
Fon^iveuess from you.
P^iola. I will set no penance.
To gain the great forgiveness you desire.
But to come hither, and take me and it ;
Or else, I'll come and beg, so you will grant
That you will be content to be forgiven I
Ric. Nay, I will come, since you will have
it so,
And, since you please to pardon me, I hope
Free from infection. Here I am by you,
A careless man, a breaker of my foith,
A loathsome drunkard ; and in that wild fury,
A hunter
sdo
THE COXCOMB.
A hunter after whores ! I do beseech you
To pardon ail these fiiults, and take me up
An nonest, sober, and a faithful uinn !
Viola. For Heav'n's sake, urge your faults
no more, but mend !
All the forgiveness I can make you, is.
To love you ; which I will do, and desire
Nothing but love again ; which if I have not.
Yet I will love you still. [will take
Ric. Oh, women ! that some o:.e of you
An everlasting pen into your hands^
And grave in paper (which the writ shall
make
More lasting tlian the marble monuments)
Your matchless virtues to posterities ;
Which the defective race of envious man
Strives to conceal ! [thing,
• Viola. Metliinks I would not now, for any
But you bad miss*d me : I have made a story
Will sen'e to waste many a winter's fire,
When we arc old : 111 tell my daughters then
The miseries their mother had in love,
And say. My girls, be wiser! yet I would not
Have had more wit myself. Take up those
jewels, .
For I think I hear my feilows coming.
Enter Madge and Nan with their Pails.
Madge. How dost thou now ?
Viola, Why, very well, I thank you. It is
late ;
Shall I htiste home ?
Nan. I prithee! we shall be shent*'
Soundly. [with us ?
Madge. Why does tliat railing man go
Viola. I prithee, speak well of him : on my
He is an honest man ! [word,
Nan. There was never any so
On his complexion. A gentleman ?
I'd be asham'd to have such a foul mouth.
[Exeunt.
Enter Mother, Alexander, Andrugio, and
Rowland.
Mother, How now, Alexander? What
gentleman is this ?
• Aiex. Indeed, forsooth, I know not;
I found him at the market, full of woe^
Crying a lost daughter, and telling all
Her tokens to tlie people; and, what you wot?
By all description mthe worldly it should be
Our new maid Melvia; (one would little
tliink it!)
Therefore I was bold to tell him of Iter, mistress.
Mother. Melvia? it cannot be, fool! Al^,
[Acts.
You know she is a poor wench, and
I took her in upon mere charity.
Andr, So seem*d my daughter when she
As she had made herself. [went away,
Mother. What stature was your child of, sir?
Andr. Not high, and of a brown complexion.
Her hair auburn, a round fkce, which some
friends, [good one.
That flattei'd me, would say 'twould be a
Alex. This is stUl Melvia, mistress; that's
the truth on*t!
Mother. It may be so, I'll promise you.
Alex. Well, go thy ways, the flower of our
town! " [fellow.
For a hand and a foot I shall ne'er see thy
Mother. Rut had she not such toys as
bracelets, rings, and jewels?
Aridr. She was something bold indeed, to
take such things
That night she left me.
Mother. Then belike she run away ?
Andr, Tho' she be one I love, I dare not
She did indeed. Hie;
Mother. What think you of this jewel? '
Andr. Yes, this was one of them, and tliis
was mine ; [for it
You've made me a new man ! I thank yoa
Mother. Nay,
Anshe be given to filching, there's your jewel;
I am clear on't. But, by your leave, sir,
you
Shall answer me for what is lost since she
Came hither; I can tell you there lie things
Scattering in every place about the house.
Alex, As I am virtuous, I have the lyingst
Old gcntlexvoman to my mistress, and tlie
most malicious —
The devil a good word will slie give a servant;
That's her old rule! and, God be thanked,
they will [sides.
. Give her as few; there's perfect love on both
It yearns my heart to hear the wench mis-
construed ;
A carelul soul she is. 111 be sworn for h«r;
And when she's gone, let them say what they
will,
They may cast their caps at snch another.
Andr, What you have lost by her, with all
my heart
I'll see you double paid for; you liave sav'd,
With your kind pity, two that must not live,
Unless it be to thank you. Take this jewel ;
This strikes off none o f her offences, mistxess^^
'Would I might see her!
Mother. Alexander, run,
♦' Shent.] This word occurs in Hamlet, and Mr. Steevens says, ' To shend is to treat with
' injurious language.'
♦* By a// subscription inthe ttorld.] If Alexander was an affecter of hard words, I should
be inclined to let this stand ; but as lie seems throughout a sensible good-natured fellow, I
would choose to read, description. Sympson,
♦' This strikes off none of her qfences.] Sympson, totally mistaking Andrugio^s meaning
says, * Why then he paid his Jewel for nothing;' and reads,
This strikes oft one of her offences, niistress.
It did not occur to liim, that tlie jewel was meant as a gift, not as a paytaaU^
And
Act 5.]
THE COXCOMB.
S81
And bid her make haste home ; 8he*8 at the
milking-clofle :
Bat tell her not by any means who's here ;
I know she'll be too fearful.
AUx. Well, well have
A posset yet at parting, that's my comfort •
And one round too, or else I'll lose my wilL
\ExiL
Andr, Ytm shall find Silvio, Uberto, and
Pedro,
Enauiring for the wench at the next town :
Tell them she's found, and where I am ; and,
with
The favour of this gentlewoman, desire them
To come hither. [come.
Mother, I pray do; they sliall be sdl^el-
[Exit Rowland,
Enter Justice^ Carto, <md Mark,
Just, ^ By vour leave, forsooth! you shall
The parties by a sleight. [see me find
Mother. Who's that? Mr, Justice?
How do you, sir?
Juit, Why, very well, and busy.
Where's your son ?
Mother, He's witliin, sir.
Just, Hum; and how does [with him?
The young woman my cousin, that came down
Mother, She's above; as a woman in her
case may be.
Just, Yon have confess'd it? [sin of mine;
Then, sirrah, call in the officers ! she's no cou*
A mere trick to discover all !
Mother, To discover? what?
Enter Mark and Officers, •
Just, You shall know that anon : I think
I have [house,
Over-reach'd you! Oh, welcome ! Euter the
And by virtue of my warrant, which you have
there, [names
Seize upon the bO(}ily persons of those whose
Are there written; to wit, one Mercury, and
Of one Antonio. [tbiie wife
Mother, For what?
Just, Away, I say !
This gentleman shall certify you for what.
[Exeunt Officers.
Mother, He can accuse m^ son of nothing;
He came from travel, but within these two
Just, There hangs a tale. [days.
Mother, I should be sorry this should
fall out at any time, but especially now.
Sir, will you fiivour me so much as to let me
Of what you accuse him i [know
Curio, Upon suspicion of murder.
Mother, Murder? I deiy thee !
Curio. I pray God he may
Prove himself innocent.
Just, Fy, say not so ! [wealth's man,
You shew yourself to be no good common-
For the more are haog'd the better 'tis for
the commonwealth. [ypurself.
Mother, By this rule you were best hang
Just, I forgive your honeit mirth ever.
VOL, in.
Enter Mark and Officertj with Mercury and
Maria.
Oh, welcome, welcome, Mark ! [minations
Your pen, ink, and paper, to take their exa-
Merc. Why do you pull me so ? I'll go alone.
Just. Let them stand, [miu'd.
Let them stand quietly, whilst they're exar
Maria, What will you examine us of?
Just. Of Antonio's murder.
Merc, Why, he was my friend.
Maria, lie was my husband.
Just. The more shame for you both! Mark,
your pen and ink. [knew
Mother, Pray God all be well! I never
Any of these travellers come to good. I be-
seech you, sir.
Be favourable to my son.
Just, Gentlewoman, [that!
Hold you content; I would it were come to
Merc. For God's sake, mother.
Why kneel you to such a pig-brib'd fellow^
H'lias surfeited of geese, and they have put
him
Into a fit of justice : let him do his wontl
Just. Is your paper ready I '
Mark, I am ready, sir.
Enter Antonio,
Just. Accuse them, sir; I command thfe
to lay down
Accusations against these persons, in behalf
Of the state: and first look upon tlie parties
To be accus'd, and deliver your name.
Curio. My name is Curio ; my murdered
kinsman.
If he were living now, I should not knowhim.
It is so long since we saw one another.
Ant. My cousin Ctlrio?
Curio, fiut thus much (from the mouths
Ot his servants and others, whose examinai»
tions I have
In writing about me) I can accuse them of &
T*his Mercury, the last night but this last.
Lay in Antonio's house, and in the night
He rose, raising Antonio, where privately
They were in talk an hour, to what end I
know not ;
Bur^f likelihood, finding Antonio's house
Not a fit place to murder him in, he sufier'd
him
To go to bed again ; but in the moniing
Early he train*d hun I think forth; afUf
which time . [found
He never saw liis home. His cloaths were
Near the place wl^re Mercdry was, and the
people
At first denied they saw him ; but at last
They made a frivolous tale, that tliere he
shifted himself
Into a footman's habit : but in bhort,
The next hour this woman went to Mercury,
And in her coach they posted hither. Tru.e
accusations
I have no more, and I will make tione.
O o " JuUy
38i)
THE COXCOMB.
[Act 5*
Just. No more?
We need no more. Sirrah, be dra^^'ing
Their mittimus, before we hear their answer.
What say you, sir? are you guilty of this
Merc. No, sir. {murder?
Ju$t. Whether you are or no, contebs;
It will be the better for you.
Merc. If I were
Guilty, vour rhetoric could not fetch it forth.
But tW I am innocent, I confess, that if I
Were astander-by,these circumstances urgfd,
Which are true, would make me doubtless
believe
The accused parties to be guilty,
Jiixt. Write down, [he is)
That be being a stander>by (for so you see
Doth doubtlessly believe the accused partit s,
Which is himself, to be guilty.
Merc, I say no such thing.
Ju*t. Write it down, I say; well try that.
Merc. I care not what you write.—
Pray God you did^not kill him for my love !
[Apart.
Tho' I am free from this, we botli de&erve —
Maria. Govern your tongue, I pray you !
all is well ;
My husband lives, I know it, and I see him.
Jutt. They whisper ! sever tliem quickly,
I say. [another ?
Officers, why do you let them prompt one
Gentlewoman, what say you to this?
Are not you {guilty ?
Maria. No, as t hope for mercy, [that this
Just\ But are not those circumstances true,
Gentleman liath so shortly and methodically
delivered? ^ [me E care not,
Maria. They are; and wliat von do with
Since he is dead in whom wns all my care.
You knew him not?
Jutt. No, and 't been better
JFor you too, an you had never kno^vn him.
Maria. Why then, you did not know the
world's chief joy :
His face so nwnly as it had been made
To fright the World; yet he so sweetly>tem-
per'd.
That he would make himself a natural fool.
To do a noble kindness for a fnend.
He was a man whose name Fll not out^live,
Longer dian IIeav*n, whose will roust b^
Will have me do. [obey'd.
Ant. And I will quit thy kindness. [Audc.
Just. Before me, she has made the tears
Stand in mine eyes ! but I must b^ austere.
Gentlewoman, you must confess this murder.
Maria. 1 cannot, sir; I did it not. But I
desire to see
Those examinatiotis whidi this gentleman
Acknowledges to have about him, for
But late lost night I received letters from
The city; yet 1 heard of no confession then.
Just. You sh^l see tltcui time enough, I
warrant you. [letters ?
But letters you say you had; wlierc are those
Maria, ^r, iLeyare gyne.
Just. Gone? whither are tliey gone?
Uow have you dispos*d of *em ?
.Maria. Why, sir, f'em.
They are for women's matters, and so I Die
Just. Who writ 'cm?
Maria. A man of mine.
Just. Who brought em?
Maria. A post. ^ [sure : ha, ha !
Ju9t, A post? there was some great luiste
Whore is thatposf?
Mari'i, Sir, there he stands.
Just. Dues he so?
Rring hither that post! I am afraid tliat post
Will prove a knave. Come hither, post!
What, [Antonio?
What can you say concerning the murder of
Ant. What's that to you? [have yoa?
Just. Oh, post, you have no answer ready,
ril have one from you.
Ant. You shall have no more [honest
From me than you have. You eiamine aa
Oentieman and gentlewoman here. Tis pity
Such fools as you should be i'th' commission.
Just. Say yrm so, post? take away tbat
post! whip him, [post
And bring him again quickly. I'll hamper you,
Merc. Tis Antonio ; I know him now as
What an irregular fool is this ! [well—
Ant. Whip me? hold oflF! [murmiiriag
Maria. Oh, good sir, whip him ! By bis
lie should know something of my husband's
• death, [out!
That may quit me : ft>r God's sake, fetch it
Just. >\'hij!» him, T say I
[jintonio throws of his dii^uisc.
Ant. Wlio is't dares whip me now?
Maria. Oh, my iov'd husband !
Merc. My most worthy friend !
Where have you been so long ?
Ant. I cannot speak for joy ! [sljall not
Just. Why, what's the matter now? and
Law then have her course ?
Andr. It shall have no other:COursc
Tlian it has, I think.
Just. It sliall have other i^urse
Before I go, or 111 heat my brains : and I say
It was not honestly done of him to discover
Himself before the parties accus*d were exe-
cuted,
Thar law might have had her course; for then
The kini^dom flourishes. [mao;
Ant. But such a wife as thou had neverany
And such a friend as he, believe me, wife,
Shall never be I Good wife, love my friend ;
Friend, love my wife. Hark, friend !
Just. Mark,
If we can have nbthinv; to do, you sliall swear
The peace of somebody.
Mark. Yes, sir.
Avt. By my troth,
I'm sorry my wife is so obstinate:
Sooth, if I tould yet do theQ any good,
I would, i'laitli I would.
fl^!iftNi^Ithankyou,9ir;
I've lost that passion.
Ani>
Act 5.J
TIIE COXCOMB.
S83
Ani, Cousm Curio,
Tou and I must be better acquainted.
Curio, It is my wish, sir, ['tis so long
^11/. I should not hnvc known you neither,
Since we saw each other; we were but chil-
dren then : [to me.
But jou liave shew*d yourself an honest man
Curio, I would be ever so.
Enter Ricardo and VioUu
Mother, Look you! who's there?
Andr, Say notliing to t&e; for
Thy pence is made.
tUc. Sir, I can nothing say.
But that you are her fkther ; you can both
Not only pardon, when you miTe a wrong,
But love where you've receiv'd most injury.
Just, I think I shall liear of no iTanging
this year ! [said,
Tliere's a tinker and a whore ^et, the cryer
That robb'd her, and are in prison; I hope
They shall be hang'd.
Andf^ No, truly, sir, they have brol^e
prison.
Just, Tjs no matter; then the jailor shall
be hang'd.
Afidr, You are deceiv*d in that too, sir;
'twas known
To be ngaiuMt his will, and he hath got
His pardon ; I tliink, for nothing;
But irt doth cost him any thing, I'll pay it.
Just. Mark, up with your papers; away !
Merc, Oh,
You ^hall stay dinner; IVe a couple ofbrawl-
ine
Neighbours, that 111 assure you won't agree.
And you slwU have the hearing of their mat-
Just, With all my heart. [ter.
Merc, Go, ^ntlemen, go in.
Hie, Oh, Viola, that no succeeding age
Might lose the memory of what thou wert !
But such an overswayed sex is yours.
That all the virtuous actions you can do
Are but as men will call them: and I swear,
^'is mjr belief, that wouien want but ways
To praise their deeds, but men want deeds
to praise. [Exeunt omnes.
EPILOGUE.
Trs ended ; l)ut my hopes and fears begin :
Nor can it be imputed as a sin
Id me to wish it mvour. If this night
To the judicious it hath giv'n delight.
I have my ends: and may such, for their
grace
VouchsafM to this^ find theirs in every,
place !
Ood
wrr
Wrr AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
A COMEDY.
TUs Play is ascribed to Fletcher hy die Commendatory Verses of Gardiner; the Epilogue^
however^ speaks of it as the production of both Authors. The first publication of it waa
in the folio of IQj^. It was brought on the stage^ altered by Colley Gibber, about the
banning of the present century, under the title of the Rival Fools, but without any success*
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Men.
SxE Perfidious Oldcraft, an old Knight,
a great admirer of wit,
WiTTYPATE Oldcraft, Au &», an accom-
plished Gentleman,
Sir Gregory Fop, a witless Lord of Land.
Cvif VIS ouAUy a discreet Gentleman,Sir Gre-
gorjfs Coforade and Supplanter.
pRisciANy poor Scholar,
}
Companions,
PoMPEY Doodle, a Clowny Sir Cregori/s
Man, a piece ofpuff-pastCy like his Master,
Mr. Credulous, Ifephewjo SirFerfidious, a
shallow-brain^d Scholar.
Women.
Ni ECE f 0 Sir Perfidious, a rich and witty Hehr, *
Lady Ruinous, Wtfe to Sir Ruinous,
GuARDiANEss to Sir Perfidiout^s Niece, ess
old doting Crone.
Mirabel, ths Guardianes$*s Niece,
SCENE, London.
ACT I.
Enter Sir Perfidious Oldcraft and Wittypate.
Witty. CIR» I*in nt> boy; Tm deep in one
•^ and twenty,
The second vear*s approaching.
Oldc. A nne time tor
A youth to live by his witstlien, I should think,
If e'er he mean to make account of any.
Witty. Wits, sir? [thee,
Oldc. Aj, Tvits, sir ; if it be so strange to
Fm sorry I spent that time to get a fool,
I might have employed my pains a great deal
better: [wits.
Thou know'st all that I have I ha' got by my
Add yet to see bow urgent thou art tooi
It grieves me thou art so degenerate
To trouble nie for means ; I never offered it
My parents from 9 sehool*boy ; past nineteen
Quce,
(See what these times are grown to) before
twentj^ pike
I rush*d into tlie world, which is indeed much
The art of swimming, be that will attain to't
Must fall {>lump, and duck himself at first,
And that will make him hardy and adventurous*
And not stand putting in one foot, and stiver'
And then draw t'other after, like a quake*
buttock;
Well he may make a padler in the world.
From band to mouth, but never a brave swim*
mer,
Borne up by th' chin, as I bore up myself,
With my strong industry that never fail'd me ;
For he that lies borne up with patrimonies.
Looks like a long great uss that swims with
bladders:
Cume but one prick of adverse fortune tohira^
He sinks, because h^ never uied to swim.
When
S86
WIT AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
[Act 1.
When wit plays with the billows that clx>ak'd
him. [sir,
Witty, Why, is it not a fashion for a father,
Out of his yeany thousands to allow
His only son a competent brace of hundreds^
Or such a toy ?
. Oldc. Yes; if he mean to spoil hun,
Or mar his wits, he may, but never I. [stant ;
This is my humour, sir, which you'll find con-
I love wit so well, because I liv'd by't, that I'll
Give no man power out of my means to hurt it,
And that's a kind of gratitude to my raiser,
Which great ones often foi^got. 1 admire
much
This age's dullness ! When I scarce writ man,
Tlie first degree tliat e'er I took in thriving,
I lay intelligencer close for wenching :
Could give this lord or knight a true certificate
Of all the maidenheads extant ; how many lay
'Mongst chambermaids, how many'mongst
exchange wenclies
(Tho' never many there, I must confess.
They have a trick to utter ware so fast) ;
I knew which lady liad a mind to fall,
W^hich gentlewoman new divorc'd, which
tradesman breaking.
The price of every sinner to a hair,
And where to raise each price ; which were
the termers [gowns.
That would give velvet petticoats, tissue
Which pieces, angels, suppers, and halt-
crowns:
I knew how to match, and make my market ;
Could give intelligence where the pox lay lege,
And then to sec the lechers shifl a point
Twas sport and profit too ; how they would
shun [fully,
Their ador'd mistress' chambers, and run fcai^-
Like rats from burning houses ; so brought I
Aly clients o' the game still safe together,
And noble gamesters lov'd me, and I felt it.
Give me a man that lives by his wits, say I,
Aud*8 never left a gi-oat ! there's the true gal-
lant.
When I grew somewhat pursy, I grew then
In men's opinions too, and confidences ;
They put things cnll'd cxerutorbhips upon me,
The charge of orphans, little senseless crea-
tures, [feltmakers.
Whom in their childhoods I bound forth to
To make *em lose, and work away tlieir gen-
try, ' [torn,
Disguise their tender natures with hard cus-
So wrought *em out in time; tliere I rose un-
gently.
Nor do I fear to discourse tliis unto thee;
I*m ann'd at all points against treachery,
I hold^iy humour firm; if I can see thee
thrive by [courage
fhy wits while I live, I shall have the more
To trust thee with my lands when I die ; if not, I
The next best wit I can hear of, carries *em :
For since in my time and knowledge so maoy
rich children
Of the city conclude in beggary, Td ralber
Make a wise stranger my .executor
Than a foolish son my heir, and have my
lands cali'd after [nature.
My wit than after my name ; and tliat s my
'Witti/. *Tis a strange harsh one ! Must!
still shift then?
I come, brave cheats I once to my trade again!
And I'll ply'tharder now than e'er I did for^t'.
You'll part with nothing then, sir?
Oldc. Not a' jot, sir. [go, sir,
Witty, If I should ask you blessing ere I
I think you would not give't me.
Oldc. Let me but bear tliou liv'st by thy
wits once, « [mine else!
Thou shalt have any thing; thovrtnoneof
Then why should I take care for thee ?
Witttf. Thank Your bounty ! L^'^'
Oldc. So wealth love roe,, and long life, I
beseech it,
As I do love the man that lives by liis wits,
He comes so near my nature ! I'm grown old
now,
And even arriv'd at my last cheat, I fear me;
But 'twill make shift to bury me, by day-
light too.
And discharge all my legacies, 'tis so wealthy,
And never trouble any interest money.
I've a niece to wed, over whose steps
I have plac'd a trusty watchful guardianess,
For fear some poor earl steal her ('t has been
threaten'd) [on't;
To redeem mortgag'd land, but he shall miss
To prevent which, I have sought out a match
for her,
Fop of Fop-Hall he writes himself, (I take it,
The ancient'stfop in England) with whom I've
privately
Compounded for the third part ofherportioo^
Enter Sir Gregory Fop and Cunmhgham.
And she seems plcas'd; so two parts restwidi
me. — [he, sir?
lie's come. Sir Gregory, welcome! What's
Greg. Young Cunningham, a Norfi>]k gen-
tleman,
One that lias liv'd upon tlie fops, my kindred.
Ever since my remembrance. He's a wit in-
deed,
And we all strive to have him ; nay 'tb certain
Some of our name have gone to law for him.
Now 'tis my turn to keep him; and indeed
He's plaguy chai]^eable, as all your witsaie:^
But 1 will give him over when I list;
I ha' us'd wits so before.
Oidc, I hope when youVe married, sir.
You'll shake him off.
Greg. Why, what do you take me to be.
Than e'er I di^ for'u] Sympson reads,
Than e'er X did before.
Old
Act 1.]
Old fadier-r-law that shall be^? Do you
think
ril have any of Uie wits hang upon mc after
I am married once ?
None of my kindred ever had before me.
But Where's this niece? Is it a fashion [her ?
In London to marry a woman, and npver see
Oidc. Excusetiieniceness^ sir! that care's
your friend; [seen her :
Perhaps, had she been seen, you had never
There s many a tpcnt thing, called An*t like
your honour, [a countess,
That lies in wait for her : at first snap she*s
Drawn with sis mares thro' Fleet-street, and
a coachman [tocks. —
Siitini; bareheaded to their Flanders but-
This wliets him on.
Greg, Pray let's clap up the business, sir!
I long to see her. Are you sure you h:ive her?
Is she not there already ? Hark, hark, oh,
hark!
Oidc, How now ? what's that, sir ?
Oreg, Every caroch goes by,
Goes ev'n to Ui heart of me.
Oidc, I'll have tlwt doubt eas*d, sir,
Instantly eus'd, sir Gregory: and, now I
think ou't, [there;
A toy comes i' my mind, seeing your friend
We'll have a little sport, give you but way
ta't, [ciously!
And put a trick upon her ; I love wit pre-
You shall no^be seen yet; we'll stale your
friend first, [masque^,
irt please but him to stand for th' aiiti-
Greg, Pho, he shall stiiud for any thing
(why his supper [else.
Lies i' ray breeches here); 111 make him fast
Oidc, Then come you forth more unex-
pectedly,
The masque itself, a thousanda-year jointure:
The cloud, your friend, will be then drawn
away.
And only you the beauty of the play.
Greg, For red and black, I'll put' down
all your fullers ;
Let but your niece bring white, and we have
three colours. [ExU Gregory,
Oidc. I'm given to understand you are a
wit, sir. [favor to, sir.
Cunn, I'm on£ that fortune shews small
Oidc Why, there you conclude it, whether
you will or no, sir.
To tell you truth, I'm taken with a wit.
Cunn, Fowlers catch woodcoqks so; let
not tlicm know so much !
. WIT AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
287
Oidc, A pestilence mazard ! a duke Hum*
phrcy spark,
ir had nither lose his dinner than his jest !—
I say, I love a wit the best of all things.
Cunn. Always except yourself.
Oidc, irhas giv'n't me twice now
Enter Niece and Guardianess,
All with a breath, I thank hun! But that I
love a wit,
I sliould he heartily angry. Cuds, my niece !
You know tiie busmess with her^
Cunn. With a woman P
'Tis ev'n the very same it was, I'm sure,
Five thousand years ago, no fool can miss it.
Oidc. This is the gentleman I promis'd.
To present to your af&ction. . [niece,
Cunn, Ware that arrow! [liking.
Oidc. Deliver me the truth now of your
Cunn. I'm spoil'd already; that such poor
lean game
Should be found out as I am !
Oidc, Go, set to lier, sir. — Ha, ha, ha !
Cunn, How noble is this virtue in you, lady!
Your eye may seem to commit a thousand
slaughters
On your dull servants, which truly tasted
Conclude all in comforts.
Oidc. Pho!
Niece, It rather sliews
What a true worth can make, such as yours is.
Oidc. And that's not worth a groat,— How
like you him, niece ?
Niece. It shall appear how well, sir: I
humbly thank you for him. [well, i'faith.
Oidc, Ila, ha ! good gallery f he does it
'Slight, as if he nieant to purcliase lip-land
Hold, hold ! bear off, I say ! [there :
'Slid, )-our part liangs too long.
Cunn. Aly jovs are mockeries.
Niece. You've both e xpress'd a worthy care
and love, sir :
Had mine own eye been set at liberty [sir).
To make a publick choice (believe my truth.
It could not ha' done better for my heart
Than your good providence has.
Oidc. You will say so then ! [bard ;
Alas, sweet niece, all this is but the scab-
Now I draw forth the weapon.
Niece. How!
Oidc, Sir Gregory!
Approach, thou lad of thousands!
Enter Sir Gregori/,
Greg, Who calls mc ?
* Old father-i'-law thnt fdiall be^ But that 'tis plain he never could be. The mistakinc of
one letter for another is very usual; but here the editor has made a greater slip, and ha*
changed one word for anotlirr. Uncle-in^law is what sir Gregory designs to call him. So in
this act a little lower, the old knight says to sir (Gregory,
Tush, nephew, 1*11 call you so,—
And in act the third sir Gregory says to him.
It's as nne a noise, unclcy as heart can wish. Sj/mpson.
We believe the text genuine, and the slip perhaps intentional.
^ Attii^mask.] This, I believC; properly means a masque ofanticks, Whalley,
\ ' Niece,
ftm
WIT AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
[Act 1.
Niece, What motion's tlusf the model of
' Kincreh*?
Oldc. Accost her daintily now^, let me ad-
vise thee! [on you.
Greg, I was advis'd to bestow dainty cost
NUce. You were ill-advis'd ; back, and
take better counsel ! fcost
You may have good for an angel : the least
You can bestow upon a woman, sir,
Trebles ten counsellors' fees ; in lady-ware,
You're over head and ears, ere you be aware.
Faith, keep a batchelor btill, and go to bowls,
sir, [save, sir !
Follow your mistress there, and prick and
For other mistresses will make you a slave,
sir.
Greg. So, so ! I have my lerrepoop already.
Oldc. Why, bow now, niece ? this is the
man, I tell you ! [but mock ;
Niece. He? hang him! Sir, I know you do
This is the man, you would say.
Oldc. The devil rides, I think !
Cunn. I must use cunning here, [respect!
Oldc, Make me not mad 1 use him with all
This is the man, I swear. [chat !
Niece, 'Would you could persuade me to
Alas, you cannot go beyond me, uncle :
You carry a jest well, I must confess,
For a man of your years ; but —
Oldc. I'm wrought beside myself!
Cunn. [to the Guardianesx] I ne*er beheld
Comeliness 'till this minute.
Guard. Oh, good sweet sir, [woman !
Pray offer not these words to an old (;cntlc-
Niece. Sir! [ceeds thee.
Cunn. Away, fifteen ! here's fafty-one tx-
Niece, What's the business?
Cunn. Give me these motherly creatures !
' Come, ne*er smother it;
I know you are a teeming woman yet.
Guard, Troth, a young gentleman might
do much, I think, sir.
Cunn, (»o to then. [were ingratcful.
Guard. And I should play my part, or I
Niece. Can you so soon neglect me ?
Cunn. Hence! I'm busy, [pudent baggage,
Olde. This cross point came in luckily. Im-
Hang from the gentleman ! art thou not
To be a widow's hmd'rance ? [asham'd
Cunn, Are you angry, sir? [shall desire
Oldc. You're welcome ! pray court on : I
Your honest wise acquaintance. Vex me not.
After my care and pains to find a match for
thee.
Lest I confine thy life to some out-cbamber.
Where thou shalt waste the sweetness of tliy
vouth,
Lik« a consuming light in her own socket,
And not allow'd a male-creature about thee !
A very monkey, thy necessity [sweeper
Shall prize at a thousand pound ; a chimney-
At fifteen hundred.
Niece. But are you serious, uncle?
Oldc. Serious. [mmi
Niece. Pray let me look upon the gentle-
With more heed ! then I did but hum him
over [sheets.
In haste, good faith, as lawyers chanceiy
Beshrew my blood, a tolerable man.
Now I distmctly read him !
Greg. Hum, hum, hum ! [good pitch ;
Niece. Say he be black, he^s of a very
Well-ankled, two good confident calves, they
look
As if they would not shrink at the ninth child;
The redness in the face — why, that's in
fashion.
Most of your high bloods have it; 'tis a sign
Of greatness, marry ;
Tis to be uken down too with May-butter:
I'll send to my lady Spend-tail for her medi-
cine.
Greg. Lum te dum, dum, dum, de d :m !
Niece. He's qualified lou, lolieve "u.-
Greg. Lum te dum, de dum. (ie '. .". !
' Niece. Where was my iudgm* .: \ ' -^ ium!
Greg. Lum te dum, ddim, du:r., -•^ dam,
Niece. Perfection's cover'd mess.
Greg. Lum te dum, te dum, te dum ! [sir,
Niece. It smokes apparently. Pardon, sweet
The error of m^ sex!
Oldc. Why, well said, niece ! [sir.
Upon submission, you must pardon her now,
Greg. I'll do it by course : do you think
I'm an ass, knight? [seal-office
Here's first my hand ; now it goes tO the
Oldc. Formally finish'd! How goes this
suit forward? [mind, sir;
Cunn. I'm taking measure of the widow's
I hope to fit her heart.
Guard. Who would have dreamt [nates!
Of a young morsel now ? Things come in mi-
Greg. Trust him not, widow; lie's 9
younger brother, [nothing.
He'll swear and lie ; believe me, he's worUi
Guard. He brings more content to a wo*
man with that nothing, [anything;
Than he that brings his thousands inithool
We have precedents for that amongst great
ladies. [be in fashioo
Oldc. Come, come ! no language now shall
But your lovc-plirase, the bell to procreation.
[Exeunt.
Enter Sir Ruinous Gentry^ WittypatCf and
Friscian.
Wittj/. Pox, there's nothing putsme besides
my wits,
♦ rA« model of Nineveh.] The model of Nineveh appears tO' have been a puppet-show in
mat repute in the time of our authors. It is mentioned in the old comedy of Every Woman
m her liumour, 1609, quarto, signature H. * I have seen the city of new Ninevchf and Ju*
< lius Cesar, acted by mammets.' It is also taken notice of by Ben Jonson in his Bartholo-
mew-Fair, act v. scene 1.
fiat
Act 1.]
WIT AT SEVERAL \fr£APO^&
989^
Bat this fourth, tljis lay illiterate share ;
There*s no conscience in't.
Ruin, Sir, it has ever heen so [where I ain.
Where I have practised, and. must be still
Kor ha$ it beeu undeaervM at the year's end.
And shuffle the almanack together, vacations
And teroHtimes, <^ne with another ; tho' I
say't,
Uy wife is a woman of a good spirit;
I'hen it is no lay-shnre.
Pris. Faith, for tliis five tear.
Ego potsum probare, I have had
A hungry penurious share wich 'em,
And she has had as much as I always.
WUt^. Present, or not present?
Frix. Residcm aut non reiidens, per fidemf
Wittjf, And what precedent's this Jbr me?
because
Vour hie if kitty turpis and qui ntihi
Discipulus brains (that never ^t any thing
But by accidence and uncertainty)
Did allow it, therefore I roust, that have
grounded
Couclui-ions of wit, hereditary riiles
From my futlier, to get by ?
Kiiin. Sir, be compendious;
Either take, or refuse : I will 'batl^ no tdken
Of my wife's sliare ; make even the last reck-
onings,
And either so unite^ of here divide company.
Pris, A good resolution, profectol let
every man ^
Beg his own way, and happy man be his dole !
Wittjf. Well, here*S50ur double share, and
single brains.
Pal, adipol,here'B toward; a cast(fr ccastor for
you !
I will endure it a fortnight longer, but
By these just five ends —
Pris. Take lieed ! five's odd j
Put both hands together '^r severally^
They arc all odd unjust ends.
Witty. MediusfidiMf hold your tongue !
I depose you from half a share presently else :
I will make you a participle, and decline you ;
uow [junction
You understand me! Be you a quiet con-
Amongst the undeclined ; you and your Latin
Ends shall go shift, sohu cum aoh, together
else; ^
And then If ever they get ends of gold
And silver, enougii to serve that gerund ine
maw of yours, [stantly —
That without do will end in di and dum in-
Ente^ Oldcrt^ and Sir Chtgor^.
Rubi. Enough, enough! Hero comes com*
pmv! we lose
Five shares in wrangling about one.
Wittjf. My father? Put on, Priscfanl
He ha& Latin firagments too; but I fear him
not! [relieve^
ril case my face with a little more hair, and
0l4t, Tush, nephew ! Vll cadi ^ou So, for
if there be
No other obstacles than those yoo speak of.
They are but powder charges without pellets;
You may safely front 'cm, and warrant your
own danger. [ si^ .
Greg, No other that I can perceive, i'hiitli,
For I put her to't, and felt her as far as I could;
And the strongest repulse was, she said.
She would have a little soldier in me.
That, if need were, I should defend iier re^
putation.
Oidc, And Surely, sir, tliat is a principle
Amongst your principal ladles : they requii«
Tulour
Either in a friend or a husband.
Greg, And I allow
Their requests iVaith, as well as any ivonum^s
Heart can desire : if ( knew where to get
Valour, I would as willingly entertain it
As any man that blows.
Olde, Breathes, breathes, sir; that's ilie
sweeter phrase. [I'm in
Greg. Blows f6r a soldier, i'faitli^ sir ! md
Practice that way.
Oldc, For a soldier, I grant lu
Greg. 'Slid ! [too,
I'll swallow some bullets, arul good round oi\^»
But ril have a little soldier in me.
Ruin. Will you on and beg.
Or steal and be hanged f
Greg. And some scholar she would have
me besides. [duality
Oidc. Tash, that shall be no bar^; it is a
In a gentleman, but of tlie least question.
Pris. Sahcle, domini ifenignitsimi, sntmi»
Jicentissimi /
Oldc, Salvete dicis ad nos fjuleo Ic salvere /
Nay, sir, we hate L<itin, and otlier metal ia
us too, sir.
You shall see me talk witli this fellow now.
Greg. I could find in my heart to talk with
If I could understand him. [him too,
Prii, Charissifui^i
Dactissitnique, domini, es ahundantia
' Greg. And some scholar she would have me besides^
Tushy that shall be no bar, &c.] The hnpropriety of making «> Gregory both te!l the
We and give the answer, inclined me to prefix Oldcraft before 2'ush, that skall,6cc Sjfmpstm.
^ Pris< Charissimi, doctissimique, domini^ ex abundantia
Charitatis veslra estote propUii in xne jejunum
Miseruai.'] Clarissimi 1 prefer to charissim. Jejunum too T can bj no
iaeaos approve, tho' sense, because it is only an arbitrary reading of the editor of the copy
of 1679. That of 1617, represents tlie passage thus; estote prop it ii in me juncnem, which,
tho' not sense, because not Latin, will yet be the l^nd-maid to lead us to what might very
)»os8ibly have been the original reading; and that wi|^ no more trouble thwi turaiagof an »
into a Uf—propiUi in sue juvenem« Swnpson.
VOL.111. ^"^ Pp Ck«rit„tU
too
WIT AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
Charitatis vestra estate propitiiin mejuvenem
Miserum, pauptremy 4' o/«»*» consolatione exit-
lemf [bat I'll to liim again.
Oidc, A pretty scholar, by my faitb, sir!
Greg. Does he beg or steal in tbislatagaage,
can you tell, sir?
He may take away my good name from me,
And t ne'er the wiser.
Oldc. He begs, he begs, sir.
Fris, Ecccy ecce, inoculis lachrymaruniflu''
men! in ore [pudentia;
Fames sitisque; igttis in Tmltu, pudor 4* wh
hi onnii parte necessitas 4* indigentia,
. Oldc. Audi tu bonus tocius; lu es Kholcuh
ticusy sic intelligOy
Egofaciam argumentum.
Mark now, sir, ndw I fetch him up !
Greg. I've been fetch'd up a hundred times
for this ;
Yet I could never learn half so much.
Oidc. Audi, 4' responde; hoc est argumen-
tum : Nomen est [/mwc,
JNomen — ergOy quod est tibi nomen f Responde
Hcaponde argumentum meum.
IIhvc I not pot him to*t, sir?
Greg, Yes, sir, I think so. [penn'd speech,
Witty. Step in! the rascal is put out of his
And he can go no further.
Oldc. Cur non respondes 9
Frit. O domine, tanta mca est wwcria—
Witty, So ! he's almost in again.
Fris. Ut noi te mecum pernoctet egcstas,
luce qnotidie
Faupertas habitet. [resjwnde
Oldc. Sed quod est tibi jumen f 4' quisdedit ?
Argumentum,
Fris. Hem, hem!
Witty. He's dry; he hems: on quickly!
Ruin, Courteous gentlemen, [tensive
If the brow of a military fiice may not be o^
To your generous eye-balls, i^et his wounds
speak better than his words, [planted
For some branch or small sprig of chanty to be
Upon this poor barren soil ot a soldier.
Oldc. How now ! what, arms and arts both
co-a-becging?
Ruin, Such is tlie post-progress of cold
charity now a-days, [so swift a motion
Who (for heat to lier frigid limbs) passes in
That two at the least had need be to stay her.
Greg. Sir, let's reward 'em, I pray you;
and be j^oue !
If any quarrel should arise amongst us,
I am able to answer neither of them; his iron
And steel tongue is as hai'd as t'oiher's Latin
one.
[Act 1.
Oldc. Stay, stay, gir f I will talk a little witb
him first:
Let me alone with both! I will try whether
they [love.—
Live by their wits or no; for sach a man I
And, what, you both beg together then?
Fris. Conjunctis mambus,pr<rfecto, domine.
Ruin. With equal fortunes, equal distribu-
tion ; [even
There's not the breadth of a sword's point uu-
In our division.
Greg. What two qualities
Are here cast away upon two poor ieHows!
If a man hud 'em that could maintain 'em,
what
A double man were that! If these two fellows
Might be bought and sodden^ and boifd to a
.ielly.
And eaten fasting e\'e:^ morning, I do not
Think hot a" man should fmd strange things
in his stomach.
Oldc. Come, sir, join yourcharity with miuc.
And we'll make up a couple of pence betwixt
us. [for his penny/
Greg. If a man could have a pennyworth
I \\ould bestow more money with 'era.
Witty. Save you, gentlemen ! How now?
What, Are you eiicountcr'd here? What fel-
lows are these? [a pair
Oldc, Faith, sir, here's Mars and Mercury;
Of poor plane ts, it seems, tliat Jupiter
Has turn d out to live by their wits, and we
About a little spark at' charity [are e'ea
To khidle 'em a new fire.
Witty. Stiiy, pray you stay, sir!
You may abuse your eharifey, nay, make
Thuc goodness in you no better than a vice:
So many deceivers walk ia these shadows
now-a-days,
That certainly your ho«ivti<'S were better spilt,
Thau reserv'd to so lewd arid vicious Ufces.' —
Which is lie that professes the soldier?
Ruin. He that professes his own profes-
sion, sir,
And the dangerous. life he hath led in it
This pair of halt-score years.
Witty. In what services have you been, sir?
Ruin. The first that flcsh'd me a soldier, sir,
Was that great battle at Alcazar, in Bnrbary,
Where th^ noble English Stukcley fell^ and
where
Tliat royal Portugal Sebastian epded
His nntimely days.
Witty. A re you sure Sebastian died there?
Ruin. Faith, sir, there was some other ru-
mour hop'd
^ The great battle At Alcazar in Barbaryy where the noble English Stukeley,/b//, und vherc
that royal I'ortugal Sebastian, ^c] The battle of Alcazar was fought in August, 1678. Don
Scbastfany one of the kings who i'eii in that engagement, being not found after the battle, was
for a long time supposed to have escaped, and reported to be living in several dilTcreat
countries.— Of SfwA-e/ty, who appears to have been a dissolute Englishman, born in Devon-
shire, a volunteer in that battle, after having dissipated his property, an account may he seen
in an old ballad published in Evans's collection, 1777, vol. ii. dj 103. See also ''.mold play,
entitled, The Battle ofAlcaxar, with tlio deatli of Captain Stakeley, 4to. 1594. i^
Amongst
Act 4.]
WIT AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
291
Amongst us*, t^at be, /wounded, escap'd,
and tottch'd [couotry atiiome
On his native shpre again; .where tindinc his
Moredi&tress'dby the invasion of the Spaniard,
Than his loss abroad, forsook it, still $up<-
porting
A miserable and unfortunate life,
Which where he enrWd is yet uncertain.
Witty. By my faith, sir,
He speaks the ni-arest lame of truth in this.
Ruin. Since, sir, I.serv'd in France, the
Low.Countcics, [pt>rt',
Lastly, at that m<*morablc skirmish at New-
Where the forward and bold Scot there spent
his life
So ifreely, that from every single heart
Tliat there tell, came home, ^m .h;s re-
solution,
A double b^^nour to his country.
Witty. This
Should be no counterieit, sir.
Oidc. I do not thiuk lie is, sir.
Witty, But, sir, methi|iks yon da .not
shew the marks
Of a soldier : could you so freely scape.
That you brought hpme no Jcars to be your
chronicle ? [in those ptirts
Ruin. Sir, I have wounds, and many ; but
M'liere nature and humanity bids me shame
To publish.
Witty. A good soldier cannot want
Tltose badges.
Greg. Now .am not I of your mia^l
In that; for I hold him the best soldier
That scapes best : always at a mock-fencing '°
I give him the best that has the fewest knocks.
Witty. Nay, I'll have a bout with your
scholar, too. To ask you
Why you should be poor, yet richly learn 'd,
Were no c|uestion, at least, you can vjanaiy
answer It; [serve
But whether you iiave learning enough to de-
To be poor or no (since poverty is commonly
The meed of learning) is yet lo be tried :
You have the languages ? I mean the chief.
As the Hebrew, Syriac, Greek, l^tin, &:c.
Pris. Aiiqucmtulum; non totaliter, domine.
Oidc, Ttie Latin I have sufficiently tried
him in, [grounded.
And 1 promise you, sir, he is very well
Witty. I will prove him in some of the rest.
Toia mioisfatkerois iste cockrscomboy¥
Pris. Kay yonkeron nigiiton oy Jbr^Urof
asinisoy.
Witty. C&eatefon ion bitonf '
* Hop't amongst us.] Theobald and Seward would read, hopt amongst us.
* That memorable skirmish, &c.] This mefnorai'le skintiish at Neicport happened on the
22d of JuW, 1^00, between prince Albert and prince Maurice de Nassau; the former com-
mander of the Spaniards, and the latter of the forces of the States-general. The Spaniards
were worsted, and sustained the loss of 2000 men killed, besides a great number taken
prisoners. This battle is mentioned in several contemporary writers ;: out we do not find *
the le^t notice taken in any of the accounts, of the forward and bold Scot, whose bravery i&
here celebrated bv our authors. R.
*® A cock-fencing.] Corrected by Sympson.
P p 2 Greg.
JRrts. Tous pollous strikerous, angelo to
Witty. Certainly, sir, [peeso,
A very excellent scholar in the Greek.
tOldc. I dojiote a wondrous readiness in
Greg. I do wopder [him.
How the Trojans could hold out ten years*
siege, [ Acliilles
As 'tis reported, against .the Greeks : if
i^poke but. this tongue, I do not thiuk but he
Might iiave shaken down the walls in a
sevenuight.
And ne'e^ troubled the wooden horse.
Witty. I will try him so far as I can in
tlie Syriac.
Kircom bragmeifi shag a don ma dell mathnu.
Pris. Hashagath rabgabashshoOosonoriudka.
Witty. Colpack rubascay gnaioerthetnshig
sha^. [Uishemech nagoUii.
P.ns. Nfipshamotkem ribshc hongomosk
Witty. Gentlemen, i have doue ! any man,
that cap,
Go further! [confess myself at a ponplus.
Greg. Faith, not I,iiir ; I w^s at my furthest
In my natural langi^ge ; I was never double-
I thank n^ hard fortune. [topgu'd,
Witty. Well, gentlemen,
' Tis pity (walk further otf a little, my friends),
I say, 'tifi.pity^uch fei Ip w s,. so. end pw'd,
So qualified with the gifts of nature and arts.
Yet should have duch a scarcity of fortuue*s
benefits :
We must blame our iron-hearted age for it.
0/rfc 'lis pity, indeed; fuid our pity sl^all
speak
A little for 'em : cpme, sir! here's my groat.
WUty. A groat, sir? oh fy! give nothing
rathei>!
'Twcre better you xail'd on 'em for begging.
And so quit yourself: I am a poor gen tleman^
ThatUiavc iittle -but mj wiU to live on —
Oldc. Troth,
Audi love you the better, sir.
Witty. Yet Til begin
A better example than so : here^/ellows.
There's between you; take purse and all;
and I
Would it were heavier for your sakes !
Tliere's a pair of angels to guide you to your
lodgings,
A poor gentleman's good will ! [domine!
PrJt, GratittSffnaximas gralias,benignissime
Oldc. This is an ill example for us, sir ; I
would
This bpuntiful gentleman liad not come this
way to-day.
996
WIT AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
lAci 2.
v:
Cunn. She has but mock'd my folly! else
she finds not
The bosonv of my puqjose : some other way
IMust make me know. I'll ti^ her ; and may
• chance quit
The fine dexterity of her lady-wit. [Exit.
Nitce, YeSy in troth, I laugh'd to thmk of
thy master
Now, what he would think if he knew thj$ !
Pompci^. By my troth,
I laugh at him too. Faith, sirrah, he's bu6 a
fool, [say't.
To say the truth, tho' I say't that should not
NUce. Yes, thou shouJdst say truth, and I
believe thee. [something;
Well, for this time we'll part : you perceive
Our tongues betray our hearts, there's our
But pray be silent \ [weakness ;
Powpey. As mouse in cheese, or goose in
hay, i'faith. [hand
"Niece. Look, we are cut off! there s my
Where my lips would be.
Psmpey. I'll wink, and think 'em
Thy lips. Farewell ! [Exit.
jNiece. Now, Guardianess,
I need not ask where you have been.
Guard, Oh, lady,
Ne'er was woman so abus'd !
Re-enter Fompejf*
Fompey. Dost thou hear, lady sweetheart?
I had ioigot to tell thee; if ypu will,
I will come back in the evening.
Niece. By no means ;
Come not 'till I send for you.
Pampey. If there be [am gone.
Any need, you may think of tilings when I
I may be convey'd into ^our chamber; III
Under the bed while midnight, or so; [lie
Or you shall put me up in one of your little
I can creep in at a small hole. * [boxes ;
Niece. These
Are things I dare bot i^enture : I charge you,
On my love, never come 'till I send for you.
Fompeif. Verbum insipienti I Tis eoou|sh to
the wise. [know
Nor I think it is not fit the knight should
Any thing yet.
Niece. By no means ! pray you go now :
. we*re suspected. [us use our secrets.
Fompey, For the things tliat are past, let
Niece. Now I will make a firm trial of your
love ;
As you love me, not a wbrd more at this tiine.
Not a syllable ; 'tis the seal of love; take heed!
Fifmpey. Hum, hum, hum, hum ! [Exit.
Niecc.^ He hums loth to depart'^.
So, this pleasant trouble's gone. Now, Guar-
dianess! [cause, woman ?
What! your eyes easing your heart? the
Guard. The cause is raise man, madam f
oh, lady !
I have been gulled in a shining carbuncle,
^A very glow-worm, that I thought had fire in't,
And tis as cold as ice.
Niece. And j ustly serv'd ; [spring* *
Wouldst thou once think that such au emug
Would dote upon thine autumn ?
Guard. Oh, liad you heard
Him but protest—
Niece. J would not have believ'd him.
Thou raight'st have perceiv'd how I mock*d
In wanton imitation with the fool, [thy folly,
Go, weep the sin of thy credulity.
Not of thy loss! for it' was never thine,
And it is gain to miss it. Wert tliou so dull }
Nay, yet thou'rt stupid and uncapable.
Why, thou wert but the bait to fish willi, not
The prey ; the stale to catch another bird with.
Guard. Indeed lie call'd me bird.
Mece. Yet thou perceiv'st not: [made
It is vonr niece he loves; wouldst thou be
A stalking jade } 'tis she, examine it. —
I'll hurry all awry", and tread my path
'7 Pompey. Hum, hum, Aum, Atim—
He hums loath to depart,'] The improprietjr of putting this passage into Fifm-
^ey*ft mouth is evident from the bare mention. To the N^ece it unquestionably belongs, aud
we should write,
Fompey. Hum, hum, bum, hum. [£ji<«
Niece* He bums loath to depart. Sym^tmu
'* An erring ipring.'] So first folio; second, early; and Seward earing. We have followed
the oklett copy, not pnly as authorized, but as fiuling unmediately in with the sense of the
context, and being preferable to earing, wliich is a hud epithet in this place.
*' lU hurry ail OMory, and tread my path
Over unbeaten grounds ; go level to the mark.
Not by circular bouts; rare things are pleasing.] Seward says, * If she kurrys all mory,
^ it is plain she roust go to her mark, as she really does, by circular bouts, t. e. by seeiniugt^
* aim at something else. I suppose the original to have been,
' Over unbeaten grounds go level to
* The mark, by circular bouts; rare things are pleasing:'
And Sympson changes not into but. — ^There needs neither omission nor idtemtion. Seward
misconstrues the text, and Sympson's change of not into but directly contradicts the poet^s
meaning. By hurrying awry, she only means leaving the common way, and to tread a piUh
aver uT^eaten grounds, by which means she will go level to the mark, not roirad about.
Did Messrs. Seward or Sympson never amuse themselves in their younger days with the di*
version of steepMuntingf Tis the very thing. ^
^ ) . Over
l^ j ^^ ■■■ » Cil)^
V. 1' >■ I L-V- 1 —
Act 5^.]
tWf At SEVERAL WEAPONS.
*ar
Ovdl' Uab«ateti grotmd»i go level to the marie,
Not by circalar bouts; rare things are pleanng;
And rere's bat ^eldcxm in the simple sense,
But hfts her emphasis with eminence. [£jtV.
GuartL My niece? she the rival of my
«biise? fher ibr^t !
My fleih and blood wrong* roe? I*u aunt her
Enter Mirabel,
Qb, opportunity, thoa blessest me l-^
Now, gentlewoman ! are you parted so soon?
Where is your inend, I pray ? your Cunning-
JUir. What say yod, aunt? [ham?
Gumrd. Come, come,your.Cunnin^ham!
I am not blind with age yet, nor deaf.
Mir. Dmnb I am sure you*re not. What
, ail youywmt?
Are you not well?
Crmard. No, nor sick ;
Nor mad^ nor in my wits; nor sleeping,
Nor wakiag; nor nothing, nor any thing:
1 know not what I am, nor what [ am not!
Aftr. Mercy cover us ! what do you mean,
Guard, I mean to be reveng'd. [aunt?
Aftr. On whom?
Guard. On thee, baggage!
• Aftr. Revenge should follow injury.
Which never reach'd so far as thought in me
Towards you, aunt.
Guard, Your cunning, minion.
Nor your Cunningham, can either blind me !
The gentle beggar loves you.
A&. Besee^ you, let
Me stay your error! I begin to hear,
And sliake off my amasement : if you think
That ever any passage treating love
Hath been betwixt us yet commenced; any
Silent eye^ance that might but sparkle fire,
S6 much as brother and sister might meet
with ; ,
The lip-salute, so much as strangers might
Tike a fiireweh with; the commixed h^ds;
Nay, but the least thought of Uie least of these,
In troth you wrong your bosom ; b;^ that truth
Which I think yet you durst be bail for in me
If it were offer'd you, I am as free
As all this protestation.
Guard. May I believe this? [thought
Afir. If ever you'll believe truth. Why I
He had spoke love to you; and if his heart
Prompted his tongue, sure I did hear so much.
Guard. Ob,&isest man ! Ixion's plague fell
on me!
Never by woman, such a masc'line cloud,
^ airy and so subtle, was embraced.
Mir. By no cause in me, by my life, dear
aunt. [venge,
Guard. I believe you : then help in my re*
And you shall do't, or lose my lov^ for ever:
Vil have him quitted at his equal weapon.
Thoit art young, follow him, bait his (ksires
With all the engines of a woman's wit.
Stretch modesty even to the highest pitch;
He cannot freeze at such a finming beauty;
And when thou hast him by the amorous gills^ '
Think on my vengeance^choak up his desires^
Then let his banquetings be tantalism.
Let thy disdain spurn the dissembler out!
Oh, I should climb the stars, and sit abovei
To see him burn to ashes in his love !
' JItr. This will be a strange task^^, aont^
and an
Unwilling labour; yet, in your injonctiony
I am a servant to't.
Guard. Thou'lt nndertake't? [heTeafter!
Mir, Yes; let the success commend itself
Guard. Efiect it, girl, my substance is thy
store;
Nothing but want of will makes woman poor.
[Exewa.
Enter Sir Gregortf and Tompey,
Greg. Why, Pompey, thou^rt not stark
mad, art thou? wilt thou
Not tell me how ray lady does?
Pompey. Your lady?
Greg. Did she receive the thing that I sent
her kindly, or no?
Fotnpey. The thing [you 8en(^
That you sent her, knight, by the thing that
Was, for the thing's sake that was sent to carry
The thiug that you sent, very kindly receiv'd.
First, ^ [servant!)
There's yoUr indenture; (now go seek you a
Secondly, you're a knight; thirdly and- lastly,
I'm mine own man; and^ fourthly, fare yoa
well! [withtliee!
Greg. Why,tompey! Prithee let me speak
1*11 lay my lite some liare has crost him.
Fwnpey. Knight, [l^dy.
If you be a knisht, so keep you : as for the /
Who shall say that she is not a fair ladv ?
A sweet liidy, an honest and a virtuous lady ?
I will say lie is a base fellow, a blab of hit
tongue,
And I will make him eat these fingers* ends*
Greg. Why, here's nobody says so, Pom^
pey. [tween the lady
Pompey. Whatsoever things have past be*
And the other party, Tvhom I will not nama
•At this time, I say she is virtuous
And honest, and I will maintain'r, as long US
I can maintain myself with brend and water.
Greg. Why, I know nobody thinks other*
wise . [in my hearing,
Pompey. Any man that does but think it
I will make him think on't while he has a
thought
In his bosom ! Shall we say that kindneMfii
From ladies are common ? or tluit &vours and
protestations [parties?
Are thinss of no moment betwixt parties utid
I say stin, whatsoever has been betwixt the
lady [she is honest.
And the ^arty which I will not name, that
And shall be honest, whatsoever site does
VOL. in.
^ A itrange taste.] Varied by Sympson.
Q q*
^/
dds
WIT AT SEVERAL WEiVPONS.
[Acta
You wilt deal with met ^et I would eatimC,
You will Dot make that which is bad enough
Worse than it need be, by a second ill.
When it can render vou no second profici
H it be coin you seek, you have your prey.
All my store 1 vow (and it weighs a fauaared);
My life, or §iry hurt you pve my body^
Can enrich you no more.
Wttty. You may pursue.
X. i&iin. As I'm agendemany I never will !
Witty. Only well bind you to- quiet beb»*
viour
Till you call out for bail, and on die other
Side of the hedge leave you : but keep the
peace
Till we be oat of hearing! for by\hat
We shall be out of danger: if we come bad^
We come with a mischief I
X. Ruin. You need not fear me.
Pris. Come, we'll bestow, you then.
Exeunt Ruin. Fris. and Lady*
Witty. Why layou, sir, is not thisaswiftet
revenue
Tlian jSic probosy ergot 4" %tVt<r«can brbg in?
Why, is not this one of your syllogisms
In Barbara, Chnfie utile est honatum f
Cred. Well, sir, a little more of this a^
quaintance
Will make me know you fully: I protest
You have (at first sight) made mc conscioas
Of such a deed my dreams ne*er prompted. Yet
I could almost have wish'd rather ye had
robb'd [lars)
Me of mv cloak, (for my purse, ^tis a sdio-
Than to have made me a robber, [questiooi
I had rather have answered three difficalt
llian this one, as easy as yet it seems.
Witty. Tush! you ^
Shall never come to further answer for'u ; '
Can you confess yuur penurious uncle.
In his full face of love, to be so strict
A ni^anl to your commons, that you*re &io
To size your belly out with shoulder fees,
V^^ilh rumps and kiduies, and cues of single
beer.
And yet make dainty to feed more daintilv^^
At this easier rate I Fy, master Credulous!
1 blush for you.
Cred. This is a truth undeniable.
Witty. Why, go to then I I hope I knov
your uncle :
How does he use his son, nearer than you ?
*' Cut -and hmg tail.] According to the forest laws, the dog of a man, who hadWrighfc
to the privilege of clmce, was obliged to cut, or law his dog, amongst other modes of disa-
bling bim, by depriving him of his tail. A dog so cut was called a cut^ or curt-tail, and by
contraction cur. Cut and long tail therefore signify the dog of a clown, and the dug of a
geotlenian. Steevens.
** Gasier'd.] i. e. frightened^
* And when he saw my best alnrmed spirits
* Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to the encounter,
' Or whether ga»ted by the noise I made,
* But suddenly he fled.' King Lear, act ii. sc. 1, R.
*' And yet make daymy to feed h»»,re daintily.] The first folio reads, dayniy; for want of
coiibuUinif that Qdltiou (we suppose; t^ympsou is greatly puuled what to do with c/ffymy.
By day or by night, by light or by darkness,
With cut and long tail^'.
Greg. Why, I say she is honest.
Fontpey. Is slie honest ? [knight ?
In what sense do you say she is honest,
Greg. If I could not find in my heart to
throw [ass,
Itf y dagger at thy head, hilts and all, I'm an
And no gentleman !
PompeV' Throw your dagger at me ?
Do not, knight I I give you fair warning,
Tis but cast away if you do ; for you shall
have [lady,
No other words of me: the lady is an honest
Whatsoever reports may go of sports and
toys, [her
And thoughts, and words, and deeds betwixt
And the party which I will not name, [man
This I give you to understand, that another
May have as good an eye, as amorous a nose.
As fair a stampt beard, and be as proper a
man, [man
As a knight (I name no parties); a serving-
May be as good as a sir,
A rompey as a Gregory, a doodle as a fop :
So, seningmau Pompey Doodle may be re-
spected
As well with ladies (tho' I name no parties)
As Sir Gregory Fop. So, farewell I [Exit,
Greg. It the fellow be not out of his wits,
then will I
Never have any more wit while I live !
Either the sight of the lady lias gaster*d him^^.
Or else he's drunk; or else he walks iivhis
sleep.
Or else he's a fool, or a knave, or both ;
One of the three Tm sure 'tis. Yet, now I
think on%
She has not us'd me so kindly ns her uncle
Promis'dnfe she should: but that*s all one ;
He says 1 shall have her, and I dare tiike his
word
Por the best horse I have, and that's
A weightier thing tlian a lady, Tm sure on't-
[Exit.
Enter Lady Ruinous (as a man), Wittypate,
Sir Ruinous, iV*a*/a», a7id Master Crcihi-
lous, binding and robbing her, and in scurfs.
Credulous finds the bag.
L, Ruin. Nay, I am your own ; 'tis in your
pleasure how
Arrsj
-Wrr AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
t99
Cr^ Faith, like his jade, upon the hare
commoDS
Tani'd out to pick his living as he can s^et it :
Hk would have been g|ad to have «h«>'d in
such
A purchase, and thank'd his good fortune too.
Enter Ruinous and Priscian,
Bat mam, no more! Is all safe, bullies?
Ruin, Secure; [loas,
The gentleman thinks him most happy in his
With's life and limbs safe, and redoubles
His first vow, as he is a gentleman,
Kever to pursue us.
Wiity. Well; awAjthen! [still
Disperse ! you with master Credulous, who
Shall bear the purchase; Priscian and I
Will take -some other course : you know our
meeting [viso,
AttheThrceCopsinSt Giles's; with this pro-
fFor *tis a law with us) that nothing be opened
Till all be present: the loser says a hundred,
And it can weigh no less.
Kuin. Come, sir, we'll be your guide.
Cred. My honesty, which till now was ne-
ver forfeited,
All shall be close 'till our meeting !
[Exit with Ruin,
Witty. Tush, I believe it;>-and then all
shall out.
Where is the thief that's robb'd?
Enter Lad^ Ruimmv
Is. Ruhu Here, master Oldcraft.
All follows now. [to turn tliat hag
Witty. Twas neatly done, wench. Now
Of counterfeits to current pieces, 4* actum
€%t ! [the fire stilly
jL. Ruin, You are the chemist; we'll blow
If you can mingle the ingredients.
Witty. I will not miss a cau^^^, a quaa*
titv, a dram. '
You knbw the place.
Pri'f. I have told her that, sir. [stable.
Witty, Good ! Turn Iluiuous to be a con-
(Fm surewe want not beards of ail sorts, from
The worsliipful magistrate to the under watclip
man)
Because we roost Imve no danger of life.
But a cleanly cheat; attach Credulous:
The cause is plain, tlie theft found about him;
Tlien fnll I in, m his own cousin 3 sluipe.
By mere accident, where finding him di9«
tress'd,
I with some difficultjr must fetch him 0%
With promise that his uncle shall shut up all,
With double restitution: nutftcr constable
Ruinous his mouth shall he stopt;
You, mistress Rob-thief, slwll have yoiv sl^are
of ' [enough?
What we caa gull my father of. Is't plain
X. Ruitti As plain a cozenage as can be,
faith. [When tlHS.is
Witty. Father, I come again, and again i
Past too, father, one will b^et another.
Fd be loath to leave your posterity hnrren :
You were best to pome to composition, father:
Two hundred pieces yearly allow me yet,
It will be cheaper, fatlier, than my wit ;
For I will cheat none but you, dear father.
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
Enter Olderqft and Gregory,
^^f • \/U^^^f now you take the course, sir
' ' Gregory Fop :
I could enforoe her. an 1 list; but love
That's gently won is a man's own for ever.
Have you prcpar'd good musick?
Oreg. As fine a noise*', uncle.
As heart can wish.
Oldc. Why, that*s done like a suitor!
They must be woo'd an hundred several \vay<.
Before you obtain the right way in a woman :
lis an odd creature, tyll of creeks and
windings,
♦ I Will not ndss a cause, a quantity, a dram,] Cbymical terras are necessary here, cause
therefore seems a comiption, and quantity makes no proper climax ; one might easily fonn
a proper climax with a scruple, dram or grain, hut the laws of criticism allow no such devi-
ation from the trace of the letters; the only probable conjecture that I can form is,
^ — a cart, a quint, fl rfrwm;
t. e. a fourth or fifth part, or even a dram. I spell cart Vatlierthan quart, because our English
inters so spell it in other instances, as a cardccu instead of quart d'ecu. Seicard.
** As fine a noise.] It is plain from \Xns passage, and Ben Jonson's Silent Woman, that
aowe was formerly used to express a concert oTmutick. Many of our old authors will afford
^stances of this: among the rest, in the Second Part of Henry IV. act ii. scene 4, one of the
Drawers sajrs, ' See if tliou canst find out Sneak's noise; mistress Tearsheet would fuin hear
iomc musick: In a note on that passage, :Ur. Steevens produces various proofs of this ao*
^ptation of the word,
Qq« The'
dM
Wrr AT SEVERAL WEAPONS,
S^c^ilk
In yoDr dseams yen cannoit ftuv
Meaner thka musick; do compare!
None of your alambers are comnii'd
Under the pleasure makes a child;
Your day-deligbtSf so well compact;
That wlmt you thmk turns all to act :
I'd wish my life no better play.
Your dream by night, your thought by day«
Wake, gently wake>
Part sofUy trom your dresms!
Tho morning flies
To your fair ev^s.
To take lier special binma.
Grfg. I hear her up. Henr, master Voiot^
Pay you the instruments; save what jdu caHy
Enter Niece above.
To keep you when you're crack'd.
[E£U S4>y,
Niece. Who should this be.
That Tmso miich beholding to fof sweetness)
Pray lieav n, it happens nght!
dreg. Good morrow, mistress!
Niece. An ill day, and a thousand, come
upon thee ! [any almanack has !
dreg. 'Light! that's six hundred more Uiaii
Niece. Comes it from ihee? it ia the
That ever woman heard, [mangiest musick
Greg. Nay, say not so, ladyi
There s no^ an itch about 'em.
Niece. I could curse
My ntteuiive powers, for giving entrance to't I
There is no boldness like the impudence
That's lock'd in a fool's blood.' Hpw dust
you do this ?
In conscience I abus'd you as sufficiently.
As woman could a man ; insatiate coxcomb !
The mocks and spiteful language I have given
thee
Would o' my life ha' serv'd ten reasonable men.
And rise contented too, and left enough for
their friends.
Thou glutton at abuses, never satisfied ?
I am persuaded thou devour*st more flouts
Than all thy body's worth; and still arhungred?
A miscl|ief of tnat maw ! prithee seek else»
where;
In troth I'm weary of abusing tliee ;
Get tliee a fresh mistress^ thou't make work
enotkgh.
I d6 not think there's scorn enough in towi|
To serve thy turn ; take the court-ladies in^
And all their women to 'em, that exceed 'eia!
Greg, Is this in earnest, lady ?
Niece. Oh, unsatiable!
Dost thou count all this but an earnest yet ?
I'd thought I'd paid thee all the whole sum!
trust me,
Thoult beggar my derision utterly; ^
If tliou stay'st longer, I shall want a laugh :
*• Greg. I promise yow, not a house-itibbet, tir.
Oldc. No sucker on 'em all.] In the First Part of Henry IV. Falstaff says, * Hans rae
■ up by the heels for n rabbet'tucker /' which Dr. Johnson expiaihs to be a suclung'rahbet ;
find ^ir. Steevens furnishes several instances in support of that expll^)ation•
The serpent has not mon ; for sh' has all his,
And then her own beside came in by her
mother. [on !
Greg. A fearful portion for aman to venture
Oldc. But the way found once by the wits
of men.
There is no creature lies so tame again.
Greg. 1 promise you, not a house-rabbit,
Oldc No sucker on *em ail**. [sir.
Grrg. What a tiling's that? [tame,
They're pretty fools, I warrant, when tliey're
As a man can lay his lips to.
Oldc. How were you bred, sir?
Did you never maike a fool of a tenant's
daughter ? [fools for me,
Greg. Never, i'faith; they ha' made some
And brought 'em many a time under their
aprons. [plainlier, I think,
Otde. They could not shew you the way
To make a fool again.
Greg. There's fools enough, sir,
'Less they were wiser.
Oldc. This is wondrous rare! [knight?
Come you to Ix>ndon with a maidenhead,
A gentleman of your rank ride with acloke-bag?
Never an hostess by the way to leave it with ?
fioT tapster's sister? nor head-ostler's wife ?
What, nobody?
Greg. Well mpck'd, old wit«monger!
I keep it for your niece. [at thee :
Oldc. Do not say so, for shame ! she'll laugh
A wife ne'er looks for'i; 'tis a batchelors
penny; [time.
He maygive'tto alie|£gai^wench, i'th' progress
And ne'er be cali'd to account ior't, [Eri^.
Greg. 'Would I had known so much!
J conld ha'.stopt a beggar's mouth by the v^ay.
Enter Page and Fidlert Bqif.
That rail'd upon me 'cause I'd give her
Wh-4t, are they come ? [notbint;. —
Page. And plac'd directly, sir,
Und^r her window.
Greg4 Whf^t may I call you, gentleman ?
JBoy. A poor servant to the viol; I'm the
voice, sir.
Greg. In good time^ master Voice !
Boy. Indeed, good time docs get the
mastery.
Greg. What countryman, master Voice?
Boy. Sir, bom at Ely ; we all set up in eluy
But our house commonly breaks in iiutland-
slilre. / [well break
Greg. A slirewd place by my faith ! it may
Your voice; it breaks many a man's back,
^t to your business. [Conie^
SONG.
Fain would I wake ybu, sweet, but fear
I should invite you to worse cheer;
Art5.J
WHC AT SSVERAL WEAPONS^
m
If I knew wham to bonow a contempt
Wooid hold thee tacky stay and be hang*d
thou shooldst then: [from lue,
But th' hast no coBScieDc^, now t' extort bate
When one has spent ^1 she can make upon
thee:
Most I bc|pn ta pay thee hire again^
After Tve rid thee twice ? faith, 'tis unsea-
sonable!
Greg. Say you so^ TU know that pre^
sently. [J&jit.
Niece Now he runs
To fetch my uncle to (his musty bargain ;
B^t I have better ware always at band.
And lay by this still, when i)e comes to
cheapenp
JEnter Cunrdnghanu
Cunn* I met the musick now; yet cannot
learn
What entertainment he receiv*d from her.
.Niece. There's somebody set already ^^;
I must to'ty I see. —
WeU, well, sir Gregory!
CttJui. Ha! Sir Gregory?
Ifiece, Where-e'er you come, you may
well boast vour conq|uest, [tune then
Cttajf. Shc^s k»t, i'faith! enough! has foi^
Bemember'd her great boy? she seldom &iis
'era. [methought,
Niece. lib was th* onlikeliest man at first
To have m^oVe! we never met but wrangled.
Cttim. A pox upon that wrangling, say I
atiU!
I never knew't fail yet, where-e'er it came;
It never comes, but, like a storm of hail,
*ris sare to bring fine weather at the tail ou't;
There's not one match 'mongst twenty made
without it; [haunches.
It fi^ts i'th' tongue, but's sure to agree i'th'
Niece. That man that should ha' told me,
when time was, [piteously !
I should ha' ^d him, bad been laugh'd at
Qut see how things will change !
Cttsn. Here's a heart feels it!
Oh, the deceitful promises of love!
What trust should a man put in the Up of wo-
man?
She kiss'd me with that strength, as if sh'had
meant
To ha' set the fair print of her soul upon me.
Niece. I would ha' sworn 'twould ne'er ha'
been a match oiice. [so much !
Cunrt. rU hear no more ; I'm mad to hear
Why should I aim my thoughts at better
fiutnncft [with nothing,
Than younger brothers have? that's a maid
Or some old soap-boiler's widow, without
teeth:
There waits my fortune for me; seek no
fiirther! [Exit.
Enter OUcnfi and Sir €rregory.
Oldc. You tell me things, sir Gfegcuy^
that can't be.
She will not, nor she dare not.
Greg, 'Would I were whipt then!
Niece. I'll make as little show of love, af
Gregory,
As ever woman did ; you shall not know
You have my heart a good while.
Oldc. Heard you that ? [condition ;'
Niece, Man will insult so soon; 'tis his
Tis good to keep him off as long as we can:
I've mucli ado, 1 swear; and love i'th' end
Wilf have his course : let maids do what thej
ean,
They are but frail things 'till they end in man^
Oldc. What say you to this, sir?
Greg. This is somewhat handsome.
Niece. And by that little wrangling that £
feign'd,
Now I shall try how constant his love is,
Altho' it went sore against my heart Cp
chide him. ^
Greg. Alas, poor gentlewoman!
Oldc, Now you're sure of truth ;
You hear her own thoughts speak.
Greg. They speak indeed. ["a fop;*
Oldc. Go, you're a brainless coax, a toy^
I'll go no further than your name, sir Gregory^
I'll right myself there. Were you from this
place, [you!
You should perci-ive Fm heartily angry with
Offer to sow strife 'twixt my niece and I ?—
Good-morrow, niece, good-morrow !
Niece. Many fair ones to you, sir!
Oldc. Go! you're a coxcomb. — How dos^
niece, this morning ? — [girl ? —
An idb shallow fool! — SlepMst thou well^
Fortune may very well provide thee lordshipa^
For honesty has left thee little mimners.
Greg. How am I bang'd o'bothsidcsl
Oldc. Abuse kindness ?—
Wilt take the air to-day, niece ?
Niece. When you please, air.
There stands-the heir behind you I must tak^
(Which I'd as lieve take as take him, I sweur),
Oldc. La' you*! do youhear't continued U^
your teeth now ?
A pox of all such Gre^ories! what a hand .
Have I with you ? [Niece lets fall her scarf,
Greg. No more ! I'feck, 1 ha' done, sir.
Lady, your scarfs iaH'o down.
Niece. 'Tis but your luck, sir,
A nd does presage the ui istrcss must fall shortly;
You may wear it, an you please.
Oldc. There's a ti'ick for you ! [plain ?
You're parlously belov'd ; you shoula com-
Greg. Yes, when I complain, sir,
Then do your worst; there I'll deceive you^
sir.
^^ Tker^i tomehodv set ;] i. e. Posted^ stationed. We shonld not hate thought an ex«
plsnation necessary, had not the passage been (luice uointfiliigiUe toSympson, who proposes,
leading /<;^ or /c^cAU
Oldc^
SOf
WIT AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
XActS.
Oldc. YoD 9re a dolt, and so I leave yon,
air. [Exit,
Greg, Ab, sirrali mistress^ were you
caogbt, Tfaith ?
We OTerbeard yoa all ; ' I must not know ^
*I have your heart;' take heed o'tliat^I pray !
I knew some scarf would come.
jMiece. He's quite gone, sure:— [again,
Ah, you base coxcomb, couldst tboa come
And^so abus*d as thou wast?
Greg, How!
Niece, It would ha' kill'd [chamber
A sensible man ; he would ha* gone to his
And broke his heart, by this time.
. Greg. Thank you heartily!
.Niece. Or fix a a naked rapier in a wail.
Like him that earn'd his knighthood ere lie
had it.
And then refus'd, ii[>on*t ran up to th' hilts.
Greg, Yes, let him run for m^! I was
never brought up to%
I never profesb'd running i' my life.
j^^tece. What art thou made on, thou tough
Tillainoas vermin ?
Will nothing destroy thee f
Greg. Yes, yes, assure yourseif
Unkind words may do much. i
Nieee, Why, dost thou want 'em ? ^'cm :
IVe c'eh consumed my spleen to help thee to
Tell me what sort of words they be would
111 see what I can do yet. [speed thee,
Greg, I'm much beholding to you.
You're willing to bestow huge pains upon me.
iViece. I should account JiotfaiDg too much
to rid thee. [me,
Greg. I wonder you'd not offer to destroy
All the while your uncle was here.
JVJfece. Why, there thou
Betray'st thy house ; we of the Oldcrafts were
Born to more wit than so.
Greg, I wear your favour here.
mece. 'Would it might rot tliy arm off !
Ifthouknew'st [bitterness.
With what contempt thou hast it, what heart's
How many cunning curses came along with't^
Thou'dst quake to handle it.
Greg. A pox, take't again then!
Who*d be thus plagu'd of all hands^
Niece. No, wear't still ;
But long I h(^e thou shalt not ; 'tis but cast
Upon thee purposely to serve another,
That has more
Right to't; as in some countries they convey
Their treasure upon asses to their friends:
If mine be but so wise and apprehensive
As my opinion gives him to my heart,
)t stays not long on thy desertfess arm.
*• Tear her memory /rem my keari^
That treads mine down. J Probably, That teart mine out. Sympson,
^' She pin'd this tcarf upon me.] Tins is a manifest untruth, for she never was outof ber
chamber Irom the time of sir. Gregory's serenading her, to the drop{)ing of her scarf.
'What should hinder us then from reading, to salve the veracity of the knight,
* She j9a/m'<2 this scarf upon me. Sympson,
Why 80 minuter why not admit pmrCd metaphorically for fastened f
But,
ni make thee, ere I ha* done, not<Iiire t6 wew
Any thing of mine, altho' I giv't thee freely.
Kiss it you may, and make what show you cao^
fiut sure you carry't to a worthier man!
And so good-morrow to you ! [Eiit
Greg. Hu binn, ha hum!
I ha'n't the spirit now to dash my brains oat.
Not the audacity to kill myself.
But I cotdd cry my heart out; that's as good,
For so't be out, no matter whicli way't coiiiesi
If I can die with a fillip, or depart
At hot-cockles, what is that to any man ?
If there be so much death, that serves my
turn there.
Every one knows the state of his own body;
No carrions kills a kite, but then again
Therc*s cheese will choak a daw. Time I
were dead, i'faith,
If I knew which way, without hurt or dang^.
I am a maiden-knight, and cannot look
Upon a naked weapon with any modesty.
Else 'twould go hard .with me ; and to com}]kiii
To sir Perfidious the old knight again,
Were to be more abus'd : {me,
Perhaps he'd beat me well, but ne'er believe
Enter Cunmngham,
And ^w men die o' beating; that were loflt
too. [bim.
Oh, here's my friend! Fll make my moan to
Cunn. I cannot tear her niemijl^ from my
heart, ^ [fool'ii
That ^ads mine down^" \ WfH^'ever man sa
That profess'd wit ?
Greg. Oh, Cunningham f
Cunn, SirGr^ory!
The choice, the victor, the town's happy man !
Greg. 'Snigs, what dost mean I come 1 to
thee for comfort,
And dost abuse me too ?
Cunn. Abuse you? how, sir? •
With justifying your fortune, and your joys?
Greg. Pray hold your hand, sir! I've been
bob'd enough: [merrily;
You come with a new way now, strike me
But when a man's sore beaten o' bodi sides
already, [on him.
Then the least tap in jest goes to the guts
Wilt ha' tlie truth ? I'm the rankest ass
That e*er was bom to lordships!
C«nn. What f no, sir! [yielded
Greg. I had not thought my body could a'
All those foul scurvy names that she has
caird me ;
I wonder whence she fetch'd 'em.
Cunn. Is this credible f [her uncle;
Greg. She pin'd this scarf upon me% 'fore
Acid.]
Wrr AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
^09
But, hbback toni'd^ the cun'd me so fior
wearing on't [since.;
The very brawn of mine anaTEss ach'd e'er
Yet in a manner forc'd me to wear't stlU,
Bat hop'd I should not long: if good lack
serve,
I should meet one that has more wit and worth
Should take it from me; 'twas but lent to me.
And sent to him for a token.
CuHH, I conceit it! I know the man
That lies in wait for't : part with*ty by all
means»
h any case! you are way-laid about it.
Greg, How, sir ! way-laid I
Ctma. Poa of a scarf, say I!
I prize my friend's life 'bove a million of 'em :
Yott shall be rul'd, sir ; I know more than you.
Greg, If you know more than I, let me
be nd on't!
'Las, 'tis not for my wearing ; so she told me.
Cuun. No, no, give me't; the knave shall
And you shall live. [miss his purpose^
Greg. I would as long as I could, sir.
Cunn. No more replies! you shall; Fll
prevent this:
Pompey shall march without it*
Greg. What, is't he ?
lly mun that was ? «
Cunn. Call him your deadly enemy !
You give him too fair a name, you cfeal too
nobly; ♦
He bears a bloody mind, a cruel foe, sir;
I care not if he heard me.
Greg. But, do you hear, sir ? [him ?
Can it sound with reason, she should affect
Cunn, Do you talk of reason f I ne'er
thought to have heard
Such a word come from you : reason in love ?
Would you give that no doctor could e'er
give ? ^
Has not a deputy married his cook-maid ?
An alderman s widow, tme that was her turn-
broach?
Nay, has not a great lady brought her -stable
Into her chamber? lay with her horse-
keeper?
Greg. Did ever lore play s«ch jadeV
tricks, sir ?
Cunn. Oh, thousands, thousands.
Beware a sturdy^ clown, e'er while yon live, sir:
Tislike a housewifry in most shires about ua:
You shall ha' farmers' widows wed thin gen-
tlemen
Much like yourself, but put 'em to no stress;
What work can chey do, with small trap-stick
legs? [P^H
They keep clowns to stop gaps and drive in
A drudgery fit for hinds. £'en back again, sir !
You're safest at returning.
Greg, Think you so, sir ?
Cunn, But how came this, clown to be
caird Pompey first?
Greg. Pish! one ^oo<&nan Cesar, a pump*
maker, kersen'd Imn ; [Pumpejs
Pompey he writes himself, but his right name's
And stunk ton when I had him ; nowhe'scrank.
Cunn. Vm glad I know so much to queU
his pride, sir.
Walk you still that way ; 111 make use of Uiis
To resolve all my doubts, and place tliis favour
On some new mistress, ouly for a try;
And if it meet my thoughts, I'll swear 'tis I.
[Exit,
Greg. Is Pompey grown so malapert, si}
franipeP®?
The only cutter about ladies* honours.
Enter Oldcraft.
And his blade soonest out ?
Oldc. Now, what'« the news, sir?
GriB. I dare • not say but good ;— Ob,
excel lent good, sir! [yo^y knight T
Oldc, \ hone now you're resolv'd she loves
Greg. Cuds me, what else, sir? that's not
to- do now. [you anger'd me,
Oldc. You would not think how desperately
When you belied her .goodness : oh, you
£ven to a palsey. [vex'd m%
sg. What a r*^* ' - - '
Greg
: a thing was that, sir!
Enter NUce.
Niece. T*is, that 'tis.
^^ Frampel.] In the Merry Wives of Windsor, Mrs. Quickly says of Mrs. Ford, That
' she leads a very frampold life' with her husband ; and Dr. Johnson says, that tlie word
.occurs in Uacket's Life of Wiiliams,^ and there signifies a peevish troubleiiome fellow. Mr.
Sfeeevens adds the following note :
In the Roaring Girl, a comedy, 1611, 1 meet with a word, which, though differently Bpelt,
appears to be tlie same.
' Lax. Coachman.
* Coach. Anon, sir! ^
* Lax. Are we fitted witli good phrantpell jades ?'
Ray, amone his South and East country words, says, that frampald, or frampard^
KefiinesfrctftUf petvitk, cross, frotcurd* As froward, (he adds) comes from from, so may
frampard,
Nash, in his Praise of the Red Herring, 1599, speaking of Leauder, says, * the cLuriish
* frampold waves gave him his belly full of fisli- broth.'
. So in the Inner Temple Masque, by Middieton, 1619, * 'tis so frampolc^ the Puritans will
* never yield to it.' So in the Blind Beggar of Bethiiali-Green, by J^hu Day, " I'Uunk tbo
■ view
fellow f yrojB/^c//, &c.' Again, in Beu Jonson's Tale of a Tub,
' I pray thee grow nolframpul U9w.' HUcvcns,
^^
im
WIT Air SEVERAL VT&hVOSiiSl
(AetA
As I liave )iope of sweetness, the scarfs gone !
Worthy wise friend, I dote upon thy cunnina :
We two shall be well inatch'o ; our issue mide
»ure
1?^i be bom counsellors. Is't possible ?
Thou shalt have another token out of hand
for't; [want, i* &ith. —
Kay, since the way's found, pity thou shouldst
Ob, ray best joy and dearest !
Oldc, Well said, Niece!
Sk) violent Yore your uncle ? What will you do
to secret then P
Greg. Marry, call me slave and rasca].
. Niece. Your scarf— the scarf I gave yon—
Oldc. Mass, that^s true. Niece!
I ne'er thought upon that: the scarf she gave
vou, sir !
What, dumb ? no answer from you? the scarf!
Greg. T was way-laid about it, my life
threatened; [from't.
life's life, scarfs but a scar^ and so I parted
Niece. Unfortunate woman! my first &r
vour too ! [cilement
Oldc. Will you be still an ass? no recon-
Twixt you and Wit ? Are yousofar falPn out,
Youll never come together? I tell you true,
I'm very lousily asham'd on you ;
That's the worst shame that can be. —
Thus baiting on him, now his heart's hook'd in,
ni make him, ere I ha' done, take her with
nothing.
1 love a man that lives by his wits, aalife" ! —
Kay, leave, sweet Niece ; 'tis but a scarf;
let it go !
Niece. The going of it nevergrieves me, sir;
It is the manner, the manner —
CrCg. Oh, dissembling marmaset!
tf T durst speak, or cottfd be Wiev'd
When I speak, what a tale could I tdl,
To make nair stand upright now!
Niece. Nay, sir.
At your request you shall penseive, vncle^
With what renewing love I foi^ve this:
ere's a fair diamond, sir; 111 try how long
You can keep that.
Greg. Not vfery long; you know^ too^
Like a cunning witch as yoa are !
Niece. Yo\i're best let him ha' that too.
Greg. So I were, I think; there were at
living else.
I thank you, as vou have handled tSie matter.
Oldc. Why, this is musical now, and Toes'
day next [set
Shall tune your instruments; that^ the day
Niece. A match, good unde!
Oldc. Sir, you hear me too ?
Greg. Ohveiy well; I'm for yoa. [mind!
Niece. Whatc'er you hear, you know my
lExeunt Oidcri^ and Niece.
Greg. Ay, a pox on't, too well! If I don't
wonder liow
We two shall come together, I'm a bear-wbdfb
He talks of Tuesday next, as familiarly
As if we Md one another; but 'tis as un-
likely
To me, as 'twas seven year before I sawbeCi
I shall try his cunnine; it may be he has a way
Was never yet thouaht on, and it bad need.
To be such a one; ror all that I can think on
Will never do't. I look to have this diamond
Taken from me vei^ speedily; therefore 111
take it
Off o* my finger, for, if it be seen,
I shall be way-laid for that too. [Exit.
ACT IV.
•Enter Oldcrqft and Wittypate,
Vide. f^H, torture, torture! Thou carry'at
^^ a sti!»g i'thy tail !
Thou never brought'st good news i' thy life
yet ; [wilt.
And that's an ill quality, leave it when thou
Witty. Why, you receive a blessing tli6
wrong way, sir, [sir,
Call you not this good news, to save at once.
Your credit and your kinsman's life togctlier?
Would it not'Tet your peace, and gall your
worth,
T*have one of your name hang'd?
Oldc. Peace ; no sneb words, boy !
Witti/. Be thankful for the blessing of pre-
vention then. , ^
Oldc. Let me see! [since Brote;
There was none hang'd Ont of our house
I ha' search'd both Stow and Holling^head.
Witty. Oh, sir!
Qldc. Ill see what Poljchronicon sa^s
anon too^^. [heard on't!
Witty. Twas a miraculous fortune that I
Oldc. I would th' hadst never beard on't!
Witty. That's true too.
So it had ne'er been done. To see the VA
on't!
I^
'* I lave a man that Uvea Inf his wit» alife.] Corrected by Syrapson.
^* J'// tee what Polychronicon says anon too.] By Folychronicon he means one Higdeo, t
ttionk of Cliester, \> ho wrote a large volun^ ofhistory under tliat title. Brady, in the Cata-
logue of Writers from whom he compiled his History of England, gives us this acoomit of
bimi ' Baai^pbus Cestiensis bad the reputation of an industnous and diligent writer by oar
Act 4]
WIT AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
305
He wM ev'n bfoigjbt to jtatioe Anraoi'^
threshold :
There had flowfi lbrth«Biittimas stnight for
iftTb
'diy.
And Dote the foftaaeftoo! Sesnoni ft Thiir»-
Jory CttU'doHta Friday Judgpnent a Saturday,
Do^eeon a Sunday, Tybufn a Monday :
Mia«/9 4|MtiAian ague, wheo'tbegina once,
Every dby pulU hiaa, "till he poU ius last.
OUe. Na men, I say! 'dean itt thei
/^
Will publish aUy it speaks 99 broad already.
Are you the gentleman ?
L. Ruin. The unfortunate one, sir.
That fell intothe power of merciless thieves,
Whereof this fellow, (vvhom Td .call your
kinsman
As little as I could, for the fair reverence
I owe to fame and years) was the prime viU
Oldc» A wicked prime ! [lain.
Witty. Nay, not so loud, sweet foth/&r!
JL i&tn. The rest are fled, hut I shall meet
with 'em: [it)
Hang one of *em I will certain, (T ha* swore
And 'twas my luck to light upon this first.
Oidc, A Cambridge raan for this? thede
your degrees, sir?
Nine years at umverstty for this feHo^slup ?
Witty. Take your voice lower, d9U »rl
OUe. Whafsjioarloss^sir?
L. Ruin. That which
Offends me to repemt ; the money's whole, sir,
Tis in the conftable^ band there, a seal'd
hundred;
But I will not Kcdre't.
(Mc. No? not the money, sir.
Having coniesB'd tis all ? '
L. Ruin. Tis all tlie money, mf^ [me.
But 'tis not idl I lost; for when they bound
They took n dianwnd hung at my shirt-string.
Which fear of lifi^ made me forget to hide ;
Jt being the sparkling witness of a contract
Twist a great lawyer^s daughter and mfself.
Wttty. I told you what he was.-;^hcftt
does the diamond
Concern my cousin, sir?
L. Rum. No more did the money;
Pat he shall answer all now.
Witty. There's yoqr conscience!
It shews from whence you sprung.
JL Ruin. Sprung? I had leap'd a thief,
Had I leap'd some of your alliance.
Witty. Slave!
L, Ruin. You pievent me still.
OUc. 'Slid, son, are you mad ?
L. Ruin, Come, come, I'll take a legal
course. [demand, sir?—
Olde. Will you undousall?-XWhafs yoar
Now we're in's danger too !
X. Ruin, A hundivd matky mt;
I will not bate a doit.
WU^. A hundred vascals!
L. Ruin. Sir, find 'em out ia your own
blood, and take 'em.
Witty. Go, take yourcoowe; Ibllovrthe
law, and spare not.
•nceston, npecialij Lelwd, He wrote from the beginnmg of things, and broegbf down
*"• ^1^1 ^**S?^ o^i^^ \^ ^^ ^"^ **« ™rd« reigS, 1377, Sr periiaps only to the
'year 1344, a. Mr. Selden observes.' Aa the Po^^wkSais a booknVt teV nit with
r*^ ^^'J • ^7^.°*? ^^^^ • •pechwen of our Ranalphas's inihi$try and diHsentc
fnm the tra^lation of hi» Latin vrork by one De Trevisa. In book the first,^ho' Pcan't
name t^ pa|e or the chapter, be f^vea diis description <rf the SkUian Cicade : * Cicadee
! ••¥!? r?^ ™^ ^•^ t^^ * ¥• **^ ^ »^*^» tkin^hmiit^thut l<mde bihede them
« to bave'the sweeter song.' Swrntm. . ^ '^^
VOL.111. *• ^^ ^^ ^^
When left you fahA?
WUty. He's ia the constable's hands be*
low ftk' ball, sir,
Poor gentleman, and his accuser with him.
Oidc What's he?
WiUy. Ajttdge^sseo/tiathoa^; somttch
the tvorse too ; [thing;
Be'U hang his eaeroY, and it shall cost him no-
Thafs a great privUeee.
Okk. Within these!
Enter a Sefvant.
fisrv. Siv? [sachbope on hiiiL
OUc. Call 9p the folks i'th' hall.— I had
For a schohv too, a thing thou ne'er wast fit
for;
Tharefore erected all my joys in him,
Got a Webli benefke in reversion for him,
Dean of Cardigan ; he has his grace already.
He caj^ marry and bury.
Yet ne'er a h!air oa^sfiii^, like aF^ench vicar;
Enter Creduhut, Sir Ruin4m$(ai a ConrtMe)
and Lady Ruinous (a$ a Man),
And does he bring such fruits to town with
liim^ [to you!
Athiefathisfiiet Ugbting?-— Oh, goocfden
WUiVm Nay» sweat sir! yoa^ro sovexM now,
yonll grieve him,
A&d hurt yourself.
ddc Away! Til hear no counsel— «
Come you but once ia seven year to your un.
cl«, [too?
And at that tune must yoabe brought hone
And by a constable ?
WUty. Oh, speak low, sir :
Reooemher your own credit f You profess
You love a mau o'wit; begin at home, sir;
Eapiess it i' vourselfl
' L. Ruin. Nay, master constable, [too.
Shew yourself a wise man, Uast your nature
lUm. Sir, no dish-poridgement, we have
iiroodmenasye.
<%lc.Ov|!aNort]
men as ye. I toi
Ovi! aNorth-Britain constable?
306
WIT At SEVERAL WEAPONS.
[Act 41
Oldc. Does f\iry mdce yoa druiik? Know
^ou what you say ? [worst.
Witty. A hundred .dogs-dungs! do your
Oldc. You do,
I*in sure : wbo is loud now ?
Witty. What, his own asking ?
Oldc Not in such a case f
Witty, you shall have but threescore
round, spite a* your teeth ;
see you haug'd first!
: Oldc. And what*B seven pound more, man.
That all this coirs about ?— Stay!— 1 say he
shall ha't. [you please witli it;
Witty, It is your own/ you may do wliat
•Pardon my feal f I would ha sav*d you money.
Give him all his own asking i
Oldc. What*s that to you, sir ?
Bt sparing ot'youc own ! Teach me. to pinch
In such a case as thi;> ? Go, go ; live by your
wits, go !
Witty. I practise all 1 can.
. OUk, Follow you mc, air; •
And, master constable, come from the knave,
And be a witness of si IttU recompense;
Witty. ?ray atop -the constable's month,
whate'er you do, sir.
Oldc. Yet again?
As if! meant not io do tliat myseli^
Without your counsel ! As for you, |ireciotts
kinsman, [rack tiv this I
Your first year's fruits in Wales shall go oo
You lie not in my house; I'll pack you out.
And pay for your lodging rather, i '
[Eseunt Oldc. Ruin, and L, Ruin.
Witty. Oh, fy, cotasin j
These are ill courses; you a. scholar tool
Cred. I wasdiiiwn iuto'tmosi uiifortuQately,
By filtliy debosht company.
Witty. Ay, ay, ayr,
^n even the spoil of .all our youth in Engitnd.
What were thry ? ^iitlemen ?
Cred* Faith, so /like, some .of 'eni,:
Q'hey were ev'ii the W4>rse agpun.
Witty. Huml '
Cred. Great tobacco-wluffeDs ; [moikths.
They would go near to rob with a pipe in dicir
Witty. What! no? . [rascals useSc.
Cred. Faith, leave it, cousin, because my
Witty. So they do meat and drink ; must
worthy j^eutlemen
Reirain tl^eir ibod tor tliat? an honest own
May eat of the same pig some parson dines
with,
A lawyer and a fool feed off one woodcock,
Yet one ile'er the simpler, t'other ueVr the
wiser ; [P>P*^»
Tis not meat, drink, or snioke, dish, cup, or
Co-operates to the making of a knave ;
Tis tne condition makes a slave a slave :
There's London philosophy for you! I tell
you« cousin,
You cannot be too cautekms, uicey or dainty.
In your society here, especially
When you come raw from the university,
13efore the world has bardeu*d you a little;
For as a botter'd loaf is a scholar's breakfcst
there.
So a poacb'd scholar isa cheater's dinoerfaere:
I ha' known seven of 'em supp'd up at a mmL
CreA Why a poach'd soiidiar?
Witt^. 'Cause he pours himself foitb.
And all his secrets, at the first acqiiaintmce;
Never so crafty to be eaten i'tli' abeli.
But is outpstrip'd of all he has at first.
And gobs down ^b ;• li^s •swallow'd with
'Stead of wine vinegin*. [sharp wit,
Cred. 1 shall think, cousin,
O' your poach'd scholar, while I lave.
Enter Servant,
Serv. Master Credulous,
Your uncle wills you to forbear the hous^ :
You must with me ; I'm charg'd to see yoa
plac'd
In some new lodging about Thieving-Lnne.
What the conceit's I know not; but he
commands you
To be sc^n here no more, 'till you hear further.
Cred. Here's a strange welcome, sir!
Witty. This is the world, cousin,
When a man's fiune's once poison'd! Fase
thee well, lad ! [Esteunt Cred. and Serv.
This is the happiest cheat I>e'er daiin'd
share in;
It has a two-fold forttlne, gets me coin,
Aid pints bua out of grace that stood be-
tween me,
'My fatlicr':^ Cambridge jewel, much suspected
To be his lieir; now there's a bar iu's hopei.
. JUnter Ruinous and Lady RutTums.
Ruin^ It diinks ; make .haste !
L. Ruin;. Tiie Goat, at 9mitlifield-Pen&.
[Exeunt.
I . . JEntcr Cunningham.
WHty. Zof 20; zufiicient!-«Master Cun-
* hiiigham ?
i never luite^ill luck' when I meet a wit.
Cunn, A wii's better, to meet than to fbl*
low then,
For t ha* none so good I can commend yet;
Botoommonly men unfortunate to themselves,
Are luckiest to their friends ; and so may I ht.
Witty. I run o'er So much worth, going
but in haste from you, * '
All my deliberate friendship cannot equal.
Cunm M w but to shew, tnat you can pkcc
sometimes
Efiier AVirahel.
Your modesty ii*top of all your virtues.
{Exit Witty,
This gentleman amy pleasure n»e yet acahi.
I am so haunted with tliis broad-briih'd har
Of the last progness block, with the youiig
hat>band^
Miaie for a aucking devil of two years old, '
I know not where to turn myseH'.
. Mir. Sir!
CtlRN.
Act 4]
WIT AT SEVERAL WKaPOIIB.
907
CwuL Moretortare?
JIfir. T» ramour'd that 3rou love me,
Cunn. O' fliv troth, gentlewonumy
Ramour'n as fatae a knave as erer piss'd then ;
Praj tell him so from me ! I cannot feign
With a sweet gentlewoman, I must deal
downnf^ht. [aunt^ sir ;
Mir, I beard, tbo*9 you diasembted with my
And that makes me more confident.
'Cttna. There's no falshood,
But pays us our own some way !^ I confess
I feigned with her, ('twas for a weightier pur-
Bat not with tliee, I swear. [p<>^)
JIfir. Nor I with you then,
Altho' m? aunt enjom'd me to dissemble
To r^ht her spleen : I love you faithfully.
CttiiA. 'Light, this is worse than 'twas.
JUir. I find such worth in vou,
I cannot, nay, I. dare not dally with you,
For tear the flame consume roe.
Cunn, Here's fresh trouble!
This drives me to my conscience; for 'tis foul
To imure one that deals directly with me.
Mv^, I crave but suoh a. truth from your
love, sir.
As mine brings yoq, and that's proportionable.
Cunn. A good geometrician 'shrew my
heart ! [gentlewoman,
Why, are you out o' your wits, pretty plump
You talk so desperately ? 'tis a great happiness
Love has made one on's wiser than another,
We should be both cast away else :
Yet I love gratitude ; I must requite you,
I shall be sick else : but to give you me**
A thing you must not take, if you mean to live.
For a' my troth I hardly can myself;
^o wise physician will prescribe me for you.
Alas, your state's weak ; you had heed of
cordials.
Some rich electuary, made of a son and heir, '
An elder brother, in a cuUis, whole ;
It must be some wealthy Gregory, boiFd to
a jelly, [gowns,
That most restore you to the state of new
French ruffs, and nmtable head-tires.
Mir, But, where is he, sir ? [nothing.
On'c that's so rich will ne'er wed me with
Cunn. Then see thy conscieuce, ana tliy
wit together ! [neither P
Wouldst thou have roe then, that have nothing
What say you to fop Gregory the First yonder?
Will you acknowledge your time amply re-
compens'd.
Full satisfaction upon love's record,
Without any more suit, if I combine you ?
Mir, Yes, by this honest kiss.
Cunn. You're a wise client,
To pay your fee before-hand ; bat all do so :
You k now the worst already) that's the best too.
Mir. I know he js a fool.
Cunn. You're shrewdly hurt then!
This is your comfi»rt; yonr great, wisest
women
Pick their first hubband still out of that house^
And some will have 'em to chuse, if they
bury twenty. fa first husband
Mir. I'm of their minds, tnat like him for
Tu run youth's race with; it is very pleasant;
fiut when I'm old, I'd always wish a wiser.
Cunn. Yon may have me by that time.
For this first business.
Rest upon my performance !
Mir. With all thankfulness. [too.
Cunn. I have a project vou must aid me in
Mir. You bind me to all lawful action, sir.
Cunn. Pray wear this scarf about you.
Mir. I conjecture now— >
Cunn. There's a court principle for't, one
office most help another ;
As for example, for your cast o'manchcts
out o' th' pantry,
I'll allow you a goose out of the kitclien.
Mir. 'Tis venr sociably done, sir : farewell.
Performance f
I shall be bold to call you so. [Exit.
Cunn. Do, sweet Confidence !
Enter Sir Gregory.
If I can match mv two broad>brim'd hats—
'Tis he! I know the maggot by his head ;
Now shall I learn news of him. My precious
chief! [bowling-green,
Greg. I have. been seeking for you i'th'
Enqoir*d at Nettletou's, and Anthony's or-
It lias vex'd me to th' heart! [rtinary;
Look, I've a diamond here, and it y^an't find
A master.
Cunn. No? that's hwd, i'faith.
Greg. It docs ^
Belong to somebody : a mischief on him,
I would he had it ; does but trouble me;
And she that sent it is so waspish too.
There's no returning to her 'tiil't be gone.
Cunn. Oh, ho! Ah, sirrah, are you come?
Greg. What's that, friend ?
Cunn. Do you note that corner sparkle ?
Grtg^ Which ? which ? which, sir?
Cunn. At the west end o'th' collet '3.
Greg. Oh, I see't now. [stone, sir,
Cunn. Tis an apparent mark: this is the
That so much blood is threaten'd to be shed for.
Greg. I pray—
Cunn. A tun at least. [they must
Greg. They must not find it in me then ;
Go where 'tis* to be had, [sir Gregory ;
Cunn. Tis well it came to my hands firsl^
I know where this must go.
Greg. Am I discliarg'd on't ?
Cunn. My life for yours now ! [Dram$,
Greg. What now ?
Cunn. Tis discretion, sir;
I'll stand upon my guard all the while I ha'li
^ We$i end o'tK coller.] There only wants the change of a letter, x^t make this'possag^
run like the original^ war. o' tif collet ; i. e. beizill or socket in which the diamond was
set. Sympson,
E r % C^^tf-
SJ
90»
tmr AT scTsaAL weapons.
[Ad 4.
6f«tf. *Troth tho»tak*9ttooiiMich4aiiger
on thee still.
To picflerve me alive.
dunn. lis a friend's duty, sir,
Nay, bv a toy tbat I\c late thought upon,
lU nnJenake to get your mistress for you.
Greg. Thou wilt not? wilt?
Cttstn. Contract her by a trick, sir,
When she least thinks on't.
Greg. There's the right way to't;
For if she think on't once, she'll never do*t.
Cunn. She does abase you then ?
Greg, A poi ! damnably,
Bvery time worse than other; yet her uncle
Thinks the day liolds a Tuesday: say it did,
sir,
She's so fiuniliarly us'd to call me ratc^
Shell quite forget to wed me by my own name;
And then that marria^ cannot hold in law,
you know.
Cunn, Will you leave all to me ?
Greg. Who should I leave it to?
Cunn. lis our luck to love nieces; I love
a niece too.
Greg. I would you did, i' faith !
Cunn. But mine's a kind wretch, [so too !
Greg. Ay, marry, sir; I would mine were
Cunn. No rosnU comes in her moutb.
Greg. Troth and mine
Has little else in hers.
Cunn. M)ne sends me tokens,
All the world knows not on.
Gr^. Mine gives ine tokens too.
Very nne tokens; hot I dare not wear 'em.
Cunn. Mine's kind in secret.
Greg. And there mine's a helUcat.
Cunm We have a day set too.
Greg. 'Slid, so have we, man;
But there's no ugn of ever coming together.
CtfUfi. I'll tell thee who it is ; th' old wo-
Greg. Is'tshe? [man's niece.
Cunn. I would yonr luck had been no worse
for mildness;
But mum ; no more words of it to your lady !
Greg. Fob!
Cunn. No blabbing, as you love me.
Greg, None of our blood
Were ever babblers.
Cunn. Prithee convey this letter to lier;
But at any hand let not your mistress kee't [
Greg. Yet again, sir?
Cunn. There is a jewel io't!
The very art woold make her dote upon't.
Cxregf. Say you so?
And she shall see it for that trick only.
Cunn. Remember but your mistress, and
all's welL
Greg, Nay, if I do nol, hang me ! [Exit.
Cunn. I believe you.
This is the onlv w«y to retnm a token :
I know he wiii do't now, 'cavse he's cbargM
to th' contrary.
He*s the nearest kin to a wonmn, of a tl»ng
Made without subitaaoe, tlMt aman cm fiad
agaia.
Some petticoat befQOt him, HI be wfaiptelie,
Enj^ndring with aaoldpairof paoe'd noae^.
Lying in some hot chanmer o'er the kitcfaeo ;
Tlie very steam bred him.
He never grew where rem in re e'er caaie;
Tlie generation of a hundred such
Cannot make a aian stand ioa white afaeaty
For 'tis no act in law; nor can a oonslahle
Pick out a bawdy busiaeBs for bridewell in't
Enter Pompey (tu a gMemL)
A lamentable case !
He'sgot with a man's urine, like a aam^iake.—
How now? faia? wbat prodigioua bravery '•
tliis?
A most preposterous gallant ! the doublet sits
As if it mock'd the breeches.
Pompeif. Save you, sir !
Ctt»a. H' has pot hi* tongue in the ine suit
of words too 1
Pompe^. How does die party ?
Cftaa. Takes ma for a sciiveDer.-->
Which of the parties?
Pomaey. Hum! Simplicity betide tfaee I-^
I would lain hearo'tb^ party; Pd be loath
to go
Farther with her; honour is not a tiiia|
To be dallied withal, no more is icpolatioa,
No, nor fome, I take it ; I must not have her
wrong'd [peil'd
When Pm abroad ; my party is not to be com-
With any party 4n an oblioue way ;
Tis very dangerous to^detfl with women;
Mav prove a lady too, but shall be nameless;
111 bite my tongue out, ere it prove a traitor.
Cana. Upon my life, I know ber!
Pomp^. Nut by me;
Know what you can, talk a whole day with
me, [these lips.
You're neW the wiser; she eones not mm
Cunn. The old knight^s niece.
Pompey. 'Slid, he has got her! Pbx of his
heart that told him ! [yon
Can nothing be kept secret ! — Let me entreat
To use her name as little as you can, tho*.
€ttitn. Twill be small pleasnrei sir, to use
her name. [**^
Pompey. I had intelliffenoe in my solemn
Twixt Paddington and rancridge, of a scarf
Sent for a token, and a jewel fouowV);
But I acknowledge not the receipt of any:
However it is carried, beiieve me, «r.
Upon my reputation, I received none f
Cunn. What, neitlier scarf nor jewel?
Ponmey. TwouU be seen [that;
Somewhere about dm, you may well think
I have an arm for a scfuf, ssotliers have.
An ear to bang a jewel too, and that ismore
Than some men have, my betters a ^eat dciL
I must have restitution, where-e'er it lights.
Cunn. And reason good.
^ With OH old pair ^paun'd hou.] Probably pain'd ho$e. Sympion.
Pempey.
WIT AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
Act 4.]
Tcmpe^f, For al! tliese tokens, sir,
Faosf iDj mrae.
Citnm. It cannot otherwise.be.
Fampey. Sent to a worthy friend !
Clean. Ay, thatfs to l^iee.
Tompey, Vm wronged under that title.
Cwm, I dare swear thou art :
rris nothing bat sir Gregory's circumrention, -
Hisenvious spite; when diou'rtatPaddington,
He meets the g^fts at Pancrtdge.
Fampey, Ah, false knight!
False both to honour, and the law of arms.
Cinta. What wilt dion say if I be rereng'd
for thee,
Tlioo sit as witness?
fwnpey, I should laiigh in state tlien.
Cacita. ni fob him ! here's my band.
i^9Mpey« I sliall be as glad as any niaa nllve
To see hnn well fobb'd, sir. But now you
talkoffebbing^
I wonder the lady sends not for me, according
to promise:
I hif kept oat o'town these two days, o'por-
poM ■ [ing.
Tebe aentibr : I am almost starvM with walk*
CttMi. Walking gets men a stonuu^h.
Ponpey. Tb most true, nr;
I may speak it by eiperienoe, for I ha' got
A stomach six times, and lost it again,
As often as a traveller from Chelsiea
Shan lose the sight of Paul's, and get it again.
Cttim. Go to her, man.
Fmnpey. Kot for a million !
Eofringe my oath? There's a toy callM a tow
Has past between us, a poor trifle, sir !
Pray do me tlie part and office tX a gentleman :
Ifyou chance to meet a footman by the way,
In orange-tawnv ribbands, running before
An empty ooacn, with a buz2ard i'th^poop
on% ^ [River,
Direct him and his horses toward the New-
By^ Islington ; there they shall have me look-
ing
Upon tlie pipes, and whwtling. " [£xif.
Cttaa. A very
Good note ! This Love makes ns all mon-
kiea. [mond \
Bnt to my work; scarf first? and noct a di»-
These shouM be sure signs of her affection's
tmthy
Tet 111 go forward with my surer proof.
£a/€r JVi0ce md Gtegmry.
Niece. Ii^ possible f .
Gr^m Nay, here^s his letter too;
Tber^ a fine jewd in% therefore I brooght
it to yoo. [enough
Niece. Yoo tedioos roongril! Is it not
To moe thee, to receive tbisiroai thy hand,
A t&ng which makes me ahnost sick to do,
But yon mittt talk loo I
Greg. 1 ha' done.
909
Niece. Fallback!
Yet backer, backer yet! You nnmanneriy
puppy,
Dovon not see Fm going about to read it?
(freg. Kay, these are golden days ! now I
stayb/t; [at all;
She was wont not to endure me in her sight
The world mends, I see that.
Niece, yf hat an ambiguous
Superscription's liere ! 'To the best of nieces.'
Wny, that title may be mine, and more tban
her's:
Sure I much wrong the neatness ofhn ait !
Tis certain sent tu me; and to rer|uite
My conning in tlie carriage of my tokens,
Urd the same fop for his.
' Gn^. She nodded now to me; 'twill come
in time. [into a heart?
Niece. Wbatfs here? An entiie ru^, cat
And this tlie word, Ittud amorie opm f
Greg. Yes, yes;
I have heard him say, that love's the be«t
stone-cutter. [veiling aov-feider;
Nieu. Wiw, tbott sancy issue of some tia-
What makes Ipve in thy month? Is it a thing
That ever will ooooem thee? I do wonder
How thou dar^st think on't! Hast thou ever
hope
To come f the same room where lovers are,
And 'scape unbrain'd with one of their velvet
slippeis?
Grig. Love-tricks break oat I see : an you
talk of slippers once.
It b not fiir off to bed-time.
Niece. Is it possible tliou canst laugh yet?
I would ha' undertook to ha' kill'd a spider
With less venom far tban I have spit at thee.
Greg, You must conceive,
A knight's another manner o' piece of flesh«
Niece, Back, owl's face 1
Oldc [within] Do, do.
Niece. Tis my uncle's voice, that.—
Why keep you so for off, sir Gregory?
Are you alraid, sir, to come near your mis-
tress?
Greg. Is the proud heart comedown? I
look\l for this still.
Nieie. He come^ not this way yet. — Away,
you dog-whelp I [so ?
Would you ofierto come near me, tho^ I said
I'll make yoo understand ra v mind in time !
You're running in greedily^ % like a bound to
his breakfost, fl^Mrsi
Tfiat chops in head and all to beguile bis fel^
Fm to be eaten, sir, with grace and leisure.
Behaviour and discourse, tilings that ne'er
trouble you:
After I have pelted you sufficiently,
I tro you'll learn more manners.
Greg. I am wondring
Still when we two shall come together.
At hand, but I'm as fiu* off as I was
At first, I swear.
Ti
day's
"ues-
l^ Tour Tanning m greeiify.] Corrected by Syropson.
Enter
ato
Wrr AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
[Act 4,
Enter Gtiardianess,
Guard, Now, CanninghaiDy 111 be le-
vcDg'd at large.
Lady, what was but all this wliile suspicion
Is truth full blown now; my niece wears
JVtecf. Ha ! ^ ^ [your scarf.
Guard, Do but follow me, 111 place you
instantly [ham.
"Where you shall see her courted by Cunning-
Niece. I go with greediness ! VVe long for
things
lliat break our liearts sometimes; there's
pleasure's misery. [ E^e. Niece and Guard,
Greg. Where are those gad-flies going?
to some junket now. [one forth
That«ame oW humble-bee '• toles the young
To sweatmeats after kind : let 'em look to't.
The thing you wotun be not miss'd or gone!
I brins a maidenhead, and I look for one.
[JSxiV.
Enter Cunningham ($epmngfy in di$c<mrse
with 'a mask*d Gentlewoman, which i$ a
Puppet, in a broad hat, and scarfed), and
Niece at another door.
Cunn. Yes, yes.
Niece, Too manifest now ; the scarf and all !
Cunn. It cannot be; you're such a fearful
soul. [from her!
Niece, 111 eive her cause of fear ere J part
Cunn, Will you say so? Is't not your
unnt's desire too ?
Niece, What a dissembling crone's that?
She'll forswear^ now. [grace on't.
Cunn, I see my project takes ; yonder's tl^e
Niece, Who would put conlidenct in wit
agam
desire
I'm plagu'd for my ambition, to d<
A wise man for a husband ! and I
Fate will not have us go beyond our stint :
We are ailow'd but one dish, and that's
woodcock. [servants of;
It keeps up wit to make us friends and
And thinks any thing's good enough to make
us husbands. [block.
Oh, that whore's hat o' thine, o'th' riding
A shade for lecherous kisses!
Cunn, Make you doubt on*t ?
Is not my love of force ?
Niece, Yes; me it fbrcCft
To tear tliat sorcerous strumpet from thy
embraces.
Cunn, Lady I pove—
Niece, Oh, thou hast wrong'd the exqoiaitest
Cunn, What mean you, lady ?
Niece. Mine; you'll answer for't!
Cunn, Alas, what seek ^ou?
Niece. Sir, mine own, with loss.
Cunn, You shall —
Niece, I never made so hard a baif^o.
Cunn. Sweet lady!
Niece. Unjust man, let my wrath reach her.
As you owe virtueduty I [Cunn,JaUsonpurpe$e.]
Your cause trips you. [is,
Now, minion, you shall feel what love's rag^
Before ^rou taste the pleasure. Smile you,
false sir ? [you ike,
Cunn, How can I chuse, to see what paini
Upon a thing will never thank you for't?
Niece. How!
Cunn, See what things yoa women be, lady!
When cloaths are ta'en for the best jMrt of
you.
This was to shew you, when yoa think I love
you not, [lies :
How you're deceiv'd still; tliere the monl
Twas a trap set to catch you, and the only
bait
To take a lady nibbling is fine cloaths :
Now I dare boldly thank you for your love;
I'm pretty w^ell rc»olv'd in't by this fit.
For a jealou^ague always ushers it.
Niece. Now blessings still maintain this
wit of thine!
And I've an excellent fortune coming in thee :
Bring nothing else, 1 charge thee.
Ctt7in.«Not a groat, I warrant yon.
Niece, Thou shalt be worthily weleomei
take my faith for^t ;
Next opportunity shall mak^ us'^.
Cwm, The old gentlewoman has fool'd
her revenge swe^Uy.
Niece, 'Las, 'tis her part; she kpows her
place so well yonder !
Always when womrn jump upon threescore.
Love '^shoves 'em from the ■cfiamber to the
door.
Cunn. Thou art a precious sbe-wit!
[Exeunt,
'* Some old humble-bee,"] Corrected in 1T50.
'7 Nejtt opportunity shall make us,] Here the Joss of a monosyllable destroys the roeasttic
ai^d injures the sense. I read,
Next opportunity shall make us one. Seward.
Tberf is certainly very complete sense without the monosyllable
ACT
Act 5.]
WIT AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
3H
ACT V.
Enter Cunninghum (at one door), Wittif-
p4Ue, Ruinouty Ladjf Ruinous, andPrisdan
(at tke other).
Cunn, "pRIEND, met in the harvest of our
^ designs !
Kot a thought but*s busy.
Wittif, I knew it, man ; [reapers.
And diat made me 'provide these needful
Hooks^ rakers, gleaners : we will sing it home
With a melodious hompi pe. This is the bond ;
That as we further in your great afiair,
Tott'U sutf or us to gleai^ pick up for crumb^^',
And if we snatch a handful from the sheaf,
Yoo will not i»ak a churl upon us.
Cum, Friend, [love acre
We^il share the sheaved of gold; only the
Shall be peculiar. . . « >
iruty. Much gboddo you, sir. [you
Away ! you know your way, and your stay ; get
whiie
ready,
^e- prepare the
The music
dancers.
Ruin, We are a consort of ourselves. '
Frit, And can- strike up lustily.
IfiWy. You must'bringsir.Fftp. • •
Cunn. That's perfect enough-
Jiuin. Bring till the fops • you ' can, the
, wore the better fare ; '
So the proverb runs backwawh.
[Exe. Ruin, and Pr/s,
L. Ruin, 111 bring the hidies. [Eitit,
Witty. Do so fir!A, and then
The fops will follow. I mu»t to my fhther ;
He must make one. [-^f^
Enter two Servants with a Banquet,
Cuan. While I: dispatch a business with
the knight,
Aud I go with you. Wdl «aid ! J tlmnk you !
This small banquet will furnish our lew guests
With taster aud state enough. One reach my
gown ;
Tlu( action craves it, rather than the weather.
1 Sera, There is one stays to speak with
you, sir.
Cunn. Wliatishe?
1 Serv. Faith, I know not what, sir; a
fool, I think,
Tliat some broker's shop has made half a
gentleman :
H' has the name of a worthy too.
Cunn. Pompey? is'tnotr
1 Serv, That's he, sir.
Cunn. Alas, poor iellow, prithee enter him^
Enter second Servant with a Gown,
He will need too''. He shall serve for a
witness. Oh,
Gramercy ! if my friend sir Gregory comet.
Enter Pompey*
(You know him) entertain him kindly. Oh.
How is't, man ? [master Pompcjrl
Pompey. 'Snails, I'm almost stanr'd with
love, [my lady
And cold, and one thing or other. Has not
Sent for me yet ?
Cunn, Not that I hear : sure some
Unfriendly messenger's employ'd betwixt you.
Pampey, I was ne'er so cold in my life : ia
my conscience, [New-river ;
I have been seven miles in length, along the
I have seen a hundred stickle-bags; I don't
think but [water.
There's gudgeons too : 'twill ne'er be a true
Cunn. Wny think you so ?
Pompey. I \varrant you I told fa little
A thousand miller's thumbs in iu III make
Bold with your sweetmeats.
Cunn,' And welcome, Pompey !
Pompey, 'Tis a strange tiling I have no
taste in any thing. \}^^% ^^' itselC
Cunn, Oh, that's love ; that distastes any
Pompey, Tis worse than cheese in that
, point. May not a man
Break his word with a lady ? I could find
In my heart and my hose too.
Cunn, By no means, sir ;
Tliat breaks all the laws of love.
Pompey. Well, I'll ne'er pass my -word
Witliout my deed, to lady, while I live again.
I would fain recover luy taste.
Cunn. Well, I have news to tell yoo.
Pompey. Good news^ sir ? [a rival,
Cunn. Happy news! I lielp you away with
Your master s bestow'd-<--
3* YouHl suffer us to glean, pick up for cri^ms.] This reading discontinues the metaphor,
fis well as disturbs the sense; both may easily be amended, by reading thus;*^
to glean, pick up few corns. Sympson.
Corns certainly pursues the metaphor best ; but the old reading being sense, should not be
arbitrarily altered, though for the better ; fidelity being the first duty of an editor.
3' AlaSf poor follow^ prithee enter him, he will need too,] Tho' Pompey did need victuals,
yet the adverb too shews need to be a corruption for sted or speed. And the original ran, I
fancy, very near the text of this present edition [i. e. sted], . Seward,
We think there are in our authors, and others, instances of a construction, by which he
tM need too^ may signify he mil 6e needed.
Pompey.
ns
Wrr AT SEVERAL WEAPCWS.
[Ad^
Fompmf. Where, for this plomVs sake?—
Cunn, Nay, lu>ten me.
Pompey, I warrant you^ sir; I have two
ears to one mouth:
I hear more than I eat; I'd never toW
By Queeii-Hithe while I lived else.
Cunn. I have
A wife for him^ and Uiou shalt witneia the
contract. [the lady?
Pompey. The old one, I hgpe^; *lis not
Cunn. Clioke him first ! It is one which
thou shale see;
See him, see him deceiv'd, see the deceit,
only [desty.
The injonction is, you shall smile widi mo*
Pompey, Fli simper i'fiiith^ascold as I am
Tht oU oacty I hope! [yet.
Serv, Sir, here^s sir Gregory.
Cunn» Udsoy shelter, shelter ! If yon be seen^
AlFs sareird out agiiin : stand tliere private,
And yott will find the very opportunity
To call you fiNthi and pkiceyou at the table.
Enter Gregory,
Yott are welcome, air ! This banquet
Win serve, when it is crown'd with such a
As you eipect, and must have. [dainty
Ureg, Tush, these sweetmeats
Are but sauce to that. Well, if there be
Any honesty, or true word in a dream.
She is mine own, nayv uuichang'dextoemely,
Not'the same woman.
Cunn. Who? not the lady?
Greg. No, not
To me; the edge of her tongue it taken o^
Gives me very good words; turned up-side
down tome;
And we live as quietly as two tortoises :
If she hold on, as she began in mj dream—
Cunn. Nay, if lave send forth such pre-
dictions, [watch-word
Yon are bound to believe 'em. ThcreV the
rSS^ muuck.
tis'd
Of her coming ; to your practised part now !
If you hit it, Mqutu Cumdo nobis.
lAah ffo into thegmon.
Greg. Ftl warrantyou, sir,! willgiveamiato
Your gentry: look you forward to yonr busi-
ness,
I am an eye behind you ; pku^e her in tliat
Chair, and let me alone to grope lier out I
Enter Mirabel,
Ctmn. Silence! — ^Lady, your sweet pre-
sence illustrates
This homely roof, and as coarse entertainment;
B«t where afiections are both host and guest.
They cannot meet unkindly. Please you sit!
Yonr something lopg stay made me
ncriy.
To place before you (know him !) thb friend
here;
(He is my guest) and more especially.
That this our meeting might not be tooiugley
Witliout a witness to't
JUir. I came not unresol/d, sir:
And when our hands are clasped ip that fina
faith
Which [ expect from you, fame shall be bold
To speak the loudest on it. Oh, you grasp ne
Somewhat too hard^ firiend !
Cunn. That's love's eager will;
ni touch it gentlier. [Kami kir kamd*
Mir, That's too low in yon,
Xesa it be doubly recoapeoa'd in me.
IKumkiikmd.
Poamey. Pub! I most ste ay nioalii; I
shair be choak'd else. V^f^l
. Ctmii. Cooie^ we'U Dot nky nod ti%fe wkii
Wemet to join these hAiida,aDd wttliag^
I cannot leave it until confiroMttioii.
Afir. One word first ! bow daea yonr finand,
kind aw Gregory ? ffaim not.
Cunn, WhydoyoanenisoiiUbf ywilov«
JIfir. I shall love yott-tbe leaa if yott any
so^air:
In tnMh,lkivehiBi; b«t*tiayoadeoeife htn.
This ftitlecing hand of yoors does rob faia
Now yoB steal hb right fiwmhiiii; andlknow
I shad httve hate for il, fab hate extremely.
Cmn. Why, I thought yoo UA not cone
so wcokly ara'd:
Upon ay bfe. the knight will love yon for\
Exceedtngly love you, forever love yoo*
JIfir. Ay, you'll persuade me so.
Cunn, Why, he's my firiend,
And wishes me a fortune equal with him,
I know and dare speak it for him.
jSftr. Oh, this hand betrays him!
You mi^t remember him m womt court'sy
yet at least. [health,
Cttmi. I thank your help in it; herrs t^hi^
Where-e'er he be!
Mir. I'U pledge it,
Were it against my liealth.
Ponqtey, Oh,. oh! my heart [return!
Hops after twelve mile a-day, upon a cood
Now could I walk three hundred mile aroot,
And laurii forwards and backwards.
Mir, Youll take the knight's health, sir?
Pompcy. Yes, yes, forsoo&. Oh, my sides!
Such a banquet [fortnij|bL
Once a week, would make me grow fat ia a
Cunn. Well: now to close our meeting,
with the close •
Of mutual hands and hearts, thns I begui:
Here in Heaven's eye, and all love's sacred
pow'rs,
(Which in mv prayers stand propitious)
I knit this holy iiand fast, and with this bssd
The heart that owes this hand, ever bindiqg
^ ^ The old one, I hope.} By this expression here and a little below, ^ Clown bepes diat
the old Gwurdianett was the wife intendedi by Cwiawgtoij for $it Or«jgory» S^tiptm
Act 5.]
Wit At SfiVERAt W£A*toNS.
313
By force of this initiating cdn tract
Both heart and hand in love, taith, loyalty,
E&tate, or what to them belongs, iti all the
Daes, rightf, and honours of a faiiljful has^
band; [stand
And thb firm tow, henceforth 'till death to
L^vacable,- seiUed both with heart and band !
Mir. Wliich thus I second: but, oh, sir
Gregory ! [litve me.
Cunn, Again? This interposition's ill, be-^
Miri Here, in Ueav*n's eye, and all love's
sacred pow'rs,
I knit this holy hand f&st, and with this hand
The heart that owes this hand, ever binding
fiotb heart d'nd hand in love, honour, loyalty,
Estate, or what to thein belongs, in all the
Dues, rights, and duties of a true faithful wife ;
And thb firm vow, henceforth till death to
stand
Irrevocable, sealed both with heart and halkd!
Greg* A full agreement on both parts^
Cunn, Ay, here's witness of that.
Greg* ^ay, I have over->reacird youyiady $
and thatV much,
Forany knightin England toover-rCach a lady.
Mir. I rejoice in my deceit; I am a lady
Now, I thank you, sir.
Pompej/. Good morrow, lady Fop \
Greg* 'Snails, Fm guird ! made a worship-
ful ass!
This is not my lady. [told you,
Cunn. But it is, sir ; iDid true as your dream
That your lady was become another woman.
Greg, V\\ have another lady, sir, if there
were
No more ladies in London ; blindman^-baff
Is an unlawful game.
Cunn. Come, down on your knees first,
and thank your stars. [i thinks
Greg, A fire of my stars ! I may thank you,
Cunn, So you may pray for me, and honour
me, [ment,
That have preserv*d you from a lasting tor-
Fur a perpetual comfort* Did you call me
friend ? — [call you, I confess.
Greg» 1 pray pardon me for that ; I did mis-
Cunn. And should I, receiving such a
thankful name,
Abuse it in the act? Should I see my friend
Baffled, disgrac'd, without any reverence'
To your title, to be call d slave, rascal? nay,
CorsVl to your face, fooi'd, scomM, beaten
down Hitand
With a woman's peevish hate, yet I sliould
Aiid suffer you to be lost, cast away?
I would have seen 5^0 bui4ed cfuick first,
Your spurs of knighthood to have wanted
rowels, * [rascai 9
And to be hack'd from your heels^M Slave,
Hear this tongue. [lord, my husband !
Mir. My dearest love, sweet knight, my
Cunn. So! this is not j/tfrt'andrasca/chen«
Mir. What shall your eye command but
shall be done,
In all the duties of a loyal wife.^
Cunn. Good, good!
Artf not curses titter for you? were*t not bet-
ter [fait**.
Your head were hroke ^ith the handle of a
Or yoiir nose bored with a silver bodkin?
Mir. Why, I will be a servant in your lady«
Cunn, Tirx, but you shall not!
She's too good for you I This contract
Shtili be a nuUity; *ril break it off.
And sec you better bestowM.
Greg. *Slid, but you shall not, sir ! pone
Shc*s mine own, and I am hers, and we are
Another's lawAslly, and let me see him
That will take her away by the civil law !
If you be my fwend, keep you $0 ; if you have
done me
A good turn, do not hit me i*th' teeth with^tf
Thai's not the part of a fnend. •
Cunn, If you be content —
Greg. Content?
I was never in better contention in my life:
Til not change her for both the Excuaoges,
new or the .old. ^
Come, kiss me boldly !
Pompei/. Give you joy, sir!
Greg. Oh, sir,
I thank you as nmch as i!u>' I <}id f Yoil are
Belov'd of ladies ; you see we are glad
Of under-wonien.
Pompey. Ladies ? I^t
Not ladies be disgrac'd ! You're, as it were,
A married man, and have a family;
And, for the party's sake that was unnam'd
Before, being peasCKJod time, I am appeas'd ;
Yet I would wish yyu make a ruler of your'
tongue. [that.
Cunn. Nay, nodissentionhere! I must/bar
And this, friend, I entreat you, and be advised ;
hex this private contract be yet conceal'd, .
And still support a seeming :ace of love
Unto the lady; m^rk how it avails you, and
Quits all her scorns ; hei* uncle is now hot
In pursuit of the match, and will enforce her.
Bend iier proud stomachy that she shall prober
Herself to you, which when you have flouted
♦' To be k'lck'd from your keels."] Amended by Sympson.
^ The handle of a fan.] In the Merry Wives of Windsor, Fahtaf speaVs of mistress
Bridget having lost the handle of her fan ; upon which Steevens says, * It should be remcm*
' bered, th&t fans, in our author*s time, were more costly than they are at present, as well
* as of adiilerent constructi )n. They consisted of ostrich feathers,' or others of equal length
* and fle^iibihty, which were stuck into handles, the richer sort of which were composed
* «f gold,.*ilver, or ivory, of curious workmanship. One of these is mentioned in The Fleirej,
* Com. 16 IQ. < — -^ ahe hath a &n with a short silver handle, about th« l^ugtli of a barber's
* synnge.
VOL.IIL
J^
Ss
Aod
mA
Wrr AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
And latt^d ^trfil tt, 5«aalMaifloora her o£^
With all your difimoet trebled ofMm her ;
For there the pride of all her heart will bow,
When yoa shall foot her from yon, not she
yoa. [fiuD
Greg. Good, i'faith; 111 ooatinae it. Fd
Laugh at the old fellow too^ for hliaa abus'd
me
As scurvily as his niece; my knighthood is
Upon the spur ! we'll go to bed, and then
To church as fkst as we can.
[Egemnt Grtg. and Mir,
Fompey. I do wonder
I do nor hear of the lady yet.
Cunn, The good minute (do not think
Slay come sooner than you are aware of; I
But *twill ere night yet, as near as 'tis.
Pompw. WeQ, I wiU go walk
By the New-Biver^ in that meditation;
I am o'er shoes, I*^ sure, upon the dry bank.
Thia gallery of my master will keep me com-
pany
This two hours too : if k>ve were not
An enemy to laaghter, I should drive away
The time well enoagh. You know my walk,
sir; [will try
If she aendfl, I shall he foand aneling, for I
What I can catch for luck sake; I will fish
fair for't.
Oh» knight, that thou shooM'st be guU'd so,
(ha, ha \) It does om cood at heut.
^ut ohy lady, thon tak'st down my merry part*
Eater WUtypatt,
WUty. FHend !
Cutta. Hart, iiiend.
Witty. AU is afoot» and witt go smooth
.i^way: [are gone.
The woman has coa<|nerM the women, they
WhichI have already complaia'dto my fother.
Suggesting that sir Gregory is iall'n off
From his chaige, for nedecta and ill uaage.
And tliat he is moat violently bent
Oft Gentry's wifo(whomI have caird a widow)
And that without most sudden preventioa
He will be married to her.
Cunn* 'Sfooty all this is wrong !
This wings his pursuit and wiU he before me :
I'm' lost for ever!
Witty. No; stay! you.shaVtgo
But with my fother i on my wit let it tie;
You sliall appear a friendly assistaiM^
To help in aU affairs, and »• exesataoa
Help yourself onJy^
CttRfi. 'Would my belief
Were strong in this assurance !
Witty. You shallcFedit it,. [Voa^—
And my wit shall be yoor slavc> if it deceive
Enter Oldcraft.
My father! Puiii^t
0/^0. Oh,sir,you'rewellmet! Where'scthe
Tour frieud?
Cunn* Sir J I think your son hat told you.
[A€t£
9 ltd
Witty, Sksll I stand to telFt
70U he loves»
But not mykinswoBMo; her base usage, 1
Your slack performance^ which he aoca
most [down.
Indee<it has tam'd the knight'a heart iqiaide
Oldc. I'll curb her for't» canhc be botv>
cover'd,
He shall have her, and she shall be dntifol,
And lov-e him as a wife too.
Witty. With that coaditioB, sir,
I dare recall him were he entered the churck^
So much interest of love I assure in him.
Oldc. Sir, it shall be no loss to you if foa
WUty. Ay, but (do.
These are words still; will not the deeds he
wanting
At the recovery, iPt should be again f
Oldc, Why, here, fool, I am provided ! ^rt
hondred
la earnest of tlie thousands in her dovrer;
But were, they married once,
I^d cut him short enough, that's my agree-
ment, [yon, father.
Witty. Ay, now I perceive aome purpose in
Olde. But wherefore is she then stoFn oat
of doors
To him?
Witty, To him? Oh, fy upon your enor!
She has another object, believe it, sir.
Olde. I never could perceive it.
Ctimi. I did^ sis; and to her shame I should
speak it,
To my own sooow I saw it, dalliance^
Nay, dotage, with a very down, a fooL
Oldc. Wit and wantonness; nothing else,
nothing else :
She love a fool^ shell sooner make a fool
Of a wise man.
Cwui. Ay» my firiead complaint so;
Sir Gregory saya flatly^ thoniaket a foolot
And theie bold dicunDatancet are amnovM:
Favours have been sent by him, yet be, igao*
rant
Whither to.caxry 'ein^ theyVeheea wdersteod,
And taken foom him : certain, sir, there is
An unsuspected follow lies coiio^ard,
Whit or whare-e'er he is— thf^ slight as*
Could not be of a knight else. \ [gle^is
Oldc. Well, sir, you have pMmus*d (if we
recover him
Unmarried) to salve all these old bmiset?
Ctmn. ni do my best, sir.
Oldc. I shall thank you costly, sir, aad
kindly too. [and corns
WUty. Will you talkaway4helimebefe,sir,
Behind all your purposes!
Oide^ Away, good sir !
Witty. Then stay a litll^ good ah*, forny
advice* (gu^d?
Why, fothcB, are you hrokei jaur wit bcg>
Or are you at vour wita' end }- or ont of
Love, wjtii wit r no trick of wit to tuipriie
Those designs^ but with open hoe. ana erg
Acts.]
Wrr AT iEVEltAl W£APONft.
31S
For «Iltlieworid to talkon? ThiB h sttntige!
Yoa were not wont to slubber a project jm>.
Oide. Can yoa help at a pinch now?
shew Yourself
M J son } Gn to ! I leave this to yoor jri^
Because TH make a pcoof on't.
WUiv. Tis thus then;
I have had (ate inteiltgencey the^re now
Buxsum as Bacclius'froes, revelling, daBcio&
Telling the music's numbers with their feet.
Awaiting the meeting of premonish'd friends.
That 18 c]|aestionless, little dreadine yoa :
Now, sir, with a dextrous tiic)L indeed,
sodden
And sufficient, were well, to eo^r on *em
As somethiuic like the abstract of a masque;
What tho* few persons f if best for our pur*
That commends the project. [pose,
Oldc^ This takes up tmae.
y^iity. Not at all; I can presently furnish
With loose disguises that shall fit tlint scene.
OUk. Why, what wants then ?
Witty, Nothing but charge of music ;
That must be paid, yoa know, [the music^
Oir/c. That shall be my charge ; I will pay
Whate'er it cost.
Witty. And that shall be all your charge.
Now on! I like it; there'll be wit in't, father.
[Exeunt Oldc. and Witty.
Cunn, I will neither distrust liis wit nor
friendship;
Yetif hismaster-braiu should be overthrown.
My resolution now shall seize mine own.
[Exit,
Enter Niece^ Lady Ruinouip Guurdianesf^
Sir Ruimntif and Fritcian (with inttru"
mentsjf matqued,
Z. Ruin, Nay, let*s have music; let thatt
sweet breath at legist
Give OS lier airy welcome! 'twill be the l^est
I fear this ruin'd receptacle will yield ;
Bot that most freely.
Niece, My welcome follows me,
Else I am ill come hither: you assure me
Still Mr. Cunningham will be here, and that
it was
His kind entreaty tliat wished me meet him?
Im Ruin, Else let me he that shame unto
That all belief may fly 'era. [my sex.
Niece. Continue
Still the knight's name onto my Gqardianess;
She expects no other.
L. Auin. He will, he will; assure yoa,
lad^, sir Gregory will be here, sodd suddenly ;
This music fore>ran him: is*t not so, consorts?
Ruin, Yes, lady;,
Ue stays on some device to bring along
Such a labour as he was bosy in, some witty
device. [for wit is
Niece. Twill be lotog ere lie comes then,
A nest labovr to liim. [one day.
Guard. Weil, weil, yon will agree better
Niece. Scarce two, I think. [as led me
Guard, ddGh*mock*begg«r8tlitof cloaths
IntP the fbofs pair o'dioe^ wiUi dtace aee.
He that wQuld iBske me mistress Cun, Cony
Connie,
He^s qoit# out of ray mind, bot I i^mXi n^er
Fofget him while I have a hple in my head :
Soch a pne I think would pkase you betMff|
TTiM* be did abuse you.
Ruin. Fy ! speftk well of htm now^
Yoor niece has quitted him.
Guard. I hope she hai^ [^i^^S^Jf
Else she loses nie for ever. But, for sv
'Would he were come; I shall ill answer this
Uoto your uncie else.
Niece. Tou know it is bis pl^asuri
I should KiMp him company.
Guard. Ay, and shoiild be your own.
If yoo did well too, Xxird, I io wonder.
At the niceness of ypur ladies ^ow-a-days, ^
They must have husbands with so much wit
forsooth—
Worshi(^ and wealth were both wont to be
In het^r request, I'm sure : I caoiiot tell,
But they ^t j(ie*er,the wiser children that I see*
L. Rum. La, la, la, sol ! thi» music brmthet
in vain,
Methinks 'tis dull to let it move alone ;
Let's have a female motion; 'tis in private.
And we'll grace it QorselyeB, however it
deserves.
Niecis. What sfiy you, Guardianess ?
GMard. Alas, I am [done.
Weary with the walk, OQiy jaunting days art
I,. Ruin, Come, con^, w,eV fetch her in
by course, or else
Hhfi shall jpay the music.
Guard, Nay, I'll have a little for my monet
^eii^ [They dance, a comet it winded.
fa^ Ruin. Hark! upon my life, the knight!
it is yoor friend ;
TIms was the warning-nieqe o f his approach.
Eut^ Oldcraft, Wittypate^ and Ciinningkamf
maaqued, and take tkpn to dance*
Hal no words but mum !
Well; then we shall need no counselrkeepinf.
Nfece. Cunningham f
Cunn. Yes ; fear nothing.
Jfiece. Fear ? why do you tell me of it f
Cunn. Yoor ondes hece.
Niece. Ah me!
Cu?in. Peace!
Oldc. We have caught 'em.
Witty. Thapk my wi^ father.
Guard. Which is the knight, thmk vou f
Niece. I know not; he will be fomici when
he speaks ;
No mittque dta disgniae lus tongue.
Witty. Are yoo chaif^d ?
Oldc. Are yon awak^?
Witty. I*m answer'd in a qoestion.
Cunn. Ne^t change we meet, we loose
our hands no more.
Niece. Are yoo prepar'd to tie *em?
Cunn. Yes. Yoo must
Go with me.
S i 8 Guard.
316
WIT AT SEVERAI, WEAPONS.
[Apt5-
duard.'
. Wbithsryur? Not from my chaise,
Believe roe.
Cunn. She gpes along.
Niece, \\ ill you ventur^^ aofi my uncle here ?
Cunn. His stay's
PreparM for.
Guard, Tis the knight sure; I will follovir.
{ Exeunt Cunn. Niece, and Guard,
ow now ? the music tir'd before us f
Jiuin. Ves, sir ;
We must he paid now.
V^itty, Oh, that's my charge, father*
Oldc, But stay! where are our wanton
Son, where are tiiey ? [ladies gone ?
Wittj^. Only chang'd the room in a changp ;
that's all, sure. [return to yon.
Oidc, rii make 'em all sure else, and then
Rvin. Yo|i must pay for your music lirst,
Oidc, Muftr [sir.
Arc there musty fidlcrs? are beggars chusers
now ?
Ha ! Why, Wittvpate ! son ! where am I ?
M'itty, You were
p.'incing e'en now, in good measure, sir: is
Your health misbtrried since ? what ail you,
sir? [Where's my niece ?
Oldc Death, I may be guU'd to my lace !
Wlijit are you ?
L. Ruin. None of your niece, sir.
Oidc. How now ?
Ha\ e you loud instruments too ? I will hear
K o more, 1 thank you. What have I done t ro
To bring these fears about me?. Son, where
am I ? [should be
}Vitty. Not where you should be, sir; you
Faying for your music, and you're in a maze.
Oidc. Oh, is it so ? Put up, put up, I pray
Here's a crown fr)r you. [you ;
L, Ruin. Pish, a crown ?
Ruin. Pris, 11a, ha, ha! a crown?
Oldc. Which way do you laugh **♦? I have
seen a crown
Has made a consort laugh heartily.
Wittj^. Father,
To tell you troth, tliese are no ordinary
IS) lisicians ; they expect a bounty above
Their punctual desert. [serts too !
Oid^:, A pox on your punks and their dc-
Am 1 not cheated, all this whil^ think you ?
Is not your pate in this ?
Witti/, If you be cheated,
You're not to be indicted for your own goods;
Here y(»u trifle time, to market your bounty,
And make it base, when it must needs be free,
For nught I can perceive.
Oldc Will you know the lowest price, sir?
WiHif. Hiat I will, sir, with ail my heart.
Oidc. Unlesfi
I was discover'd, and they now fled home
A8:nin for fear, I'm aljsohitely beguil'd;
'J hut's the best can be hop'tl for.
Witty. Faith, 'tis somewhat too dear yet,
gentlemen.
Ruin. There's not a denier to bc\}atie<i» air,
0140, Now, sir, how dear is it f
Witty* Bate but tlie other ten pound.
Frii, Not a bawbee, sir.
Oldc, How ! bate ten pound ? Wha> is the
whole sum tbeijr? [much ado,
Witty. Faith, sir, a hundred pound ; with
I got fitly bated ; and, faith, father,
To say tiuth, it is reasonable for
Men of their fashion. [la, la, la!
pi4c. La, la, la, down ! a hundred pound ?
You a^e a consort of thie\'es, are you not?
Witty* No; nnisicians, sir; I told you
Oldc. Fiddle fa^ldic! [before.
Is't not a robb'ryf a plain robb'ry?
Witty. No,
No, no, by no means, father; you've receiv'd
For your money, nay, and that you can't
eive back : " [help it?
Tis somewhat dear, I confess; but who can
If they bad been agreed witH beforehand —
'Twas ill fortfotten. [this ? I see
Oidc, And how many shares have you in
My force ! case up your instruments. I yield;
here!
As robb'd and taken from me, I deliver it.
Witty. No, sir, you have performed your
pmm'ise now, [is all.
Which was, to pay the charge of music, that
Oidc, I've heard no music, I've receiv'd
none, sir.
There none to be found in me, nor about rae.
Witty. Why, sir, here's ^ [that
Witness 'gainst you, you have danc'd, and be
Dtmces acknowledges a receipt of music.
Oidc. I deny that, sir: look you! I can
dance without I[oot it too.
Music ; d'you see, sir? And I can sing wiib-
You are a consort of thieves ! Do yoa bear
what I do ? [move
Witty. Pray take you heed, sir, if you do
The music again, it may cost you as much
more ! [need not
Oldc, Hold, hold! 111 depart quicdy. I
Bid you forewell, I think now, so long
As that hundred pound lasts with you.
Enter Cuardianess,
Ha, ha! am I snapt i'Biith?
Guard, Oh, sir Perfidious —
Oldc. Ay, ay ; some howling another while!
Music's too damnable dear.
Guard. Oh, sir! ■
My heart-strings are broke ! If I can but live
To tell you the tale, I care not ! Your niece,
my charge, is —
Oldc. What? is she sick?
Guard. No, no, sir.
She's lustily well married.
Oldc, To whom ? [Cunningbam.
Guard. Oh, to that cunning dissembler
Oldc. I'll hang the priest first! Whatwai
^ Which way do you laugh?] t. c. Whether in jest or earnest. Sympton,
Guard,
Actl^}
Wrr AT SEVERAL WEAFON&
«7
Guard, Yxmx Viiwman^ siff that bw the
Welsh benefice.
Oldc. I aaVd him from tbeg^lows to that
Is there any more ? [end? Gopdl
Guard. And sir Gregory
Is married too.
Oldc. To my niece too, I liopc^
And tlien I may hang her.
Guard. No, sir; to my niece, thank Cupid !
And that's all that's likejy to recover me ;
She's lady Fop now, and I am one of her aunts^
I thank my promotion.
Enter Credulous, Cunningham^ NieUf Gre^
gory, and Mirabel,
Cred. I have performed
Yoor behi^st, sir.
Oldc, What Iiave yon perform*d, sir ?
If if/^. Faitl), sir, I must excuse my cousin
in this act.
If you can eicuse yourself for making him
A priest ; there's the most difficult answer.
I put this practice on him, as from your de-
A truth, a truth, father. [sire :
Cred. I pn>test, sir, he tells you truth ;
He mov'd me to*t in your name,
Oldc. I protest, sir.
He told you a he in my name ! and were you
So easy, Mr. Credulous, to believe him ?
Cred. If a man should not believe his
W^hom should he believe? [cousin, sir,
Oldc. Good e'en to you, [fair bride,
Good Mr- cousin Cunningham ! and your
IVly cousin Cunningham too! And how do
Sir Gregory, with your lair lady i [yo"»
Greg. A little better [sir !
Than yon would have had me, I thank you,
The days (>f puppy and stave^ and rascal, are
Pretty well blown over now ; I know crabs
from verjuice, [niece for nothing,
I have tried both : an thou'dst give me thy
I'd nr)t have her.
Cunn. I think so, sir Gregory;
For my sake you would not.
Greg. I would thou hadst 'scap'd her too !
And tlien she had died of the green-sickness.
Know this,
That I did marry in spite, and I
Will kiss my lady in spite, and love her in
spite,
And beget children of her in spite, [spite !
And when I die, they,shall have m)^ lands in
This was my re&olution, and now 'tis out.
Niece. How spiteful- are you now, sir
Gregory !— [husband,
Why, look you, I can love my dearest
With all the honours, duties, sweet embrace,
Tliat can be thro^-n upon a loving man.
Greg. Pox, this is afore your uncle's face;
but behind his back,
Li private, you'll shew him another tale!
Cunn. You see, sir, now, the irrecoverable
state
Of all these tfaingB before you. Come out of
your muae!
They have been but wit»weapon8; yon were
To love the play. [wont
, Enter Pompey.
Oldc. Let me alone in my muse, a little, sir!
I will wake to you anon.
Cunn. Udso, your friend Pompey !
How will you answer him ?
Niece. Very well;
If you'll but second it, and help me.
Pompey. I do hear
Strange stories: are ladies things obnoxious?
Niece. Oh, the dissembling falsest wretch
Cfinn. How now, lady ? [is come !
Niece. Let me come to liim !
And, instead oflove^ let me have revenge!
Witly. Pray you now.
Will you first examine, wliether he be
Guilty or no.
Niece, He cannot be excus'd ! —
How many messengers, thou perjur'd man,
Hast thou returned with vows and oaths, that
tliou would'st
Follow, and ne'er ^till tlus unhappy hour
Could I set eye of thee, since thy false eye
Drew my heart to't? Ob, I could tear thee
now, [leave-
Instead of soft embraces! Pray give me
• Witty. Faith, this was ill done (ff you, sir, if
You promis'd otherwise.
Pompey. By this Hiand,
•Never any messenger came at me, since
The first time I came into her company!
That a mnn should be wronged thusi
Niece. Jlid not \
I send tliee scarfs and diamonds ? ana thou
Return'dst me letters, one with a false heart
in't. [falshoods,
Witty. Oh, fv ! to receive favours, return
And hold a lady in hand —
Pompey. Will you« believe mc, sir?
If ever 1 received diamonds, or scarf.
Or sent any letter to her, 'would tliis sword
Miijht ne'er go ihro* mc I
iVitty. Some bad messengers
Have gone between you then.
Niece. Take him
From my sight! if I shall see tomorrow —
Witty. Pniy you forbear the place ! this
discontent
May impair her health much.
Pompey. 'Sioot, if a man had been in any
I fault, [lieve —
Twould ne'er a griev'd him : sir, if you'll be-
Wittyi Nay, nay, ])rotest no more; I do
believe you :
But you see how the lady is wrong'd by't; -
She has cast away herself, 'tis to be fear'd.
Against her uncle's will, nay, and consent
But outof a mere neglect, and spite to herself,
Married suddenly without any advice.
Pompey. Why, who can help it? if she be
cast away.
She may thank herself: she might have gone
Further and far'd worse. I could do no more
. Than
Than I coM do: Hmn faer own pleMure
To command nie, that I should not como
^J ill I WAS sent ibr; I had been with her
"Every minute of an hour else.
Witty. Truly, 1 believe you.
Vompey. Night and day
She n)ight have commanded me, and that she
knew well enough;
I said as much to her between her and I ;
Yet I protest, »he is as honest a lady
For njy part, that Td say, if she would sec me
hangVi.
If she lie cast away, I cannot help it; [man.
She might have stay'd to have spoke with a
Wut^. Well,
Twas a hard miss on both parts.
Fivnpey. So it was;
I was within one of her, for all this cross luck;
I was sure I was between the knight and home.
A/eter. Not gone vet? Oh, my heart! none
regard my health?
Witty, Good sir, forbear her sight awhile!
You hear how ill she brdoks it.
Fompei/. Foolish woman,
To overtlirow her fortunes so ! I shall think
The woi-se of a lad/s wit while I live for't.
I could almost cry for anger! if she should
Miscarry now, *twould touch my conscience
a little; / . [dor
And who knows what love and conceit may
What would people say, as I §o along?
* There goes he that the lady died for love on:'
I am sure to hear on't i'th* streets; I shall
weep
Beforehand. Foolish woman! I do erieve
More for thee now, than I did love thee be-
fore, [thy husband's head.
Well, go thy ways ! Now wouldst thou spare
And break thine own heart, if thoubadst any
I would some other had been [wit.
The cause of thy undoing ; I shall be
Twitted iW teeth with it, I'm sure of that:
Foolish lady! C^"*.
Niece. So, so, this trouble's well shook off. ,
Uncle, how do you? There's a dowry due, sir.
Cunn. We have agreed it, sweetest, and
find your uncle
Fully recovered, kind to both of us.
mtty. To all the rest, I hope.
OUc. Never to thee, nor thee, easjeonstq
Credulous:
Was your wit so raw?
Cred. Faith, yours sir, so long season'd,
Has been faulty too, and^very much to blame.
Speaking it with reverence, uncle.
Greg. Yes, failh, sir,
You have paid a» dear for your time, as any
man here. [ImprimMf
Witty. Ay, sir, and I'll reckon it to him.
The first prefece-cheat of a pair of pieces
To the beggars ; you remember that;
I was the example to your bounty there,
I spake Greek and Syriack, sir; you undep-
stand roe now. [cousin ;
Kext the robbery pat, npon yoor indafgent
WTT AT SBVXAAL WEAM^
[Act X
Which indeed was no mbtery, no constaUe
No justice, no thief, but all cheaters;
There was a bondred max^, mark you that.
Lastly, [mnsiC
This memorable hundred pounds' worth of
Tliis was both cheats and wit too. And for
The assistance of this gentleman to my cooan
(For which I am to h^ve a fee) that was
A little practice of Hiy wit too, fi&ther. Will
you
Come to composition yet, father?
Cunn. Yes, faith, sir, do !
Two hundred aryear will be easier j[barreqp
Than so much weekly r I do not think he's
If he should be put to't again.
Oldc. Why, [bav't;
This was tlie day I look'd for ! Thou shall
And the next cheat makes it up three hun-
dred.
Live thou upon thy ten-pound vicarage ;
ThoD get'st not a penny more : here's thy full
Hire now.
Cred, I thank you, sir.
Witty. Why, there was the sum of all my
wit, father, [fear*a
To shove him out of your favour, which I
Would have disinherited me.
Oldc. Most certain it had, [here
Had not thy wit recovered it. Is there any
That had a hand with thee?
Witty. Yes, all these, sir.
Oidc, Nephew, pait a hundred poond
amongst *ein ;
ni repa/t. Wealth love me as I love wit;
when I die,
m build an aims-house for decayed wits!
Greg. I'll entertain one in my lifetime i
scholar.
You shall be my chaplain ; I have the gift
Of twenty benefices, simple as I am here.
Fris. Thanks, my great patron !
Cuna. Sir, your gentry and
Your name shall both be rais'd as high
As my fortunescan reach *em, for yourfrieod's
sake.
Witty. Something will
Be in my present power, the future more;
You shall share with roe. [tlemen.
Ruin, and X. Ruin, Thanks, worthv gen-
Niece. Sir, I would beg one thing ofyou,
Greg, You can
Beg nothing of me.
Witty. Oh, sir! if she begs,
There's your power over her.
Gre^. She has begg'd roe
For a fool already, but 'tis no matter*
I have begg'd her for a lady, that she might
have been ;
That's one for another.
Witty. Nay, but if she beg —
Greg. Let her beg again then.
Niece. That your man Pompey's coat
May come over his ears back ag^n; I
would not
He should be lost for my sake.
Greg.
Acts.]
Wrr AT SEVERAL WEAPONS.
319
Greg, Well; tis granted.
For mine own sake.
Mir. I'li entreat it, sir.
Greg, Why tben/tis granted for your sake.
Olde, Come, come,
Down with all weapons now ! 'tis music time,
So it be purchased at an easy rate :
Some have receiVd the knocks, some gir'n
tlie hits,
And all condndet in love; there's luippy
wits ! [Eseunt.
EPILOGUE,
AT THE REV[VING OF THIS PLAY.
We nec^ not tell you, gallants, that this night
The wits have jump'd,^or that the scenes hit
right.
HTwould he but labour lost for to excuse
What Fletcher had to do in : his brisk muse
Was so mercurial, that if be but writ
An act or two, the whole play rose up wit.
We*ll not appeal unto those gentlemen
Judee by tlieir doaths, if tbey sit right, nor
when —
The ladies smile, and with their fans delight
To wliisk a clinch aside, then aJigocs right:
Twas well received before, and we dare say.
You now are welcome to no vulgar play.
THE
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INK
A TRAGICOMEDY.
The Commendatory Verses of Gardiner ascribe this Play to Fletcher alone. It was first
pnbLished in the folio of 1647; and has not been acted many years^ nor, we believe^ erer
altered.
PROLOGUE.
Plats have their fates, not as in their true
sense
They're nnderstood, but as the influence
Of idle custom madly works upon
The dross of many-tongu'd opinion.
A worthv/^tory, howsoever writ.
For lanj^age, modest mirth, conceit or wit.
Meets oftentimes with the sweet commenda-
tion [tion
Of * hang*t! 'tis scurvy!' when for approba-
A jig shall be clapt at, and every rhime
Frait'd and applauded by a clamorous chime.
Let ignorance and laughter dwell together!
They are beneath the muses* pity : hither
Com6 nobler judgments, and to those th«
strain
Of our invention is not bent in vain :
The Fair Maid of the Inn to you commends
Her hopes and welcomes; and withal in-
tends
in th' entertains to which she doth invite ye.
All things to please, and some things to
delight ye.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Mek.
DuK£ cf Fiorence.
Albertus, Admiral of Florence.
Haftista, a brave S$a dmrnandeTf mmcient
Friend to Alberts.
Cesabio, a young Gentleman of a fiery
nature^ Son to Albertu$.
Mektj VOLE, Son toBaptistOy Lover cfClarma*
pROspERo, a noble Friend to Baptuta,
Host, the supposed Father (^ Biancka*
FoROBusco, a cheating Mountebank.
Clowk, the Mountebank*$ Man, and Setter.
Dakceb, X
Taylor, J
MntETTEBS, fSi* Fools and Knaves^ who
Pedant, f pretend love to Biancha,
Clerk, I
CoxQOMi^ J
Secretary to the Duke.
Two Magistrates of Florence,
Physician.
Surgeon.
Three Gentlemen*
Sailors.
Women.
Mariana, Wife to Albertus, a virtuous Tjody,
Clarissa, Mariana's Daughter^ in love icilh
Mentivole.
Juliana, Niece to the Duke ofGenon^ Bup»
tista a second Wife.
fiiAM( HA, the Vuir Maid of the Inn, beloved
of Cesar lOy and Daughter to Baptista ond
Jutiana.
UosT£5s(, the supposed Mother, qf B:ancha,
SCENE, Florence,
▼olhl
Tt
ACT
5*9
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN.
[Actl.
ACT I.
Enter Cesario and Clarissa,
Cewrio. INTERPRET not, Clarissa, my
-*■ true zeal
111 giving you coiinsel, to transcend the
bounds [nour,
That should confine a brother! 'tis your ho-
And peace of mind (which, honour lost ',
will leave< you)
I labour to prdfeerve : and tho* you yet are
Pure and untainted, and resolve to be so,
Having a father's eye, and mother's care,
In all your ways to keep you fair and up-
right,
In which respects my best advices must
Appear superfluous; yet since lo\e, dear
sister.
Will sometimes tender things unnecessary,
Misconstrue not my purpose !
Clar. Sir, I dare not ;
Butstill receive it as a large addition
To tl:e much that I already stand engng'd for.
Yvit, pardon me tho' I profess, upon
A true examination of myself.
Even to my private thoughts, I cannot find
(Having such strong supporters to uphold me)
On what slight ground the least doubt can
be rais'd,
To render me suspected I can fall
Or from my fame or virtue.
Ces. Far be*t from me, '
To nourish such a thought ! and yet excuse me,
As you would do a lapidary, whose whole
fortunes
Depend upon the safety of one jewel :
If he think no case precious enough
To keep it in full lustre, nor no locks,
Tho' lending strength to iron doors, sulficient
To guard it, and secure him ! You to me arc
A gem of more esteem, and prized higher,
Than usurers do their muck, or great men
title; , ^
And any flaw (which Heav'n avert!) m you,
(Wiiose reputation, like a diamond
Cnt newly from tl»e rock, women with envy.
And men with covetous desires, look up at)
By prying eyes discovered, in a moment
Would render what the braveries of Florence,
For want of counterpoise, forbear to.cheapen,
Of little or no value.
Clar, I see, brother,
The mark you shoot at, and much thank your
lyve: . .
But fur my virgin jewel, which is brought
In comparison with your diamond, rest assur'd
It shall not fall in such a workman's hands,
Whose ignorance or malice shall liave power
To cast one cloud upon it, but still keep
Her native splendor.
Ces. Tis well; 1 commend you;
And study your advancement with that care
As I would do a sister's, whom I love
With more than common ardor ^«
Clar, That from me
I hope's return'd to you.
Ces, I do confess it.
Yet let me tell you, (but still with that love
I wish t'eacrease between us) that you are
Observ'd, against the gravity long maintained
In Italy (where to see a maid unmask'd
Is held a blemish), to be over-freqoent
In giving or receiving visits.
Liar, How? [picture,
Ces, W Lereas the custom's here to wooe by
And never see the substance. You are fair,
And beauty dniws temptations on, yoa
know it:
I would not live to see a willing grant
From you, to one unworthy of your birth.
Feature or fortune ; yet there liave been iadiet
( )f rank, proportion, and of means beyond
you.
That have prov'd this no miracle.
Clar, One unworthy?
Wh^, pray you, gentle brfJther, who are they
That 1 vouchsafe these bounties to? i hope,
In your strict criticism of me, and my maunen,
TlAt you will not deny they are your equals.
Ces. Angry? [me,
Clar. I've reason ! But, in cold blood, toil
Had we not one father ?
Ces. Yes, and mother too.
Clar. And he a soldier?
Ces, True.
Clar. If I then borrow
A little of the boldness of his temper.
Imparting it to such as may deserve it,
(Howe'er indulgent to yourselves, you brutheri
Allow no part of freedom to your sisters;
I hope 'twill not piys for a crime in me,
To grant access and speech to noble suitors,
And you escape for innocent, that descend
To a thing so iur beneath you? Are yo"
touch'd ?
Why, did you think that you had Gig^s' ring!
Or th' her?) tliat gives invisibility ?
Or that Biancha'b name had ne'er bees
mentioned ?
The Fair Maid of the graml Osteria, brother?
Ces, No morel
Clar. A little, brother. Your night-walks,
And oiFer'd presents, which coy she coi>*
temu'd ;
Your combats in disguises with your rivali^
' Which honour last will leave you.] Amended by Seward.
* Convnon order.] Corrected in llOO^r
Ucayft
Act 1.]
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN.
3t33
Brave muletteers, scullions perfuiii'd with
grease, [mcmberVI :
And such as cry Tneat for cats^, must be re-
And all this pother for a common trull !
A tempting sign, and curiously set forth,
To draw in riotous guests! a thing exposed
To every niflian*s rude assault ! and subject,
For a poor salary, to a rich man*s lust,
Tbo' made up of diseases !
Ces, Will you end yet?
Clar. And this a mistress for Aibertus* son?
One that I should call sister?
'Ces. Part not with
Your modesty in this violcnthcat ! The troth is,
(For you shall be my confessor) 1 love her;
But virtuously : report, that gives lier out
Only for fair, and adds not she is chaste,
Detracts much from her; for indeed she is,
Tho' of a low condition, composed
Of all the graces dames of highest birtli,
Tho' rich in nature's bounties, should be
proud of.
But leave her ! and to you, my nearest care,
My dearest, best Chriaiu ! Do not think
(For then you wrong me) I wish you should
live
A barren virgin life ! I rather aim at
A noble husbtnd, that may make you mother
Of many children; one that, when I know
him
Worth your embraces, I may serve and sue to :
And therefore scorn not to acquaint me with
That man, that happy man, you please to fa-
vour !
Ciar. I ever pnrpos'd it ; for I will like
W^th your allowance.
Ces. Asa pawn of this,
Receive this ring; bn(, ere you part with it
On any terms, be certain or your choice.
And make it known to me !
Enter A'herto, Baptista, Mariana, Menti-
vtfle, and Servants zcith lights.
Clar. You have my liand for't.
Cet, Which, were it not my sister's, I
should kiss
With too much heat.
Clar. My father and his guests, sir !
Alb. Oh, my old friend, my tried friend,
my Baptista !
These days of rest and feasting suit not with
Our touglier natures: those were (/olden ones,
Which were enjoy 'd at sea ! that's our true
mother;
Tlie land's to us a step-dame : tliere we sought
Honour aod wealtli thro' dangers; yet those
dangers
^ And such as cry meat for eats,"] The second folio reads want ; but we apprehend the text
to be rijihr. In Massinger's Maid of Honour, act iii. sc. 1, GasimrOy in mentioning the m'lst
ignoble employments, says,
* 1 will crj/ brooms or cats^ meat in Palermo,
* Turn porter, carry burdens, any thing,
* Rather than live a soldier !' Ji.
* Blast our time's burden.] The correction by Seward.
T t li The
Delighted more than their rewards, tho' great
ones,
And worth the undertakers : here we study
The kitchen arts, to sharpen appetite,
DuH'd with abundance; and dispute wiih
Heav'n,
If that the least pufl' of the rough north-wind
Blast our vine's burden'*, rendring to our pa^*
lates (there,
The charming juice less pleasing; whereas
If we had biscuit, powdwr'd flesh, tK'sh water.
We thought them Persian delicates; and for
music,
If a strong gale but made the main-yard crack,
W^e danc'd to tlie loud minstrel.
Bapt, And i«ar'd less
(So far we were in love with noble action)
A tempest than a calm.
Alb. Tis true, Baptista : [otlier.
There, there, from mutual aids lent to each
And virtuous emulation to exceed «
In manly dariug, the true school of friendship.
We learnt those principles, which condrm d
us friends
Never to be forgot.
Bapt. Never, I hope. [roaring cannon
Alb. We were married there: for bells, the
Aloud proclaimed it lawful, and a prize
Then newly ta'en, and equally divided,
Serv'd as a dowry to you, then stil'd niy wife;*
And did enable me to be a husband
Fit to encounter so much wealth, tho* got
With blood and hoiTor.
Mar. If so g<r>t, 'tis fit, sir,
Now you pos-ess it, that you should enjoy it
In peace and quiet: I, your son, and daughter,
1 hat reap the harvest of your winter s labour,
Tlio' debtors for it, yet have often trembled.
When, in way of discourse, you have related
How you came by it.
Alb. Trembled? How the softness
Of your sex may excuse you, I'll not argue;
But to the world, howe'er I hold thee noble,
I should proclaim this boy some coward's
bastard,
And not ttie image of Albertus' youth,
If when some wish'd occasion calls him forth
To a bnive trial, one weak artery
Of his should shew a fever, tho' grim death
Put on a thousand dreadful shapes to frighi
him.
The elements, the sea, end all the winds
We number on our compass, then conspiring
To make the scepe moregluu»cly ! I must have
thee.
Sirrah, I must, if once you grapple with
An eneu)y's ship, to board her, thu' you see
3*1
THE FAIE MAID OF THE INN,
[Act 1,
The desperate ^nntt ready to give fire,
And blow the deck up; or, like CseiMir*8 sol-
dier,
Thy hands like bis cut off, hang by the teeth,
And die undnunted.
Mar, I even die to hear you !
My son, my lov*d Cesario, run such hazards?
Eless'd saints forbid it ! You have done enough
Already for one family, that rude way.
I'll keep him safe «t home, and train him up
A complete courtier: may I live to see him,
By sweet discourse and ij^racious demeanor,
Win and bring home a fair wile, and a rich,
'Tis all I rest ambitious of.
Alb. A wife?
As if there were a course to purchase one
Prevailing more than honourable action !
Or any intercessors move so far.
To take a mistress of a noble spirit,
A.S the true fame of glorious victories,
Atchiev'd by sweat and blood ! Oh, the brave
dames
Of warlike Genoa! they had eyes to see
The inward man, and only foom his worth,
Courage, and conquests, the blind archer
knew [torch ;
To head his shafts, or lit^ht his quenched
They were proof against them else : no car-r
. pet knight*, [bowers.
That spent his youth in groves or pleasant
Or, stretching on a couch his lazy limbs,
Sunfir to his lute such soil and melting notes,
As Ovid nor Anacreon ever knew.
Could work on them; aor opca bewitch'd
their sense,
Tho' he came so perfum'd as he had robbM
Sabjea or Arabia of their wealth,
And stored it in one suit. I still remember.
And still remember it with joy, Baptista,
When from the rescue of the Genoa fleet.
Almost surpriz*d by the Venetian gallies.
Thou didst return, and wert received in tr»»
umph.
How lovely in thy honour'a wounds and scan
Thou didst appear; what worlds of amoroas
glances
The beauties of the city, where they stood,
Fix'd like so many of 4he fairest stars, [tir'd
Shot from their windows at tliec! How it
Their bloods to see the enemies' captive
streamers' [hana,
Dome thro* the streets ! nor could diaste Jih
The duke's fair niece, tho' guarded with hei
greatness.
Resist this gallant charge, but, laying by
Disparity of fortuue from the object,
Yielded herself thy pUsoner.
Bapt. Pray you ( huse
Some other theme.
Mar, Can there be one more pleasing?
Ba'pt, That triumph drew on me a greatei
torture.
And 'tis in the remembrance little less.
Than ever captive sufter'd.
Mar, How ! To gain
The favour of so great a lady ?
^ Carpet knight, "j Carpet kni^fUs are frequently mentioned with great contempt by oir
ancient writers. Ihe learned Sir James Burrows gives the following account of them:
^ There was an order of knighthood of the appellation of Knights of the Carpet, though
* few, or no persons (at least among those whom I have consulted) seem to know any tbii^
* about it, or even to have heard of it. I have taken some memoranda concerning the instil
* tution, and know that William lord Burgh (of Starhorou^h castle, in tiie county of Surry,
* father to Thomas lord Bur^h, deputy of Ireland, and to sir John Burgh who took the great
' Caracca ship in 1592) was made a knight of the carpet, at Westminster, on the Sd of Oc^
' tober, 16^3, the day after queen Mur/s coronation : and I met with a list of all who were
* made so at tlie same time, m Strvpe's Memorials, vol. iii. Appendix, p. 11.
* See Anstis's Observations on the Knighthood of the Bath, (Lond. 1725) p. £0, < Upon
<' the accession of queen Mary to the throne, a commission was granted to the earl of Aron«
*' del, empowering him to make knights, but without any additional title, within two davft
" after the date of that patent : which were the two days preceding her coronation. In
^* pursuance hereof, we find the names of the knights created by him, according to the stated
<< form of creating knights of the Bath; and the variety of the ceremonies used, so distinctly
*' related, that it particularly deserves to be consulted in the appendix.'^
* So that Mr. Anstis plainly considers them as being only a species of knights of the Bath,
* though tdtlumt any additional title.
* If bO, the appellation of Ifnights of the carpet might be on\y popular ; not their strict or
* proper title. This, however, was sufficient to induce Shakespeare (who wrote whilst they
^ were commonly spoken of by such an appellation) to use that termy in contract to a knigbb*
' hooJ conferred upon a real soldier, as a reward of military valour.'
In addition to this note, and in confinnation of it, Mr. Steeveus produces the following ex-
ample from Tlie Downful of Robert Earl of Huntingdon, 1601 :
« -_- soldiers, come away ;
* Tfiis carpet knight sits carping at our scars.' "*
They are mentioned also by Taylor the Water Poet, in The Praise of Henpsced;
* Castles for ladies, and for carpet knights,
* Unmercifully spoil'd at feasting fights, E,
* Captive strcames.] Corrected in 1750. »
Mapt.
Aetl.]
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN.
%iS
Bapt. Yes, , [mftdaro.
Since it prov'd fatal^ : to have beeu happy,
Adds to calamity ; and the heavy loss
Of her I durst not hope for, once enjoy'd.
Turns what you think a blessing to a curse^
Which grief would have forgo tteu.
Alb. I am sorry
I toucb'd upon it.
Mar. I barn rather, sir,
With a desire to hear the story of
Your lores; and shall receive it as a favour.
Which you may grant. ^
Bapi, You must not be denied;
Yet with all brevity I must report it.
Tis true, fair Juliana, (Genoa's pride)
Eoamour'd of my actions, iik'd my person ;
Nor could I but with joy meet her allection,
Since it was lawful ; for, my first wife dead.
We were closely married, and tor some iew
months
Tastetl the fruits oft: but malicious fate,
Envying our too-uiuch happiness, wrought
upun
A faithless servant, privy to our plot.
And cabinet counsellor to Juliana,
Who, either for hope, or reward, or fear,
Discover d us to the incensed duke,
Wiiose rage made her close prisoner, and
pronounc'd [years
On me perpetual banishment. Some three
I wander'd on the seas, since entertaiuM
By the great duke of Florence; but what fate
Atteuded her, or Prospero my friend,
Tiiat scay'd at Genoa to expect the iasue,
h yet uucertain.
Enter a Gentleman,
Alb, From the Duke?
Bapt, lie's welcome.
To eud my forc'd relation !
Alb. Signor Bflptista, [care.
The great Duke's will commands your present
Gent, It points indeed at both of you,
Bapt, I wait it.
Alb, In, Mariana; to your rest !
Bapt, Nay, leave us ;
We must be private.
Afar. Stay not long, Cctario.
[Exeunt. Manent Cetario <5r Mentivole,
Ment, So ! these old men vanished, 'tis al-
lowed
That we may speak ; and howsoe'er they take
Delight in the discourse of former dangers,
It cannot hinder os to tresit a little
Of Dresent pleasures.
Ces, Which, if well enjoy*d,
Will not alone continue, but encrease,
Jn us tlieir friendship.
Ment, How shall we spend the night?
* Yes, since it proved fatal.J The particle inserted in the text improving both sense and
measure, was most probably in the original. Sctcard,
Seward reads. Since it prov'd so tiital;
thereby destroying * both sense and measure.'
I EqnaL] i. e. Just, The word frequently occurs in that sense.
Complain
To snore it out^ like drunken Datchmeft,
would
Sort ill with us Italians : we are made
Of other metal, fiery, quick, and active.
Shall we take our fortune ? and, while our
cold fathers [dead)
Cln v%hom long since tlieir youthful heats were
Talk much of Mars, serve under Venus' en-*
And seek a mistress? [^igi^^i
Ces. That's a game, dear friend.
That does admit no rival in chase of it ?
And either to be undertook alone
Or not to he attempted.
Ment. ril not press you.
What other sports to eiitertain the time with
The following morning?
Ccs. Any that may become us. [sent you,
Ment, Is the Neapolitan horse the viceroy
In a fit plight to run?
Ces. So my groom tells me.
I can boast little of my horsemanship;
Yet, upon his assurance, I dare wager
A thtmsand crowns, 'gainst any horse in Flo*
reucc,
For an cipht-mile course.
Ment. I would not win of you,
In respect you are impatient of loss;
Else I durst match him with my Burbary
For twice the sum.
Ces. You do well to excuse it,
Beinu; certain to he beaten.
Ment, Tush, you know
The contrary.
Ces. To end the controversy,
Put it to trial ; by my life, ill meet yoii
Enter Clarissa,
With the next rising sun.
Ment, A match! But here
Appears a Cynthia, tiiat scorns to borrow
A beam of light from the great eye of ficav'n^
She being heraelf ail brightne^^s : how I envy
Those amorous smiles, those kisses, but sure
chaste ones.
Which she vouchsafes her brother!
Clar. You are wanton :
Pray you think me not Biancha; le^ve,I prajf
you:
My mother will not sleep before she see you;
And since you know her tenderucbs, nay loud-
ness, , [satety,
In every circumstance that coQcerus your
You are not cqual^ to her.
Ces. I must leave you ;
But will nut fuil to meet you.
Ment, Soft sleeps to you !
Mar. [zvilhin] Cesano!
Clar. YouVe call'd again.
Ces. Some sons
tt6
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INK.
[Act L
I
Complain of too much rigour in their mo-
thers;"
I of too much indulgeoce. You will fol-
low i [EjcU.
-^tar. You are her first care; therefore
learl the way ! [.stays
Ment. bhe stays; blest opportunity I bhe
, As she invited conference! si.e was ever
Koble and free ; but thus to temj>t my frailty,
Argues a \ieldiiig in her; or, c ntempt
Or ail that I dare offer. Stand I now
Cori-ulting ? No ; I'll put it home.
Cinr. W 1)0 waits there ?
Wore lifjhts! [useless
Ment. You need thero not; they are as
As at noon-day: can there be darkness where
Nature, then wisely liberal, vouchsaf'd
Tu lend two suns?
Clur Hyperbole?!
Ment. I\o; truths, [heart
Truths^ beauteous virgin ; so ray love-sick
Asi>ures nie, and my undeisumding telts me
I must approach them wifrely : should I rashly
iVess near their scorching beams, they would
consume me;
Ai\Aj on the contrc-ry, should your disdain
Keep n:e at too much di^jtance, <ind I want
I lieu* comlortable heat, tlie frost of d^atli
Would seize on all my faculties.
Llur, Pray you pau^e, jir! [tire you :
Th»!> vehemeucy ol discourse must else needs
lie>e gay words take not me; *tis siu.ple
II ;i I'bt intepiity, and lawful fltmcs,
1 am (it lighted with.
Ml td. J?uch I bring with me ;
/lid I here fore, lady —
C'/V/r. But that you took inc off
Hre 1 came to a ptriod, I liad added
A long experience must be rcqni:'d
Both of his faith and trust, with whom a
Tratbcks fur what is dearest in this life.
Her liberty and honour. I confess
1 ott have view'd you with an eye of favour;
And, with your generous parts, the many
tenders
Of doing me all fair offices, hav^ wop
A ^ood opmion from me —
Mtnt, Oh, speak ever !
I never heard fruch music.
Clar. A plain tune, sir.
But 'tis a hearty one. When I perceive,
By evident proofs, your aims are truly nohle,
And that ynu bring the engines of fair love,
>^ot of foul lust, to shake apd undermine
^Iv maiden tbrtrcss, I may then make good
What now I dare not promise.
Meni, You ah'eady,
In Uiking notice of my poor deservings,
' ^Ty opinion waits on you.] The small change of you to yours^ takes all obscurity from
tl.ib t x^'resbion. i^cuard.
We II link the old reading more suitable to the context, more in our authors' style^ and at
least as free from obscurity.
Kcw
Have been magnificeDt, and 'twill appear
A 'trontless impudeuce to ask beyond this;
Yet qualify* tho' not excuse, my error,
'Ibo' now I am ambitious to desire
A coniirmatiou of it!
Clar. So it wrong not
My modesty to grant it.
Ment. 'lih far from me;
I only am a suitor you would jpracc me
With some toy, but made rich in that y«
wore it.
To warrant to the ^vorld that I usurp not,
When I presume to stile myself your senaot!
A ribbon from your shoe.
Clar. You are too humble;
I'll think upon't, and something of more valoe
Shall witfles> how I prize you. It grows late;
ril bring you to the door.
ilfen^ You still more bind me. [Exeunt^
Enter Duke^ Albert ui^BaptUta, Magistrata
and Attendants,
Duke, You find, by this assur'd intelligence.
The preparation of the Ttirk against us.
We've met him oft and beat iiim ; now ta
fear him
Would argue want of courage ; and I hold it
A safer policy for us and our signiories,
To charge him in his passage o'er the sea.
Than to expect him here.
Alb. May it please your highness,
Since you vouchsafe to think me worthy of
This great employment, if I may deUver
My iudgment freely, 'tis not flattery
Tho 1 say my ophiion waits on you®;
Nor would I gi\e my sufirage and consent
To what you have proposed, but that I
know it ''
Worth the great speaker, tho* that the deoial
Call'd on your heavy anger. For myself
I do profess thus much, if a blunt soldier
May borrow so much from the oird-tongu*d
courtier,
( 1 l.at echoes whatsoe'er the prince allows of)
All that my long experience hath taught me,
I'hat have spent three parts of my life at sea,
(Let it not taste of arrogance that I say it;
Could not have added reasons of more weigbt
1 o fortify your affections, than such
As your grace out of observation merely
Already have propounded.
Bapt. With the honour
To give the daring enemy an affront
In being tlie first opposer, it will teach
Yoursoldiers boldness, and strike fear in them
That durst attempt you. ♦
1 JMagis. Victuals ^nd ammunition,
A nd money too, the sinews of the war,
Are stord up in the magaeine.
2 Ma git. And the gallics
Act 1.]
tHE FAIR MAID OF THE INN.
9d7
2 Gent. Genily ! he will faint else—
[Exeunt Gentletnen with Cetarkh
Ment, And speedily^ I beseech you! M^
rage over,
That pour*d upon my reason clouds of error,
I see my folJy, and at wliat dear loss
I have exchang'd n real innocence
To gain a mere fantastical report,
Transported only by vain popular wind,
To be a daring, nay, fool-hardy man.
Enter Bapiiita,
But, could I satisfy myself within here,
liow should I bear my fathei^s frowns? They
meet me;
My guilt conjures him hither.
Bapt. Sirrah!
Ment. Sir. [sword:
hapt. I've met the trophies of your ruffian
Was tliere no other anvil to make trial
How far thou durst be wicked, but the bosom
Of him, which under the adulterate nalne
Of friendship thou hast murder'd ?
Merit. Murdered, sir?
My dreams abhor so base afnct: true valour,
Eniploy'd to keep my reputation fair,
From t|ie austerest judge can never merit
To be branded with that title. You begot me
A man, no coward : and but call your youth
To memory! when inju/d, you could never
Boast of the ass*s ibrtitade^ slave-like pa->
ticnce;
And you might justly doubt I were your son,
If I should entertain it. If Cesario
Recover, as I hope his wound's not mortal,
A second trial of what I dare do
lu a just cause, shall give strong witness for me
I am the true heir to Baptistu*s cour*i«:;c,
As to his other fortunes.
Bapt. Buy, to neither.
But on tliis strict condition, which entreaties
From saints, nay angels, shall not make me
alter.
A friendship so began, and so continu'd
Between me and Alberto, my best friend,
Your bniwjs shall not dissolve : it is my will,
And^as I am tliy father I ct^mmand tiice,
That instantly, on any terms, how poor
Soc'er it skills not, thou desire his pardon,
And bring assurance to me he has sign'd it, '
Or by my father's soul I'll never know thet-.
But as a stranger to my blood : perform it.
And suddenly, without reply! IVe said it.
Ment. And in it given a heavier scnteucj^
on me
Than the most cruel death : you arc my fatlier,
And your will to be serv'd, and notdisputesl
By me, that am your soii : but I'll obey.
And tho' my hearc-striiii^^s crack ior*t, make
it known,
When you command, my faculties are your
own. . ' [Exeunt.
* I should iay no more^l Seward, tacitly and arbitrarily, reads, I should saif more. The
present punctuation gives a spirit to the old text.
ACT
New rigg*d and trained up, and at two days'
Fit lor tlie service. '' [warning
Duke. We commend your care ;
Nor will we e*er be wanting in our counsels.
As we doubt liot your action. You, Baptista,
Slmil stay with us ; that merchant is not wise.
That ventures his whole fortunes in one bottom.
AlbcrtQS, be our admiral I spare your thanks;
11s merit in yon that invites this honour ;
Preserve it such ! Ere long you shall hear
more.
Things rashly undertaken end as ill ;
But great acts thrive when reaso;^ guides the
will. [Exeunt.
Enter three Gentlemen.
1 Gent. No question, 'twas not well done
in Cesario
To cross the horse of young Mentivole
In the midst of tiiis course.
i Gent. That was not all ;
The switching him duU'd him.
3 Gent. 'Would that both the jades
Had broke their necks, when tbev first
started I 'Slight, [whisper.
We stand here prating ; give them leave to
And, when they have cutone another*s tiiroats,
Enter Mentivole and Cesario,
XIake in to part 'em !
^ Gent. There is no such hazanl ; [it :
Their fathers' friendship and their love forbid
See where they come .'
1 Gent. With fury in their looks.
Mcui. You have the wager; with what
ril not dispute. [foul play got
Cei. Foul play?
Meat. I cannot speak it
In a fairer language; and if some respects
Familiar to myself chain'd not my tongue,
I should say — no more'! — I should — but
ril sit down [further !
With this disgrace; howe'er, press me no
For, if once more pruvok'd, you'll understand
I dare uo more sulfer an injury.
Than I •' are do one.
Ces. Why, sir, are you injur'd
In that I take xuy right, which I would force,
^hould you detain it?
Ment. Put it to judgment !
Ces. No ; my will in this tthull carry it.
Ment, Your will ? Nay, &rewell softness
then !
^Gent. This I foresaw.
r . yi'hey suddenJu diaw.
2Cc;l^•Uold,holdl
Ces. I'm hurt.
2 Gent. Shift for yourself; 'tti» death.
, Ment. As you respect me, bear lum off
with care !
If be miscarry, since he did the wrong,
I'll stand the shock oft.
9S8
tH£ FAIR AIAII5 OF THt INI*.
(Act 2.
ACT II.
Enter Alhertus, Physiciany and a Surgeon.
Fhyt. XJAVE patience, noble air! your
•■■■■• son Cesario
Will recover, without question.
Surg. A slight wound ! [vitals.
Thoagh*t piercM his body, it liath tniss'd the
Pfiys. My life f<»r't, he shall take the air
Within these ten days ! [again
Alb. Oh, but from' a friend!
To receive this bloody measure from a friend !
If that a man should meet a violent death,
Jn a place where he had taken sanctuary,
Would it not grieve him ? Such all Florence
held [plies
Their friendship ; and *tis that which multi-
The injury.
Phifs, ftave patience, worthy signer!
Alb. I do protest, as I am man and soldier,
If I had buried him in a wave at sea,
(Lost in some honourable action) '
I would not to the saltness of his grave
Have added the least tear: but these quarrels,
Enter Mariana and Clarisui,
Bred out of game and wine ! I had as lief
He should have died of a surfeit.
Mar. Oh, what comfort ?
How is it with our son, s>~ ?
Alb. His work-masters
Bear me in hand liere, (as my lawyer does.
When I've a crack*d title, or bad suit in law)
All shall go well.
Mar. 1 pray you, gentlemen,
What think you of his wound?
Phys, ^is but a scratch; nothing
To danger.
Clar. But he receiv'd it from a friend ;
And the unkindness ta'en at that may kill him.
Mar. Let me see him.
Phys. By no means; he slumbers.
Mar. Tlien I cannot believe you, when
Tliere is hope of him. [you tcU me
Alb. Yet many ladies
D<> give more fi»ith to their physician,
Than to their confexsor.
Clar. Oh, my poor lost brother !
And friend, more dear than brother !
Alb. More loud instruments
To disturb his slumbers f Go, go, take caroch !
And as you love me, you and the girl retire
T' our summer-house i' th* country : Flf be
Within those two days [with you
Mar. I am jonrs in all things,
Tbo* with much sorrow to leave him.
Alb^ I pray you, geaUteitVy
[Exeunt Mar. and Clar.
With best observance tend your patient:
The loss of my heir male lies now a-bleediog ;
Enter Mentivole,
And think what payment bis recovery
Sljall shower upon you. — Ofallmen breatliing^
[Exeunt Physician and Surgeon.
Wherefore do you arrive here? are you mad.':
My injury begins to bleed afresh
At sight of you. Why, this affiront of yours
I receive more malicious than the other.
Your hurt was only danger to my son; bat
Your sight to me is death I Why come you
hi titer? [have made^
D'yeu come to view the wounds which you
And glory in them?
Ment. Rather, worthy lir.
To pour oil into them.
Alb, I am a soldier,
Sir, least part of a courtier : and anderstaiid
By your smooth oil, your present flattery—
lifenL Sir, for my tathor's sake, acknow-
ledge me
To be born a gentleman,- no slave ; I ever
Held flatterers of that breed : do not mis-
construe.
In your distaste of me, the true intent
Of my coming hither, for I do protest
I do not come to tell you I am sorrjr
For your son's hurt.
Alb. Not sorry?
Me.nl. No, not sorry:
I have to the lowest ebb lost all my fury,
But i must not lose my honesty. Twas be
Gave heat unto the injury, which returned,
Like a petard '° ill lighted, into th' bosom
Of him gave iire to*t : yet, I hope hii hurt
Is not so danrrerous but he may recover;
When, if it please him call me to account
For th'ioss of so much blood, I shall be read/
To do him noble reason.
Alb. You are arm'd
Me thinks with wondrous confidence.
Ment. Oh, with the best, sir;
For I bring penitence and satisfaction.
Alb. Satisfaction? Why, I heard you say
but now.
You were not sorry for his wounds.
Ment: Nor am I ;
The satisfaction which I bring, sir, is to you.
You arc a gentleman neVr injur'd me;
One ever lov'd ray father, the right way,
And most approv'd of noble amity;
*** Petar.^ A petard of petarre, an engine (made like a bell or mortsr) whertwith strong
latea ace bwft open. Cotgraves Dictionary. iL
• Yet
Act t.]
THE FiUR MAID OF THE INN.
329
Yet I have run mj sword quite thro' your
heart, [fear'd,
And slightly hurt your son; for't may be
A grief ta'en at these years, for your son's io&s,
May hazard yours: and therefore I am sent
By hioi that has most interest in your sorrow,
Who having chid me almost to tne ruin
Of a disheritance", fur violating
So continued and so sacred a friendship
Of fifty winters' standing'^ ; sucli a friend-
ship
That ever did continue like the spring,
Ne'er saw the fall o' th' leaf; by him I am sent
To say the wning I've done, sir, is to you,
And that I have quite lost him lor a tather,
Until I find your pardon. Nay, there follows
A weightier deprivation : his estate
I could with a less number of sigh» part .with;
Fortune might attend my yoath and my de-
servings
In any climate ; but a fiithei^s blessing,
To settle and confirm that fortune, no where,
Bat only here. Your pardon ! give me that ;
AndwKen you have done, kia me; for -lis
that [tion.
Takes from me the effect of eicommunicar
A father's heavy curse.
Aib. Nay, may that curse [nute,
light on himself^ tor sending thee in this mi-
When I am grownju deaf to all compassion,
As the cruellest sea-fight, or most horrid tem-
pest! [cats,
That I had drown'd i'th' sea a thousand riu-
Tbott faadst not made tliis visit! Rash young
man,
Thou tak'st me in an ill planet, and hast cause
To curse thy lather ; for I do protest,
If ( had met thee in any part o' th' world.
But under my own root, I would have kilPd
thee. [sent for
Within there ! — Look you ! Here's a triumph
Enter Physician, Surgeon, and Servants,
The death of your yonng master.
Serv. Shall we kill him?
Alb. No;
111 not be so unhospitable. But, sir,
Bj my life, I vow to take assurance firom you,
That rightrhand never more shall strike my
son.
Ment, That vriil be easily protested.
Aib. Not easily, [to't
When it must be exacted, and a bloody seal
Bind him, and cutoflf's ri^ht-hand presently:
Fair words siiall never satisfy foul deeds.
Chop his hand off!
Ment. You cannot be so unrighteous
To your own honour.
Phys. Oh, sir, collect yourself.
And recall your bloody purpose !
Aib, My intents
Of this nature do ever come to action.
Surg, Then I
[Exit,
Must tetch another stickler.
Alb, Yet I do grieve at heart ;
And I docui*se thy father heartily.
That's the cause ot^my dishonour, sending thee
In such an hour, when I am apt tor mischief^
Apt as a Dutchman after a se»-fight.
When his enemy kneels afore him. ComCi
dispatch !
Fhi/s, Entreat him, noble sir.
Ment, You shall excuse me ;
Whatsoever he dares do, that I dare sofier.
Enter Cesario and Surgeon,
Ces, Oh, sir, for honour's sake, stay yout
fuul purpose;
For if you do proceed thus cruelly, [him.
There is no question, in die wound you give
I shall bleed to death for't !
Alb, Thou art not of
My temper; what I purpose, can't be alter'd.
' Enter a Servant.
Serv. Sir, the Duke with all speed expects
you : you must instantly
Ship all your followers, and to sea.
Alb, My blessing
Stay with thee upon this condition.
Take away his use of fighting; as thou hop'st
To be accounted for my son, perform it !
[Exit.
Ces. Yon hear what Fm enjoin'd to.
Ment. Pray thee, take it!
Only this ring, this besD-esteemed jewel,
I will not giv't to ih' hangman chops it off^
It is too dear a relic : Til remove it
Nearer my heart.
Ces. Ha! that ring's my sister's;
The ring I enjoin'd her never part withal
Without my knowledge. — Come, sir, we are
friends.
Pardon«my fiither's heat, and melancholy;
Two violent fevers which he caught at sea,
And cannot yet shake 06*: only one promise
' Who having chid me almost to the ruin
Of a di$hcrUanc€.'\ Seward arbitrarily reads,
> to my ruin,
To a disheritance, &c.
'* So continued and to sacred a friendship
(^fifiy winters standing: such a friendship.
That ever did continuey^c] * Here,' says Seward,* seems a reiterated t^itology m these
^ fines, very unlike and iinwortliy of our authors.* For continu£d, therefore, he substitutes
iOHStant, * which,' continues he, < in the sense of firm and wuhaken by accidents, keeps clear
* of the tautology complained of.' But changes should not be arbitrarily made, only be-
cause the critic $upposci them for the better!
VOL.IIL Uu Imujt
330
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN.
[Acti
I must enjoin you tQ, and seriously;
Hereafter you shall never draw a sword
To th' prejudice of my life.
Ment. By my best hopes,
I shall not !
Ces. I pray deliver me your sword.
On that condition.
Ment. I shall, sir: may it hereafter
Ever fight on your part!
Ces. Noble sir, 1 thank you :
But, for performance of your vow, I entreat
Some gage from you.
Ment. Any, sir.
Ces, Deliver me tljat ring* [binds me,
Ment. Ha! this ring? indeed this jewel
If you knew the virtue of it, never more
To draw my sv^'ord against you.
Ces. Therefore I
Will have it.
Ment. You may not.
Ces. Come, you must :
I that bv violence could take your hand,
Can enforce this from you. This is a token,
sir, , [you well!
That we may prove friends hereafter. Fare
Phys. Why did you seize bis sword, sir ?
Ces. To perform [sent
What my father bad me ; I have for the pre-
Ta'en away his use of figlitiog.
Phys. Better so.
Than take that wbich your father meant!
[Exeunt.
Manet Mentivole.
Ment, Was ever the like usage? Oh, that
Bearer than life ! whitlier is honour fled ?
Cesario, thouVt unmanly in each part,
To seize my sword first, and then split my
heart. [Edit.
Enter Host and Cloan.
Host. Thy master
That lodges here in my Osteria,
Is a rare man of art; they say he's a witch.
Clown. A witch? nay, he's one Kep of the
ladder to
Preferment higher; he's a conjurer.
Host. Is that his higher title ?
Clotcn. Yes, I assure you; [mandshim;
For a conjurer's th' devil's master, mid com-
Whereas a witch is the devil's prentice.
And obeys him.
Host. Bound prentice to the devil !
Cloicn. Bound and enroU'd, I assure you,
he can't start; [tienian
And therefore 1 would never wish any gen-
To turn witch.
Host. Why, man?
Clown, Oh, he loses his {help bin;
Gentility by it; the devil in this case cauooi
He must go to the herald for new arms, be-
lieve it. [man boia,
Host. As I'm true innkeeper, yet a gcotie
111 ne'er turn witch for that triclc! Aud thoi
Been a great traveller? [laai
Clozcn, No, indeed, not I, sir.
Host. Come, you are modest.
Clown. No, 1 tun not modest;
For I told you a lie, that you might the betta
Understand I had been a traveller.
Host. So, sir!
They say your master's a great physician too]
Cloicn. He was no fool told you that, 1
assure you. [But they sm%
Host. And you have been in EnglaodI
Ladies in England take a great deal of physift
Clown. Both ways, on my reputation.
Host. So 'tis to be understood: [lashiot.
But they say ladies there take physic h
Clown. Yes, sir, and many times die u
Host. How ! [keep fashioi.
Die to keep fashion ?
Clown. Yes; I liave known a lady
Sick of the small-pox, only to keep her face
From pit-holes, take cold, strike them is
Kick up the heels, and vanish. [3g>i%
Host. There was kicking up
The heels with a witness !
Clown. No, sir; I confess [tiveio
A good face has many times been the ibo*
The kicking up of the heels with a witoes>;
but this was nut.
Enter Hostess and Biancha,
Host. Here come my wife and daughter.
Clown. You have
A pretty coouuodity of this nightworm.
Host. Why, man?
Clown. She is a pretty lure to draw
Custom to your ordinary. [pw*^
Host. Dost think I keep her to thatpu^
Clown. When a dove-house is empty, there
is cumin-seed [hours;
Used to purloin from the rest of the ncigb*
In England you have several adamaDts'%
'i'o draw in spurs and rapiers'^; oae keeps
silk-worms
In a gallery; a milliner has choice
()' moukies and paraketoes ; another shews
Bawdy East-Indian pictures, worse than ever
Were Aretine's; a gt^ldsmith keeps his wite
Wedg'd into his shop like a mermaid, nothin;
of her
To be seen (that's woman) but her upper psit
Host. Nothing but her upper part?
Clown. Nothing but her upper bodice^
And he lives at tlie more heart's ease.
** Adamants.] i. e. Londstones. Sec Skiuner on the word.
" To draw in spurs and rapiers.] In Ben Joiison's
fays to Abel Drugger,
Seward.
Alchemist is the same idea; Sebtk
< Beneath your threshold bury me a loadstone,
* To draw in gallants that wear spurs.*
MiJii'
iLct 2.]
THE FAIR MAID OF TtlE INN.
331
4 Hmt, ^Vlmt*s the reason ? [no temptation.
,^ C/ob;?!. Because her nether part can give
/B^r your leave, sir, 111 tend my master, and
\7 instantly
.^^Be frith you for a cup of cherally this hot
weather. [Exit,
Hast. A nimhle^pated rascal ! Come hit her,
When was Cesario here? [daughter;
Bian, Sir, not this fortnight.
^.; . HoMt. I do not like his visits ; commonly
/He comes by owl light; both the time and
' Suspicious ; I dou*t like it. [manner is
^. Bian. Sir, the gentleman
^ Is every way so noble, that you need not
^'^uestion his intent of coming: tho' you did,
if^^Jf sii*! preserve that good opinion of nie,
"That tho* the custom of the place I was
bom in
"flakes me familiar to every guest,
'I shall in all things keep myself a stranger
' To th' vices they bring with them !
^, Hostess. Right, my daughter !
'f'She has the right strain ofher mother.
^ H<Mt. Of her mother ? [took it.
;.Au I would speak, I know from whence slie
'.When I was as young, I was as honest** —
Hostess. Leave your prating,
And study to be drunk, and abase your
guests over and over !
Enter Forobosco and Ctomn*
Host. Peace, wife ; my honourable guest !
For. My endeared landlord,
'And the rest of the compliments of the house \
Host. Breakfast is ready, sir; it waiteth
The tide of your stomach. [only
" Clown. And mine gapes for't.
Like a stale oyster.
Host. Ere you go to bed**.
Fail not of tliat, I pray.
[Exeunt ail but For. and Clown.
For. We'll instantly be with you. —
Now we're all fellows: nine o'clock, and no
clients come yet }
Sure tliou dost not set up bills enough.
Cloun. IVeset up
Bills in alnittdance.
For. What biUs?
C/cnrn. Marry, [goods,
^ For curing of all diseases, recovery of stol'n
' And a thousand such impossibilities.
For. The place is unlucky.
Clonm. No, certain 'tis scarcity of money;
Do not you hear the lawyers complain of it ^
Men have as much malice as e'er tliey had
to wrangle, [money
But theyVe no money.— Whither should fthis
Be travelled ?
For. To the devil, I think.
Clown. Tis with
His cofterer I'm certain, that> the usurer.
For. Our cheating does not prosper so
Twas wont to do. [well as
Clown. No, sure. Why, in England we
Could cozen Vm as familiarly, as if
We'd traveird with a brief, or a lottery.
For. In the Low-Countries we did pretty
. well.
Ciown. So, so, as long as we kept the mop-
headed
Buctep-boxes sober; marry, when they were
drunk.
Then they grew buzzards; you should have
them reel
Their heads together, and deliberate !
Your Dutchman, indeed, when he's foxt, if
like a fox ; [a man's thinking.
For when he's sunk in drink, quite earth to
Tis full exchange-time with him, then he's
subtlest.
But your Switzer, 'twas notliing to okeat him.
For. Nothing. [it; for since
Clown. No, nor conscience to be made of
Nature aforehand cozen'd him of his wit,
'Twas the less sin for us to cozen him of his
money. [pated ;
For. But these Italians are more nimble-
We must have some new trick for tkesi. I
protest.
But that our Hostess' daughter's a sweet las.%
And draws great resort to th' house, we wera
Draw teeth arhorscback. [as good
Clottn. I told 'em in the market-putce you
could conjure.
And nobody would believe me; bat erelong
I'll make 'em believe you can conjure with
such a figuary !
For. What language shall's conjuK in?
nigh-Dutch
I think, that's full in the mouth.
Clown. No, no, Spanish; [dreadful.
That roareth best, and will appear more
'For. Prithee tell me thy conceit thou hast
to gull them.
■♦ When I was as young, I was as honest.] This has been hitherto made the conclusion of
the Host's speech, by which it seems to have lost all its humour. It evidently belongs to
the HcstesSj who stops her husband from giving further hints concerning Biancha ; ancl this
is artfully contriv'd with regard to the auoience, whose curiosities are heightened by a glim-
merin| of tlie plot, but not too soon satisfied by a foil view of it. To do this judiciously, is
one of the greatest difficulties in almost every species of writing. Seward.
We think Seward totally mistaken here, and that the ffosf (instead of alluding to Bianchtft
real parentage) whimsically insinuates that her virtuous principles are derived from him.
^^ Ere you eo to bed, fail not of that, Iprau.] These words have hitherto been made a
continuation of tlie Clown's speech; but from him they seem devoid of meaning. If spoken
by tlie Hott, aside, we may very well understand by them, that the Clown gapes /or his
breakfast even brfare he goes to bed.
U u 2 Clown.
353
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN.
[Act «•
Chmm, No, no, I will not stale it'^ ; but,
my ctear jewfr-trump,
For thou art but my instrument, I'm the
plotter,
And when we have cozenM 'cm most tightly,
thou
Shalt steal away the innkeeper's daughter, 1*11
Provide myself of another moveable ;
And we will most purely retire ourselves
To Geneva.
Far. Thou art the compass I sail bv.
Enter Baptista and Mentivole,
Bapt, Was ever expectation of so noble
A requital answered with such contumely !
A wild Numidian, that had suck'd a tigress.
Would not have been so barbarous ; did he
To cut thy hand oSf • [threat
Ment. Yes, sir ; and his slaves
Were ready to perform't.
Bapt. What hindered it?
Ment. Only bis son's entreaty.
Bapt. Noble youth!
I wish thou wert not of his blood ; thy pity
Gives me a hope thou art not.
. Ment. You mistake, sir ;
The injury that follow'd from the son
Was worse than the father's: he did first
disarm.
And took from me a jewel, which I prize
Above my hand or life.
Bapt. Take thy sword from thee ?
He stole it like a thief rather; he could not
I- th' field deprive thee of it.
Mmi. He took it from me.
And sent me forth so thin, and so unmade-up,
As if I'd been a footboy.
Bapt. Oh, my fiiry! [rashness,
I must now ask thee forgiveness, that my
Bred out of too much friendship, did expose
thee
To so imminent a danger ; which I vow
I will revenge on the whole family.
All tlie calamities of my whole life.
My banishment firom Genoa, my wife*s loss,
Compar'd to this indignity, is nothiuc ;
Their family shall repair t; it sliaU be to
them
like a plague^ when the dog-star reigns most
hot!
An Italian's revenge may pause, but's ne'er
forgot. [ Ea-i/.
Ment. I would I had conceai'd this from
my father.
For my interest in Clarissa ! My care now
Must be to untangle this division,
That our most equal flames may be united ;
And firom these varioos and peitarbed
streams,
Rise, like a sweet mom, after ternUft
dreams. [£:ri/.
Enter Clarissa and Cesario.
Clar. Brotlier, I'm happy in your recovery
Ces. And I, sister,
Am ever best pleas'd in your happiness.
But I miss a toy should be on your finger.
Clar. My ring!
This monuHg when I wash'd I put it off;
Tis in my wmdow.
Ces. Where's ^-our looking-glass?
Clar. Here, sir.
Ces. Tis a fair one.
Clar. Tis pure crystal. [me see;
Ces. Can a diamond cat in crystal? LeC
I'll grave my name in't.
Clar. Oh, you'll spoil my glass *^.
Ces. Would you not have your brother tn
your eye ?
I'd thought he had been planted in your heart.
Look you ; the diamond cuts quaintly; jou
are cozen'd.
Your crystal is too brittle.
Clar. Tis the ring
I gave unto Mentivole! sure, the same!^
You put me to amazement, sir, and horror :
How came yo|i by tliat ring ?
Ces. Docs the blood rise f [^o)
Clar. Pray, sir, resolve me, (oh, for pity
And take from me a trembling at die heart,
That else will kill me ! for I too much feur
Nothing but death could ravish it from his hand
That wore. it.
Ces. Was it ^iveu to Mentivole
On that condition ?
Clar. Tell me of his health first.
And then I'll tell you any thing.
Ces. By my life, he's well;
In better health than I aiu.
Clar. Then, it was, sir. [false oae!
Ces. Then shall I ever hate thee, «>h, thoa
Hast thou a faith to give unto a friend.
And break it to a brother? Did I not.
By all the ties of blood, importune thee
Never to part with it without my knowledge ?
Thou might'st have given it to a rouletteer^
And made a contract with him in a stable.
At as cheap a price of my vengeance! Never
more
Shall a woman's trust beguile me : you are all
Like relicks; you may well be look'd upon.
But come a man to tn' handling of you onoe^
You fall in pieces !
Clar. Dear sir, Fve no way
Look'd eidier beneath i^^ason, or mysd^
. '* ^0, no, twill not stael it.] Corrected in 1750.
'7 Clar. Oh, youHl spoil my glass.
Would you not have your brother in your eye f
Ces. Vd thought, 4c.] This second line evidently belongs to Caatio^ though ^ven io
tlie former editions to Clarissa, Mr. Sympsoa and Mr. Theobald concurred in tiiis cor>
ruction. Seward,
In
Act d.]
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN.
ddS
In my ekctioD : there's parity in our blood.
And in our fortunes; ancient amity ' [but
Betwixt our parents ; to which wants nothing.
The fruit of olessed marriage between us.
To add to their posterities. Nor does now
Any impeachment rise, except the sad
And unexpected quarrel, which divided
So noble and so excellent a friendship.
Which, as I ne'er had magick to foresee.
So I could not prevent.
Ce9. Well, you must give me leave
To have a liand in your disposing ; I shall,
In th* absence of my father, be your guardian;
His suit must pass thro* my office. Mentivole ?
He bas too much o*my blood already; he has,
And he gets no more oft. — ^Wherefore weep
jou, mother?
Enter Mariana and a Sailor.
Mar. Tis occasioned by a sorrow
Wherein you have a child's part, and the
Your father's dead. [mainest;
Ces. Dead?
Mar. There is one can
Belate the rest.
Stdlor. 1 can, sir; your father's drown'd,
Most unfortunately drown'd.
Ces. How ? in a tempest ?
Sailor. No, sir, in a cahn.
Calm asthiscveoing: the gunner, bcin^ drunk.
Forgot to fasten the ordnance to their ports,
When came a sudden gust, which tumbled
them
All to tlie starboard side, o'erturn'd the ship,
And sunk her in a moment; some six men
That were upon the deck, were sav'd ; the rest
Perisb*d wi' your father.
Clar. Oh» mv dearest father !
Ce». I pray thee, leave us* [EsU Sailor. ^
Mar. I have a sorrow of another nature, i^J
Equal to th* former. .*
Ce$. And most commonly
They come together.
Mar. The family of the Baptist!
Are grown to faction, and upon distaste ^
Of th'iujury late od'er'd in my house.
Have vow'd a most severe and fell revenge
'Gainst all our family, but especially
'Gainst you, my dear Cesario.
Ca. Let them threat;
I ain prepar*d t* oppose them.
Mar, And is your lose then
Of so easy an estimation? What comfort
Have I but in your life? and your late danger
Presents before me what I am to suffer.
Should you miscarry: therefore Til advise
you,
When th* funeral is over, you would travel ;
Both to prevent their fury, and wear out
The injury.
Ce». No, mother, HI not travel —
So in my absence he may marry my sistef-*
I will not travel, certsiin.
Mar, Oh, my Cesario,
Whom I respect and love 'hove my own life.
Indeed with a kind of dotage! he shall
never
Go forth o' doors, but the contrary faction
Will endanger liLs life; and then am I most
wretched !
I'm thinking of a strange prevention.
Which I shall witness with a bleeding eye;
Fondness sometimes is worse than cruelty.
[Es€unt9
ACT III.
'Enter Host, Hostess, and Biancha.
Soft. 1JUUNTED, my house is haunted
"• wi' goblins! I shall
Be frighted out o*my wits, and set up a sign
Only t' invite carriers and foot-posts, scare-
crows [rank.
To keep off th' cavalry, and gentry of the best
I will nail up my doors, and wall up my girl,
Wife, like an anchoress ; or she will he ravish'd
Before our faces by rascak and cacafugo^
Vf'ife, cacafugo's!
Hostess. These are your incomes!
Remember your own proverb, The savour
Of every gam smelt sweet : thank nobody
For this trouble ! [but yourself
Host. No galling, dear speuse, no galling !
Every day's new vexation abates me
Two inches in the waist; terrible penance
For an host! Girl, girl, girl, which of all this
GallimBufry of man's flesh appears tolerable
To thy choice ? speak shortly, and speak
truly! I [youtWt?
Must and will know, must and will! hear
Bian . Sir, be not jealous of my care and
duty!
I am so far from entertaining thoughts
Of liberty, that much more excellent objects
Than any of such coarse contents as these are.
Could not betray mine eye to force mine
heart
Conceive a wish, of any dearer happiness
Than your direction warrants. I am yours^
sir. [this strange
Hostess. What thinks the man now? Is not
At thirteen ? fern.
Host. Very good words; there*s a tane in
And a sweet one ; 'tis music, wife ; and novr
I cumc t'ye. Let us a tittle examine
The several conditions of our
Paragraphistical suitors ! The first
A travling taylor, who by the mystery
Ofs
S34
THE PAIR MAID OF THE INTT.
Ofs needle and thimble hatb surveyed the
fashions / {gerbread.
Of tU* Frencli, and English ; tliis signer Gin-
StitchM up in the shreds of a gaudy outside.
Sows linings with his crosvleg*d compliment,
I.ike an ape doing tricks over a staff,
Cringes, and crouches, and kisses bis fore-
finger.
Hostess. Out upon him !
Host. A second, a lavoltere, a saltatory,
A dancer with a kit at*s bum ; one that.
By teaching great madonnas to foot it, has
I Winiculously pnrclias'd a ribanded [fellow
Waistcoat, and four clean pair of socks; a
Tliat skippcth as he walketh, and instead
Of sensible discourse, venteth the curious
Conceit of some new tune stol'n from a
masque, «
Or a bawdy ditty, elevated for
The pole arctick of a lady's chamber;
In tliat file stands another of your inamora-
toes, [l^e ne'er fiddles
Hostess. Hang him and his fiddle together!
Any child of ours.
Host. The third, a mongrel,
Got by a Switzer on an Italian; this puppy,
Being left well estated, comes *to Florence,
That the world may take notice, how impos-
sible
It is for experience to alter [deed.
The course of nature ; a fool, wife ! and, in-
A clown turn'd gallant seldom or never proves
Other than a gallant fool ; this toy prates
To little purpose other than — What's o'clock ?
ShaWs go drink f D*yefonoothf w\& Thank
ye heartily.
I fear no art in him to catch thee ; and
Yet we must be tonuented witli tliis buzzard
Amongst the rest.
Hostess. Tis your own folly ; forbid him
the house. fand a harsh knave ;
if out. The fourth, a mule-driver, a stubborn
The fifth, a schoolmaster, a very amorous
pedant.
fAct 5.
Run almost mad with study of sonnets' % and
Compliments out of old play-ends; the last.
An advocate's dork, that speaks pure fustian
in law-terms** :
Excellent courtiers all, and all as neat
As a magnifico's post new painted, at
His entrance to an office ! Tliou shalt ha^
None of 'em. Laugh at 'em, do! I say,
Thou shalt have none of 'em.
Bian. Still your command to me shall stand
a law. [coursers
Host, Now they throng like so many horse-
At a fair, in clusters 'bout the man of art.
For love-powders, ingredients, potions, coun-
sels.
Postures, compliments, philters, the devil
[CUmn cries within.
And the — How now? tumulti^ batteries^
noise?
For. [rcithin'] Ha, get from ray sight**!
Enter Forohosco, and Clown with his head
bloody.
Clown. Murder me, do!
Pound me to mummy, do ! see what will come
on't. [tongue out !
For. Doe, leave thy snarling, or FU cut thy
Thou unlick*d bear, dar'st tliou yet stand my
fury, [damps
My generons rage? yet? By the sulphureous
That feed the hungry and incessant darkness,
Which curls around the grim Alastor*s back.
Mutter again, and with one powerful word,
ril call an host up from the Stygian lakes.
Shall waft thee to the Acherontick fens;
Where choak'd with mists as black asthyim-
Thou shalt live still a-dying ! postures.
Clown. Conjure me to
The devil, an you can ! I live in hell
Upon earth already : an you had any mercy.
You would not practise upon a kind heart
thus.
Host. You have drawn blood from him ;
Signer, is hii offence unpardonable?
'^ Bun almost mad with study of sonnets.'] All the Hos^s part in this scene, as the conjn«
rer's in others, has been hitiierto printed as prose; but the reader will see that without any
strain (for I liave scarce added or struck out a single expletive) it runs into an affected hob-
bling verse; which to me seems to add great humour to almost every sentiment, giving a
roinic dignity to the whole, which is of all drollery ^the most laudable. In this line a mono*
syllable seems evidently dropt, for the epithet new not only fills the measure, but makes a
proper antithesis to the old in the next line, which is a proof of its having been origimdly a
verse. Seward.
Though this note is just in the main, yet there are two things in it which call for animad*
version. In the first place, the word new is not necessary to the measure, nor have we a
right to CREATE an antithesis. In the second, though Mr. Seward says he has not used any
utrainy he has here fas in all other parts of his edition) interpolated^ omitted, and slaughtered
words (similar instances see at the end of Wit Without Money) in a manner unprecedented
and unparalleled.
^^ An advocate's clerks that speaks pure fustian in lavB-terms.] The particle in, here,
equally hurts the sense as the measure, which is another proof of the measure's being genuine.
4. Seward.
The word in neither hurts the sense, nor roars such licentious measure.
^^ Hoy get from my sight.] This has been mwk the conclusion of the Host's speech, which
evidently belongs to Forobosco as he enters. Seward.
For.
VTVrVERSlTY ]
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN.
Act 3.] THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN. 3GS
JFbr. A lump of ignonincey (pray speak not
for bim) doms,
A drowsy grossnese ! In all Christian king-
The mention of mj art, my name, ray prac-
tice.
Merit and i;1ory, hath begot at once
Deligbt aod wonder. — ^1*11 not be entreated -^
Spare intercession for him ! — (>h, thou scorn
Of learning shame of duty, must thy sloth
Draw my just £une in question? I discharge
thee
From my service ; see me no more henceforth !
CUncn, Discharge me ? [swer*d.
Is that my year's wages ? I will not be so an*
For, Not, cainel ? sirrah, I am liberal to
Tbou hast thy life; be gone! [thee
Cloam, Vengeance, sweet vengeance !
For, D'ye mumble ? [denly, and
down. I'll be revengM, monstrously, sud-
Insatiably : my bulk begins to swell.
For, 6omotolenton,pragmutophor0s^ htlio'
stycorazf J[Well,
Clown. Call up your spirits ! I defy 'em !
Fil have law for my broken pate^ (twelve
ounces
Of pure blood, Troy-weight) in despite of thee
My master, and thy master the grand devil
Himself: VindictOfVindicia/ [Exit,
Ho$L Signor, yon are exceeding roov'd.
Hostess, Mercy upon us, wliSt terrible
words thou talk*st ! [frighted,
JFbr. A slave, a cur ! — But be not you af-
Young virgin \ 'twere an injury to sweetness,
Should any rougher sound draw from your
cheeks [proud
Tlie precious tincture^', which makes Nature
Of her own workmansliip.
Host, Wife, mark; mdrk that, wife!
Bia7i. Shake then your anger off, sir.
For. You command it, peaves.
Fair one. Mine Host and Hostess, with your
I have a motion jointly to you all.
Hostess, An honest one, I hope.
Host. Well put in, wife!
For, A very necessary one : tlie mess
And lialf of suitors, that attend to usher
.Their love's sir-reverence to your daughter,
wait [eye
With one consent, which can best please her
In offering at a dance: I have provided
Music ; and 'twill be something, I dare pro-
mise, [mittance ?
Wortliy your laughter. Shall they haVe ad- rooms, sirs
'' Should any rough sound draxofrom your cheek*
The precious tincturCf &c.] IVIr. Sympson concurs with me in reading, any rougher sound,
Tis necessary to the verse, and every man of the least taste knows how much more elegant
die comparative degree renders the expression. The compliment here is so extremely
beautiful, that I could have wished it had been put in the mouth of a Cesario or MentivoU,
^^ Schoohnastery Clerk.] I have added the Coxcofnt to tlie number, Mr. Sympson having
justly observed that the meu and half of suitors were evidently six, and as the Coxcomb is one
of them in the next scene in which they appear, and is the second in Foro6ofco's list, he ought
evidently to have a place here. The reader will see how nmch more humorous my Hosf%
next speech is when printed in iBs true order, as vene, than it was when the metre was
disregarded* Seward^
For.
Ho$t, By any means; fbr Fm persuaded
the manner
Will be so ridiculous, that it will confinn
The assurance of their miserable fooleries:
but
No longer trouble with 'em here, than they
Are in these may-games !
For, So I am resolved.
Hostess, Nor any wise word of senseless
love ! . [you see
For. Not any; I have charm'd them. Did
How they prepar'd themselves, how they
stroke up ^ [ing-elass.
Their foretops, how they justle for the look-
To set their fiices by it (see, they muster !)
You would look for some most impossible
antic.
EfUer Taylor, Dancer, Muletteer, School^
master, Clerk"^^, Coxcomb; all with seve-
veral Papers, and present them to Foro»
bosco.
Host, So, so, so, so! here flutter tlie nest
of hornets, [now !
The hotch-potch of rascality : now, now, now,
The dunghill of corruption.hatli yawn'd forth
The burden of abomination. I am
Vex*d, vexed to the soul ; will rid my hous«
Of this unchristen'd fry, and never open ^
My doors again.
For, Some other time ; Fll give no answer
now, [cunning.
But have preferred your suits; here shew your
First, every one in order do his honour
To the fair mark you shoot at ; courtly, courtly.
Convey your several loves in lively measure :
Come, let us take our seats. Some sprightly
nmsic !
Host. Dance all and part : 'tis a very neces-
sary farewell.
They all make^ ridiculous congees to Biancha,
rank themselves, and dance in several pos-
tures; during the dance, enter Cesario,
and stands off'.
Host. Well done, my lusty bloods, preci-
ously well done ! [all sides !
One lusty rouse of wine, and take leave on
Ces, Thanks for your revels, gentlemen I
accept
This gold, and drink as freely as you danced.
Host. My noble lord Cesario? Clear the
S36
THE FMK MAID OF THE INN.
[Acta.
Jbr. Away; attend your answers.
[Exeunt Forobosco and Suitors.
Ces. With your favour,
Rolando, I would change a word or two
With your fnir daughter.
Host, At your lordship's pleasure.
Come, wife, no muttenng! Have a care,
girl! My love, '
Service, and duty to your good lordship !
[Exeunt Host and Hostess.
Ccs. Myoften visits, sweet 13ianc ha, cannot
But constantly inform thy judgment wherein
Thy happiness consists: fur to steal minutes
From great employments, to converse with
beauty,
Ix)dg*d in so mean a fortune; to lay by
Consideration of the unequal distance
Between my blood and thme : to shun occa-
sions
Of courtship with the ladies of the time,
Noble and fair, only for love to thee ;
Must of necessity invite a tenderness,
As low as Nature could have starap'd a bond*
woman*s.
To entertain quick motions of rare gratitude
For my uncommon favours.
Bian. /Deed, my lord,
As far as my simplicity can lead me»
I freely thank your courtesies.
Ces.'^ To thank them
Is to reward them, pretty one.
Bian. Then teach me
How I may give them back again : in truth
I never yet receiv'd a pair of gloves,
A trifling rinj;, from any that expected
An equal satisfaction, but as willingly
I parted with the gift unto the owner,
As he bestow'd it.
Ces. But I pour before thee
Such plenties, as it lies not in the ability
Of thy whole kindred to return proportionable
One for a thousand.
Bian, You, my lord, conclude
For my instruction : to engage a debt
Beyond a possibility of payment,
I ever thought a sin; and tlierefore justly
Without conceit of sconi, or curious rudeness,
I must refuse your bounty.
Ces. Canst thou love? [language
Bian. Ix)ve? is there such a word in any
That carries honest sense ?
Ces* Never dwelt ignorance [?^*>
In so &weet-shap*d a building ! — Love, liian-
Is that firm knot which ties two hearts in one :
Sim II onrs be tied so?
Bian. Vse a plainer word.
My lord; instead o£ties, say marries hearts;
Tlien I may understand.
Ces. Their hearts are married, [braces,
Whose interchange of pleasures and cm-
Soft kisses, and the privacies of sweets,
^' lb your vile toils.] Mr. Sympson would read tales for toilSf which I caonot
for sniailinconsistencies in metaphor are too commoa with ail nenroutt writen, to b%
pQbed corruption*} of the preits, Seuard*
Keeps constant league together ; when temp-
tation [tenipt.
Of great men's oaths and gifts shall urge con*
Ratine r tlian batter resolution: novelty
Of sights, or taste of new delights in wanton*
ness,
greeds surfeit more than appetite in any
jleserv'd to noble vows: my excellent maid»
Live thou but true to me, and my content^
Mine only, that no partner may partake
The treasure of those sweets thy youth yet
gioncs in.
And I will raise thy lowness to abundanoe
Of all varieties; and more triumph
In such a mistress, than great pnnce» doting
On trutlt-betrayiug wives.
Bian. llius to yield up then
The cottage of m^ virtue, to be swallowM
By some hanl-neighbouring landlord, tuch
as you are.
Is in effect to love? A lord so Ticioos^
Oh, where shall innocence find some poor
dwelling,
Free from temptation's granny?
Ces. Nay, prithee! [of lust,
Bian. Gay cioaths, high fecdiiiK» easy beds
Change of unseemly sights, with base dis-
course.
Draw curses on your palaces: for my part.
This I will be coniinn d in ; I will eat
The bread of labour, know no other rest
Than what is earn'd fit>m honest pains, ere
once more Xy^^ ^*^
Lend ear to your vile toils*'! Sir, 'would
As noble in desires, as I could be
In knowing virtue! Pray do not afflict
A poor soul thus.
Enter a Gentleman,
Ces. I swear-^to me? [Biancha steals effm
Gent. The Duke, my lord, commands yoar
speedy presence,
For answering aggrievances late ujg'd
Against you by your motlier.
Ces. By -tny mother ?
Gent, Ttoe court is near on sittios.
Ces. 1 wait on it^ sir. [EseatU,
Duke, Magistrates, Secretary, and Baptista,
discovered sitting ; Mentivole standing hy^
with Attendants.
Duke, What waste of blood, what tumulti^
what divisions,
What outrages, what uproars in a state,
Factions, tbo' issuing from mean springs at
first, [ample
Have (not restrain*d) flowed to, the sad ex-
At Aome, between the Ursinsaud Coloonas,
Nay, here at home, in Florence, 'twixt the
Neri
And the Bianchi, can too mainly witness*
to;
I sit
Act 3.]
The FiUii maid of the inK-
9$T
t ait not at the helm» toy lords, of sovereignty,
I>«piited pilot for the commonwealtti, [ci^
^To sleep while others steer, as their wild faa-
Shall counsel) by the compass of disorders.
Baptists, this short preface is directed
Chiefly tQ you: the petty brawls and quarrels
Late Qrg*d betwixt th' Alberti and your family.
Must (j^, and shall) like tender unkuit joints,
Fasten again together of themselves ;
Or, like an angry surgeon, we will use
The roughness of our justice, to cut off
The stnbbom rancour of the limbs offending !
Sapt. Most gracious Florence —
Duke. Our command was si);nified,
That neither of the followers of each party
Should appear here with weapons.
3apt. 'Tis obey*d, sir,
00 my side»
J^uke, We must leave the general cause
Of state employments, to give ear to bran Is
Of some particular grudges; politic goveru-
ment
For tutor 'd princes! But no more! henceforth
Enter Mariana and Clarista at one Poor,
Cetario at the other.
Our frown shall check presumption, not our
clemency. [princes
Jlfor. Ail blessings due unto impartial
Crown Florence with eternity of hnppmess !
CcM* If double prayers can cfouble blessings,
^reatsir, [ther*s.
Mine join for, vour prosperity with my mo->
Duke. Rise both ! Now briefly, lady^ with-
out circumstance,
Deliver those aggrievances, wliich lately
Your importunity possess'd our counsel
Were fit for audience, wherein youpetition'd
You might be heard without an advocate.
Which boon you find is granted.
Mar. Tho' divided [desty**;
1 stand between the laws of trtith and mo-
Yet let my grie& have vent! yet the clearness
Of strange necessity requires obedience
To Nature and your roen^! In my weeds
Of mournings emblems of too-dear misfor-
tunes.
Badges of griefs, and widowhood, tlie burden
Of my chaig'd soul must be laid down before
you;
Wherein, if strict ooinion cancel shame,
Jdy fiBilty is my plea. Stand forth, young
And hear a story that will strike all reason
Into amazement ! '
Ct». I attend.
iUftr. Alberto,
(Peace dwell upon his ashes! still the husband
Of my remembrance and unchanging vows)
Has^ by his death, left to his heir possessioa
Of fair revenue, which this young man claims
As hb inheritance. I ui^*d him gently,
Friendly, and privately, to grant a partagt
Of this estate to her who owns it aU,
Thb his supposed sister.
Bapi. Ilow! supposed?
Ce$. Pray, madam, recollect yourself*
Mari Tiic relish
Of a strange truth begins to work like physic
Already : I have bitterness to mingle
With these prepartitives, so deadly loathsome
It will quite chuak digestion; shortly hear it:
Cesario (for I dare not rob unjustly
The poor suul of his name), this, this Cesario,
Neither for father had Alberto, me
For mother, nor Clurissu for his sister.
Clar, Mother, oh, motlicrl
Ment. 1 am in a dream sure I
Duke. No interruptions ! Lady, on.
Mar. Mistake not.
Great duke of Tuscany, or the beginning
Or process of tliis novelty: my husband,
Tl^e now dcceas'd Alberto, from liis youth
Inur*d to an impaticncy and roughness
Of disposition, when not many months
After our marriage were worn out, repiu*d
At the unfruitful barrenness of youth.
Which, as he; pieas*d to term it, cut our
hopes off
From blessing of some issue : to prevent it,
I grew ambitious of no fairer honour
Tlian to preserve his love; and as occasions
Still caU*d him from me, studied in his alv^
sence [coiufaru
How I ini<;ht frame his welcome home with
At hist I feigned myself with-child : themes'*
sage
Of freedom, or relief, to One lialf starv'd
In prison, is not utterM with such greediness
Of expecutton and delight, as tliis was tq
My muclHaffected lord : his care, his goi^d*^
ness,
(Pardon me, that I use the word) exceeded
AH former fears. Tlie hour of my deliverance^
As I pretended, drawing near, I fashioned
My birth-rites^' at a country mrdeu hou!»«.
Where tlien my falconer's wife was brought
ft-bed
Of this Cesario : him I own*d for mine.
Presented him unto a joyful fatlier— •
Duke. Can you yj^ove this true ?
Mar. Proofs I have most evident.
But oh, tlie curse of my impatience ! shortly,
Ere three new moons had spent their bor->
rovr d lights,
Igrew withichild indeed; so just is Heav'n]
The issue of which burden was this daughter.
Judge now, most gracious prince, my Tords»
and you, [dur'd>
What combats then, and since, I huvc en*
*^ Mar. I%ough dhided, &c.] Mariana*s disownincr Cesario for her son, and the Duki$
Infonction to marry him, is related by Causin in his Holy Court, and is transcribed by VVan^
ley in bis History of Man, fol. book lii. chap. SG. Seward.
*' My ^ir^Zhnghts.] The spelling rectified by Seward.
VOIaIXt Xx Between
iM
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN',
[Act C
Bian. Y<m mny guess, 'sir;
Yet indeed 'tis b rare one.
Ce$. Prithee speak it.
My honest virtuous maid.
Bian. Sir, I have heard •
Of your misfortunes; and I cannot tell you
Whether I have more cause of joy orsadncssi
To know they are a truth.
Ce9. What truth, Bianclm?
Misfortunes ? how ? wlierein ?
Biaiu You are disclaimed
For being the lord Alberto's son, and pubfiely
Acknowledg*d of as mean a birth as mine i» i
It cannot cbuse but grieve you.
Cti* Gricvo me? Hn, ha, ha, ha !
Is this all ?
Bian. This all?
Ctt. Thou art sorry for't,
I warrant thee : alas, good soul, Biancha !
That which thou call^st misfortune, is my
fdy happiness, Biancha ! [happiness;
Bian, If you love me,
It may prove mine too.
C«. May it? I will love thee, [happy.
My good, good maid, if that can msike thee
Better and better love thee.
Bian. Without breach then
Of modesty, I come to claim the.interest
Your protestations, both bv vows and letters.
Have made me owner of: Avm the first hour
I saw you, I confess I wish'd I had been
Or not so much below your rank and great-
ness.
Or not so mnch above those bumble flames
That should have warm'd my bosom with a
temperate
Equality of desires in equal fortunes.
Still as you ntter'd language of affection,
I courted time to pass more slowly on,
That I might turn more fool to lend attention
To what I durst not credit, nor yet hope for;
Yet 8tiU as mdre I lieard, I w)sh*d vo hear
more.
C^ Didst thou in troth, weqch?
Bian. Willingly bctray'd
Myself to hopele8.'i'bonda|e.
C«. A good giri! [answer was.
I thought I should not miss, wliate*er thy
Bian* But as I am a maid, sir, (and
iTaith
You may believe me, for I am a maid)
So dearly I respected both your fame
And quality, that I would first have perish'd
In my sick thoughts, than e'er have given
consent
To>ive undone your fortunes, by inTiting
A marriage wit^ so mean a one as I am :
I should have died sure, and no creature
The sickness that bad kill'd m^. [known
Ceu Pretty heart!
Good so'ji, alas, alas!
Bian. Now since I know
There is no difference 'twixt your birth ao^
mine.
Not much 'twixt our estates (if any be.
The advantage is on my side) I come wi)p
lingly
To lender you the iirst-fruits of my heart.
And am content t' accept you for my husband^
Now when you are at lowest.
Cei, For a husband ?
Speak sadl}'''; dost thou mean so I
Biati. In good deed, sir, '
'Tis pure love makes this proffer.
Ces. 1 believe thee.
What counsel urg'd thee on? teU me; thy
father? [wench?
My worshipful smug Host? Was't not he,
Or mother Hostess? ha?
Bian, D'you mock my parentage ? [thy
I do not scorn yours : mean folks arc as wor*
To be well spoken of, if theydeserve well.
As some whose only fame lies in their Mood,
Oh, you*re a proud poor man! all your oaths
faJshood, [wicked !
Your vows deceit, your letters foi^'d and
Ces, Thoud*bt be my wife, I dare swear.
Bian. Had your heart, [pntie^
Your hand and tongue been twitis, yoa liad re^
This courtesy a benefit.
Ces. 3implicity,
How prettily thou mov'st me! Why,Bianchaf
Report has cozen'd thee; I am not ftUen
From my expected honours or possessoss,
Tho* firom the hope of birtb-right.
Bian, Are you not? ^
Then I am lost again ! I have a suit too;
You'll grant it, if you be a good man.
Ces. Any thing. K [said t ye.
Bian. Pray do not tUlk of aught wliatl have
Ces. As I Wish healtli, I wiU not!
Bian^ Pity me;
But never love me more!
Ces. Nay, now you're cruel:
Wlw all these tears ^Tho« shait not go.
Bian, Vl\ pray for you.
That you may have a virtuous wife, a fair ooe|
And when I'm dead—*
Ces. Fy,(y!
Bian, Think on me sometimes^i
With mercy for this trespass \
Ces, Let us kiss
At parting, as at coming!
Bian. This I have
As a fVee dower to a virgin's grave^
All goodness dwell with you ! [£rif«
Ces. Harmless Riancha ! [p^J ^^*
Unskiird ! what handsome toys are maids lit
^nter Mariana and Ciarifsa.
How iimooeat I-p-^t I have other thoo^rti
Of nobler me((iution.— My felicttyy
^' Spaak sadly.] i. e. Seriously, So in Mnch Ado about Nothing, act ii. scene S, ' This eta
' be no trick : tlie conference was sadly borne.' Again, in Promos and Casaandra, 1571^
i|uoted by Mr Steevcns^ < The king feigneth to talk sadl^ witli some of his counsel/ JL
ULct 4.
4
THE FAIR IffAID OF THE INN.'
Mt
Tlwii com'st ns I could wish : lend me a itp
Ab softy as meUio& as wIm^ old Alberto,
After his first night's trial, taking fiirewell
Of thy youth's conquest, tasted f
Mar. You*pe uncivil!
fjes. I wilt \)e lord of my own pleasures,
. madam ; [pering, henceforth !
You're mine, mine freely : come, no whin*-
New con the lesttons of love*s best e!(penence.
That our delights may meet in equal measure
Of resolutions and desires ! this suilenness
Is scurvy ; I like it not.
Mar, Be modest ;
And do not learn, Cesario, hoiv to prostitute
The riot of thy hopes to common tolly.
Take a sad woman's word! howc'er thou
dot'st
Upon the present graces of tliy {ip-eatoess,
Yet I'm not fallen so below my constancy
To virtuey nor the care wliich I once tendered
For thy behoof, that I prefer a sentence
Qf cruelty before my honour.
C«. Honour? Fthe comfort
Mar, Hear me: thou seest this girl, now
Of my last days ! she is the only pledge
Of a bed truly noble : she had a lather
9 Deed not spieak liim more than thou remem-
herst)
Whom to dislionour by a meaner clioice
Were injury and infamy.
Clt/r, To goodness,
To time, and virtuous mention.
Mar, I have vow*d,
(Observe me now, Cesario !) that howe'er
I may be forc'd to marry, yet no tyranny,
Pefsuasiont, flattery, gifts, entreats, or tor-
Shall draw me to a second bed. [tures,
• CAir. Tis just too.
Afar. Yes, and 'tis just, Clarissa. I allow
The dnkeVlate sentence, aih resolv'd, young
mao,
To be thy wife ; but when the ceremony
Of marriase is perform'd, in life I will be,
Tho' not m name, a widow.
Ccs. Pray a word t'you!
Shdl I in earnest never he your bedfellow ?
Mar, Never, oh, never ! and 'tis for your
Cei, Prove that. [good too.
Mar. Alasy too many years are number'd
In my account, to entertain the benefit
Which youth in tliee, Cesario, and ability
Might liope for and require : it were injustice
To rob a gentleman deserving memory,
Of issue to preserve it.
Ces, No more I Herein
Yqu are an excellent pattern of true piety.
let me now turn your advocate. Pray look
into
The order of the duke enjoin'd; admit
I satisfy the sentence^ without marriage
With you! bow then?
Mar. Cesario!
Ces. If I know
pow to acquit yoHr fcars; yetlteep th' injonc^
In every clause ^hole and entire, your oha^
rity
Will call me still your servant?
Mar. Still my son. [your son:
Ces. Right, madam, now you have it, still
The genius of your blessings hath instructed
Your tongue oraculously : we*ll foi^et
How once I and Clarissa interchang'd
The ties of brother and of sister; henceforth
New stile us man and wife.
Ctar, By what authority ?
Ces. Heav'n's great appointment Yet la
all my dotage
On thy perfections, when I thought, Clarissa,
We had been pledges of one womb, no loose.
No wanton heat oF youth desir'd to claim
Priority in thy affections, other [tender'd
Than Nature might commend ; chastely I
Thy welfare as a brother ought : but siuce
Our bloods are strangers, let our hearts con«
tract
A long life -lasting unity ! for this way
The sentence is to be observ'd, or no way.
Mar. Then no way !
Ces. I expected other answer.
Madam, from you.
Mar. No; every age shall curse me,
Tlie monster and* che prodigy of nature!
Horrors beyond extremity---'
Clar. Pray, mother.
Confine the violence of grief!
Ces. Yes, mother,
Pray do ! rnour
Mar. Thus some catch at a matron s ho*
By flying lust, to plot incestuous witchcrafts^
More terrible than whoredoms : cruel mercy ! *
When to preserve the body from a death
The soul IS strangled !
Ces. This is mote than pa&sion;
It comes near to distraction.
Afar. I am quieted.
Cesario, thou mayst tell the duke securely^ ^
Alberto's titles, honours, and revenues.
The duke may give away ; enjoy them thou!
Clarissa's birth-right, M!ariana's dower,
Thou shait be loi3 of; turn us to the worlil
Unpitied and unfriended ; yet my bed
Thou never sleep'st in. As for her, (she
hears me) •
If she as much as in a thought consent,
I'hat thou mayst call her wife, a mochei's
Shall never leave her. [curse
Clar. As a brother once
I lov'd you, as a noble friend yet honour you;
But for a husband, sir, I dare not own you;
My faith is giv'n already*
Ces. To a villain ;
ni cut his throat.
Mar. ^ Why this is more than passion ;
* It comes near a distraction.^
C/ar. Call to mind, sir,
How much you have abated of that goodness
Which once rcigii*d in you, which appear'd
so lovely.
That such as friendship led to observation,
Ent€r
♦«
1HS FAOt MAfi? 0P[ 1SE IHN«
|Act^
, Courted the gteat examule !
Ces, LefCy and fiatter'd
Into a broad derision f
Mar. Why d'je tliink so ?
My lord Bapcista^ is your sou |rowo cold
Ta hastiiig on the marna&e, which his vows
Have 8ea?d to my wron^d daughter?
Bapt. We come, lady.
To coosommate the contract.
Ces. With Mentivole?
Is he the man f
Meni. Clarifisa^s troth and mine,
Cesario, are recorded in a cliaracter
So plain and certain, that except the hand
Of Ueav*b, which writ it firsts would blot it
out agpin,
Ko human power can raze it.
Ces, But say yoa
So too, young lady?
Clar. I should else betray [jury.
My heart to falshood, and my tongue to pcr-
Ces. Madam^ vou know the sentence.
BapL From the duke
I have particular comforts, which require
A private ear.
Mar. I shall approve it gladly.
"We are resolv'd, Cesario.
Bopf. Be not insolent
Upon a prince's fiivour !
Clar. Lose no glory, .
Yoor younger years mive purchasM!
Meat. And deberv'd too ;
You've many worthy friends.
BapL Preserve and use them !
[Exeunt. Manet Ces.
Ces, Good, very good! why here's a com-
pliment
Ot mhrth in des[>eretion ! 1 could curse
My ^te: oh, with what speed men tumble
down
From hopes that soar too high ! Biancfaa now
May scorn me justly too; Oarissa married,
Alberto's widow resolute, Biancha
Kefus'd, and 1 forsaken. Let me study !
I can but die a batcbelor, that's^he worst
on't. [ExU.
Enter Host, Taylor^ Muletteer, Dancer, Pe-
dant, Coxcomb.
Host. Come, gentlemen;
This is the day that our great artist hath
Promis'd to give all your several suits satis-
Dancer. Is he stirring? [faction.
Host. He kath been athifr book
These two hours.
Pedant, lie's a rare physician,
kott. Why, ril tell you; were Paracelstw
the German now
Living, he would take up lus sin^c rapier
Against his terrible long sword : ne makes it
A matter o' nothing to cure the gout; sorp
eyes
He takes out as familiarly, washes them.
,And puts them in again, as you*d bUincti ^fi*
monds.
Taylor. They say he can make gold.
Host. Ay, ay, he learnt it
OfKell^ in Germany '^ There's not a cbcmial
In Christendom can go beyond him
For multiplying.
Pedant. Take heed then he gtet not
Up your daughter's beliy»my host!
Host, You ^e
A merry gentleman, and the man of art
Will love you the better.
Dancer, Does he love mirth and crotchets?
Host. Oh, lie's the most courteous phy-
sician ! you [better
May drink or drab in's company freely ; the
He knows how your disease grows, tLe better
Knows how to cure itv [he
Dancer. But I wonder, my liost.
He has no more resort of ladies to him.
Host. Why, sir?
Dancer. 0\\, divers of 'em have great belief
In conjurers : lechery is a great help
To til* quality.
Host. UA scarce known to bo
In town yet ! ere long we shall hove *cn cone
Hurrying hither in fratlier-beds.
Dancer. How ! bedridden ^ [>FNI
Host. No, sir; in featber4>edi that flsove
Four wheek, in Spanieh carocbct.
Pedant. Pray acquaint him
We give attendfuice.
Jmt. I shall, gentlemen. —
I'd fain be rid o' these rascals, but that they
Raise profit to my wine-cellar. When I havit
Made use of them sufficiently, I'll entreat
The conjurer to tie crackers to their tailS}
And send them packing.
Enter Forobosco as in his study^
' For. Come hither, mine host!
Look here.
Host. What's that?
For. A challenge from my man.
Host. For breaking's pate?
^*^ Kelly.] Edward Kelfy,othervfwe Talbot, an intimate friend of the famous Dr. Jolui
Dee, and concerned with him in his chemical processes and experiments. It is said tbey
were in possession of the elixir, and actually made projection upon several metals, and coo*
verted them into gold. His History may be met with in Wood's Athenss Oxon. vol. i.
II. 979, and in Weaver's Funeral Monuments, p. 45, where are some incrediblfe stories aboot
ium« He is mentioned by Ben Jonson, in rhe Alchonist, act iv. sc 1.
A man the emp'ror
' Has courted above Kelfy; sent his medal*
< And cliaiuB t' invite him«' R.
Foft
Act 41
THE FAIR MLMD 0^ TflE INSt
iM»
Pdr. He -wnta Hh%, if 1 tneet bitt not ^
i'th'fi«ld
Within this Mf-lKmr^ I fiimfl hear more from
him. '
Host, Oh, sir, mind your |>fofit ; [men.
If e*er think of the rascal : here ftfe thegentle-
For. 'Morrow, my worthy clientsl
What, ere you rU prepared of yoar questions,
lliat I may give my resolution upon them?
• Omnes. We are, sir.
Pedant. And have brought our money.
For, Each then
In order! and differ not for precedency.
Dmicer. Vta buying of an office, sir, and
to that purpose
r would fain learn to dissemble cunningly.
For, Do you come to me for that ? yon
should ratlier have gone
To a cunning woman.
Dtmeer. Ay, sir, but their instructions
Are but like women ; pretty well, bnt not
To th* depth, as I wonld have it: you're a
conjurer.
The devil's master, and I woidd leara it from
You so exactly —
For. That the devil himself
Migiit not go beyond yon ?
Dancer. You are i'th' right, sir.
JVr. And so your money for your pur-
chase might
Come in again within a twelvemonth ?
Dancer. I
Would be a graduate, sir, no fresh-man.
For. Here's my hand, sir:
rU make you dissemble so methodically,
As if the devil should be sent from the
Great Turk, i'th* shape of an ambassador,
To set all the Christian princes at variance.
Dancer. I can't with any modesty desire
There's your money, sir! [any more.
For. For the art of dissembling.
Core. My suit, sir, will be news to you
For. Fray, on! [when I tell it.
Coxe. I would set up a press here in Italy,
To write all the cornnto's for Christendom.
For. Thaf 8 news indeed ;
And how would you employ me in it?
Core. Marry, sir, from you I would gain
my intelligence.
For. I conceive you : you would have me
Furnish you ^ith a spirit to inform you.
Coxc. *But as Gjuiet a devil as the woman
The first day ana a half after she*s married ;
I can by no means endure a terrible one.
'* Meretiriui GaUo Belg^an^ This was one of the first newspapers which appeared irt
England. It is frequently mentioned by contemporary writers ; among others, by Thomas
May, in act i. sc. 1, of his comedy of the Heir, 1633:
« Tis believ'd,
' And told for news, with as much confidence
* As if 'twere writ in GaUo Belgicus* R.
'* Amsterdam.1 At the time our authors wrote, Amsterdam appears to have been the
^ace of refuge for sectaries of all denominations. See Ben Jonson*s Alchemist. R.
'' Thote nether parts o£ the Low-CouniricH.] Former edidons* The poets meant to call
ihe Lno-Countries ttie nether paru of the world. Seamii. ^
- . *^ 9f
For. No, no, in qnali^ "him ; lie slia'a^
fright you: [a«pm
It shall be the ^host ofsoBse lying stntionei^
Shall look as if butter would not sieH iA
mouth ;
A new Mercuriia GMhBe^^etts'*' f
Coxc, Oh, there was a captain wasialeiMtit,
For. Ne'er think of him.
Tho* that captain writ a full hand-gsilop, -aai
Wasted indeed more harmless paper than
Ever did latative physic, yet will f {wJuft
Make you t* out-scribble him ; and set dowtt
You please, the world shall better bdieve you.
Coxc. Worthy sir, I thank you; then; Is
money! [conmto*s.
For. A new ofEoe for writing pragmstticnS
Fedant, I am a schoolmaster, sir^ and
would fain
Confer with you aboat efecting foor
New sects of reKgion at Amsterdam^.
F&r. What the de? il should new sects e£
Do tliere ? f rel^toft
Fedant. I assnre you I'd get a great deal
Of money bv it.
For, Ana what are the^ four
New sects o' religion you wouM plant there?
Pedant. Why, that's it I come about, sirj
'tis fi devil
Of your raising must invent 'em; I confins
I am too weak to compass it.
For. So, sir!
Then you make it a matter of no. dzEBcndty
To have them tolerated ? '
Pedant, Trouble not
Yourself for that; let but your devil set tlien^
Afoot once, I have weavers, and ging;erbread-
makers.
And mighty aquavitse-men, shall set them
A-going.
For. This is somewhat difficult ;
And will ask some conference with the deviL
Pedant. Take [siness too.
Your own leisure, sir. I have another bu*
Because I mean to leave Italy, and bury
myself in
Those nether parts the Low-Countries".
For. What's that, sir? [to th'weeki
Pedant, Marry, I would fain make nine day |
For the more ample benefit of the captain*.
For. You have a shrewd pate, sir!
Pedant. But how this might
Be compass'd —
For. Compass'd easily; it is but making
A new almanack, and dividing the compass
•44
niE FA* MAtt) OF tax. dA^.
tA«t«.
Of the year into Iat]scr penny-worths,
As a chandler witli bis compass makes
A geometric proportion of die Holland cheese
He retails by stivers. But fur getting of it
licens*d ?
Pedant, Trouble not yourself with that, sir;
there's your money.
For, for four new sects of religions.
And nine days to the week.
Pedant. To be brought in
At ceneral pay-davs, write, I beseech you.
For, At general pay-days.
Taifhr. I am by orofession
jA taylor; you have neard of me.
For. Yes, sir,
And will not steal from you -the least part of
That commendation Tve hcAard utter'd.
Taylor. I
T^e measure of your worth, sr ; and because
I will not afflict you with any large bill
Of circumstances, 111 snip off particulars :
I'd fhin invent some strange and exquisite
New fashions.
For. Are you not travell'd, sir ?
Taylor. Yes, sir.
But have observed all we can see, or invent,
Are but old ones with new names to 'em; now
I would some way or other grow more curious.
For. Let me see ; to devise new fasliions !
— Were you
)^e'er in the moon ?
Taylor. In tlie Moon-tavern ? Yes, sir,
O^n.
For. No, I do mean in the new world,
Jn th' world that's in the moon yonder.
Taylor. lloM^l
A new world i* th' moon }
For. Yes, I assure you.
Taylor. And peopled f
For. Oh, roost fantastically peopled*
Taylor. Nay, certain then there's work for
For. That [taylcrs?
Tliere is, I assure you.
Taylor. Yet I have talked
With a Scotch taylor that never discovered
So much to in^, tlio' he has travelled far,
Anid was a pedlar in Poland.
For. That
Was out of his way; this lies beyond Cliina.
You'd study new fashions, you say ? Take
My counsel, make a^ofafe,
Discover that new world.
miA
Taylor, Shall I be a moon-man f [woiiil,
For, Vm of opinion, the people of that
If they be like the nature of that dimafis
They live in, do vary the fashion of their
clbaths
Oft*her than any quick«silver'd nation
In Europe. [that be
Tay/or, Not unlikely; but what shootd
We call the man i-th' moon then?
For. Why, it is
Nothing but an Englislunan that stands theife
Stark-naked, with a pair of sheers in ona
hand,
And ft great bundle of broad«doth in t'otlie^
(Which resembles the bush of thorns) cuttinf;
New fashions^^. [out of
Taylor. I have heard somewhat like
This: but how shall I get thither?
For. I will
Make a new compass shalt direct yon.
Taylor. Certain?
For. Count me else for no man of dirrctioft.
Taylor. There's twenty ducats in hand;
I'll give you a hundred. [at my retuni
For. A new Voyage to discover
New foshions.
Mulct, I've been a traveller too, sir ;
That have shew'd strange beasts in Chruter**
dom.
And got money by them ; but I find the trade
to decay:
Your camclion, or East-Indian liedseho^
Gets very little money; and your ekphant
Devours so much bread, bnngs in so little
profit.
His keeper were better everjr morning
Cram fifteen taylors with white manchet:
I would have some new spectacle, and one
That might be more attractive.
For. Let me see !
Were you ever in Spain ?
Mulet. Not yet, sir.
For. I would have you [val.
Go to Madrid; and against some great lesti-
Whcit the court lietli tlierc, provide a grea^
And spacious English ox, and roast him wbole,
Wi'a pudding in^b belly; that would be the
eighth
^^ An Ertglahman that itandeth there stark^naked, with, &c.] Andrew Borde, a physictuiy
ia tlie reign of Henry VIII. published a book intitled, ' The lutroduccion of Knowledge, the
^.whiche dotli teache a Man to Speake Part of all Maner of Languages, and to know the
' Usnge and Fashion of all Mnner of Countries. Dedycated to the Right Honourable and
* Omdow Lady Mary, Daughter of King Henry tlie Eyght.' B.L. printed by W. CopiaBde.
No date, ficfore the first chap er, in which he has characterized an Englishman, is a wooden
print of a naked man, witli a piece of cloth hanging on Lis right arm, and a pair of sheers m
Jiis left hand t under the print is an inscription in verse, of which the following are the first
four lines:
' I am an Englishman, and nnked I stand here,
* Mubyiug in my mynde what ravment I shall were;
' For now I were tliys, and now I will were that,
* And now I will were I caiutot tell what, fitc/
This !• tvidently the print alluded to by our autiior. R,
Wonder
Act 4.]
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN.
346
Wonder of the world in those parts, I assure
yott.
Mulct, A rare project without question!
For, Go beyond ail their garlick olla pod"
Tho' yoil sod one in Garguantua*s cauldron'^ !
Bring in more money than all the monsters
ofAfrick; [o* my acquaintance,
Ho$t» Good sir, do your best for bim; he's
And one, if you knew him—
For, What is he?
Host, He was once
A maa of infinite lettersi.
For, A scholar?
HoU. No, sir,
A pftokec-earrier, which is always a man
Of many letters, you know; then he was
A mute-driver ; now he's a gentlcmim,
And feeds monsters.
Far, A most ungrateful calling I
AltUet, There's money for yonr direction !
The price of cite oi, sir? [must be
For, A hundred French crowns, for it
A lincolnshire ox, and a prime one. For
A rare and monstrous spectacle, to be seen
At Madrid.
Enter CloKHy Hostess, and Biancha,
Hogtem, Pray forbear, sir! We shall have
a new quarrel.
Cham, You durst not
Meet me in the field ! I am therefore come
To spoil your market.
For, VVhat's the news with you, sir?
Clown, Gentlemen, yon that come hither
to be
Most abominably cheated, listen, and be as
wise - [money,
As your planet will suffer you: keep your
Be not guU'd, be not laugh'd at !
Pedant, What means this ?
'Would 'I had my money again in my pocket !
Hast, The fellow's full of malice; do not
mind iiim.
Clown, This pro&ss'd cheating rc^ue was
my master, and I confess myself
A more pretemotorious rogue than himself^
In so long keeping his villainous counsel.
For, Come, come, I'll not hear you.
Clown. No, coz'ner, thou'st not hear me ;
I do but
Dare thee to sufiFermeto speak,and then thou
And all thy devils spit five, and spout aqua-
fortis!
. For, Speak on ; I freely permit thee.
Clow'T. Why then,
'^ In Garguantua^s cauldron.'] See Rabelais.
36 <iffe/^ out
'Twos buttered beer,] Mr. Sympsort seems to have mistaken the drollery of this passage.
He says, that the reason given requires us to read — smelt not out. But the true intent of
the passage seems plainly this. The Dutch would never have endur'd a medicine called
CathoUckf for the antipathy they bore to the most CathoWtk Kiftg, as well as the religion
falsely so call'd, had" not they by some instinct smelt our the butter d beer which tliey are so
food of, Seward.
VOL. III. Y y Cloicn.
Know, all you simple animals, you whose
purses .
Are ready to cast the calf, if they have not
Cast it already, if you give any credit
To this juggling rascal, you are worse
Tlian simple widgeons, and will be drawn into
The net by this decoy-duck, this tarae cheater.
For. Ha, ha, ha ! Pray mark him ! [ing;
Clown. He does pruicss physic and conjur-
For his physic, he has but two medicines
For all manner of diseases : when he was
In the Low-Countries, he us'd nothing
But butter'd beer, coluur'd with allegant,
For all kind of maladies, and that he call'd
His Catholic med'cine: sure the Dutch smelt
out [have
'Twas buttered beer^^, else they would never
Endur'd it for the name's sake ! Then does
he minister [times
A grated dog's turd 'stead of rhubarb, many
Of unicorn's horn, jprhich working strongly
with [them bescummer
The conceit" of the patiient, would make
To th' height of a mighty purgation.
jptir. The rogue has studied thisinvective.
Clown. Now
For his conjuring, the witches of Lapland ate
The devil's chairwomen to him, for they
Will sell a man a wind to some purpose; be
Sells wind, and tells you forty lies aver
And over. [him.
Hostess. I thought what we should find of
Host. Hold your prating ; be not you an
heretick I ^ [names he calls upon are
Plown. Conjurer 111 tell you; all th' devils*
But fustian names, gatherd out of Welsh
heraldry ;
In brief, he is a rogue of six reprieves,
Four pardons o' course, thrice pilloried, twice
sung Lacrynue
To th' virginals of a cart's tail, h' has five times
Been in the gailies, and will never truly
Run himself out of breath, 'till lie comes to
th' gallows. [wliat this
For, You have heard, worthy gentlemen.
Lying, dernicting rascal has vomited.
TayUir. Yes, certain; but we've a better
trust in you;
For you have ta'eu our money.
For, I have so. [chastisement
Truth is, he was my servant, and for some
I gave him, he does practise thus upon me.
Speak truly, sirrah^ are you certain I can't
conjure?
Clown. Conjure ? Ha, ha, ha !
For, Nay, nay, but 1^ very sure of it.
346
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN.
tAct4.
Chnm, U8,ha,ha!
For, And as naked as a frog.
Ciowu. Ha, ha, ha ! I defy ihee !
[Foroboico looks in a bookf strikes milk
his wand, mimck pluys.
Enter four Boys, shaped like Frogs, and
dance.
Pedant. Spirits of the water in the hkeoes
of frogs !
Taylor. He has fish'd fair, believe me.
Mulet. See, see! he sweats and tremUes.
For. Are you come to your quavers ?
Clown. Oh, ho, ho !
For. m make you run division on those Cii,
Ere I leave you'*^ ! Look you, here are the
play-feliuws [unca&e,
Tliat are so endear'd to you: come, sir; fint
And then dance; nay, ill make iiim daoot
stark naked. [iiis niogiil*s
Host. Oh, let liim have his shirt on, and
Breeches; here are women i' th* hoose.
For. Well, for their sakes he shall.
[Clown tears off his doublet, making
strange/aces as if compelled to itjfoUi
into the dance.
Taylor. He dances! what a lying rope
was this, ^
To say die gentleman could not conjure!
For. He does
Prettily well ; but it is voluntary, I assure yotij
IVe no liand iu't.
Clown. As yuu are a conjurer,
A nd a rare artist, free me from these couplets!
Of all creatures I cannot endure a frog.
For, But your dancing's voluntary; I cui
To uothing. [compel yoa
Hostets. Oh, me, daughter, let's take need of
This fellow ! he*ll make us dance naked, an
we vex him. [Exeunt Hostess and Bian.
For. Now cut capers, sirrah; I'll phigue
that cnine of yours.
Clown. Ho, ho, ho ! my kidnies are roasted !
I drop uvi uy like li pound of butter roasted !
Tayloi\ lle'U dance himself tu death.
For. No matter ;
ril sell his fat to the apothecaries.
And repair my injury that way.
Host. Enough in conscience !
37 -To Ainbovna? so I might be pepper^d.^ Allu<fing to the massacre of the English in the
settlement ofJ/abayna in the East Indies, m tlie year 16S9, by the Dutch. See * A True
* Ilelation of the unjust, croel, and barbarous Proceedings against the English at Amboyna
' in tlie Eastrliidies, by the Netlierlandisli Governor there ;* 4to. Mr. Drydcn has writtea
a play upon tliis event. R.
s» '^- cannot ' '
Endure a cat, sirrah f] One would tl.ink from the sequel, that cat liere should have
been frog : I have known several changes as gresit as this. Seward*
39 ru make you run division on that or eVr I leave you.] The neglect of measure here fans
made the editors drop a monosyllable equally necesjiary to the sense. What is— rten diwiim
on that or e'er— It is an siAswer to tlie Clowns roar. Oh, ho, ho, one of which should be in-
serted, which just completes the verse.
I'll mnke voUvlhin division on that oh, ^
Or e'er 1 leave you.- ■ Seward.
First folio exhibits, that p's ere I leave you; we have therefore altered that to those,
l9r.
Clown. Sure of it? why, 111 make a bar-
gain with thee,
Before all^ these gentlemen, use all thy art
All thy roguery, and make me do any thing
Before all this company IVe not a mind to,
I'll first give tliee leave to claim me fur thy
bond*slave,
And when thou hast done, hang me !
For. Tis a match;
Sirrah, Til make yon caper i' th' air presently.
Clown. I have too solid a body; and my
belief [fed
ts like a Puritan's on Good-Friday, toohigb-
With capon.
. For. t will first send thee to Greenland
For a haunchof venison, just of the thickness
Of thine own tallow. [thee !
Clown. Ha, ha, ha ! I'll not stir an inch for
For. Tlience to Amboyna i' th' Ea$t>-Indies,
To bake it. [for pepper
Clown. To Amboyna? so I might
Be peppered '^.
For. Tlien will I convey thee stark
Naked to Dev'ling, to beg a pair of htop,
To lude thy mountainous buttocks.
Cloun. And no doublet
To 'em?
For. No, sir ; I intend td send yon of
A sleeveless errand : but before you vanish.
In regard you say I cannot conjure, and are
So stupid and opinionated a slave,
That neither I nor my art can compel you to
Do any tiling that is heyond your own plea-
sure, [cannot
The gentlemen shall have some sport : you
Endure a cat, hirrah'* !
Clown. Wlmt's that to thee,
Jueder?
For. Nor you'll do nothing at my entreaty?
Clown. I'll be liaug'd first.
. For. Sit, gentlemen;
And whatsoever you see, be not frighted.
Hostess. Alas, I can endure no conjuring.
Host. Stir not, wife ! /
Bian. Pray let me go, sir ;
I'm not fit lor these fooleries.
Host. Move not, daughteri
For, I will make you dance a new dance
caird leap-frog.
ilct 4.J
tllE FAIR MAID OF THE INN.
347
For. Well, at your entreatr— Vnoish !
And now I'll only [Kreunt Boy$.
Make bim break his neck in doing a soiner-
saolt, y riitiQ.
And that's all the rerengie I mean to take of
.Ciovn. Ohy gentlemen, [master
Wliat a ragttc was I to l»elie so an appruv'd
Itf th* noble dark science ! You cun witness,
This I did only to spoil his pnictice, and
Deprire vou of the happiness of enjoying;
His H'ortliy laboars : rogue that I was to do it !
Pravy sir, ibrgive me !
Far. With what fiice cnnbt thou
Ask it?
Ckmn. With such a face as I deserve,
With a hanging look, as all here can te&tify.
For. Well, gentlemen, tliat you may per-
ceive
The i^uodncss of my temper, I will entertmo
This rogue again, in Iwpe of amendment;
For should I turn him off, he wouUf be IranirM.
Clomn. You may read that in tliis foul copy.
^ For, Only with this promise ;
Yon almll ne*er cozen any of my patients.
Ciown. Never.
Poc And remember henceforward.
That tho] I cannot conjure, I can make you
Dance, sirrah. Go, get yourself into
The cottage again.
Enter Caario,
Clomn. I will ne'er more dance leap- frog.
^Now
I have got you into credit, hold it up,
And cozen them in abundance.
For. Oh, rare rascal! [Kxit dotcn,
Ce$. How now ? a Trankford mart here** ?
a mountebank
And his worshipful auditory ?
Host. They are my guests, sir.
Ccf . A ^ pox upon tlieiuT slicw your jug-
gling cricks in
Some o|her rQom.
Rdst: And why not hero, sir ?
Cc#. Hence,
Or, sirrah; I shall spoil your i]gure*flinging.
And aH their radical questions I
Omna. Sir, we vanish. [£>ean^
Manent HoU and Ce$ano.
Bmt. Signor Cesario, you make bold with
me.
And somewhat I must tell you to aclegree of
IllHnanners: thcy*re my guests, and men I
live by.
And I would know by what^autljonty you
Command thus far ?
Ce». By my interest in
Your daughter.
A Frank ford martJ] At Frunkford, in Germany, two famous martt or fairs were lield
every year, which used to be resorted to by trading people and others, from every part of
Ho$t, Interest, db yoiicaU\? Ai Iremem-
I never put her out to usury [^^^
On that condition.
Ces. Pray tliee be not angry;
Enter Biancha and Hmte$s.
Fm come to make thee happy, and her happy.
She's here : alas, my pretty soul ! Tm come
To give assurance that's beyond thy hope.
Or thy belief; I bring repentance 'bout me^
And satisfaction ; I will marry th^.
Bian. Ha! [tun't
Ces. As I live, I will ; but do not enter-
With too quick an apprehension of joy,
For that may hurt thee; I have heard some
die oft.
Bian. Don*t fear me.
Ces. Hien thou think'st I feign
This protestation? I will instantly
Before these testify my new alhance*
Contract myself unto thee; tlien I hope
We may be more privat^.
Hott. But thou shalt not, sir;
For so lias many a maidenhead been lost.
And man V a bastard gotten.
Cet. Then to give you
The best of any assunMice in the world.
Entreat thy father to go fetch a priest.
We will instantly to bed, and there be mar-
ried.
Bian. Pride hath not yet forsaken you, I see,
Tho' prosperity has.
Most. 8ir, you're too confident
To fashion to yourself a dream of purchase,
When you're a beggar.
Ces. You are- bold wit|i me I [down
Hottas. Do we not know your value is cried
Fourscore i'th* hundred ?
Bian. Oh, sir, [ did love you
With such a fix'd heart, that in that minute
Wheruin you slighted, or contemaM mc ra-
ttier,
I took a vow to obey your last decree,
And never more look up at any hope
Slmuld bring me comfort that way ; and tho'
since
Your foster-motlier, and the fair Clarissa,
Have in the way of marrijige despis'd you,
That hath not any way bred my revenge,
But compassion rather. I have lound so much
Sorrow In the way to a chaste wedlock.
That here I will sit down and never wish
To come to th' journey's end: your suit to
Henceforth be ever silencM ! [me
Cet. My Biancha!
Ho9tett. Henceforward pray forbear her
^qd lOy house !
She's a poor virtuous wench; yet her estate
May weigh with yours u a gout balance.
Eoropie
tinned fourteen da;,_ ^^ ^ .,«.„v.^ *«w.-^ ^^.«.. ,— v..ww — «.
««l fiiirj in 160B, and he has very particularly described it in his Criidities, p. 56h
Yy«
one was k^t in the montli of Marcli, the otfcler in September, and they wch con«
^ymr It happened that the fiunou9 Thomsis Coriat was there at the autum*
IfosU
848
THE FAIE MAID OF TIIB INN.
[Act 5.
Hott. Yes, and her birth in any herald's
In Christendom, [ofiice
Hostess, It may prove so;, when youll say.
You've leap'd a whiting. [Exeunt,
Manet Cesario. Enter Buptista and Men-
tivolt.
Ces Hdw far am I
Grown behind-hand with fortune!
Bapt, Here's Cesario.
My son, sir, is to-roorrow to be married
Unto the fair Clarissa.
Ce$, So!
Ment. We hope
You*U be a guest there.
Ces. No; I will not grace
Your triumph so much.
Bapt. ril not tax your breeding,
But it alters not your birtli, sir; fare yoi| well !
Ment. Oh, sir, do not gheve him ;
He Ims too much affliction already.
[Exeunt.
Enter a Sailor,
C«f.^ Every way 8com*d and lost! Shamp
follow you !
For I am grown most miserable.
Sailor, Sir, do you know
A lady's son in town here they call Cesario ?
Ce«. There's none such, I assure thee.
Sailor. I was told
You were the man.
Ces. What's that to tliee?
Sailor. A pox on't !
You're melancholy ; will you drink, sir ?
Ces. With whom?
Sailor. With me, sir; despise not this
pitch'd canvas ! [Spanish
The time was, we have know them bn'd with
Ducats. I've news for yon.
Ces. For me?
Sailor. Not unless
You'll drink: we are like our sea provision,
Once out of pickle, we require abundance
Of drink. I've news to tell you, that vwre
you prince,
Would make you send your mandate
To have a thousand bonfires made i* th'city,
And piss'd out again with notliing but Greek
wine.
Ces. Come, I will drink with thee howsoever.
Sfulor. And upon these terms I will utter
my mind to you^
[Exeunt,
ACT V,
Enter Albertus, Prospero, Julianfi^ and
Sailors,
Sailor. C HALL we bring your necessaries
^ ashore, ray lord ?
Alb. Do what you please; Tin land-sick
worse by far
Than e'er I was at sea.
Pros. Collect yourself. [friend,
Alb. Oh, rtiy most worthy Prosp^ro, my best
The noble fiivour I received from thee.
In freeing me from the Turks, I now account
Worse than my death ; for I shall never live
To make requital. — What do you attend for?
Sailor. To understand your pleasure.
Alb. They do mock mc ! —
I do protest I have no kind of pleasure
In any thing i'th' world, but in thy friendship;
I must ever except that.
Prof. Pray leave him, leave him !
r£.reun/ Sailors.
Alb. The news I heard related since my
landing,
P( tlie divi»on of my family,
. Ilow is it possible for any man
To bear't with a set patience ?
Pros. You have suffer'd, [rows.
Since your imprisonment, more weichty soi^
Alb. Ay, then I was a man of flesh and
blood;
Now I'm made up of fire, to the full height
Of a deadly calenture ! oh, these vile women,
That are so ill preservers of men's honours,
They caunot govern their own honesties !
That I should thirty and odd winters feed
My expectation of a noble heir,
And by a woman's falshood find him now
A fiction, a mere dream of what he was!
And yet I love him still.
Pros. In my opinion
The sentence on this trial, firom the duke
Was noble, to repair Cesario's loss
With th' marriage of your wife, bad you been
dead.
Alb. By your favour, but it was not! I con-
ceive 'twas
Disparagement to my name, to have my
widow [liev'^
Match with a falconer's son : and yet, be-
I love the youth still, and much pity him.
I do remember, at my going to sea,
Upon a quarrel, and a hurt receiv'd
From young Mentivole, my rage so far
O'er-topt my nobler temper, I gave cfaai;ge
To have his hand cut off; which since I heidi
And to my comfort, brave Cesario
Worthily pre^'ented.
Prof.' And 'twas nold| done.
Alb. Yet the revengeror this intent of mine
Hath bred much slaughter in our iamiliei;
And
Act 5.]
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN.
349
And yet my wife (which infinitely moans
me*')
Intends to marry my sole heir, Clarissa,
To the bead branch of the other faction.
Proi. It is tlie mean to work reconcilement.
Alb. "Tween whom?
Proi. Yourself and the worthy Baptista.
Alb, Never. [markabic friendship;
Pros. Oh, you have been of a noble and re-
And by this match 'tis generally in Florence
Hop'd, will fully be reconcil'd; to me
1*would be absolute content.
Jul. And to myself;
I have main interest in it.
Alb. Noble sir,
You may command my heart to break for you,
But never to bend tliat way. Poor Cesario,
When thou put*st on tliy mournful willow
garland,
Thy enemy shall be suited, I do vow,
in die same livery ! My Cesario,
Ix>v*d 38 niy foster-child, tho* not my son,
Which in some countries formerly not bar-
barous**, [art lost,
Was tlie name held most affectionate ; thou
Unfortunate young roan ! not only slighted
Where thou receiv'dst thy breeding, but
since scom'd
IW way of marriage, by the poor Biancha,
The innkeeper's daughter.
Pros. I have heard of that too;
Bat let not that afflict you ! for this lady
May happily deliver at more leisure
A circumstance may draw a fair event,
Better than you can hope for. For this pre-
sent,
We must leave you, and sliall visit you again
Within these two hours.
Enter Cesario.
Alb. Ever to me most welcome ! —
Oh, my Cesario !
Ces» I am none of yours, sir.
So 'tis protested ; and I humbly beg,
Since 'tis not in your power to preserve me
Any longer in a noble course of life.
Give me a worthy death!
Alb. The youth is mad.
Ces. Nay, sir, I will instruct you in a way
To kill me honourably.
Alb. That were most strange. [pl^y'^J
Ces. Tin turning pirate; you may be em-
By til' duke to fetch me in, and in a sea-fight
Give me a noble grave. _
Alb. Questionless he*8 mad !
I woold j^ve any doctor a thousand crowns
To free him from this sorrow.
Ces. Here's die physician. [SJ4e9:s a poniard.
Alb. Hold, sir; I did say
To free you from the sorrow, not from life.
Ces. Why, life and sorrow are unseparable.
Alb, Be eomforted, Cesario! Mentivole
Marry Clarissa. [shall not
Ces. No, sir ; ere he shall,
ni kill him.
Alb. But you forfeit your own life then.
Ces. Thars wortli nothin^r.
Alb. Cesario, be thyself; be mine, Cesario !
Make not thyself uncapable of that portion
I have fall purpose to confer upon thee.
By falling into madness ; bear thy wrongs
With noble patience, the aftlicted's friend.
Which ever m all actions icrowns the end !
Ces. You've well awak'd me, nay, re-
cover'd me
Both to sense and full life. Oh, most noble
sir,
Tho' I have lost my fortune, and lost you
For a worthy father ; yet I will not lose
My former virtue ; my integrity
Shall not yet forsiUie me : but as the wild ivy
Spreads and thrives better in some piteous
ruin
Of tower, or defac'd temple, than it does
Planted by a new building, so shall I
Make my adversity my instrument
To wind me up into a full content.
Aib. ' Tis worthily resolv'd I Our first ad-
venture's
To stop the marriage : for thy other losses,
Practised by a woman's mahce, but account
them
Like conjurers' winds, rais'd to a fearful blast.
And do some mischief, but do never last!
[Exeunt.
Enter Forobosco and Clown.
Clown. Now, sir, won't you acknowledge
that I have
Mii^htily advanc'd your practice ?
%W. 'Tis confessed ;
And I will make thee a great man for ft.
Clown. I take a course to do that mysch^ for
\ drink sack in abundance.
For. Oil, my rare rascal!
We must remove.
Clown. Whitlier?
For. Any whither;
Europe's too little to be cozeuM by us :
I am ambitious to go to the Eastrlndies,
^' (Which injinitcly moMis me),] Moans here is used actively, cfftfies me to moan, as
gneves, a word of tlie like import, often is ; but perhaps tliis is a single instance of using
moans in this manner ; for which reason Mr. Svmpson proposes to read, mova me. Seward,
^ Which in some countries Jormerlj^ were barbarous^
Was a name held most ajfectionate.] It would be a poor reason for Alberto*^ love of
Cesano as a foster child, because barbarous nations held adopted children in the most
affectionate esteeok Neither is the fact true. The adoption of children was a thing ex-
tremely usual in {Rcient Rome, but I don't at least remember any instance of it^ recorded
aroeugst barbarians, Setcar4»
Thou
356
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN.
[Act 1
Thou and I to ride upon our brace of ele*
phants. [England ag:iin;
Clown. Aod for my part I long to be in
You'U ne*er set so much as in England ; we
Have shiflea many countries, and manj
naniesy
But trace the world oVr, yon shall never purse
Up 80 much gold as when you were in £iig*
land.
And caird yourself doctor Larabstones.
For, It was [then
An attractive name, I confess ; women were
My only admirers.
Cicmn, And all their visits [injuries.
Were either to furtlier their lust, or revenge
Far. You should have forty in a morning
beleaguer [first:
My closet, and strive who should be cozen'd
^Mongst fourscore love-sick waiting-women
that have couie [should
To me in a morning, to learn what Fortune
Betide 'em in their first marriage, I have found
'Bove ninety-four toVe lost their maiden-
heads.
Chwn. By their own confession ;
But I was fain to be your male-midwife.
And work it out of them by circumstance.
For, Thou wast ; and yet for all this fre-
quent resort
Of women, and thy handling of their urinals
And their cases, thoirrt not given to lechery;
What should be th' reason of it? Th'hast
wholesome flesh
Enough about thee ; and methinks the devil
Should tempt thee to it.
CloKH, What need he do that? [others.
When he makes me his instrument to tempt
For, Thou canst not chuse but utter thy
rare good parts?
Thou wast an excellent bawd, I acknowledge.
CUmm, Well,
And what I have done that way — ni spare to
speak
Of all you and I have done, sir; and tho' we
should —
For. We will for England, that's for certain.
Clown, We
Shall never want there.
For, Want? their court of wanls "
Shall want money first; for I profess myself
Lord paramount o*er fools and mad folks.
Clmxm. Do
But store yourself with lies enough against
You come thither.
For, Why, that is all
The familiarity I ever had with the devil,
My gift of lying; they say he's the father of
lies ;
And tho* [ cannot conjure, yet I profess
Myself to be one of his poor gossips. I will
Now reveal to thee a rare piece of service
Cloam. What is it, my most worshipfbl
doctor Lambstones ? [sea,
For, There is a captain conic lately from
They call Prosper; I saw him this mofning,
Thro* a chink of wainscot that divides my
loddng [and liostess,
And the host of the house, withdraw my host
The fair Biancha, and an ancient gentlewonum,
Into their bedchamber :
I could not over-hear their conference.
But t saw such a mass of gold and jewels?
And v/hen he had done he lock'd it up into
a casket. [they're cone
Great joy there was amongst them, and forth
Into the city, and rov host told roe [turn
At'sgoing furth, he thought he should not rp-
Till after supper : now, sir, in their absence
Will we fall to our pickkKks, enter the
chamber, [reope.
Seize tlie jewels, make an escape from Fkn
And we are made for ever!
Clo^oh. But if they
Should go to a true conjurer, and fetch us
Back in a whirlwind ?
For, Don't believe there is
Any such fetch in astrology! And this nnay be
A means to make os live honest hereaft^«
Clown, Tis
But an ill road to't, that lies thro'
The highwBjr of thieving.
For, For indeed I'm weary of [gite
This trade of fortune-telliue, and mean to
All over, when I come into England ; for
It is a very ticklish quality. [thn-arl
Clown. And in the end will hang by a twine
< F(tr. Besides, the island has too many of
the profession ;
They hinder one another's market.
Clown, No, no.
The pillory hinders their market.
For, You know there
The juggling captain.
Clown. Ay ; there's a sure card !
For. Only
The foreman of their jury's dead ; but he
Died like a Roman.
Clown, Else *tis tliought he had
Made work for the hangman.
For. And the very fiall**
Of your false prophets, he's quash'd too-
Ckfwn. He did [ooir
Measure the itars with a false yard, and n»y
Travel to Rome, with a mortar on's head,
to see
If he can recover his money that way.
For, Come, come.
Let's fish for this casket, and to sea presently !
Clown. We shall never reach London, I
fear 4 my mind
Runt* so much of hanging, landing at Wap-
ping. [EiewHi.
^^ Ball,] i. e. BaaL The juggling captain so much spoke of \n ihi% play, at a news-
writer and conjurer, Mr. Sympson takes tp be one Baiiks> whom Ben Jpqson ludicioasly
calls the English Pythtigoras. Stwari.
Enter
Act 5.]
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN.
S5t
Enter Mariana,
Mar. This well iiiay be a day of joy long-
wwhVl-for
To my Clarissa; she is itinocenty
Nor can her youth but witli an open bosom
^eet Hymcn^s pleasing bounties: but to ine,
That am cuviron'd with black guilt and horror.
It does appear a funeral'^' : tho' promising
much
la the conception were hard to manage,
But sad in the event. It was not hate»
But fond indulgence in me, to preserve
Cesario's threaten'd life, in open court
That fbrc'd mc to disclaim him, cbusing
rather
To rob him of his birtb-right, and honour.
Than suffer him to run the hazard of
£nrag*d Baptista's fury : wliile he lives,
I kiiowl liave a son ; and the duke's sentence
A^vhile deluded, and this tempest over,
AV'hen he assures himself despair hath seiz*d
Jiim, [Knock tcit/ua.
' Enter Baptista,
I can relieve and raise him.— Speak, who is it ,
Tliat presses on my privacies? — Sir, your
pardon !
You cannot come unwelcome, tho' it were
To read my secret thoughts.
Bapt. Liidy, to you
Mine shall be ever open : ladjf, said I }
Tliat name keeps too much distance ! sister
Hither [claim it,
I slioiild have stil'd you; and I now may
Since our divided families are made one
liy this bless'd marriage ; to whose honour
comes
The duke in person, waited on by all
Tlie braveries of his court, to witness it,
And then to be our guests. Is the bride ready
To meet and entertain him ?
Mar. She attends
The coming of your son.
Baot. Pray you bring Ijer forth.
The Quke's at hand : music, in her loud voice,
Speaks his arrival.
Mar. She's prepar'd to meet it. [EsU,
Enter Mariami, Clarissa ledbt/ two Maids ;
at the other Door, Bapiista meets toith
Mentivole led by tfpo Courtiers ; the Duke^
Bishop^ and divert Attendants. A Song^
uhiUt they salute.
Duke. It were impertinentto wish you joy,
Since all joys dwell about you; Hymen's
torch
Was never lighted with a luckier omen,
NOr burnt with so mnch splendor. To defer
With fruitless compliment the means to make
Your certain pleasures lawful to the world,
(Since in the union of your hearts they are
Coniirm'd already) would but argue us
A boaster of ourlavours : to the temple !
And there the sacred knot once tied, all tri*
umphs [nuptials.
Our uukedom can afford shall grace your
Enter Albertus and Cesar io,
Bapt. On tiiere !
Ment* 1 hope it is not in the power
Of any to cross us now.
Alb, But, in the breath
Of a wrong'd father, I forbid the banos!
Ces, What, do you stand at gaze?
Bapt. Ris'u from the dead ?
Mar, Altho' the sea had vomited up tlie
iigure
In which thy better part liv'd long imprison'd,
True love despising fear, runs thus to meet it,
Clar. In duty 1 kneel to jt.
Alb. Hence, vile wretches! .
To yon I am a substance incorporeal,
iVnd not to he proHm'd with your vile touch,
That could so soon foigetme; but such things
Are neitlier worth my anger, nor reproof.
To you, great sir, I turn myself, and these
Immediate ministers of your government;
And if in my rude language I transgress,
Ascribe it to the cold remembrance of
My services, and not my rugged temper !
Dukf, -Speak freely ; be thy language ne'ec
so bitter.
To see thee safe, Alberto, signs thy pardon.
Alb. My pardon ? I can need none, if it
be not
Receiv'd for an offence; I tamely bear
Wrongs, which a slave-born Muscovite would
check at.
Why, if for treason I had been delivered
Up to Uie hangman's axe, and this dead trunk,
Unworthy of a Christian sepulchre,
Expos'd a prey to feed the ravenous vulture.
The memory of the much I oft did for you,
(Had you but any touch of gratitude.
Or ' th^ugiit of my deservings) would ha?r
stopped you
From these unjust proceedings.
^^ It does appear a funeral; though promising much
In the conception were hard to manage ^
But sad in the event. ^ i\ whole line seems to have been lost here; the intention of the
passage may be easily gathered. ' Her scheme, which promis'd mucl\ in the conception,
' proved hard to manage, and sad in the eVent.' I shall not venture my conjecture into the
text, but nropose it as the best that yet occurs :
It does appear a funeral. Mif design,
Tho' proin'sing much in the conception.
Was Jar too hard to manage, and doth prove
But sad in the event: it was not hace, d(c. Seward.
Duke.
d54
THE FiVm MAID OF THE INIf.
[Aet5.
Se not UAthaiikful for the blessingii shewn
Nor yoa, Baptista! Discord was yet never
A welcome sacrifice; therefore, rage laid by,
Embrace as friends, and let pass'd difference
Be as a dream foigptten !
BapU Tis to me.
Ali, And me; I tlris confinn it
Duke, And totieti
In bonds not tobebn^«n, with the marriage
Of young Mentivole and fair Clarissa,
Sq.^ou consem^ great lady, your Biancha
-^Lail call Cesanb husband.
Jul. Tn a motion
'% gladly yield to.
Ces. One in which y6a make
A sad man banpy. [Offers ip kneel,
Bian, Kneel not! all forgiven.
Duke, Wi* th*.duke your uncle I will make
And will have no denial. [atonement,
finter Hoit^ Forobotco, Chwn, w4 Officers,
Mar. Let this day
Be still held sacred!
Hoitt. Now if }rou can conjur^
I<et the devil unbind you.
For, We are both undone !
Clown. Already we feel it,
Hott. Justice, sir!
Duke, What are they? [the gtllies
Frot. I can resolve you; slaves ireedfrom
By the viceroy of Sicilia*
DuArf. What's their o£Fence? Hewels;
Hott, The robbing me of all my p{ate v>d
I mean, (he attempting of it.
Clown, Please your grace,
111 now discover thb varlet in earnest;
This honest pestilent rogue profess'd the art
Of conjuring; but all the skill that e*er
He had in the black art, was in making
A sea-coal fire; only with wearing
Strange shapes, he begot admiration
'Mongst fools and women.
For. Wilt thou peach, thou varlet?
Duke, Why does he goggle with his eye%
and stalk so ?
Clown, This is one of his magical raptores.
For, I do vilifv^
Your ceosnre ! You demand, if I am guilty}
Whir — says my doak, by a trick of legerde-
main!
Now I'm not guilty; I am guarded with
Innocence, pure silver lace, I assure yoo.
Clown, Thus have I read to you your vir-
tues, which [of.
Notwithstanding I would not have you proud
For. Out, thouconceahnentoftaUow^and
counterfeit mummy !
Duke, To th* galhes with them both !
Clown, The omy sea-physic
For a knave, is to be basted in a galley,
With the oil of a bull's pizzle.
For. And will not you [I hope
Make asour face at the s^me sauce, sirrah?
To find thee so lean in one fortnight thou
Mayst be drawn by the ears thro' the hoop
of a firkin . [to the eaUia !
Duke, Divide them, and away with them
Clown. This will take down your prick,
Duke. This day, Li^^gg^*
That hath giVnbirth to blessingsbevond hope,
Admits no criminal sentence. To the tempir.
And there with humbleness, praise Heaven*!
bounties! [whea
For blessing ne'er descend firom thence, bvt
A sacrifice in thanks ascends from men.
l^reunimttfU
!? r^ify:]ht. ffoldch^ap.
conD«
CUPID'S REVENGE.
A TRAGEDY.
Tbit Pby aeems to be the acknowledged production of both Writelrs. It wis first printed
ia quwtOy 1685; bat hat not been altered, that we can discover, or acted, many years.
PERSONS REPRESENTED^
Mfiir.
Cu^in.
LSONTIU89 ihe 0ld Duke cfLycia.
JLkucippus, Son to the liuke.
IsMEVUSy Neph€» to the Duke.
TsLAMON, « Lyaan Lord.
AoEVOB, > Ccmttieru
NlsiJS, 3
TiMAVTUSy a villainous Sycophant
ZoiLuSy Leucippus*s Dwarf.
Kilo, tent in commistioji to pull down Cupi<tt
Imagcsk
I^RissT to CupiJL
Four young Men and Maii>S«
Four Citizens.
WbMEN.
HiDASPESy Daughter to the Diito
BACiBA, a Strumpet.
URA^^tA, her Daughter*
Bacha*8 Maid.
Uranin*s Maid.
Servants and Attendant94
ACT I.
j^nier Dorialus, Agenor, and Nisut
Jgenor, 'T^UST me, my lord Dorialus, I
-^ had miss'd of this, if yuu had
liotcall'd me ; I thought the princess's birth-
day had been to-morrow.
JfisuM, Why, did your lordship sleep out
the day?
Dor, l marvel what the duke meant to
make such an idle vow?
JVistif. Idle ? why ?
, Dor, Is't not idile, to swear to grant his
; daoghter any thing she shall ask on her
birw-day ? she may ask an impossible thing ;
and I pray Heav'n she do not ask an unfit
thing, at one time or other : 'tis dangerous
(rusting a man's vow upon the discreuon of
bis dai^hter.
Jge. I wonder most at the marquis her
brother, who is al^ys vehemently forward
to have her desires granted^
D&r. He's acqbainted with 'enl before;
Age, She's Aaahlkss very chaste and vir« «
tuous.
Dor. So is Leucippus her brother.
Aind.. She's twenty years old; I wonder
She ask not a husband. [refus'd
, Dt>r. That were a folly in her, having
All the ^at princes in one part of the world ;
She*ll die a maid.
Ace, She may ask but once, may she ?
Nisut. A hundred times this day, if shewflls
And, indeed, every day is such a day; for tho*
The duke has vow'd it only on this day,
He keeps it every day; he can deny
Her nothing. v
dn-nets* inter SidaspeSy leueippuf, Leon^
tiui, Timantus^ and Telamon.
Leon, Come, fiiir Hidaspes! thoa art
duchess to-day. [oath
Art thou prepar d to ask f thon kn9w*it my
ZS6
CUPID'S REVENGE.
[Act h
Will force performance. And, Leucippus, if
She now ask aught that shall or woula have
perforroance
After my death, when by the help of HeaVn
This land is thine, accursed be tliy race^
May every one forget thou art my son.
And so tlieir own obedience —
Leuc. Mighty sir,
I do not v\'ish to know that fatal hoar.
That is to make me king : but if I do,
I shall most heartily, (and like a son)
Perform your grants to all, chiefly to her. —
Kemember that you ask what we agreed
upon.
icon. Are you prepared? then speak.
Hid. Most royal sir,
I am prepar*d, nor shall my will exceed
A virgin's bounds ; what I request shall both
At once bring me a full content '•
Leon, So't ever does.
Thou only comfort of my feeble age.
Make known tliygood desire ! for I dare swear
Thou lov*st me.
Hid. This is it I beg.
And on my knees : the people of your land,
The Lycians, are, thro' all the nations
That know their name, noted to have in use
A vain and fruitless superstition ;
So much more hateful, that it hears the show
Of true religion, and is nothing else
But a self- pleasing bold lasciviousness.
Xeon. What is it ?
Hid. Many ages before this.
When every man got to himself a trade.
And was laborious in that chosen cou'rse,
Hating an idle hfe far worse than death^
Some one that gave himself to wine aAd sloth,
Which breed lascivious thoughts, and found
himself ,
Contemned for that by every painful man*,
Tb take his stain away, fram'd to himself
A god, whom he pretended to obey,
In being thus dishonest; for a name
He called him Cupid. This created god
'What I request shall both
(Man's nature being ever credulous
Of any vice that takes part with his blood)
Had ready followers enow ; and since
In every age they grew, especially
Amongst your subjects, who do yet remain
Adorers of that drowsy deity,
Which dnnk invented ; and the winged boy
(For so they call him) has his sacrifices'.
And these loose naked statues tiiro* the land)
In every village ; nay the palace' self
Is not tree from 'em. Tms is my request.
That these erected obscene images [man
May be pluckM down and burnt, and every
That offers to 'em any sacrifice
May lose his life.
Leon. But be advis'd.
My fairest daughter I if he be a god,
He will express it upon thee, my child;
Which Heaven avert!
■' Leuc. There is no such power ;
But the opinion of him fills the land
With lustful sins: every young man and maid^
That feel the least desire to one another.
Dare not suppress it, for they think it.b
Blind Cupid s motion; and he is a god !
Leon. This makes our youth unchaste
am resolv'd.
Nephew Ismenus, break the statues down
Here in the palace, and command the city
To do tiie like : let prochunations
Be drawn, and hastily sent thro' the land,
To the same purpose !
Ism. Sir, V\\ break down none
Myself, but III deliver your command :
Hand 111 have none in*t, for I like it not*
Leon. Go, and command iL — Pleasure of
my life, [sand suits;
Woukist thou aught else ? Make mauy thuu-
They must and shall be granted.
Hid. Nothing else. [Exit Ismenus.
Leon. But go and meditate on other suits:
I Some six days hence I'll give thee audience
again.
And, by a new oath, bind myself to keep it«
I
At once brin^ me a full cof^ent.] From the answer of LeontiuSy it is plain some words
mre dropt here, signifying that her request shall content her fatlier as well as herself.
* And found h imseif conjoined
For that by every painful man.'\ 1 know no meaning of the word conjoined that will suit
the context, condemned is the natural word. Our poets* scheme in tiiis pJay (which bsi
many excellent things in it) seems to me quite amazing. That this just speech should be
esteemed sudi an act of real impiety, as to receive the most shocking punishment eudins in
the murder and utt^r extirpation of the whole family, is surely n ^trallge outrage on poetical
justice, as well as on all the circle of moral virtues. I find Mr. Theobald has prevented me
in the correction above, and Mr, Sympson has since sent me his reading, contemu*d» Sacard,
llie next line rather warrants contemned than condemned.
3 and the winged boy,
' (For so they call him) has his sacrifices,
Thae loose naked statues through the land,
A nd in every village^ nay the palace
Is not free from *em. — ] Here are certainly deficiencies both in measiuce and sense: tbe
change of points, the removal of the and from' the beginning of one line to tiie line above it»
and the addition of a particle that adds strength to the sentimenti seems the most prohabk
• method of restoring thie original* Seward*
Ask
Act 1.J
CUPID'S REVENGU.
55/
They let us wear gay cloaths without survey*
mg: and, [husbands.
Which was most lamentable, they lov'd their
Nivut. I do remember it to my grief, young
maids
W^re as cold as cucumbers, and much of that
Complexion; bawds were abolished; and (to
which [cuckolds.
Misery it must come again) there were no
Well, we'd need pray to keep these devils
from us; [Lord !
The times grow mischievous. — ^There he goes I
Enter one with an Image.
This is a sacrilege I have not heard of!
'Would 1 were gelt, that I might not feel what
follows! [few years,
Jge, And I too. Youshall see within these
A fine confusion i*th' country ; mark it !
Nay, an we grow for to depose the powers,
^Vnd set up Chastity again.— Well, I have
done!
A fine new goddess certainly, whose blessings
Are hunger and hard beds !
Ninis. This comes of fullness,
A sin too frequent with us; I believe now
We shall find shorter commons.
Dor, 'Would I were married! somewhat
has some favour;
The race of gentry will quite nm out now,
'Tis only left to husbands; if younger sisters
Take not the greater charity, 'tis lawfijl.
Age, Well, let come what will come, I am
but one.
And as the plague falls, I will shape royself :
If women will be honest. 111 be sound.
If the god be not too unmerciful,
I'll take a little still, where I can get it.
And thank biui, and say nothing.
IT NUua, This ill wind yet may blow the city
good, [dren.
And let them (if they can) get their own chil^
They have hung long enoQgh io doubt: but,
howsoever, ['em.
The old way was the surer; then they had
Dor, Farewell, my lords! Fll e'en take up
what rent
I can before the day; I fear the year
Will fall out ill.
Jge, We'll with you, sir. And, Love, so
favour us,
* Poor men can number their woers.] Woo^s for mistresses is uncommon, but a word very
near it is quite suitable to the character of the speaker, whores. After I bad inserted this
in the text, I found in Mr. Theobald's margin another conjecture, weathers for woers, with a
Latin quotation, Pauperis est numerare pecus, as a proof of it. But my conjecture is mutik
nearer the trace of the letters, as well as a more natural expression ; for weathers being of
tlic masculine gender, will never suit this place, though pecus might. Seward*
' Wore their own faces,
Tho\ thetf wear gay eloaths without surveying,
And which was most lamentable.
They Uro'd their husbands,] The reader will find the metre here easily restored, but the
sense, which seems quite lost in the second line, is not so readily recovered. The only con-
jecture that seems tolerable is what I venture iqto the text with great difiidence,, but the
fesder had better have even a false reading with sense, than one without it, Seward.
' M
Ask largely for thyself: dearer than life.
In whom I may be bold to call myself
More fortunate than any in my age,
t will deny thee nothing !
Leuc. Twas well done, sister.
[Exeunt all but the three Lords.
Nisus, How like you this request, my loni?
Dor. I know not yet, I am so fuUof won-
We shall be gods ourselves shortly, Fder !
An we pull 'em outof Heav'n o' this fashion.
Age. We shall have wenches now when we
can catch 'em.
An we transgress thus.
Nisus. An we abuse the gods once,
Tis a justice we should be held at hard meat.
For my part,
ni e'en make ready for mine own affection ;
I know the god incens'd most send ahardness
Thro' all good women's hearts, and then we
have [market:
Brought our e|gs and muscadine to a fair
'Would I had given aii hundred pound for a
toleration, [own house !
That I might but use my conscience in mine
Dor, The duke, he's old and past it; he
would never [else; 'tis worse
Have brought such a plague upon the land
Than sword and fiimine ! Yet, to say truth.
We have deserv'd it, we have liv'd so wick-
ediy.
Every man at his livery ; and 'would that
Would have sufficed us ! we murmur'd at
This blessing, that was nothing; and cried
out [and
To th' god for endless pleasures: he heard us,
Supplied us, and our women were new still.
As we needed 'em ; yet we, like beasts.
Still cned, ' Poor men can number their
whores*; give us
* Abundance !' we had it, and this curse
withal. [Lent o'n't ;
Age, B/r lady, we are like to nave a long
Flesh shall be flesh now ! Gentlemen, I had
rattier [gunner.
Hare anger'd all the gods than that blind
I remember, once the people did but sliglit
' him
In a ^crifire, and what follow'd ? women kept
Their houses, and grew good huswives, ho-
nest forsootli ! [nay.
Was not that fine ? wore their own faces'.
•M
CUPID'S REVENGll
lAct I!
For aoy thing I know^ ot, at tht besC^
Adorn a chimney-piece.
Priest. Oh, sacrilege unheard-of!
Nilo. I'his will not help iu Take domm
their images,
And away with 'em ! [service now
Priest, cliange your coat, yon bad best; ail
Is given to men ; prayers above their heuing
Win prove but babblings; learn to lie ana
tlinve, ISP^
'Twill prove yoilr best profession : for tba
He that lives by 'em uotv must be a beggar.
There's better holiness on earth, they say ;
Pray God it ask not greater lacrince! G^
home ; .
And if your god be not deaf as well as blind,
He will make some smoke for it.
Gent Sii*—
Nilo. Gentlemen, [speedily:
There is no talking ; this must be done and
I have commission that I must not bceak.
Gent, We're gone, to wonder what shall
Nilo. On [foDow.
To the n^xt temple ! [Exemt.
Comets, Cupid descends.
Cnpid. Am I then scom'd ? is my all-doing
will [none,
And power that knows no limit, nor admits
Now Ibok'd into by less than gods, and weak-
en'd?
Am I, whote bow struck tertor thro* the earth
No less than thunder, and in this exceeding
Even gods themselves, f^hose knees before
my altars.
Now Shook ofT^? and eontemn'd by such,
whose lives
Are but my recreation? Angef, rise !
My sufferance and myself are made the sub*
joct
Of sins against us. Go thou out, displeasure !
Displeasure of a great god^, fly thyself
Thro* all this kingdom : sow whatever evils
Proud flesh is taking of, amongst these rebels;
And on the first hearts that despise my great"
ness
Lay a strange misery, that all may know
Cupid's Revenge is mighty ! With this arrow,
Hotter than plagues ofmine own anger, will i
Now nobly right myself; nor shall the prayers,
Nor sweet smokes on my altars, hold mj
hand,
1'ill I have left this a most wretched land.
, [Ascend
* Nor the coy faces of a maids denying.] Mr. Sympson has improved this line by strikis|
•IF the s from ntaids. Sezcard.
7 — lohose knees before my altars
Now shook off] There is, as Seward observes, * a great deficiency here both in grammtf
* and sense, and reason to suspect a whole line to have been lost;' which he supposes ao^
have beeu like the following;
whose knees before my altars
Iff zealous supplicmtion oft have bent.
• Displeasure of a great gdd, fly thyself,] So quarto; other copies, fying; and Sewsrfi
from Tb«obald*s Gonjecture, reads/in^. /
As we are ktill thy servants! Come, my lords;
Let's to tlie duke, and tell liim to what folly
Bis doting now has brought him. [l^xeunt.
Enter Friest of Cupid, with four young Men
and Maids.
Friest. Come, my children, let your feet
In an even measure meet !
And your chearful voices rise.
To present this sacrifice
. To great Cupid ! in whose name,
I Ims priest begin the same.*
Voux^g men, txUwe your loves and kiss;
Thus bur Cupid honour'd is.
Kiss again, and in your kissing
Let no promises be missing!
Nor let any maiden here
Dare to turn away her ear,
Unto the whisper of liet love ;
But give bracelet, ring, or glove^
As a token to her sweeting.
Of an after secret meeting !
Now, boy, sing, to stick our hearts
Fuller ot great Cupid's darts I
SONG.
Lovers rejoice ! jrour pains shall be rewarded.
The god of love himself grieves at your crying:
No more shall frozen honour be regarded,
Nor the coy faces of a maid denying^.
No more shall virgins sigh, and Say f We dare
^ot, [care not.'
* for men are false, and what they do they
All shall be well again; then do not grieve;
Jden shall be true, and women shall believe.
Lovers, rejoice! what you shall say hence-
forth, [your arms.
When you have cauglit your sweethearts in
It shall be accounted oracle, and worth:
No more faintrhearted girls sliall dream ef
harms, [said.
And cry ' They are too young:' the god hath
Fifteen shall make a mother of a maid :
Then, wise men, pull your roses yet unblown !
Love hates the too-^ipe fruit that falls alone.
After a MeasurCy enter Nilo and others.
Nilo. No more of this ! here break your
rites for ever; ^ [stare !
The duke commands it so. Priest, do not
I must deface your temple, tho' unwilling.
And yonr god Cupid here must make a scare-
crow,
Act 1.]
CUPID'S REVENGE.
3jO
Enter Hidaspes and Cleophila,
Sid. Cleophila, what was he that went
CUo. What [hence?
Keans your grace now }
Hid. I mean that handsome man, [door.
Tliat something more than man, I met at
Cleo. Here was no handsome man.
Hid. Come, he's some one
You would preserve in private; hut you want
Cunning to do it, and my eyes are sharper
Than yours, and can with one neglapting
glance
See all the graces of a man. Who was it ?
CUo. Tliai went hence now?
Hid, That went hence now ? ay, he !
CUo. Faith, here was no such one as your
grace thinks : [now.
2ZU>ilu^ your hrotlier's dwarf, went out hut
Hid, I think 'twas he: how hravely he
tMtts'd by!
Is he not grown a goodly gentleman ?
CUo. A goodly gentleman, madam?
He's the most deform'd fellow in the land.
Hid, Oh, blasphemy ! he may perhaps to
. thee
appear deform'd, for he is indeed
Unlike a man : his shape and colours are
. Beyond the art of painting; he is like
Kothing that we have seen, yet doth resemble
Apollo, as I oft have fancied him,
IVhen rising from his bed he stirs himself,
^nd shakes day from his haii^.
Cleo, He resembles Apollo's recorder.
Hid. Cleophila, go send a page for him,
' And thou shalt see thy error, and repent.
[Exit CUophila,
Alas, what do I feel ? My blood rebels,
And I am one of those I us'd to scorn ?
My maiden- thoughts are fled'°; against my-
self
I harbour traitors ; my virginity.
That from my childhood kept me company,
Is heavier than I can endure to bear.
Forgive me, Cupid ! for thou art a god.
And I a wretched creature: I have sinn'd ;
Bat be thou merciful, and grant that yet
I may enjoy what thou wilt have me love*' !
Enter CUophUa and goilus,
Qleo, Zoilu^ is here, madam.
Hid. He's there indeed. [than mad.
Now be thine own judge! see, thou worse
Is he deformed ? Look upon those eyes^
That let all pleasure out into the world,
Unhappy that they cannot see themselves!
Look on hib hair, that like so many beams^
Streaking the east, shoot light o'er half tbt
world !
Look on him altogether, who is made
As if two natures had contention [him !
About their skill, and one had brought forth
Zoilus. Ha, ha, ha!
Madam, tho' Nature hath not given me
So much af others in my outward show,
I bear a heart as loyal unto you
In this unsightly body (which you please
To make your mirth) as many others do
That are rar more befriended in their birtlis.
Yet I could wish myself much noore deform'd
Than yet I am, so I might make your grace
More merry than you are. — Ha, ha, ha 1
Hid, Beshrew me then
If I be merry] but I am content [saint;
Whilst thou art with me; thou that art raj
By hope of whose mild favour I do live
To tell thee so: I pray thee, scorn me not!
Alas, what can it add unto thy worth
To triumph over me, that am a maid
Without deceit? whose heart doth guide her
tongue?
Drown*d in my passions? Yet I will take leave
To call it reason, that I dote on thee.
Cleo. The princess is beside her grace,' I
think.
To talk thus with a fellow that will hardly
Serve i' th' dark when one is drunk.
Hid. What answer wilt thou give me?.
Zoilus. If it please your grace to jest on,
I can abide it.
Hid. If it be jest'*, not to esteem my life
Compar*d with thee; if it be jest in me.
To hang a thousand kisses in an hour
Upon those lips, and take 'em off again ;
If it be jest for me to marry thee,
And take obedience on mc whilst I lire;
Then all I say is jest:
For every part of this, I swear by those
That see my thoughts, I am resolv'd to do !
And I beseech thee, by thine own white hand,
(Which, pardon me that I am bold to kiss
With 'so unworthy lips^ that thpu wilt swear
To marry me, as I do nere to thee,
Before the face of Heaven 1
Zoiliu, Marry you? Ha, ha, ha!
' What rising from his hedy &c.l Similar to this nobly-poetical passage is the following^
jn th^ Maririagje^jE^ighty by lord Falkland :
' So breaks the morning forth of a crystal cloud,
* And so the sun ascends his glittering chair,
* And from his bumisfCd locks shakes day about J R,
.'® My maiden-thoughts are Jled agaitist myself :
I harbour traitors in my virginity.] Corrected by Seward.
M I may enjoy what thou wilt have me, Love.l As the address is to Xore, a comma and a
great letter was a material corruption here : to ask Cupid to let her enjoy what he would
have her enjoy was a ridiculous request, but to let her enjoy what he would have her love,
\b the coiiimon prayer of all worshippers of Cupid. Seward.
£f If it be^'j»^; ijc] This is vpry like the turn of a speech in Fhjlaster, If it be loz^, &c.
/ UiJ*
^0
CUPID'S REVENGE.
[Act 1.
Hid. Kill me, or graot! Wilt thou not
speak at all ?
Zoilut. Why, I will do your will for ever.
Hid. I ask no more : but let me kiss that
mouth
That is so merciful! that is m^ will :
I^ext, ^o with me before the king in haste.
That is my will; wliere I willmaie our peers
Know, that thou art their better.
Zoilus. Ha, ha, ha !
That is fine ! ha, ha, ha !
C/eo. Madam, what means your grace?
Consider, for the love of HeaveiT, to wliat
You run madly! will you take this viper
Into your bed ?
Hid. Away ! hold off thy hands !
Strike her, sweet Zoilus; for it is my will.
Which thou hast sworn to do.
Zoilus. Away, for shame !
Know you no manners ? — Hn, ha, ha !
[Exit with Hidaipes,
Cle9. Thou know'st none, I fear.
This is just Cupid's anger: Venus, look
Down mildly on us! and command thy son
To spare this lady once, and let me be
In love with all; and none in love withme*^!
[Exit.
Enter Ismenus and Timantus.
Tim, Is your lordship for the wars this
Ism, Timantus, [summer?
Wilt thou go with me?
Tun. If I had a company,
My lord.
Ism, Of fidlers ? thou a company ?
No,« no; keep thy company at home, and
cause cuckolds ; [serosters.
The wars will hurt thy face : there are no
Shoemakers, nor taylors, nor almond-milk
i' th' morning, [luble,
Kor poacird eggs to keep your worship so-
2io man to warm yo6r shirt, and blow your
roses'*; [breeches.
Kor none to reverence your round lace
If thou wilt needs go, and go thus, get a case
For thy captainship! a shower will spoil thee
Thus much for thee. [else.
Jvn. Your lordship's wondrous witty;
Very pleasant, believe*t.
Enter Telamon, DorialuSy Jgenor^ Nisus,
and Lwntius.
Leon, No news vet of my son ?
Tel, Si<-, there be divers out in search;
no doubt, [occasion
TheyMl bring the truth where he is, or the
That led him hence.
Tim. Tliey must have eood eyes then.
Leon, The gods go with them ! — ^Who are
those tliat wait there ? , [his dispatch.
Tel. The lord Ismenus, your genersd, for
, Leon. Oh, nephew, we've do use to eow
ploy your virtue
In our war ; now the province is well settled.
Hear you augjht of the marquis?
Ism. No, sir.
Leon, Tis strange he should be gone thus;
These five days he was not seen,
Tim. Ill hold my life,
I could boult him m an hour.
Xeon. Where is my dai^hter? [sib.
Dor. About the purging of the temples,
Leon, She's chaste and virtuous. Fetch
her to me,
And tell her I am pleas'd to grant her now
Her last request, without repenting me,
iExit Nisuu
►orialus.
And will not press me further than a father.
Dor. I pray tlie best may follow ! yet, if
your grace
Had taken the opinions of vour people.
At least of such whose wisdoms ever wake
About your safety, I may say it, sir.
Under your noble pardon, that this change
Either had been m«re honour to the gods.
Or I think not at all. Sir, tiie princess.
Enter Hidaspes, NisuSy and Zoilus,
Leon. Oh, my daughter, my health !
And, did I say my soul, I lied not, [ever
Thou art so near me ! Speak, and have what*
Thy wise will leads thee to! Had I a Heaven,
It were too poor a place for such a goodness!
i>or. What*s here?
Age, An ape's skin stuff 'd, I think.
It is so plump.
Hid. Sir, you have past yowiirord ;
Still be a prince, and hold" you to it. Wonder
Not I press you; my life lies in youl- woid;
If you break that^ you've broke my heart! I
must rdeny me ;
Ask that's my shame, and your will mostnot^
Now, for Heaven, be not forsworn !
Leon. By th' gods,
I will not ! I cannot, were there no other
Pow'r than my love call'd to a witness of it
Dor, They have much reason to trust;
you have forsworn
One of 'em out o* th' country already.
Hid, Then this is my request: this gentle-
man— [dom.
Be not asham'd, sir; you are worth a klng^
*^ And let me be in lave with all; and none in love with me.'l The measure in this, as in
all other plays, has been greatly neglected : it is generally restord here as well as in tlierest;
and tlie reader will find even rliime as well as meast^re had been overlook'd in this p«<'<'*"«
The sense is surely corrupt ; the conclusion of this prayer is very strange; it is rhime
without reason.
'^ Roses.] Ribands, in the form of rotes, were formerly worn in the shoes of both gentle*
men and ladies. IL
Act 1.]
CUPID'S REVENGE.
S6i
Leon, In what ?
Hid. In the way of marriage.
Leon. How? [so!
Hid, In the way of marriage: it must be
Youi^oath is tied to Heaven, as my love
To him.
Leon. I know thou dost but try my age ;
Come, ask again !
Hid, Ifl should ask all
My life-time, this is all still. Sir, Pm serious; I
Must have thisworthy man, without enquiring
why;
And suddenly, and freely: do not look
For reason or obedience in my words;
My love admits no wisdom ; only haste
And hope hangs on my fury. Speak,- sir,
speak I [counsel ;
But not as a father; Fm deaf and dull to
Inflamed blood Ijear.i nothing but my will.
For God's sake speak !
Dor. Here's a brave alteration !
Nisug, This comes of chastity.
Hid. Will you not speak, sir f [a sweet
Age. The god begins his vengeance : what
YiHith he has sent us here, with a pudding
in^s belly !
Leon. Oh, let me never speak,
Or wich my words let me speak out my life !
Thou pow'r abus'd, great Love, whose ven^
geance now
We feci and fear, have mercy on this land !
Nisus. How does your grace?
Leon, Sick ; very sick, I hope.
Dor. Gods comfort you ! [royal word ?
Hid, Will not you speak? is this your
Do not pull perjury upon your soul 1
Sir, you are old, and near your punishment ;
Remember !
Leon. Away, base woman! [plague
Hid. Then be no more my father, but a
Pm bound to pray against! be any sin
May force me to despair, and hang myself!
Be thy name nefver more remember'd, king,
But in example of a broken faith, [land
And curs*d ev'n to forgetfulness! may triy
Brinjf forth such monsters as thy daughter
is! —
Pm weary of my rage. I pray forgive me.
And let me have him! will you, noble sir?
Leon, Mercy, mercy, Heav'n !
Thou heir of all dishonour, sham'st thou not
To draw this little moisture left for life.
Thus rudely from me? — Carry that slave to
death ! [of mine
Zoilus, ForlleavVs sake, sir! it is no fault
That she will love me.
Leon. To death with hi?n, I say !
Hid, Then make haste, tyrant, or Pll be
before him*^ !
This is the way to Hell.
Leon. H»ld fast, I charge you !
Away with him ! [than one.
Hid. Alas, old man, death hath more doors
And I will meet him. [Exit.
Leon. Dorialus, pray fher.
See her i* her diamber, and lay a euard about
The greatest curse the gods lay on our
frailties
Is will '^ and disobedience in our issues,
Which we beget, as well as them, to plague us.
With our fond loves. Beasts, you are only
blest
Thut have that happy dulness to forget
What you have made! your young ones
grieve not you ; ' [ways
They wander where they list, and have their
Witliout dishonour to you; and their ends
Fall on *em without sorrow of their parents.
Or after ill remembrance ' '. Oh, this woman I
'Would I had made myself a sepulchre,
W^hen I made her! — Nephew, where is the
prince ?
Pray God he hare not more part of herbaseness
Than of her blood about him ! Gentlemen,
Where is he ? [himself,
Jsm. I know not, sir. H'has his ways by
Ts too wise for my company.
Leon. I don't like
This hiding of himself, from such society
As fits his person ^^ ; some of you needs must
know. . •
Ism. Pm sure not I, nor have known twice
these ten days ;
Which, if I were as proud as some of 'em,
I should take scurvily: but he's a young man.
Let him have his swinge ! 'twill make him—
. [Tijnantus whispers to the duke.
There's some go«d matter now in hand :
How the slave jeers and grins! the duke it
pleas'd ;
^^ Or He he Bar Mm.'] The princess here attempts to kill herself, and the natural reading
is equally necessary to the measure. Mr. Theobald concurs with me in this correction, as
does Mr. Sympson too. Seward.
We have adopted the alteration, though perhaps the original ran (which seems more in
our autliors' stile),
or I will BEFORE him!
■* Will;'] i. e. Wilfulness, perverseness.
" Or after ill remembranceT] Seward reads, afler^ill; but the hyphen makes it very l^rd,
and the passage is clear enough without it.
** From such society as his person.
Some of it ye needs must know.] Former editions. The changes now introduced render
both the senje and measure tolerably easy. I find Mr. Theobald s conjecture on the pas*
sage so near mine, that it is of no cottse<|ttencc which is inserted : lie reads,
—— as J5t«hi» person, Setoard,
VOL.nL 3 A " There's
36^
CUPID'S REVENGE.
[Act 2.
Tlierc's a new pair of scarlet liose now, and
ub much
Money to s^ve, as will fetch the old from
pawn,
A hat and a cloak to go out to-morrow !
Garters and stockings eome by nature.
Leon. Be sure of this !
Tim. I durat not speak else, sir. [Exeunt,
ACT II.
Cornets, Cupid descends, ,
Cupid, T EUCIPPUS, thou art shot thro'
-■-' with a shaft
That will not rankle long, yet sharp enough
To sow a world of helpless misery
In this unhappy kingdom : dost thou think,
Because thou art a prince, to make a part *^
Against my power? But it is all the fault
Of thy old father, who believes his age
Is cold enough to qucucli my burnii.g darts ;
But he shall know ere long, that my dart,
loose,
Can thaw ice, and inflame tlie wither'd heart
Of Nestor : thou thyself art lightly struck ;
But his mad love shall publish, that the rage
Of Cupid has the power to conquer age.
\Ascend8*
Enter Lencippus and Bacha, '
Leue, Why, what's the matter?
Bachu. Have you got the spoil
You thirsted for? Oh, tyranny of men!
Leuc, I pray thee leave !
Bacha, Your envy is, Ileav'n knows,
Beyond the reach of all our feeble sex :
W^at pain, alas, could it have been to you,
If I had kept mine honour ? You might still
Have been a prince, and still tliis country's
heir. [kept,
That innocent guard which I till now had
For my defence, my virtue, did it seem
So dangerous in a state, that you yourself
Came to suppress it ?
Levc, Dry thine eyes again;
I'll kiss thy tears away : this is but folly;
'Tis past all help.
Bacha, Now you have won the treasure,
Tis my request that you would leave me thus,
And never see these empty walls again :
I know you will do so; and well you may,
For there is nothing in 'em that is worth
A glance : I loath myself, and am become
Another woman ! one, methiuks, with whom
] want acquaintance.
Leuc. If I do ofl'end thee,
I can be gone : and th(»* I love thy sight,
So highly do I prize thine own content,
That 1 will leave thee.
Bacha. Nay, you may stay now ;
You should have gone before: I know not now
Why I should fear you : all I should have
kept
Is stol'n ; nor is it in the power of man
To rob me further. If you can invent.
Spare not! No naked man fears robbing less
Than I do ; now you may for ever stay.
Leuc. Why, I could do thee further wrong.
Bacha, You have
A deeper reach in evil than I ; 'tis past
My thoughts.
Leuc. And past my will to act;
But trust me I could do it.
Bacha. Good sir, do ;
That I may know there is a wrong beyond
What you have done me.
Leuci I could tell all the world
What thou hast done.
Bacha. Yes, you may tell the world;
And do you think I am so vain to hope
You will not ? You can tell the world but
this.
That I'm a widow, full of tears in show, ,
(My husband dead, and one that lov'd me so,
Hardly a week) forgot ray modesty.
And, caught with youth and greatness, gave-
myself
To live in sin with you: this yoa may tell;
And this I do deserve !
Leuc. Why, dost thou think me
So base to tell ? These limbs of mine shall piur(
From one another on a rack,
Ere I disclose. But thou dost utter words
That much afflict me ; you did seem as ready,
Sweet Bacha, as myself.
Bacha. You are right a man ; ^
When they have 'witch'd us into misery,
Poor innocent souls, they lay the fault on as.
But, be it so ! for prince Leucippus' sake,
I will bear any thing.
Leuo. Come, weep no more ! '
I w rought thee to it ; it was my fault.
Nay, sec if thou wilt leave! Here, take tliis
pearl I
Kibs me, sweet Bacha, and receive this purse.
Bacha. What should I do with these? tbev
My mind. [will not deck
Leuc. Why, keep 'em to remember roe.
I must be gone ; I nave been absent long :
I know the duke my lather is in rage.
But I will see thee suddenly again.
Farewell, my Bacha!
'' To mahit a part.] Sympson reads pari^; but the old reading is much more in oar
poets' stile.
Badui.
Act 2.]
CUPID'S REV^ENGE.
sea
Bacha, Gods keep you ! — Do you hear, sir?
Pray give me a point to wear.
Leuc. Alas, good Bacha,
Take one, I pray thee, where thou wilt.
Bacha, Coming;
From you, this point is of as high esteem
With me, as ail pearl and gold. Nothing
Be ever with or near you ! [but good
Leuc. Fare tliee well,
-Jdine own good Bacha! I will make all
liaste. [Exit.
Bacha. Just as you are a dozen I esteem
you;
No more : does he think I Mrould prostitute
Myself for love ? It was the Jove of these
pearls
Aod gold that won me. I confess I lust
More after him than any other,
And would at any rate, if I had store,
Purchase his fellowship; but being' poor,
I*H both enjoy his body and his purse,
And, he a prince^ ne*er think myself the
worse.
Enter Leontius, Leucippus,^ Ismenus, and
Timahius.
Leon, Nay, you must back and shew ns
what it is
That 'witches you out of your honour thus.
Bacha. Who's that?
Tim, Look there, sir !
Leon, Lady, never fly ;
You are bet ray 'd.
Bacha. Leave me, my tears, a wliile.
And to my just rage give a little place ! —
What saucy man are you, that without leave
!Enter upon a widow's mournful house ?
You hinder a dead roan from many tears.
Who did deserve more than tlie world can
shed,
Tho' they should weep themselves to images.
If not for love of me, yet of yourself.
Away, for you can bring no comfort to me !
But you may carry hence, you know not what :
Naj^ sorrow is infectious.
Leon. Thou thyself [ray name ?
Art grown infectious! Wouldst thou know
I am the duke, father to this young man
Whom thou corrupt'st.
* Bacha [aside']. Has he then told him all ?
J,cttc. y ou do her wrong, sir !
Bacha. Oh, he has not told**—
Sir, I beseech you pardon my wild tongue,
Directed by a weak distemper'd head,
Gladded with grief! Alas^ I did not know
You were my sovereign ; but now you may
Command my poor unworthy life, which will
Be none, I liope, ere long.
Jjeon. All thy dissembling [more
Will never iiide thy shame : and wer t not
Ilespecting womanhood in general.
Than any thing in thee, thou sliouldst be made
Such an example, that posterity, [say, i
When they would speak most bitterly, should
' Thou art as impudent as Bacha was/ I
Bacha, Sir, tho* you be my king, whom I
will serve
In all just causes, yet when wrongfully
You seek to take my honour, I will rise
Thus, and defy you ; for it is a jewel
Dearer than you can give, wiiich whilst Ikeep,
(Tho' in this lowly house) I shall esteem
Myself above the princes of the earth
That are without it. If the prince your son,
Whom you accuse me with, know how to
speak
Dishonour of me, if he do not do it.
The plagues of IJell light on him; may he
never
Govern this kingdom ! Here I challenge him,
Before the face of Heav'n, my liege, and these.
To speak tho worst he can I If lie will lie,
To lose a woman's fame, I'll say he is .
Like you (I think I cannot call him worse).
He's dead, that with his life would have de-
fended
My reputation, and I forc'd to play
(That which I am) the foolish woman, and use
My liberal tongue.
liCuc, Is't possible ?
We men are children in our carriages,
Compar'd with women. Wake thyself, for
shame, [keep
And leave nother whose honour thou shouldst
Safe as thine own, nlone to itee herself!
But I am press'd, Iknow not how, with guilt,
And feel my conscience (never us'd to lie)
Loath to allow my tongue to add a lie
To that too much I did : but it is lawful
To defend her, that only for my love
. Lov'd evil.
Leon. Tell me, why did you, Leucippus,
Stay here so long ?
Leuc, If I can urge aught from me
But a truth. Hell take me !
J^eon. What's the matter?
Why speak you not?
Tim. Alas, good sir, forbear [ness.
To urge the prince; you see his shameface'd-
Bucha. What does he say, sir? If thou be
a prince.
Shew it, and tell the truth !
Ism, If you've lain witli her.
Tell your father; no doubt but he has don«
as ill [on'u
Befone now^ : the gentlexvoman will be proud
Bacha. For God's sake, speak !
Leuc. Have you done prating yet?
Jsm, Who prates?
Leuc. Thou know'st I do not speak
To thee, Ismenus : but what said you,
Timantus, concerning my shamefece'dness?
Tim. Notliing, I hope, that might displease
your highness. [thers,
Xewc. If any of thy great-great-grandmo-
This thousand years, had beon as chaste as
she,
It would have made thee honester : I stay'd
To hear what you would say. She is, by
Heav'n,
3A2 Or
Z64t
CUPID'S REVENGE.
[Actt.
or the most strict and blai|i€les9 chastity
That ever wouian was: — Good gods, for-
give me I — [kiird
liad Tarquin met with her, she had been
With a slave by her, ere she had agreed.
I he with her ? 'would 1 might perish then !
Our mothers, whom we all luubi reverence.
Could ne'er exceed her for her chastity,
Upon my soul ! for, by this light she is
A most obstinate modest creature !
Lean. What did you with her then so long,
Leucippnsf [tiful.
Leuc. rll tell you, sir: you see she's beau-
Leon, I see it well.
Leuc, MovM by her face, I came
With lustful thoughts (which was a fault in
me; [able,
But, telling truth, something more pardon-
And for the world I will not he to jouj:
Proud of myself; I thought a prince's name
Had power to blow 'em down flat o' their
backs;
But here I found a rock not to l>e shook:
For, as I hope for good, sir, all the battery
That I could lay to her, or of my persoii^ ^ 4
My greatness, or gold, could nothing move
hen [fair.
Leon. Tis very strange, being so young and
Leuc, She's almost thirty, sir.
Leon. How du you know
Her age so just ?
Leuc. She told it me herself,
Once when she went about to shew by reason
I should leave wooing her.
Leon, She stains the ripest virgins of her
age. [loath
Leuc. If I had sin'd with her, I would be
To publish her disgrace; but, by my life,
I would have told it vou, because I think
You would have pardon'd me the rather.
And I will tell you, father*^ : by this light, sir,
(But that I never will bestow myself
But to your liking) if she now would have me,
X now would marry her.
Leon. How's that, Leucippnsf
Leuc. Sir, will you pardon me one fault,
-which yet
I have not done, but had a will to do.
And I will tell it?
Xeon, Be it what it will,
I pardon thee.
Leuc. I offered marriage to her.
Leon. Did she refuse )t?
Leuc. With tliat earnestness,
And almost scorn to think of any other
Afler her lost mate, that she made me think
Myself unworthy of her.
. Leon. You have stay'd
Too long, Leucippus.
Leuc. Yes, sir.— Forgive me, Hcav'n,
W biU multitude uf oaths have I bestow'd
On lies ! and yet they were otHcious lies:
There was no malice in 'em.
Leon. She's the fairest
Creature that ever I beheld; and then
So chaste, 'tis wonderful : the more I look
On her the more I am amaz'd. I've long
Thought of a wife, and one I would have had,
But I was afraid to meet a woman
That might abuse my age ; but here she b
Whom I may trust to: of a chastity
Impregnable, and approv'd so by my 900;
1 he meanness of her birth will still presenrt
her
In due obedience; and her beauty is
Of ibrce enough to pull me back to youth.
My son unce sent away, whose rivalship
I have jukt cause to fear, if power, or gold.
Or wit, can win her to me, she is mine.- —
Nephew Isnienus, I have new inteliigeuce
Your province is unquiet still.
Istn. I'm glad on't.
Leon. And
So dangerously, that I must send the prince
In person witn you.
tsm. I'm glad of that too, sir:
Will you dispatch us ? we shall wither here
For ever.
Leon. You shall be dispatch'd witliin
This hour: Leucippus, uever wonder, npr ask;
It must be thus.-*-Lady, I ask your pardon.
Whose virtue I have slubber'd with my tonguei
And you shall ever be
Chaste in my memory hereafter; but
We old men often dote. To make amends
For my great fault, receive that ring ! I'm
sorry for [my lords;
Your grief; may it soon leave you ! — Coioe,
Let us be gone. lEjceunt.
Bacha. Heaven bless your grace f
One that had but so much mcidesty left as to
biush,
Or shrink a little at his first encounter.
Had been uudone; wliere I come off with
honour, [track'd
And gain too: they that never would be
In any course, by the most subtle sense.
Must bear it thro' with f rootless impudence.
Enter Dorialus, Agenor^ and Nisus.
Dor* Gentlemen, this is a strange piece of
justice, >
To put the wretched dwarf to death because
She doted on him : is she not a woman,
And subject to those mad fiwies her whole
Sex is infected with? Had Jie lov'd yout or
you,
Or I, or all on's, (as indeed tlie more [fore
The merrier still with them) must we there-
Have our heads par'd with a hatchet ? So sbe
may love
All the nobility out o'tli' dukedom in
A month, and let the rascals in. [need
Niius. You will not, or jo\fL do not, seethe
That fuakes this just to the world?
*° 4nd I will tell you father.] Edition 17^0,— »•// tell Vou FAHmEa.
JXr.
Act 9.]
CUPID'S REVENGE.
96^
Dor. I cannot tell ; I would be loth to feel its
But the best is, she loves not proper men ;
We three were in wise cases else. But make
This need. [me know
jVi5»«5. Why, yes : he being taken away,
This base incontinence dies presently,
And she must see her stianie and sorrow for it.
JJor, Pray God she do ! but was the sprat
beheaded? [and
Or did they swing him about like a chicken,
So break his neck? '
^gen. Yes, he was beheaded,
And a solemn justice made of it.
Dor. That might
Have been deducted.
Age. Why, bow would you have had him
die ? [like a warden*'.
Dor. Faith, I would have had him roasted
In a brown paper, and no more talk on't; or
A feather stuck in*s head like a quill ; or
hand;*d him
In :< dog collar: what, should he be beheaded?
We shall ha* it grow so base shortly, gentlemen
Will be out oflove with it.
NUus. I wonder [sprung ?
From whence tliis love of the dwarf first
Dor. From an old lecherous pair of breeches
that [tainly
Lay upon a wench to keep her warm ; for cer-
Tfiey are no man's work; and I*m sure a
monkey
Would get one of the guard to this fellow !
He was uo bigger than a small portmanteau.
And much about that making, ift had legs.
Age. But, gentlemen, wliat say you to tlie
prince ? [know not whither.
ATsztf. Ay, concerning his being sent I
Dor. Why then, he will come home I
know not when.
You shall panlon me; I v^'iH talk no more
Of this subject, but say, Gods be with him,
Where-e'er he is, and send him well home
again !
For why he is gone, or when he will return,
Let them know that directed him ! Only this,
There's mad muriacoes in the state ;
But what they are, I'll tell you when I know.
Come, let's go, hear all, and say nothing !
Age. Content. [ExeunL
Enter Timantus and Telainon.
Tel. Timantus, is the duke ready yet ?
Tun. Almost.
Tel. What ails him ? fdrenra'd
3 on. Faith, I know not; I think he has
He's but eighteen ; has been worse ^ince he
Forth for the friziling-iron. [sent you
Tc/. Thatcau'tbe;
He lay in gloves all nigjit, and this morning I
Brought him a new pernwig, with it lock at
it", and
Knock'd up a swing io's chamber.
Tan. Oh, but since,
His tailor came, and they have fallen out
About the fashion of his cloatlis; aud yondor's
A fellow pome, has bor'd a hole in's ear^';
And h* has bespake a vaulting-horse. You
shall see him
Come forth presently: he loots like winter,
Stuck here and tliere with fresh flowers.
Tel. Will he not
Tilt, think you?
Tim. I tfiink he will.
Tel, What does he mean to do ?
Tim. I know not ;
But, by this light, I think he is in love ;
He would ha* been shaved but for me, ^
Tel. In love?
With whom ?
Tim. I could guess, but you shall pardon me ;
He will take me along with him some whither.
Tel. I overheard him ask your opinion of
Sotuebody's beauty.
Tim. Yes; there it goes that makes him
So youthful. And he has laid by his crutch.
And halts now with a leading staff.
Enter Leontius, with a Staff and a Looking'*
glats.
Ijeon, Timantus!
Tmi. Sir.
LeoTt. This feather is not large enough.
Tun. Yes, faith, [lants wear.
Tis such an one as the rest of the young gal-
Leon. Tclamon, does it do well.^
Tel. Sir, it becomes you.
Or you become it, the rareliest-*
Leon. Away ! dost think so ?
Tel. Think, sir? I know it.—
Sir, the princess is past all hope of life
Since the dwarf was put to death.
L&m. Let her be so ; [tailor
I have other matters in liand. But this same
Angers me ; he has made my doublet so wide !
And see, the kn^ve has put no points at my
arm !
Tun Those will he put-to quickly, sir,
Upon any occasion. r
Leon. TelaiTion,
Have you bid this dancer come a-momings ?
^' like a warden.] A warden is o,pear, which is frequently mentioned by contemporary
writers. R.
** With a lock at it;] i. e. A love-lock. The allusion is (as Dr. Warburton observes in a
oote on Much Ado About Nothing) to the fantastical custom in our poets' days, of men
wearing ' a favourite lock of hair, which was brought before, tied with ribands, aud called
' a love-lock. Against this fashion, Prynne wrote his treatise, called the Unloveliness of
* Love-Locks.'
*' A hole ini ear;'^ i. e. For an ear-ring, by me^s of whicb the love-lock was brought
Tel.
hefore.
see
CUPID'S REVENGE.
[Act 2.
TeL Yes, sir.
Leon. Timantas, let me see the glass again ;
Look yoa how careless you are grown! is
Well put in ? [this tooth
Tim. Which, sir?
Leon. This, sir.
Tim. It shall be.
TeL Methinks that tooth should put him
In mindon's i^ears ! and Timantus stands, as if
(Seeing the ouke in such a youthful habit)
He were looking in his mouth how old he
were.
Leon. So, so !
TeL Will you have your gown, sir?
Leon, My gown?4 [couple
Why, am I sick? Bring me my sword! let a
Of the great horses be brought out for os.
[Exit Telumon.
Ttm. Hell kill himself,— Why, will you
Leon. Bjidcf [ride, sir?
Dost thou think I cannot ride^
Tim. Oh, yes, sir,
1 know it: but, as I conceive yom* journey,
You'd have it private; and then you were
A cuach. [better take
Leon. These coaches make me sick: yet.
No matter ; let it be so. f tis
Enter Telamon with a Sword.
TeL Sir, here's your sword.
Leon. Oh, well said; let me see it ! I
could, methinks — . [think'st thou
Why, Telamon, bring me another! what,
I'll wear a sword in vain f
TeL He has not strength
Enough to draw it : [drawn it.
A yoke of fleas tied to a hair would have
'Tis out, sir, now ; the scabbard is broke.
Leon» Oh, put it up again, and on with it I
Methinks, Tm not dress'd'till I feel my sword
on;
Telamon, if any of my council ask for me,
Say I am gone to take the air.
Tim. He has not [this vein
Been dress'd this twenty years tlius*^. If
Hold but a week, he*ll learn to play o* th'
bese-viol.
And sing to't: he's poetical already :
For I have spied a sonnet of his making
lie by his bed's side: 111 be so unmannerly
To read it, [Exeunt.
Cleophifa, Bcro, and Hidaspes in a Bedy dis-.
covered.
Hid. He's dead, he's dead, and I am fol-
lowing !
Cleo. Ask Cupid mercy, madam !
Hid. Oh, my heart !
Cleo. Help!
Hero. Stir her!
Hid. Oh, oh! [we are!
Cleo. She's going; wretched women that
Look to her, and ill pray the while.
[ShekneeU.
Hero. Why, madam —
Cleo. Cupid, pardon what is past.
And forgive our sins at last ; '
Then we will be coy no more.
But thy deity adore :
Trotl'.s at fifteen we will plight.
And will tread a dance at night.
In the fields, or by the fire.
With the youths chat have desire —
How does she yet ?
iff ro. Oh, ill!
Cleo. Given eai^rings we will wear,
Bracelets of our lovers' liair,
Which they on our arms shall twist.
With their names carv'd, on our wrist;
All the money that we owe
We in tokens will bestow;
And leani to write, that, when 'tis sent,
Only our loves know what is meant.
Oh, then pardon what is past.
And forgi\e our sins at last!
What, mends she I (yon should sing.
Hero. Nothing; you do it not wantonlv;
Cleo. Why— [dead!
Hero. Leave, leave ! 'tis now too late: she's
Her last is breath'd.
Cleo. What shall we do?
Hero. Go run [Exit CleopMa.
And tell the duke; and, whilst, I'll close her
eyes.
' Thus I shut thy faded light.
And put it in eternal night.
Where is she can boldly say,
Tho' she be as fresh as May,
She shall not by this corpse be laid,
Ere to-morrow's light do fade ?
I^t us all now living be,
Wani'd by thy strict cliastity.
And marry all fast as we can,
'Till then we keep a j)icce of man
Wrongfully from them that owe it :
Soon may every maid bestow it!
[Exeunt.
Enter Bacha and her Maid.
Bacha. AVho is it ? [tlie door.
Maid. Forsooth, there's a gallant coach at
And the brave old man in't, that yoa said
was the duke.
Bacha. Cupid, grant lie may be taken !
Maid. He s coming iip, and looks the
fwaggering*st.
And has such glorious cloaths !
Bacha. Let all the house seem sad^, and
see all handsome !
*' Thii twenty years then*] Former editions. Seward,
^* Let all the house see me sad."] Both the sense and measure confirm a veiy just emen*
dation of Mr. Theobald's here ; seem for see me, Mr. Sympson has since sent me the same
correction, Sezcard^
Enttr
Acts.}
CUPID'S REVENGE.
367
Enter Leontius and 'Rmantus,
Leon. Nay, widow, fl; Qot back ; we come
not now
To chide ; stand up, and bid me welcome.
Bacha. To a poor widow's house, that
kiK>ws no end [come.
Of her ill fortune, your highness is most wei-
Lton, Conie, kiss me then! this is but
manners, widow i
Ne*er fling your head aside ! I have more cause
Of grief than you; my daughter's dead: but
what? [brought to th*door ?
T*is nothing. — Is tlie rough French horse
They say he's a high goer ; I shall soon try
His mettle.
Tim. He will be, sir, and the grey
Barbary; they're fiery both,
Leon. They are the better :
Before the gods, Vi\\ lightsome,very lightsome!
How dost thou like mc, widow?
Bacha. As a person
In whom all graces are.
Leon. Come, come, you flatter! fnot
ni clap your cheek for that; and you sliall
Bt angry. Hast no music? Now could I cut
Three times with ease, and do a cross point,
Shame all your gallants ! [should
Bacha. 1 do believe you; — and yourself
too : [him !
Lord, what a fine old zany my love has made
He*s mine,rm sure: Heaven make me thank-
ful for him ! [pretty sweetheart ?
Leon. Tell me how old thou art, my
Tim. Your grace will not buy her? she
may trip, sir ! [am
Bacha. My sorrow shews me elder than I
By many years.
Leon. Thou art so witty, I
Must kiss again.
Tim. Indeed her age lies not
In her mouth; ne*er look it there, sir: she has
A hf tter register, if it be not burnt. [tus !
Leon. I will kiss thee : — I am afire, Timan-
Tim. Can you chuse, sir, having such
Before you? [heav'nly fire
Leon. Widow, guess why I come; I prithee
do. [to make
Bacha. I cannoti sir, unless you be pleased
A roirtli out of my rudeness; and that I hope
Your pity will not let you, the subject is t
So barren. Bite, king, bite I I'll let you play
a-while. [ihee truly.
Leon. Now, as Fm an honest man, TU tell
^' Your whore ihall never.] The sense and measure being both defective^ I have put in '
the natural words that supply both. Seward.
Seward reads, Your whore I tlttill be never.-^The quarto of 16.35 says, Your whore you
ihall never ; which words, wijth the help of appoint of interrogation, and marking it as a
broken sentence, make much <he bestreading.
** Go too you ronyd, what, $c.] The editors of 1750 read, Co to, you're mnd, else
fffhot, (Jrc. which ^ward believes * will be assented to by every reader.' As the word else
k not in the copy of 1635, we suppose it interpolated; and imiya sorely is only an ortlio-
iraphical error. So, in the Winter's Tale,
* ■ ■ You're a made old man.' Jt
Above
How many foot did I jump yesterday,
Timantus?
Ttm. Fourteen of your own, and some
Three fingers.
Bacha. This fellow lies as lightly.
As if he were in cut taflfata:
Alas, good almanack, get thee to bed, [row !
And tell what weather we shall have to*mor-
Leon, Widow, I'm come, in short, to be a
Bacha. For whom? [suitor.
Leon. Why, by my troth, I come to wooe
thee, wench.
And win thee, for myself: nay, look upon me I
I have about me that will do it. [whore^' ?
Bacha. Now Heaven defend me ! Your
You shall never — 1 thank the gods, I have
A little left me to keep me warm and honest :
If your grace take not that, I seek no more.
Leon. I am so far from taking any things
I'll add unto thee.
Bacha. Such additions may
Be for your ease, sir, not my honesty ;
I'm well in being single; good sir^ seek ano-
I am no meat for money. fther;
Leon. Shfill I fight for thee ? (claim
This sword shall cut his throat that dares lay
Hut to a finger of thee, but to a look ;
I would see such a fellow I
Bacha. It would be
But a cold sight to you ! This is the fiither of
St. George a-footback : can such dry mummy
talk? [like^neas.
Tim. Before the gods, your srace looks
Bacha. He looks hke hiaT old mther upon
Crying to get aboard. [his back,
Leon. How shall I win thy love? I pray
thee tell me.
I'll marry thee, if thou desirest tliat:
That is an honest course (I'm in good earnest)^
And presently within this hour (I am mad
for thee) :
Prithee deny me not ; for as I li?e
I'll pine for thee, but I'll have thee *
Bacha. Now he is in tlie toil, I'll hold him
ftist. [queen :
Tun. You do not know what 'tis to be a
Goto**; you Ve made! What the old man
falls short of, [to call on 'em.
There's others can eek out, when you please
Bacha. I understand you not-»Love, I
adore thee ! —
Sir, on my knees I give you hearty thanks,
For so much honouring your humble hand-
maid
368
CUPID'S REVENGE.
Above Ik* birth, far more her weak deserv-
ings.
I dare not trust the envioas tongacs of all
That must repine at my unworthy risinp ;
Beside, you've many fair ones in your king-
dom,
Bom to such worth: oh, turn yourself about,
And make a noble choice! Jthee,
Ijeon, If I do, let me famish ! I will have
Or break up bouse, and board here.
Bacha, Sir, you may
[Act 5.
Command an mi willing woman to obey joaf
But Heaven knows —
Leon, No more ! these half-a-dozen kisses^
And this jewel, and every thing I have.
And away with me^and clap it up; and have
A boy by morning! — Timantus, let one bt
sent
Post for my son again ; and for Ismenus !
Tlicy arc scarce twenty miles on their way
By that time, well be married. [yet :
Tun, There sliall, sir. {Exeunt,
ACT III.
Enter DorialaSy Agenor, and NUus.
Nisus* TS not this a fine marriage ?
-■• Age. Yes, yes; let it alone.
Dor, Ay, ay, the king may marry whom
Let's talk of other matters. [he list.
Ni9tt$. Is the prince
Coming home certainly ?
Dor, Yes, yes ; he was [we'll see
Sent post for yesterday : let's make haste !
How his new mother-in-law will entertain
him. [not ihark
J/isttf. Why, well, 1 warrant vou: did you
Hoi? humbly she carried herself to us on
Her marriage-day, acknowledging her own
Unworthiness, and that she would be our
Dor. But mark what's done! [servant?
Nisuf. Regard not showl
Age, Oh, God !
I knew her when I have been offer'd her
To be brought to my bed for five pounds ;
whether [not.
It could have been performed or no, I know
Nisus. Her daughter is a pretty huly.
Dor, Yes;
And having had but mean bringing up,
It talks the prettiliest and innocentliest !
The queen will be so angry to hear her betray
Her breeding by her language 1 But Tm per-
She's well disposed. [suaded
Age, I tliink better than her motlier.
Ntsus, Come, we stay too long. [Exeunt.
Enter Leucippus and Ismenus.
Ism. How now, man ? struck dead with a
Leue, No, [tale?
But with a truth. [blows,
Ivn, Stand of yourself: can you endure
And shrink at wonls ?
Leuc, Thou know'st I've told thee all.
Ian, But tliat's all nothing to make you
Is dead. [thus; your sister
Leuc. That's much; but not the most.
Itm. Why, fur the other,
Let her marry and hang; it is no purpos'd
fault
Of yours ! and if your fiither will needs hate
Your cast whore, vou shall shew the duty of
A child better in being contented, and
Bidding much good do his good old heart
with her,
Than in repining thus at it : let her go \ what!
There are more wenches, man ; well have
another. [do not love her.
Leuc. Oh, thou art vain ; thou know'st I
What shall I do? I would my tongue liad led
To any other thing, but blasphemy, [me
So I had miss'd commending of this woman.
Whom I must reverence, now she is my mo-
ther !
My sin, Ismenus, has wrought all this ill:
And T beseech thee to be warn'd by ine,
And do not lie ! If any man should ask thee
But How thou dott, or Whnt o*clock *tis noa^
Be sure thou do not lie ! Make no excuse
For him that is most near thee ! never let
The most officious falshood*' 'scane lljy
tongue!
For they above (that are entirely truth) [lies.
Will make that seed which thou hast sown of
Yield miseries a thousand-fold
Upon thine head, as they have done on roiue.
Enter Timantus.
Tim. Sir, your highness is welcome home!
the king
And queen will presently come forth to yoo.
Leuc. rU whit on them.
Tim. Worthy Ismenus, I pray you.
How have you sped in your wars?
Ism. I'his rogue mocks toe ! —
Well, Timantus. Pray how have you sped here
At home at shuffleboard ?
Urn. Faith, reasonable! [summer?
How many tovvns have you taken in tliis
Ism, How man^ stags have you been at
the deatli of, tins grass? [settled?
Tim, A number. Pray how is the province
^7 0^c'iou9 fahhood.] Officious seems here t» relate to duty, <ffice. It is similarly used
by the same speaker in p. 304.
Act 3.]
CUPID'S REVENGE.
Jim. Prithee how does the dun nag?
3^*01. I think you mock inc.
My lord.
Ism. Mock thee? Yes, by my troth do I;
. Why, what wouldst thoti have me do with
thee?
Art good for any thing etsef
Enter LeotUiwi, Back^, DorialtUf Agerwr,
Nisusy and TeUtmon.
Late, My good Ismenas^ hold me by the
wrist!
And if thoH 8ec*st me faintiue, wring me hard,
For I shall swoon again else ! \KneeU,
Leon, WekoniC, my son ! Rise. I did send
for thee [counsel.
Back from the province, by Uiy mother's
Thy good mother here, who lotes thee well:
She would not let mo venture all my ioy
• Amongst my enemies. I thank thee tor her.
And none but thee : I took her on thy word.
Leuc, Pinch harder ! [have now
Leon, And she shall bid thee welcome. I
Some near affairs, but I will drink a health
T6 thee anon. Come, Telamou ! I'm grown
Lustier, I thank thee for it, since I, married ;
Whv, TelamoD, I can stand now alone.
Ana never stagger. [Exeunt Leon, and TeL
Bacha. Welcome, most noble sir^ whose
fame is come
Hither before you ! — Out, alas ! you scorn me^
And teach me what to do.
Leuc. No, you are
My mother.
Bacha. Far unworthy of that name, [lords,
God knows! But trust me, here before these
I am no more but nurse unto the duke;
Nor will I breed a faction in the state :
It is too much for me that I am rais'd
Unto his bed, and will remain the servant
Of yon that did it.
ieuc. Madam, I will serve you [man !
As shall become me.-^Oh, dissembling wo-
Whom I must reverence tbo*. Take from thy
quiver,
Sure-aiin'd Apollo, one of thy swifl darts,
Headetl with thy consuming golden beams,
And let it melt this body into mist,
That none may find it !
Bachu, Shall I beg, my lords.
This room in private for the prince and me ?
[ExeujU all but LeucippiLS>and Baoha.
Leuc. What will she say now ?
Bacha. I must still enjoy him:
Yet there is still left in nie a spark of woman,
That wishes he would move it; but he stands
As if be grew thei*e with his eyes on earth.—
Sir, you and I, when wc were last together,
Kept not this distance, as we were afraid
Of blasting by ourselves.
Leuc. Madam, 'tis true ;
Heav'n pardon it!
Bacha. Amen ! Sir, you may think
That I have done you wrong in tliis strange
Leue. It is past now, [marriage.
VOL. IlL
Backa. But 'twaa no fault of mine?
The world had culFd me mad, had I refusM
The king; nor laid 1 any train to catch bim^
1*was your own oaths that did it.
Leuc, 1 w a truth, [Heaven,
That takes my sleep away ! But 'would to
If it had so been pleas'd, you had refus'd him,
Tho* I had gratified that courtesy
With having you myself ! But since 'tis thua^
I do beseech you tmrt you will be honest
From henceforth; and not abase hu credo-
lous age,
Which you may easily do. As lor myself
What I can say, yon know, alas, too well.
Is tied within me; here it will sit like lead.
But shall offend no other; it will pluck me
Back from my entrance into any mirth.
As if a servant came, and whispered with me
Of some friend's death : but I will bear my*
self.
To you, with all the due obedience
A son owes to a motlier: more than tfab
Is not in me ; but I must leave the rest
To the just gods, who, in their blessed time.
When they have given me punishment enough
For my rash sin, will mercifully find
As unexpected means to ease my grie^
As they did now to brine it.
Bacha. Grown so godly .^
This must not be. And I wiU be to yoa
No other than a natural mother ought ;
And for my honesty, so you will swear
Never to urge me, I shall keep it safe
From any other.
Leuc, Bless me! I should urge you }
Bacha. Nay, but swear then that I may
be at peace !
For I- do feel a weakness in myself^
That can deny you nothing : if you tempt me,
I shall embrace sin as it were a friend.
And run to meet it.
' Leuc. If you knew how far
It were from me, >0c. would not urge an oath;
But for your satisfiiction,Wheu I tempt you^-
Bacha. Swear not. — I cannot move him.
—This sad talk,
Of things past help, does not become us well :
Shall I send one for my musicians, and we'll
Leuc. Dance, madam? [dance?
Bacha, Yes, a lavulta.
Leuc. I cannot dance, madam.
Bacha. Then let's be merry!
Leuc. I am as my fortuni's bid me;
Do not you see me sowr?
Bacha, Yes.
And why, think you, I smile ?
Leuc. I am bo far
From any joy myself, I caimot fancj
A cause of mirth.
Bacha. I'll tell you; we*re alone*
Leuc. Alone?
Bacha. Yes.
Leuc. 'Tis true ; wliat then ?
Bacha What then? you makf^ ray smiling
now
3 B Break
S70
CUPID'S REVENGE.
[Actd.
|n
Break into laughter ! What think you is
To be done then ?
Leuc. We should pray to Heaven
For mercy.
Bachiu Pray ? that were a way indeed
To pass the time ! But I will make you blush^
To see a bashful woman teach a man
What we should do alone; try again
If you can find it out.
Xettc. I dare not tliink
I understand you !
Bacha. I must teach you, then :
Come, kiss me.
l£uc. Kiss you ^
Bacha, Yes ; be not asham'd !
You did it not yourself; I will foigiyc you.
Leuc. Keep, you displeased gods, the due
respect
I ought to bear unto this wicked woman,
As she is now my mother ! haste within me,
Lest I add sins to sins, 'till no repentance
Will. cure roe.
Baeka. Leave these melancholy moods,
That I may swear tliee welcome on thy lips
A thousand times !
Ltuc. Pray leave this wicked talk :
You do not know to what my father's wrong
May urge me.
Bacha. I am careless, and do weigh,
The world, my life, and all my after hopes
Nothing without thy love : mistake me not;
Thy love, as I have had it, free and open
As wedlock is, within itself: what say you ?
Leuc. Nothing.
Bacha, Pity me! behold a duchess
Kneels for thy mercy; and I swear to you,
Tho' I should lie with you, it is no lust;
For it desires no change : I could with you
Content myself. Whatanfwer will you give ?
Leuc, They that can answer, must be less
amaz'd
Than I am now! You see my tears deliver
My meaning to you.
Bacha, Shall I be contemnM ?
Thou art a beast, worse than a savage beast,
To let a lady kneel, to beg that thing
Which a ri^bt man would offer.
Leuc. Tis your will, Heav'n;
But let me bear me like myself, however
She does! [you went hence ?
Bacha. Were you made an eunuch, since
Yet they have more desire than I can find
In you. How fond was I to beg thy love !
ni force thee to my will: dost tliou not know
That I can make the kins dote at my list ?
Yield quickly, or by Heav n I'll have thee kept
Jn prison for my purpose ! [tliee
Where I will make tliee serve my turn, and nave
Fed with such meats as best shall fit my ends.
And not thy health. — Why dost not speak to
me? —
And when thou dost displease me, and art
grown
Less able to perform, then I will have thee
KillM and foigotten !— Areyou stricken dumb ?
Leuc. All you have nam'd, but making of
Tnesin
With vou, you may command, but never that.
Say what you will : Til hear you as becomes
me.
If you speak ; I will not follow your counsel.
Neither will I tell the world to your disgrace.
But give you the just honour that is due
From me to my father's wife.
Bacha. Lord, how full
Of wise formality are you grown of late ! —
But you were telling me you could have wish'd
That I had married you : if you will swear
I'll make away the king. [so yei,
Leuc, You are a strumpet—
Bacha. Nay, I care not
For all your railings ; tiiey will batter walls
And take in towns, as soon as truuble me:
Tell him! I care not; I shall undo you only,
Which is no matter.
Leuc. I appeal to you
Still, and for ever, that are and cannot
Be other! — Madam, I see 'tis in your power
To work your will on him; and I desire you
To lay what trains you will for my wisbVl
death.
But suffer him to find his quiet grave
In peace : alas, he never did you wrong.
And furtlier, I beseech you pardon n^e
For tlie ill word I gave you ; for however
You may deserve, it became not me
To call you so ; but passion urges me
I know not whitlier. My heart, break now.
And ease me ever!
Bacha. Prav you, get yon hence
Wi* your goodly humour! I am weary of yoo
Extremely.
Leuc. Trust me, so am I of myself too :
Madam, I'll take my leave. Gods set aH
right! [JBri*.
Bacha. Amen ! Sir, get you gone l-—
Am I denied? It does not trouble me
That I have mov'd, but that I am refus'd :
IVe lost my patience! I will make him know
Lust is not love ; for lust will find a mate
While there are men, and so will I, and more
Enter Timantm.
Than one, or twenty !-^onder is Timantm,
A fellow void of any worth to raise himself
And therefore Hke to catch at any evil
That will but pluck him up; him will I m«b»
Mine own. — ^Timantus!
Tim. Madam?
Bacha, Thou know'st well [raising;
Thou wert, by chance, a means of this my
Brought the cfuke to me; and, tho'*twerc but
I must reward thee. [chance,
Tim, I shall bend my service
Unto your highness. [thing';
Bacha. But do it tlien entirely, and in cveiy
And tell me, couldst thou now think that
thing
Tliou wouldst not do for me '
2}m* Npj by my soul^ madam,
Btcht
Act 3.]
CUPID'S REVENGE.
371
Bachh Then thou art right
Go to my lodging, and I'll follow thee.
[Exit Tm.
With my instruction, I do see already,
This prince, that did but now contemn me^
demdl
Yet will I never speak an evil word
Unto his father or him, 'till I have
Won a belief I love liim ; but Fit make
Qis virtues his undoing, and my praises
Shall be so many swords against his breast :
Which once performed, Til make Urania,
My daughter, the king*s heir, and plant my
issue
In this large throne; nor shall it be withstood :
They that begin in lust, must end in blood !
[Unt.
Writer Doritdus, Agenor, and Nhus,
Dor, We live to know a fine time, gentle-
men, [age
Nisus. And a fine duke, that thro* his doting
Suffers himself to be a child again.
Under his wiie*s tuition.
Age, All the land
Holds in that tenure too, in woman's service:
Sure we shall learn to spin !
Dor. No, tliat's too honest;
We shall have other liberal sciences
Taught OS too soon : lying and flattering,
Those are the studies now ! and murder shortly
I know will be humanity. Gentlemen,
If we live here we must be knaves, believe it.
Nisus. I cannot tell, my lord Dorialus;
tho' my [knaves,
Own nature hate it, if all determine to be
ril try what I can do upon myself, that's
certain : [ness-;
I will not have my throat cut for my good-
The virtue will not quit the pain.
Age. But pray you tell roe, [rienc'd,
Why is the prince, now ripe and full expe-
Not made a doer in the state ^* ?
Nisug, Because he's honest.
Enter Timantiu.
Tim. Goodness attend your honours !
Dor. You must not be amongst us then.
'Hm. The duchess,
Whose humble servant I am proud to be,
Would speak with you.
Age. Sir, we are pleas'd to wait;
When is it?
Tim, An hour hence, my |^od lords :
And so I leave my service. [Exit,
Dor. This is one [withal :
Of her ferrets, that she boults business out
This fellow, if he were well ript, has all
The linings of a knave within \nm : how sly
he looks! y
Nints. Have we nothing about our cloaths
May catch at? [that he
Age, O'my conscience, there is
No treason in my doublet ! if there be.
My elbows will discover it, they're out.
Dor. Faith,
And all the harm that I can find in mine
Is, that they are not paid for; let him
Make what lie can of that, so he discharge it.
Come, let us go. [Exeuttt,
Enter Baclm, Leontiui, and Tekmon.
Bacha, And you shall find, sir, what
A blessing Heaven ave you in such a son.
Leon. Pray gods I may! Let's walk, and
change our subject. [to you,
Bacha. Oh, sir, can any thing come sweeter
Or strike a deeper joy into your heart.
Than your son's virtue ?
Leon, I allow his virtues;
But 'tis not handsome thus to feed myself
With such immoderate praises of mine own.
Bacha. The subject of our commeudationsi
Is itself grown so infinite in goodness^
That all the glory we can lay upon it,
Tho' we should open volumes of his praises.
Is a mere modesty in his expression, [piece
And shews him lame still, like aq ill-wrought
Wanting proportiom
l^on. Yet still he's a man, and subject still
To more inordinate vices (ban our love
Can give him blessings.
Bacha, Else he were a god ;
Yet so near, as he is, he comes to Heaven,
That we may see, so far as flesh can point us.
Things only worthy of them; and only these
In all his actions.
Xeon. This is too much, my queen!
Bacha. Had the gods lov\l me, that my
unworthy womb
Had bred this brave man —
l£on. Still you run wrong! [of him,
Bacha. I would have liv'd upon the comfort
Fed on his growing hopes!
Leftn, This touches me! * [his virtues.
Bacha. I know no friends, nor being, but
Xecm. You've laid out words enough upon
a subject.
Bacha. But words cannot express him, sir.
Why, what a shape
Heav'n has conceiv'd him in! oh, Nature
made him up —
Leon, I wonder, duchess—
Bacha. So you must; for less
Than admiration loses this godlike man.
Leon. Have you done with him ? ^
Bacha. Done with him? Oh, good gods, *
What qualities thus pass by ys without re*
verence**!
Xeon. I see no such perfection.
** "Not made a dore in the ttetef] Corrected in 1750.
*' What frailties thu$ pass by uf tnthout reverence f] FraHtia, Seward justly observes, is
* the very reverse of the idea required by the coutext : he substitutes virtues for that word,
hut we have adopted Sympioa'a leading, quaUtieif v^hich is much Uie best,
3 B ^ Bachat
9rs
CUPID'S REVENGE.
[Act 5.
Backa, Ob, demr air, yoa^re a father, and
those joys [tongue.
To jou, speak in your heart, not jn your
Ije*m. This leaves ata^te behind it worse
than physic. [good fortune,
Bacha, Then for his wisdom^ valour, 'and
And all those fnendfc gi" honour ^^ they're
in him
As free and nataral, as passions in
A woman. ![ye9,rs,
Leon. You make pie blush, for a}I th'ea»e
To see how blindly you have flung your
praises
Ufion a boy, a very child ; and worthless,
l^hilst I ljve,4>f these honours.
Bacha. I would not have my love, sir,
make my tongue
Shew ine so much a woman, as to praise
Or disptraUe, where my will is, without reason,
Or general allowance of the people.
jUiwi.- Allowance of the people? what
atlow they ? [must do it,
Bacha. All I have said for truth ; and they
And dote upon him, love him, and admire him.
Lean, How's that? [wardness
Barka^ 'For in his youth ^' and noble for^
All things are bound together that are kingly ;
A fitaess to bear rule—
Leon. No more !
Bacha. And sove reignty.
Not made to know command.
Lean. IVe said, no more!
Bacha. IVe idon/e, sir, tho' unwilling ; and
pardon mel
Lam. I do ; not a word more !
Bacha. IVe ^iveu thee poison
Of more infection than the dragon*8 tootl^.
Or the^ross air oVrtheated.
^i^ifirTimantus.
Lam. Timanttts, when
Saw you thf pdnce?
Jtm. I iefit him now, sir.
Leon. Tell me truly,
Out of your free opimon, without courting,
How you like him ?
Thft. llowllikehim?
Leon. Yes;
Por you in conyersAtipn may see more
Than a father.
■ Bacha. JtworkSi.
Tim. Your grhce )ias chosen out an ii)
observer. [righjtlv.
L^n. Yes, I mean of his ill; you talk
Tim. But you take me wro;ig ! All I knov
by him
I dtire deliver boldly: he is the storehouse
And jiead of viitiie, vourgreat ul£ e]^cepted,
That feeds the kingdom. " »
l^on. These are flatteries ,!
Speak me his vices : there you do a service
Worthy a fathpi-'s thanksi
i'im. Sir, 1 cannot.
If there be any, sure they are the times',
Whith I could wish less dangerous. But
pardon me,
I am too bold.
fjcon. You are not ; forwarjj.
And open what these dangers are i
2'ii». Nay, good sir! fajlj
Leon. Nay, fall not off again ; I will have
Tiffi. Alas, sir, what am 1, you should be-
lieve
My eyes or ears so subtle to observe
Faults' in a state? all my main business
Is service to yr»ur grace^ rtnd necessaries
For my poor life.
Leo?i. Do not displease me, sirrah!
^ut tha^youJknow tell me, and presently.
Tim. Si^^c yovr grace will have it,
I'll speak It freely: always mj^ obedience
And- love preserv'd unto the prince.
^onp Pri^ee to t)ie matter !
Tim. For, sir, if you consider
How like a sun in all^s great employments,
How fullx>f|ieat — .' '
Leon. Makeme understand what J. desire!
Tim. And then at liis retiam— '
Leon. Do not anger me !
Tim. Then thus, sir: all inisUke yon.
As they woul4 do the gods, if they did dwell
Leoti. What? • ' * . ['with eim'.
Tim. Talk and prate, as theirignorant rages
X.ead 'em, without allegiance or religion.
For Heav'n's sake, have a care of your own
persoi^! •
I cannot tell; their wickedness may lead
Fnrt^r than I dare think yet. • •
Lepn. Oh, base people !
Tim. Yet the prmce, for whom this is pre-
tended, may . t^ver watchful ;
Persuade 'em, and no doubt will: virtue's
But be you still secur'd artd comforted!
Ldon. Heav'n ! how have I oflfendedt that
this rod,
So heavy and unnatural, slmuld &11 upon me
When 1 am old and helpless?
Tim. Brave gentleman^* !
Tliat sud^umwddintf love should follow thee.
To rob thee of a faUier ! All the court
Is fuH of dangerous whispers.
*• 'Icon. I perceive it;
And, 'spite of all their strengths, will oiake
my safety !
^^ fiu:ha. Then for all his zoisdom^ valour,
Good fortune, and all those friends of honour.
They are in him as free and natural, as passions
In, a i»oman.J The measure here was quite lost, and the sense bnrt^ hy
the aU frovn the second line into the first. Smard.
5* .For in this youih.'X Varied by Seward.
3^ Brtsve £cae2ema»/| Seward leads^Pooit Iraioe gerUkaumi
Act 3.]
Til CM* lu:n shorter — 111 cut liim slioi'tr
^ }\.jlL t. WiiaL ;i J<mjI nee is this, ftuous?
.'vVlw u \ irtue's m.ide a sword to stuite th^r vir-
y.t V?. ril touch iilm to fiy lower.
^'/;/. Bv no means, sir; rather make more
voiir !o»'f,
And iv i your favour to him : for Vm now
lmr'<^'-.ijle to yoke him, if his thoughts
(As inubt ne'er believe) run witii their rages
(Ho .'VL. wasso innocent"). But what reason
His !;Tare hits to withdraw his love from me,
And i/thrr good men thatare near your person,
I cannot yet find out; I know my dutjr
Has ever been attending. *
' JjLon. Tis too plain [him.
He means 'to play the vijlsun ; fU prevent
Not a word more of thia ; be private J
[EriY.
Tan. Madam/us done.
'Bacha: He 'can't escape me. Have you
spoken with the noblemen ?
Tim. YeSj'madam; they are here. I wait
a further servicte.
^acha. Till you see the|)rince'*, you need
no mbre'idstructions. •
Tim. No; I have it' \Exxi
♦ »•»♦• ■ •
'EnttT Dorialusy Nitut, and Agenor,
Backa. That fooi that willingly provokes a
woman, *
Hiis miUle himself another evil angel,
And a ilew hell^ to' which aiU other torments
Are but mere pastime. — ^Now, my noble
• lords, • • '
You most excuse me, tliat uomannerly
We've broke ydor private bosiness.
• Age. Your good grace
May command us, and that-*-
- ia4!ha. Faith, my lord Agenor,
It is so good a cause, I'm confident
You cannot lose by it.
Dor. Which wajr does she fish now?
The deviVs but a fool to a right woman.
' Nisus. Madam, we tnust needs win in do-
ing service
To suth a gracious lady.
Bacha. I thank you, and will let youknow
the business,
So I may have your helps : never be doubtful,
Tor 'tis so just a cause, and will to you
Upon the knowledge seem so honourable.
CUPID'S REVENGE,
firs*-
nr^
'Ihrit I r.s«;ure mysrlf yonr willing hearts
\\ jJ'i i^ll•A:^llt bt; r'or me in it.
A^'c. ir hlje should Uii.ve (;oini ziow, what
were jt I'ke ? [man;
Dor. 'Ihuuder in Jnruinrv, or a yood a'o-
That'sstrani'er than all tlieiiiuiiMcrL liAtrick.
Bccka. It shall not need your wciuier;
this it is:
The duke you know Isold, ai!d rather subject
To ease and prayers now, than all those irou^
hies.
Cares, and continual watchings, that attend
A kiiigdpm's safety: tlierefore to prevent
The lall of such a fiourishiiig estate
As this has been, and to put off
The murmur of the people, that encrease
Against mv government, which the gods know
I only feel the trouble of, 1 present
The prince unto your loves, a gentleman
In whom all excellencies are knit together,
All pieces of a true man : let your prayers
Win from the duke half his vexation,
That he may undertake it, whose discretion
I must confess, tho* it be from a father.
Yet now is stronger, and more apt to govern !
Tis not my own desire, but all the laud's !
I know the weakness of it.
Nisus. Madam, this noble care and love
has won us
For ever to your loves: we'll to the king;
And since your grace has put it in our mouths.
We'll win him with the cunning'st words we
can. [fore,
J>or. I was never cozen *d in a woman be«
For commonly they are like apples :
If once they bruise, they will grow rotten
thro', [ings.
And serve for nothing but to asswage swell*
Bacha. Good lords.
Delay no time, since it is yourgood pleasures
To think my counsel good ! and by no means
Let the prince know it, whose aflections
Will stir mainly against it ; besides, his father
May hold him dangerous, if it be not carried
So that his forward will appear not in it.
Go, and be happy!
Dor. Well, I cf not be chronicled
As thou^t be for a good woman, for all the
world. [inspir'd,
Nisus. Madam, we kiss your hand; and so
Nothing but happiness can crown our pray*
ers". [Exeknt.
'^ He ne'er was so innocent.} Corrected by Seward.
3* Till yet be the prince.] For want of consulting the quarto of 1635 (which exhibits the
lection in 'our text) Seward and Sympson were much puzzled about this passage : the former
prints, STILL beset the prince; and the latter proposes, still let it be the princt.^^
Through inattention to that copy (which is infinitely the best, and which it is certain they
were pfissessed of) they have made many unnecessaiy variations, which we forbear to par^
ticularise.
' ^^ Madamy we luu your hand, and so inspire.
Nothing but happiness can crown our prayers.'] The omission of a letter and the insertion
of a false point, which turn part of these hues into nonsense, has past through all die editions.
Mr. Syrop^n bis sent me the same correction. Seward^
r ACT
3U
em>ID*S REVENGE.
[Act 4.
ACT IV.
Enter Leucippitt and Ismenus,
Leuc. TTHUS she has us'd me : is't not a
•*■ good mother?
Ism. Why kill'd you her not ?
Leuc. The gods forbid it!
Ism. 'Slight,
If all the women in the world were barren,
Sh' had died!
Leuc, But 'tis not reason directs thee thus.
Ism. Then have I none at all; for all I've
in me
Directs me. Your fatlier's in a pretty rage.
Leuc. Why?
Ism. Nay, it is well if he know himself :
But some of the nobility have deliver d
A petition to him ; what is ih't
I know not; but it has put him t'his trumps:
He has taken a month's time to answer it,
And chafes like himself.
Enter LeantiuSy Bacha, and Telamon,
Leuc. He's here, Ismenus.
Leon. Set me down, Telamon I—Leucippus !
Leuc. Sir. [swear
Bacha. Nay, good sir, be at peace! I dare
He knew not of it.
Leon. You are foolish ; peace !
Bacha. All will go ill,! Deny it boldly, sir;
Trust me, he cannot prove it by you.
Leuc. What? [facing it.
Bacha. You'll make all worse too with your
Leuc. What is the matter?
Leon. Know'st thoa that petition ?
Look on it well! Wouldst thou be join'd
with roe ?
Unnatural child ! to be weary o'me, ere fate
Esteem me fit for other worlds !
Bacha. May be
He knows not of it.
Leuc. Oh, strange carriages!
Sir, as IVe hope that there is any thing
To reward domg well, my usages,
Which have been — but it is no matter what —
Have put me so far from the thought of
greatness,
That I should welcome it like a disease
That grew upon me, and I could not cure.
They are my enemies that gave you this ;
And yet they call me friend, and are them-
selves ^
I fear abus'd. Pm weary of my life;
For God's sake, take it from me ! it creates
More mischief in the state than it is worth.
The usage I have had, I know, would make
Wisdom herself run frantic thro' the streets,
And Patience quarrel with her shadow. Sir,
This sword^
Bacha. Alas! hel]^, for the love of Heav'h!
Make way thro' me bnti for he is your father !
Leon. What, would he kill me?
Bacha. No, sir, no. \
Leon. Thou always mak'st the best obX}
but I fear—
Leuc. Why do you use me thus? Who is't
can think
That I would kill my iiitKer, that can yet
Forbear to kill you — Here, sir, is my sword;
I dare not touch it, lest she say again
I would have kill'd you. Let me not have
mercy
When I most need it, if I would not change
Place with my meanest servant ! — Let these
faults
Be mended, madam! if you saw how ill
They did become you, you would part with
them.
Bacha. I told the duke as much before.
Leuc. What? what did you tell him?
Bacha. That it was only an ambition
Nurs'd in you by your youth, provok'd you
-Which age would take away. [thus,
Leon. It was his own doing then ? — Come
Bacha. No, indeed, sir. [hither, love!
Leuc. How am I made, that I can bear all
this ?
If any one had us'd a friend of mine near this.
My hand had carried death about it.
Leon. Lead me hence, Telamon ! [this.
Come, my dear Bacha ! I shall find time for
Ism. Madam, you know I dare not speak
before Ly®")'
The kin^j'but you know well (if not, I^ tdl
You're the most wicked, and most murderous
That ever was caird womap ! [strumpet,
Bacha. My lord,
What I can do for him, he shall command me.
Leon. I know thou art too kind : away, I
say ! ' ^Exeunt Leon. Bacha, Ihn. and TeL
Ism. Sir, I am sure we dream ! this can-
not be.
Leuc. Oh, that we did! My wickedness has
brought
All this to pass, else I should bear myself.
[Urania passes aver the stage.
Ism. Look ! do you see who's there? your
virtuous mother's issue :
Kill her yet ! take some little pidling revenge.
Leuc. Away! the whole court calls her
virtuous; for they say,
She is unlike her mother; and if so,
She can have no vice,
Isnu I'll trust none of 'em
That come of such a breed.
Leuc. But I have found
A kind of love in her to me. Alas !
Think of her death ? I dare be sworn for her.
She is as free from any hate to me
As her bad mother's full. She was brought up
r th'covmtry^ as her tongue will let you know,
£fUer
Act 4.]
CUPHyS REVENGE.
«7S
Enter Urania,
If you bat talk with her, with a poor unde,
Such as her mother had.
Ism, She's come again. {q«>»>
Ura, I would fen speak to the good mar-
My brother, if I but thought he could abaid
Leuc. Sister, how do you } [me.
Ura. Very well, I thank you.
hm. How does your good mother ?
Leuc. Fy, fy, Ismenus! ^ [this?
For shame ! mock such an innocent soul as
Ura, Feth, a she be no good, God may
her so! [dear sister!
Leuc. I tnow you wish it with your heart,
But she is good, I hope.
Ism. Are you so simple.
To make so much of this ? Do you not know.
That all her wicked mother labours for [her
Is but to raise her to your right, and leave
This dukedom?
Ura, Ay; but ne'er, sir, be afred;
For tho' she take th' ungainest weas she can,
Th ne'er ha't fro' you.
Leuc. I should hate myself, Ismenus,
If I should think of her simplicity
Aught but extremely well.
Ism, Nay, as you will !
Ura, And tho' she be my mother.
If she take any caurse to do you wrang.
If I can see't, you'st quickly Learon't, sir:
And so I'll take my leave. ^
Leuc. Farewell, good sister ! •
I thank you. [Exit Urania,
Ism. You believe all this?
Leuc, Yes.
Enter Timantus.
Ism, A good faithiloth well J but, methinks.
It were no hard matter now for her mother
to send her.
Yonder's one you may trust if you wilJ, too.
Leuc. So I will, if he can sliew me as ap-
/»arent signs
truth as she did. Does he weep, Ismenus?
Ism. Yes, I think so ; some good's happen'd
I warrant.
Do you hear, you? What honest man has
scap'd misery,
That thou art crying thus f
Ihn. Noble IsmenoSy
Where is the prince ?
Ism. Why,uiere: hast wept thine eyesoutf
Tim. Sir, I beseech you hear me.
Leuc Well, speak on.
Jim. Why, will you hear hhn?
Leuc. Yes, Ismenus; why?
Ism. I lipoid bear blasphemy at willingly,
Leuc. You are to blame.
Itm, No, sir, he's not to l^ame.
If I were as I was.
Ism, Nor as thou art,
rfaith, awhit to blame.
Leuc. What is your business? [fore yon;
Tim, Faith, sir, I am asham'd to speak be*
My conscieuce tells me I have injurM yoe,
And, by tlie earnest instigation
Of otlwrs^ have not done you to the king
Always the best and friendliest offices :
Which pardon me, or I will never speak !
Ism, Never pardon him, and silence a
Leuc. I pardon thee. [knave !
Ihn. Your mother sui^ is naught.
Leac. Why shouldst thou think so?
Tim. Oh,, noble sir, your honest eyes per-
ceive not
The dangers you are led to: shame upon her,
And what fell miseries the gods can think on,
Show'r down upon her wicked head ! She has
plotted, [life,
[ know too well, your death: 'would my poor
Or thousand such as mine is, might be omr'd
Like sacrifices up for your preserving; [her !
What free oblations would< she have to glut
But she is merciless, and bent to ruin.
If Heav'n and good men step not to your
rescue.
And timely, very timely. Oh, this dukedom!
I weep, I weep for the poor orphans in
This country, left without or friends or pa*
rents'^. [this fdlow ?
Leuc. Now, Ismenus, what think you ot
This was a lying knave, a flatterer !
Does not this love still shew him so i [yet
Ism. This love ? this halter ! If he prove not
The cunuing'st, rankest rogue tlwt ever
canted,
I'll ne'er see man again^' ! I know him to
bring'*.
And can interpret ev*ry new face he makes.
Look
36 J fveep, I weep for the poor orphans i* th' country
Left with hut friends or parents.] The villany of Timantus will not allow him to talk
absurdly; his art imposes on the prince, and he should therefore at least speak sense. And
indeed how easy was the mistake of without to toith but f This being made, the repetition
of the or was absurd, and being left out, the measure was spoilt, and consequently believed
to ^ e no measure at all. This process olf the corruption seems natural, and there^tre I hope
I have only restored the original. Mr. Sympson joins in correcting mtk but to without.
Seward,
Quarto 1635 reads. Left with hut^friendsj not parents.
37 ril nitr see man again.] Seward calls this ^ absurd,' and substitutes seem for see : we
think tlie expression easjr and natural.
3S J ]fj^Q^ i^ifn to bring.
And can interpret erdry new face he mato.] Unless a whole line be lefi out after brins^
or the first part be made an imperfect sentence^ which would be very improper here, this
seems
37d
CUPID'S REVENGE-
[Act 4.
Look how he wrings, like a good stool, for a
Take heed; [tear!
Children and fools first feel the smart, then
weep. . [trust
Leuc, Away, away ! such an unkind dis-
is worse than a dissembling, if it be one,
And sooner leads to mischief: I believe it.
And him an honest man; he could not carry,
Uiider an evil cause, so true a sorrow.
Ism. Take heed! this is your mother's
scorpion, [soul
Tliat carries sdngs ev'n in his tears, whose
Is a rank poison thorough : touch not at him;
If you do, youVe gone, if you'd twenty lives.
1 knew him for a roguish boy, [toads;
When he would poison dogs, and keep tame
He lay witli his mother, and infected her,
And n6w she begs i'th' hospital, with a patch
Of velvet where her nose stood, like the
queen of spades,
And all her teeth in her nurse. The devil and
This fellow are so near,*tis not yet known
Which is the ev'ler angel. [hither, friend !
Leuc. Nay, then I see 'tis spite. Come
Hast thou not heard the cause yet tliat in*
cens'd
My mother to my death? for I protest
I feel none in myself. [think, '
Tm. Her wifl, sir, and ambition, as I
Are the provokers of it, as in women
Those two are ever powerful to destruction;
Beside a hate of your still-growing virtues,
She being only wicked.
I Leuc, Heav'ns defend me,
As I am innocent, and ever have been.
From all immoderate thoughts and actions.
That carry such rewards along with 'em !
Tim. Sir, all I know my duty must reveal;
My country and my love command it ft'omme.
For whom I'll lay my life down: this night
coming,
A counsel is appointed by the duke^
To sit about your apprehension : [things,
If you dare trust my mith (which, by all good
Shall ever watch about you!) go along,
- And to a place I'll guide vou, where no word
Shall scape without your hearing, nor no plot,
Without discovering to you; which once
known,
You have your answers and prevention.
Jm. You're not so mad to go ? shift off
this fellow ! [bane !
You shall be rul'd once by a wise man. liats-
Get you gone, or—
Leuc. Peace, peace for sliame! thy Jove
is too suspicious;
Tis a way offer'd to preserve my life.
And I will take it. Be my guide, Timantus,
And do not mind this angry man ! thou
I may live to requite thee. [know'st him.
Ihn. Sir, this service
Is done for virtue's sake, not for rewai^
However he may hold me. [that curse
Ignu The peat pox on you! but thou hast
So much, 'twill grow a blessing in thee shortly.
Sir, for wisdom's sake, court nOt your death !
I am [both ;
Your friend and subject, and I shall Jose in
If I lov'd you not, I would laugh at you, and
see you [woodcock !
Ruil your neck into the noose, and cry, a
Leuc. So much of man, and so much fear-
fill ?fy!
Prithee have peac^ within thee! I shall live yeC
Many a golden day to hold thee here,
Dearest and nearest to me. Go on, H-
mantus !
I charge yoii by your love, no more, ni>
more ! [Exeunt Leuc. and Ton.
Ism, Go, and let your oWn rod whip you!
Ipityyota; •
And, dog, if he miscarry, thou shalt pay foi^t t
111 study for thy punishment, and it shall last
Longer and shatter than a tedious winter.
Till thou blasphem'st; and .then thou diest
and damn'st. [Exit.
Enter Leontitu and Tehmuon.
Leon. I wonder the duchess comes notL
Tel, She has heard, sir, your will is X»
speak with her :
But there is something leaden at her heart,
(Pray God it be not mortal !) that ev'n keeps
her
From conversation with herself.
Enter Bacha.
Bacha, Oh, whither
Will you, my cross affections, pull me? For-
tune, fate.
And you whose powers direct our actions^
And dwell within us, you that are angeb
Guiding to virtue, wherefore have yon ^ven
So strong a hand to evil? wherefore sufiWd
A temple of your own, you deities,
«Where your fair selves dwelt only, and your
Thus to be soil'd with sin ? [goodness,
Leon. Heav'n bless us all ! [my fair one!
From whence comes tliis distemper.' Speak,
Bachu. And have you none, Love and
Obedience,
You ever faithful servants, to employ
In this strange story of impiety,
I But me? a mother? Must I be your trumpet'',
I To lay black treason open^^r and in bim
I In whom all sweetness was ; in whom my lovt
seems quite unintelligible. I read,— I know Aim to b' a rogue, which is much nearer the
trace of the letters than it seems in the pronunciation; ring and rogue having two of the
»ame letters, and a tliird, u and n, extremely like each other. Seward.
3» Must I he your strumpet?] Was she frightened at the idea of being a strumpet to teve
and obedience? Surely trumpet is the true reading.
^ To lay black treason upon.] Corrected iu 1750.
Wa$
Act 4.]
CUPID'S REVENGE.
577
Was proud to have a being; in ^vhorn justice^
And all the gods, for our imaginations'*'',
Can work into a man, were more than virtues?
Ambition, down to heli, wliere thou wert
fosier'd ! [whitest,
Th'hast poison*d the best soul, the purest.
And iDeercst iunoceiite itselt*^^, that ever
Man's greedy hopes gave liie to. [open
Leon. 1 liis is still stranger! lay this treason
To my correction,
Backa, Oh, what a combat duty and afifectiou
Breed in my blood!
Leon, If thou conceaI*st him, may,
Beside my death, the curses of the country.
Troubles of conscience, and a wretched end,
Bring thee unto a poor forgotten grave !
Bacha. My beingi for another tongue to
tell it!
Oh^ ease a mother, some good man that dares
Speak iw his king and couutry^^ ! I am full
Of too mucii woman's pity : yet, oh, Ueav'u,
Since it concerns the safety of my sovereign,
•Let it not be a cruelty in me,
Nor draw a mother's ntfUie in question
*AIongst unborn people, to give up that man
To law and justice, tliat unrighteously
Has sought his fatljer s death ! Be deaf, be
deaf, sir!
Your son is the offender : now have you all ;
'Would I might never speak again!
Leon. My son }
Ileav'n help me! No more! I thought- it;
And since his life is grown so dangerous.
Let them that gave him, take him ! he shall
And with him all my fears. [die,
Bacha, Oh, use your mercy !
You've a brave subject to bestow it on.
I will forgive him, sir ; and (or his wrong
To ine, J '11 be before you.
Leon. Durbt his villainy
Extend to thee?
Bacha. Nothing but heats of youth, sir.
Leon. ITpon my lile he sought my bed.
Bacha. 1 roust confess he lov'd me
Somewhat beyond a son ; and still pursu'd it
VVith such a lust, I will not say ambition,
'^' For ottr imaginations.] Sympson would read imitations instead of imaginations: we
think the text best. If the passage is at all corrupt, we should perhaps read or, not Foa
our imaginations.
-^^ And meerctt innoccntst.] Mr. Theobald had prevented me in this correction. Seward^
*^ jl/y being :for another tongue to tell it,
Cease, a mother! some goad man that dares
Speak for his king and country : i am full
Of too much woman's pit^'] I'ew emendations have given me so much pleasure as that
of this passage. The corruption lay in the loss only of about a iiftli part of a letter, and yet
it utterly spoiled both metre and seiifre, where both were very beautiful. It cost me two or
tliree turns before I could hit upon jt, but when mention'd it oirries immediate conviction.
Instead of Cease a mother^ it is only turning the C into an 0.
0/ ease a mother some good man tliat dares
Speak for his kmg and country. Seward.
Sewnrd*8 variation here is ingenious and plausible, though perhaps the passage will not
appear corrupt, when the points are altered, thus:
My being, fur another tongue to tell it.
Cease I A mother? Some good man, &c.
VOL.UL 3C Leon.
That clean forgetting all obedience.
And only foUotving his first heat unto me,
lie hotly sought your deatl), and me in mar-
Leon. Oh, villain! [riage,
Bacha. But I forget all ; and am half asham'd
To press a man so far.
Enter TimantuSm
Tim. Where is the duke?
For God's sake, bring me to him !
Leon. Here I am. [frights forth !
Each corner of the dukedom sends new aN
What wouldst thou ? Speak !
2\m. I cannot, sir; my fear
Ties up my tongue.
Leon. Why, wljat's the matter ? Take
Thy courage to thee, and boldly speak!
Where are
The guard? In the gods* name, out with it!
Tim, Treason, trciwon!
Leon. In whoih ?
Bacha. Double the guard!
,, Tim. There is a fellow, sir-»-
Leon. Leave shaking, man !
'itwi. Tis not for fear, but wonder.
Lean. Well?
l^im. There is a fellow, sir.
Close in tlie lobby : you o' the guard.
Look to the door there !
Leon. But let mc know the business.
Tim. Oh, that the hearts of men should be
so harden'd
Agailist so good a duke! for God's sake, sir.
Seek means to save yourself: this wretched
slave
Has his sword in his hand; I know his heart:
Oh, it hatl) almost kill'd me with the thought
of it!
Leon, Where is he ?
Etiter the Guard.
Tim. Fth'lobby, sir, close in a comer:
Look to yourselves, lor Heaven's sake ! me>
thinks,
He's here already. Fellows of the guard, be
valiant!
iJ30
CUPID'S REVENGE,
[Act 4.
.Dor, How ? [wns come
Age, Tis true, and thus it was: his bour
To li)se Lis life: he, ready for the stroke,
Nobly, and full of sainf-like patience, [saw,
Went witli his $ruard ; which, when the people
• Compassion first went out,niingled with tears,
That bred desires, and whispers to each other,
To do some worthy kindness for the prince;
And ere they understood well how to do.
Fury step'd ni, and tauf;ht them what to do,
; !1 hrusting on every hand to rescue him,
As a white innocent. Then ficw the roar
i^lliro' alt the btreets, of Save him, save him,
sarc him !
And as they cried, they did; for catching up
Such snddfen weapons as their madness
shew'd them, [from 'em,
In short, they beat the guard, and took him
And now march with him like a royal army.
Dor. Ileav'n, Heav'n, I thank thee! what
a slave w<i8 I
To have my hand so fiir from this brave rescue!
Thad been a thing to brag on when I was old.
Shall we run for a wager to tlie next temple.
And give thanks ?
Nisus. As fast as wislies. [Exeunt,
JEnter Leucippus and Imenut ; the People
within stop,
Levc, Good friends, go home again ! there's
Shall go with me. [not a man
Ism, Will you not take revenge?
I'll call them on.
Leuc, All that love me, depart !
I thank you, and will serve you for your loves;
But I will thank you more to suffer me
To govern 'em. Once more, I do beg ye,
For my sake, to vour houses !
Omiies [within'], Gods preserve you !
Jsm, And what house will you 20 to?
Leuc, Ismeniis, 1 will take the wariest
courses
Tliat I can tl.ink of to defend myself.
But not offend. [offend your father,
lirm. You may kill your mother, and ue*er
Or any honest man**'.
I^uc, Thou know'st I can
^ape now ; that's all I look for. I will leave—
Iwh Timnntns, a pox take him ! 'would I
had him here !
IM kill him at his own weapon, single scithes.
We've built enough on him. Plague on*t, Fm
out of
All patience! discharge suchanannyas this.
That would have followed you without pay-
ing? Oh, gods! [iree.
J^uc. To what enil shall I keep 'em? I nm
Jww. Yes, free o* th' traitors; lor you are
proclaimM one.
J.ctic, should I therefore make myself one?
lam, Tliis is one of [me
Your moral philosophy, is it? Heav'a bless
From subtilties to nado myself with ! but I
know, [part
If Reason herself were here, she would not
With lier own lafety.
Lcuc, Well, pardon, Ismenus! for I know
My courses are mostjust; nor will I stain 'em
With one bad action. For thyself, tboa
know'st,
That tho' I may command tbee, I shall be
A ready servant unto thee, if thou need*st:
And so 1*11 take my leave.
Ism. Of whom?
Leuc. Of thee.
Ism, Heart, you shall take no leave of me I
Leuc, Sbdl 1 not ? [if you hare
Itm, No, by the gods, shall you not ! Nay,
No more wit but to go absolutely alone,
I'll be in a IttUe.
Leuc, Nay, prithee, good Ismenus,
Part with me !
Ism, I wo'n't, i'faitb, ne*er move it
Any more; for by this good light, I wo'not f
JLeuc. This is an ill time to be thus unruly:
Ismenus, you must leave me.
Ism, Yes, if you can
Beat me away; else the gods refuse me.
If I will leave you till I sec more reason !
You sha'h't undo yourself.
Leuc, But why wilt not leave me ?
Ism. Why, I will tell you, because when
you are gone.
Then — Life, if I have not forgot my reasou.
Hell take me ! you put me out of patience ho.
Oh! marry, when you are gone, then will
your moitier [my bend,
— A pox confound her — she ne'er comeb in
But me spdls my memory too. There are a
hundred reasons.
Leuc, But shew me one.
Istn, Shew you( what a stir here is!
Why, I will slicw you: do you ihiuk — wellr
well, ['Tis in vain,
I know what I know ; I pray come, come !
But I am SBie— Devils take *em ! wliat do I
meddle with them ?
You know yonneif— SonI, I think I am —
Is there any mas i* th' world — As if you kuf w
not tliis [no reason !
Already better than I ! Pish, pish, I'll give
Leuc. But I will tell tU^ one, why thou
shouldbt stay :
I hav^ not one friend in the covrt but thou.
On whom I may he bold »o trust to send me
Any intelligence; mid if thou lov'st me.
Thou wilt do tliis ; thou need'st not fear to
stny,
For there are new-Krome proclnmaTious out.
Where all are pardonM but myself.
Ism, Tis true ;
And i'th'same proclamntion yowr fine sister
Urania, whom you us'd so kindly, is pro-
Apparent to the crown» [claini*d beif
^^ You mav kill vour mother, atid ne*er offend your father, an hgnesi imin.] FoHner edi-
tions. Both sense and measure require the emendation* Seward.
Uuc
Acts.}
CUPID'S' REVENCa
381
Xenc What tho^ tliou m»f§t stay at home
without danger?
JflR. Danger^ hang clanger! yrhat tell you
me of danger?
Leuc. Why, if thon wilt not do% I tliink
thoo dar'st not. [nest, you are
j&m. I dare not? If you speak of it in ear*
A boy. [do't.
Leue, Well, sir, if you dare, let me see you
Jsm> Why, so you shall; I will stay.
Leuc, Why, God-ininercy —
Ism, You know I love you but too well I
LeMc. Now take these few directions, and
farewell !
Send to me by the wariest ways thou canst:
1 Imve a soul tells me we shall meet often.
The gods protect thee I
jbfi. Pox o' myself for an ass,
Pm crying now ! God be with ]fou ! if I never
See you again, why then — Pray get you gone;
For grief and anger wo'not let me know
Wliat I say. rilto the court
As fast 9s I can, and see the new heir ap«
parent. [Extunt.
ACT V.
Enter UranU (in Boy's Cloaths) and her
Maid,
Urania. W7HAT, hast tliou found him?
^ ^ Maid. Madam, he's coming in.
Ura, Gods bless my brother, wheresoe'er
he is!
And I beseech you keep me fro' the bed
Of any naughty tyrant, whom my mother
Would ha' me have to wrong him.
Enter Ismenus,
Ism. What would her new grace have with
me?
Ura* Leave us awhile. My lord Ismenus,
[Exit Maid,
I pray, for the love of Heav'n and God,
That you would tell me one thing, which I
You can do weel. [know
IsnL Where's her iuin grace? [you mock;
TJra. You know me weel inough, but that
I'm she mysen.
Ism, God bless him that shall be [soon,
Thy husband ! if thou wear'st breeches thus
Thbult be as impudent wa thy mother.
Ura, But will you
Tell roe this one thing?
Ism, What is it? if it
Be no great matter whether I do or no.
Perhaps I will.
XJra, Yes, fiwth, 'tis malter.
Ism, And what is*t ?
XJra, I pray you, let me know where the
))rince my brother is.
Itm, rfuith, you shan he hang'd first !
Is your mother so foolish to think your good
Can sift it out of me ? [grace
lira. If you have any mercy
I^ft in you to a poor wench, tell me !
Ism, Why, [for this,
Wouldst not thou have thy brains beat out
To follow thy mother's steps so young?
Ura. But believe me, slie knows none of
Ism, Believe you ? [this.
Why do you think I never had wits?
Or that I am run out of them? How should it
Belong to you to know, if I could tell ?
Ura, Why, I will teO you; and if I speak
false.
Let the de'il ha* me ! Yonder's a bad man,
Come from a tayrant to my mother, and
what name
They ha' for him, good feith, I cannot tell.
Ism, An ambassador? [^'^f^yt
Ura, That's it: but he would carry me
And have me marry his master ; and 111 daye
Ere I will ha' him.
Ism, But what's this (o knowing
Where the prince is? [does
Ura, Yes; for ye know all my mother^
Agen the prince, is but to ma me great.
Ism, Pray (I know that too well), what
Ura, Why, [then?
I would go to the good marquis my brotlier.
And put myself into his hands, tiiat so
He may preserve himself. [tlier in thee.
Ism. Oh, that thou hadst no seed of thy mo-
And couldst mean this now !
Ura, Why, ifethldo;
'Would I might never stir more if I do not !
Ism, I shidl prove a ridiculous fool, I'll be
damn'd else:-
Hang me, if I don't half believe thee!
Ura, By my troth.
You may. [ass for't.
Ism, by my troth, I do! I know I'm an
But I can't help it.
Ura. And won you tell me then ?
Ism, Yes, faith will I, or any thing else
i'th' world;
For I think thou art as good a creature as
Ever was born.
Ura, But ail co i'this lad's reparel ;
But you mun help me to silver.
Ism. Help thee? why, the pox take him
That will not help thee to any thing i'th'
world ! [sently too :
ril help thee to money, and Fll do't pre-
And yet— Soul, if you should play the scurvy
harlotry,
382
CUPID'S revenge;
[Act 8i,
The little pocky baggage now, and cozen me,
"Wlmt then?
Ura, Why, an I do, would I might ne'er
See day agam ! ^ *
Ian. Nay, by this light, I do not think
Tliou wilt: I'll presently provide thee
Money and a letter. [Exit,
TJra, Ay, but I'll ne'er deliver it.
When I have found my brother, I will beg
To serve him ; but he shall ne*er know who
I am;
For he must hate me then fop my bad mother :
ril say I am a country lad that want a service,
And have straid on him by chance, lest he
discover me.
I know I must not live long, but that |:aimc
I ha* to spend, shall be in serving him. [away,
And tho my mother seek to take his life
In ai day*' my brother shall be taught
That I was ever good^ tho* she were naught.
[Exit,
Knter Bacha and Timantus ; Bacha reading
a Letter.
Bacha. Run away? the devil be her guide !
Tim. Faith, she's aone!
There is k letter; I fcund it in her pocket.
'Would I were with her! she's a handsome
lady ; [her
A plague upon my bashfuhiess! I had bobb'd
Long ago else. [afler all
£icha. What a base whore is this, that,
My ways for her advancement, should so
poorly
Make virtue her undoer, and chusc this time.
The king being deadly sick, and I intending
A present marriage with some foreign prince,
To strengthen and secure myself 1 She writes
here.
Like a wise gentlewcfman, slie will not stay ;
And the example of her dear brother makes
her
Fear herself ^°, to whom she means to fly.
Tim. Why, who can help it ? [thy end,
Bacha. Now poverty and lechery, which is
Rot thee, where'er thou goest, with all thy
goodness ! [were of brass !
Srim, ByV lady, they'll bruise her, an she
Fm sure they'll break stone walls : I've liad
experience [rate.
0' them both, and they have made roe despe-
But there's a messenger, madam, come from
tl>e prince
With a letter to Ismenus, vrho by him
Returns an answer.
Bacha. This comes as pat as wishes :
Thou shalt presently awav, Timantus.
Tim. Whither, madam ) [senger for guide !
Bacha. To the prince; and take tlie mes-
Tkn. What shall I do ihex^ ? I Imve dom
too much pacape
Mischief to be believ'd again; or, indeed, to
With my head on my back, if I be once known <
Bacha. ThouVt a weak shallow fool! Get
thee a disguise ; [have a letter
And withal, when tliou com'st befbre him,
Feign'd to deliver him ; and then, as thou
Hast ever hope of goodness by me, or after me.
Strike one home stroke, that sliall not need
anotlier I [feUest off,
Dar*8t thou? speak! dar'st tbour If thou
Go be a rogue again, and lie aiKJ pandar
To procure thy meat! Dar'st thou? speok
loi|ie! [dead,
Tim. Sure I shall never walk when I am
I have no spirit. Madam, I'll be drunk.
But I will do it; that is all my refiige. [£r*^-
Bacha. Away ! no more ! Then I will raise
an army ^ [and power
Whilst the king yet lives, if all the means
I have can do it ;* I can't tell.
Enter Innenus and the three Lords.
Ism. Are *you inventing still ? well ease
your studies.
Bacha. Why, how now, saucy lords?
Ism. Nay, rll shake you! yes, devil, I vrill
shake you !
Bacha. Do not you know me, lords?
Nisus. Yes, deadly sin, we know you:
, 'would we did not ! [upon thee !
Ism. Do you hear, whore? a plague o'God
The duke is dead.
Bacha. Dead?
Ism. Ay, , [man, be
Wildfire and brimstone take thee! Goo4
Is dead, and past tliose miseries, which thoa.
Thou salt infection like, like a disease ['twere
Flungest upon his head. Dost thou hear? An
Not more respect to womanhood in general
Than thee, because I had a mother, who —
I will not say she was goody she liv'd so near
Thy time; — I would have thee, in venjgeance
of [this time.
This man, whose peace is made in Heav'n hy
Tied to a post, and dried i'th' sun; and after
Carried about, and shewn at fairs for money.
With a long story of the devil thy father.
That taught tliee to be whorish, envioo^
bloody.
Bacha. Ha, ha, ha ! [leap thee.
Ism. You fleering harlot, Fll have a liorse to
And thy base issue shall carry sumpters^'.
C ome, lords ; [where
Brin^ her along ! We'll to the prince aU,
Her hell-hood shall wait his censure; and if
he spare [and beside,
Tliec, she-goat^ may he lie with thee agaiol
^^ In ai daj/;^ i^ e. in one day.
^ Fear her set f^ Seward reads, Fear for herself; but the text is good sense, according to
the idiom prevailing in our authors' time.
'' Shall carrjf sumpters.] A iuv^ier liorse, is that which carries the provisions and bag-
gage, it. .
Mays%
Act 5.]
CUPID'S REVENGE,
383
If a^st thoa lay vpon him some nasty foul
disease, [ditch ! —
That hate stili follows, and his end a dry
Lead, you corrupted whore, or 1*11 draw a
goad
Shall make yon skip; away to the prince !
Bacha, Hny ha, ha !
I hope yet I shall come too late to find him.
[Exeunt,
Comett^^, Cupid descends,
Cvpid, The time now of my revenge draws
Nor shall it lessen, as I am a t^d, [near;
With all the cries and prayers tliat have heen,
And those that be to come, tho' they he in-
finite
In need and number' ^ ! [Ascends,
Enter Leticippus and Urania,
Leuc, Alas, poor boy, why dost thou fol-
low me ? [art.
What canst thou hope for? J am poor as uiou
Ura. In good £etb, I shall be weel and rich
enoogh
If you will love me, and not put me from you !
Leuc. Why dost thou chuse out me, boy,
to undo thee ?
Ajas, for pity, take another master.
That may be able to deserve thy love [not.
In breeding thee hereafter ! me tbou knowest
More than my misery; and therefore canst
not [able,
Look for rewards at my hands: 'would 1 were
My pretty knave, to do thee any kindness !
Traly, good boy, I would, upon my faith;
Thy harmless innocence moves me at heart.
WUt thou go save thyself? Why dost thou
Alas, I do not chide thee. [weep ?
Ura. 1 cannot tell; [more,:
If I go from YOU, sir, I shall ne*er draw day
Pray, if you can (I will be time to you).
Let me wait on you ! If I were a mau,
I would fight for you: sure you have some
I would slay 'em. [iiUwillers ;
Leuc. Such harmless souls are ever pro-
phets, [roe still:
Welly take thy wish'^; thou shalt he with
But, prithee eat, my good boy! thou wilt die.
My child, if thou &st one day more; these
four days
Th' hast tasted nothing : go into the cave,
And cat; thou shalt fipd something for thee.
To bring thy blood again, and thy fair coloor.
Ur(u I cimnot eat, God thank you ! but
To-morrow. [I'll eat
Xfiic. Thou't be dead by that time«
Ura, I should be
Well then ; for youll not love me.
Leuc, Indeed I will. — [yet !—
This is the prettiest passion that e*cr I felt
Why dost thou look so earnestly upon me?
Ura. You've fair eyes, master,
Leuc, Sure the boy dotes ! —
Why 'dost tljou sigh, my cliild ?
Ura, To think that such [him.
A fine man should live, and no gay lady love
Leuc, Thou wilt love me ?
Ura. Yes sure, till I die; and when
I am in Heaven, I'll e*en wish for you.
Leue. And 1*11 come to ihee, boy.-^This
is a love [»leepy, child;
I never yet heard tell of. — Come, thou'rc
Go in, and 111 sit with thee. — lieav*n, what
portends this ? [I could
Ura. You're sad, butFm not sleepy: 'would
Do aught to make yod merrv ; shall 1 singf
Leuc. If thou wilt, good boy. Alas, nj
boy, that thou
Shoufdst comfort me, and art fur worse than I!
Enter llmantus^ disguised.
Ura, La*, master, therd is one; look to
yourself! [place,
Leuc, What art thou, that into tlus dismal
Wiiich nothing could find out but misery.
Thus boldly step'st? Comfort was never lie re;
Here is no food, nor beds, nor any house
Built by a better architect than beasts;
And ere you get a dwelling from one of them.
You must fight for it : if you conquer him.
He is your meat; if not, you must be his.
jHrn, I come to you (for, if I not mistake.
You arc the prince) from that most noble lord
Israenus, witli a letter.
Ura, Alas, I fear
I shall be discover'd now.
Leuc, Now I feel
Myself the poorest of all mortal things:
Where is he that receives such courtesies.
But he has means to shew his gratefulness
Some way or other? I have none at all !
I know not how to speak so much as well
Of thee, but to these trees.
Tim, His letters speak him, sir, [till Idle!
Ura. Gods keep me but from knowing him
Ah me ! sure I cannot live a day.
[Leucippus opening the letter, the whilst
Tinuintus rum at him, and Urauiti
steps before.
Oh, thou foul traitor? How do you, master?
'* Cornets. Cupid from ahoroe^ Seward, seeing * no propriety* in the comets * belonging
' to Cupid,* plnbes that direction at the end of the foregoing scene; but why displace the
cornets here, since he inserts them on Cupidt% other appearances? We have made this direc-
tion like the former.
'* Cupid. The time now, ^c*] 'Th** speech, till Seward very properly introduced it here,
was placed at the end of the play, nutwithstanding the direction quoted in tlie la&t note
toocf where it now does,
f^ Weli^ I take th%f wish.'] The paeasure fwd sense both require us to expunge the I,
tSewurdt
Leuc*
3^4
CUPID'S REVENGE.
[Act 9.
Leue. How dost thou, my child ?— Alas!
look on this ;
It may make thee repentant, to behold
Those innocent drops that thou hast drawn
from thence.
Ura. 'Tis nothing, sir, an you be well.
Tim, Oh, pardon rae !
Know you me now, sir f
Leuc. How couldst thou find me out?
Tim. We intercepted
A letter from Ismenus, and th^ bearer
Directed me.
Leuc, Stand up, Timantus, boldly !
The world conceives that thou art guilty
Of divers treasons to the state and me :
But oh, far be it from the innocence
Of a just man, to give a traitor death
"Without a trial! Here the country is not
To purge dice or condemn thee''; there-
fore take
A nobler trial than thou dost deserve,
Ratlier than none at all : here I accuse thee,
Before the face of Ueav*n, to be a traitor
Both to the duke my father and to me.
And the whole land.. Speak! is it so, or no^
3V»i. Tis true, sir: pardon me!
Leuc. Take heed, Timantus,
How thou dost cast away thyself! I must
Proceed to execution hastily [or no ?
If thou confess it: speak once ag&in! id'ttso,
Tim, 1 am not guilty, sir.
Leuc, Godd and tliy sword
Acquit thee ! here it is. [Gives fum his sword,
IHtn, I'll not use any violence
Against your highness.
Leuc, At thy peril then !
For this must he thy trial ; and from henceforth
Look to thyself!
[I'ifnantus draws his sword, ikey J^o^t
Timantus falls,
TSm. I do beseech you, sir.
Let me not fight.
Leuc. Up, u|) again, Timantus!
There is no way but this, believe me. Now i^
Fy, fy^ Timantus ! is there no usage can
Recover thee from baseness ! Wert thou longer
To converse with men, Td have chid thee
Be all thy &ults forgiven! [for this.
Tim. Oh, spare me, sir! I^am not fit for
dcatli.
Leuc, I think thou art not ; '^ct trust me,
fitter than
For life. Yet tell me, ere thy breath be gone^
Know'st of any other plots against me ^
Tim, Of none.
Leuc, Wliat course wouldst thou have
taken, when thou hadst kill'd me i
l^im. I would have ta*en your page, and
married her.
Leuc. What page ? [Urania swoons,
Tim, Your boy there — [Dies,
""u:
Lmtc, It he fall'n mad in death? what
does he mean ? [dost thou?
Some good god lielp me at the worst! How
Let not thy misery vex me ; diou shalt have
What thy poor heart can wish : I am a
prince.
And I will keep tliee in the gayest cloatlis.
And the finest things, that ever p retty boy
Had given him.
Uru, I know you well enouglu
Feth, I am dyin^ ; and now you know ail too.
Leuc. But stir up thyself: look what a
jewel here is.
See how it glisters ! what a pretty show
Will this make in thy little ear! tia, speak!
Eat but a bit, and take it.
Ura, Do you not 'know me? [well said;
Leuc, I prithee miud thy health! why, that's
good boy, smil^ still.
^ra, I slmll smile 'till death.
An I see you! I am Urania,
Your sisteivin-law*
Leuc. Uow!
Ura, I am Urania. [tbee well s
Leuc. Dulness did seize me! now I know
Alas, why cam'st thou hiclier ?
Ura, Feth, for love :
I would not let yop know 'till I was dying ;
For you could not love me, my mother was
So naught,
Leuc, 1 will love thee, or any tliii^ !
What, wilt thou leave me as soon as I knoi*
thcef
Speak one word'to me! Alas, sbe*s past it!
She will never speak more. — •
What noise is that ? it is no matter who
Enter Ismenus with the Lords.
Comes on me uow. — ^What worse than mad
are yon.
That seek out sorrows? if you love delighta^
Begon^ from hence !
um. Sir, for yoii we come, [suffered
As soldiers to revenge the wrongs jou*tc
Under this naughty creature : what shall be
Say ; I am ready. [done with her?
Letic, Leave her to Heaven, brave cousiA !
They shall tell her how sh'has sinn*d against
'em; £bk>od.
My hand shall ne*er be stain'd with such base
Live, wicked mother! that reverend tide be
'Your pardon ! for Til use no extremitj
Against you, -but leave you to Heav'n. i
Bacha. Hell take you all! or, if there bea
nlace
Of^ torment that exceeds that, get you thither!
And 'till the devils have you, may your lives
Be one continu'd plague, and such a one
That knows no friends nor ending! may all
ages
That bhall succeed curte you, as I do! and
5* To purge thee or condemn thee; therefore
A nobler tritU thttn thou dost deserve^ Here a verb is evidently left oaty being equally
necessaiT to the sense and measurct Seward^
- If
Act 5,]
CUPID'? REVENGE.
385
If it oe possible, I ask k lleav'n,
That your base issues may be ever monsters.
That roust, for shame of nature and suc-
cession, [to poison you '* !
Be drown'd like dogs! 'Would I had breath
* Leuc. 'Would you had love within you,
and such grief
As might become a mother! Look you there !
Know you that ftice? that was Urania:
Tiesc are the fruits of tliose unhappy mothers,
That labour with such horrid births as you do !
If you can weep, there's cause; poor innocent.
Your wickedness has kill'd her: Fll weep for
you.
Jsm. Monstrous woman !
Mai-s would weep at this, and yet she cannot.
Leuc, Here lies your minion too, slain by
my hand :
I will not say you are the cause ; yet certain,
I know you were to blame : the gods forgive
you! s •
Ism. See, she stands as if she were inventing
Some new destruction for the world.
Leiic. Ismenus,
ThouVt welcome yet to my sad company.
Ism, I come to make you somewhat sadder,
sir. • [already.
J.euc, You cannot; I am at the height
Ism. Your father's dead !
Leuc. I thought so ; Ileav'n be ^^ ith him !
Oh, woman, woman, weep now or never) thou
Uast made more sorrows than we\'e eyes to
utter.
Bacha, Now let Heav'n full! I'm at the
worst of evils ;
A thing so miserably wretched, tlmt
Ev*ry thing, the hu>t of human comforts, hath
left me!
I will not be so base and cold to live.
And wait the mercies of these men 1 hate :
No, it is just I die, since fortune hath left me.
My steep descent attends me^^: hand,
strike thou home I
I've soul euough to guide ; and let all know,
As I stood a queen, the same Fll fall,
And one with me!
[Stabs the Prince, then herself.
Leuc. Oh!
Jjjwf . How do you, sir ? [here,
Leuc. Nearer my health than I think any
My tongue begins to falter : what is man i
Or who would be one, when he sees a poor
Weak woman can in an instant make him
Dor. She's dead already. [none ?
Ism. Let her be damn'd
Already, as she is! Post fill for surgeons!
Leuc. Let not a man stir ! for I am but dead.
I've some few words which I would have you
hear, [*em:
And am afraid I shall want breath to speak
Fii*st to you,'m^ lords; jovl know Ismenus is
Undoubted heir of Lycia'*; I do beseech
you all,
When I am dead, to sliew your duties to hiia.
Lords, We vow to do't.
Leuc, I thank you. Next to you.
Cousin Ismenus, tliat sliall be the duke^
I pray you let the broken images **
Of Cupid be re-edi6ed! I know
All this is done by liim.
Ism. It shall be so. [in-la\v
Leuc, Last, I beseech you that my mother*
May have a bunal accoraing to-» [^Dies*
Ism, To what, sir?
Dor. There's a full point! [burial
Ism, I will interpret for him : she shall have
According to lier own deserts, with dogs!
Dor. I would your majesty would haste
Of the people. [for settling
Ism. I'm ready.
Age. Go ; and let the trumpets sound
Some mournful thing, whilst we convey the
body
Of this unhappy prince unto the comt,
AnH of that vutuous virgin to a grave !
But drag licr to a ditch, wliere let her lie,
Accursa, whilst one man has a memory!
[Ereunt.
'^ Would I had breath to poison you,} Some editions (Seward's among the immber) read.
Would 1 had brrath to please you.
'7 My step descent attends me.] Corrected in 1750.
'• Undoubtedly heir.] Varied by Seward.
*♦ I pray you let the broken image of Cupid,] Altered in 1750. '
In the course of Mr. Seward's notes on this play, he remarks, that ' Had this whole plot,
' a father marrying his son's whore, the son's ()eniLence and distress, and her plots for his
' destruction, been wrought into a< tragedy^ without the idle machinery of Cupid and his
< Revenge, it would have afibrdetd sufficient matter to such geniuses as our authors :' and
afterwaras says, ' I cannot take leave of this play without a^in regrettln| the farcical inter-
< mixture of die machinery of Cupid, from whence it takes its name. Without this, and t^^e
< ridiculous death of the princess, what a noble tragedy would our authors have left us! The
^ character of the king, fron) his ridiculous dotage on his children, to a still more ridiculous
pressing our cpncerD, that so much admirable poetry should be bestowed on so absurd a drama.
VOL. m. 3D THE
THE TWO ISrOBLE KINSMEN.
TBis Play was first printed in quarto^ anna 1634, under the follorring title: 'TheTwoXobfe
* Kinsmen: presented at tbe Blackfriers by the Kings Maiesties Sermntsy with great ap-
* plause: written by the membrable Worthies of their tune, Mr. John Fletclier, and
' Mr. William Shakspeare, Gent.;' and has always been received as the production ^f
those Poets. In the year 1668, it was altered by Sir William Davenant, n ho gave it the
^tle of The Rivab; when it appeai-s to have been acted with great success.
PROLOGUE.
[Flourish.
New plays and maidenlieads are near a-kin;
Much followed both, for both much money
If they stand sound, and well: and a good
(Whose modest scenes blush on his marriage-
day,
And shake to lose his honour) is like her
That after holy tie, and first night's stir,
Yet still is modesty, and still retains [pains.
More of the maid to sight, than husband's
We pray our play may be so; for I'm sure
It has a noble breeder, and a pure,
A learned, and a poet never went
^ore famous vet 'twixt Po, and silver Trent:
; Chaucer (of all adinir'd) tbe story gives ;
VXhere constant to eternity it lives!
If we let fall the nobleness of this,
And the first sound this child hear be a hiss,
How will it shake tlie bones of that good man.
And make him cry from under-ground,^ Oh,
ian
' From me the witless chaff of such a writer,
' That blasts my bays, and my lamM works
make lighter fbring;
' Than Kobin HoodH This b the iear we
For, to say truth, it were an endless thing,
And too ambitious, to aspire to him.
Weak aswc are, and almost breathless swim.
In this deep water, do but you hold out
Your helping hands, and we shall tack about!
And something do to save us, you shall hear
Scenes, tbo' below his art, may yet appear
Worth two hours' travel. To his bones sweet
sleep !
Content to you ! — If this play do not keep
A little dull time from us, we perceive
Our losses fiidl so thick, we must needs leave.
[FlouriMk.
PERSONS REPRESENTED^.
Mek.
Theseos, Duke cf Athens,
Palamon, > Tbe Two Xoble Kinsmen, in
Arcite, I iffoe with Emilia^
Perithous, an Athenian GeneraL
Valerius, a Theban Nobleman,
Three valiant Knights.
Herald.
Jailob,
Wooer.
Gerrold, a Schoolmaster.
A Taborer^ Countrynen, Soldiers^ Sfim
Women.
Hippo LIT A, Bride to Theseus.
Emilia, her Sitter,
Three Queens.
Jailor's Daughter, in love with PoZsmoft.
Servant to Emilia.
Njfmp/is, Wencltes, 4^
' Hymen has hitherto stood as a personage of this drama, and even the Ur.-t -. :- \w o
appears in the' I uiuiv^how, vvr hfive expunged the name. Tlw \\i"tr, Uivi'cJi a wwv;.\'J
ofioiae coiibideratioij^ bus ain;iy5 Ll'-'U rxiiiiv.i: nmi ^o ^.di. i\iit;riU6.
:ii);
ACT
3«
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
[Act 1. Scene 1.
ACT L
SCENE I.
•
Enter Hymm tcith a Torch bummgynBo^f
in a white Robe, before, unging, andttretV"
tug Flou,ers ; after Ui/men, a Nyinph, enr
cmnpat9ed in her Tresses, hearing a wheatein
Gqrlund; then Theseus, between two other
Nt/mphs, with whealen Chiwlets on their
Heads; then HippoUta, ledhif FerUhoux\
and another holding a Garland aver her
. Headf her Tresses likewise hanging ; after
her, Emilia^ /lolding up her Train,
SONG.
T> OSES, their sharp spiiies being goii«^
•" Not royal in their smells alone.
But in their hue ;
Maiden^inks, of odour fnint,
Daisies smeii-less, yet most quaint,
And sweet thime true.
Primrose, first-bom child of Ver,
Merry soring-time's liarbinger.
With ner bells dim ;
Oxlips in their cradles crowing, •
Marigolds on death-beds blowing,
Lark-heels trun.
All, dear Nature's children sweety
Lye 'fore bride and bridegroom's feet,
Blessing their sense ! [Strew flowers.
Not an angel of the iiir%
Bird melodious, or bird fair,
Be absent hence !
The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor
The boding raven, nor chough hoar^,.
Nor cfaattViog pic.
May Qix Qur bridehouse perch or sing^
Or with them any discord bring.
But from it fly !
J£nter three Queens, in black, with taU
j stained, with imperial Crowtis. The first
^ Queen falls down at the foot of Theseus ;
the second Jails down at the foot rf Bip^
polita i the third before EmiUa,
1 Queen. For pity*s sake, and tru« sen-
Hear and respect me! [tiht;.\-,
2 Queen. For your mother's sake,
And as you wish your womb may thrive w;ib
Hear and respect me ! [fair one:*,
3 Queen, Now for the love of him wliom
Jove hath mark'd
The honour of your bed, and for tlie sake
Of clear virginity, be advocate
For us, and our distresses ! This good deed
Shall raze you out o' th' book of trespasses
All vou are set down there.
'fhes. Sad lady, rise !
Hip, Stand up !
Em, No knees to roe! What woman I
May sted that is distressed, does bind me to
her. [tbraU.
Thes, What's your request? Dehveryou
1 Queen, We are three queens, whose
sovereigns fell before
The wrath of cruel Creon; who endur'd
llie beaks of ravens, talons of the kites.
And pecks of crows, in the foul fields of
Thebes.
He .will not snffier us to bum their bones.
To um their ashes, nor to take th* offence
* llien HippoUta the bride, led by Theseus.] Mr. Theobald veiy justly cluinged Tktaeus
here to Perithous. Seward,
3 Not an angel of the atr.] Mr. Theobald was very fond of a change here, which I can by
no means admit; as be happened not to bee the authors' design in applying tlie word an^
to birds, he would read atigel, from the Italian aueello, a bird. But beside the objection
there is to admitting words of foreign extraction without authority into the text (a thing by
no means justifiable), there would oe a needless tautology,
Not an augel or bird of the air.
Bird melodious, or bird fair.
Several birds too areetcluded in tlie next stanza, which renders atige/ improper, wberess
angel very beautiful^ expresses the birds of melody and good omen. ^^^eward.
♦ The boding raven^ nor dough he
Nor chatCrin^ pie.] Clough he, which is the reading of all the editions, is neither sense
Dorrhime. My dictionaries at least have no such bird as r/ou^'A. CAmigA is Shakespeare
and Fletcher's nauieof a 9'acfc<*dav, of which Ray says, Fostica pars capitis dneraseit. But
he (and from him theOxJord editor) mistakes, in mating the choughthe coracias a fireqnenter
of the Cornish- dife only, which has no such grey feathers. Besides, Sliakespearc*s chough
feeds on com, for Autolocus, in the W interns Tale, says, * My choughs are scar*d fitmi the
* chaff.' So that the chough must be the daw or the rook, which has often grey feathers on
tlie head and back. See Kay on Birds. There can be no reason to doubt therefore of our
having got the true substantive; for he we must have an adjective that suits the chough, and
also rhimes to nor; hoar will do both, the chough having greyish feathers on his head, iixMn
whence Shakespeare caUs him the rumt'pated chough* Midsommer-Night's Dieani. Semm4,
Of
Act 1. Scene 1.]
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
Of mortal loathsomenest firom the blest eye
Of holy Pbcebus, but infects the winds
With stench of our slain lords. Oh^ pity,
dakel [sword,
Thou purger of the earth, draw thy fear'd
CThat does good turns to th' world ; give us
) the bones
Of our d^idkingSy that we may chapel them !
And,of thy boundless goodness, take some note
That for our crowned heads we have no roof
Save this, which b the Lion's and the bear's,
And vault to every thing !
The$, Pray you kneel not ! [suffered
I was transported with'^our speech, and
Your knees to wrong themselves. I've Iseard
tlie fortunes ' pamenting
Of your dead lords, which gives me such
As wakes my vengeance and revenge for 'em.
King Capanens was your lord : the day
That be should marry you, at such a aefuion
As now it is with me, I met your groom
By Mars*s altar ; you were that time fair,
Not Juno's mantle fairer than your tresses.
Nor in more bounty spread her'; your
wheaten wreath [at you
Was then nor thresfaVl, nor blasted; Fortune
Dimpled her cheek with smiles; Hercules
oar kinsman
(Then weaker than your eyes) laid by his club.
He tumbled down upon his Nemean hide^,
And swore his sinews thaw'd: oh, grief and
time,
Fearfnl consumers, yon will all devour !
1 Queen. Oh, I hone some god, [hood.
Some god hath put bis mercy iu ydur man-
Whereto he'll infuse pow6r, and press you
Our undertaker ! [forth
The$, Oh, no knees, none, widow !
Unto the helmeted Bellona use them.
And pray for me, your soldier.— -Troubled 1
am. ,* \Turm away.
S Queen. Honoufd Hippolita,
Most dreaded Amazonian, that hast slahi
88»
The scithe-tusVd boar; that, with thy arm
as strong
As it is white, wast near to make the male
To thy sex captive ; but that this tliy lord
(Born to uphold creation in that honour
Fiwt nature stil'd it in) shrunk thee into
The hound tlwu wast' o'er-flowing, at once
subduing
Thy force, and thy affection; soldieross.
That equally canst poise sternness with pity.
Who now, I know, hast much more power
^OTi him [strength^
Than e'er he had on thee; who ow'st his
And his love too, who is a servant to
The tenor of thy speech ; dear glass of ladies,
Bid him that we whom flammg war doth
scorch,
Under the shadow of his sword may cool us!
Require him he advauce it o'er our heads; *
Speak't in a woman's key, like such a woman
As any of us' three; yreep ere you fail;
Lend us a knee ;
But touch the ground for us no longer time
Than a dove's motion, when the head's
pluck'd off! [swoln.
Tell Inm, if he i'th'blnod-size'd field lay
Shewing the sun his teeth, grinning at the
What you would do ! * [moon.
Hip, Poor lady,N«iy no more !
I had as lief trace this good action with you
As that whereto I'm going, and never yet
Went I so willing way*. My lord is taken
Heart-deep with your distress: let him con-
sider;
ni speak anon.
;} Queen. Oh, my petition was
[Kneels to Emilia,
Set down m ice, which by hot grief uncandied
Melts into drops ; so sorrow wanting form
Is press'd with deeper matter.
Emi. Pray stand up ;
Your grief is written in your cheek.
t^ Queen. Oh, woe!
^ Not Jundi mantle fairer than your trestes.
Nor in more bounty spread her.] The reader will see that her is prejudicial to the sense
and measure, and to be discarded. The mantle of Juno is beautifully described in the
fourteenth book of the Iliad. It was wrought by Minerva, and adorned with variety of
figures; allegorically, it may signify the aether adorned with the sun and stars formed by
Minerva, t. e. the wisdom of the Creator. Seward.
We cannot * see that her is prejudicial to the sense and measure,' nor that it ought * to
* he discarded.' The construction is easy.
^ Nenuan hide^ Corrected in 1760.
' Whom now I'Jinow hast much more power on him
Than ever he had on thee, who ow*st his strength
And his love too, who is a servant for
The tenor of the speech.\ The change of particles^ and monosyllables frequently destroy
botli the grammar and sense of our authors. Whom might have been corrected without a
note, but what is. Who is a servant for the tenor of the speechf The original probably was
— who is a servant to -
The tenor of thy speech;
L e. He wha before conquered thee, is now obedient to every word thou utterest. Ow'st is
the same as oum^sty in all the old writers. Seward. '
• and never yet
Wttti I so willing way ;] t. e* I never went so willing a journey, Scaard,
You
390
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN:
[Act 1. Scene 1.
You cannot read it there*; here thro' my tears,
Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy stream,
Yon may behold 'em! Lady, lady, alack.
He that will all the treasure know o' th' earth.
Must know the centre too ; he that will fish
For my least minnow, let him lead his line
To catch one at my heart. Oh, pardon me!
Extremity, that sharpens sundry wits,
Makes me a fool.
Emi, Pray you say nothing; pray yon!
Who cannot feel nor see the rain, bemg.in't.
Knows neither wet nor dry. If that you were
The ground-piece of some painter, I would
buy you,
1 ' instruct me Against a capital grief indeed ;
(Such heart-pierc'd demonstration !) but, alas,
Being a natural sister of our sex.
Your sorrow beats so ardently upon me.
That it shall make a counter-reflect 'gainst
My brother*s heart, and warm it to some pity
Tlio' it were made of stone: pray have good
comfort! [a jot
l^hes. Forward to th' temple ! leave not out
OUh' sacred ceremony.
1 Queen, Oh, this celebration
Will longer last**^, and be more costly, than
Your suppliants* war ! Remember that your
fame [quickly
Knolls in the .ear o'th* world : what you do
Is not done rashly; your first tliought is more
Than others' laboured meditance; your pre-
meditating
More than their actions; but, (oh, Jove!)
your actions.
Soon as they move, as ospravs do the fish,
Subdue before they touch: tliink, dear duke,
think
What beds our slain kings have!
2 Queen. What grieft our beds.
That our dear lords have none !
3 Queen, None fit for th'dead:
Those that with cords, knives, drams", preci-
pitance, [aelves
Weary of this world's light, have to them»
Been death's most horrid agents, human grace
Affords them dust and shadow*-
1 Queen, But our lords
lie blist'ring 'f6re the visitatin^ soo,-
And were good kings, when livings
Thes. It is true;
/And I will give you comfort.
To ^ve your dead lords graves**:
The which to do must make some woik
with Creon. [to th' doing ' ' :
1 Queen, And that work now presenuitaelf
Now 'twill take form; the heats are gone
to-morrow ;
Then bootless toil must recompense itself.
With its own sweat; now he's secure.
Not dreams we stand before your puissance,
Rinsine your holy begging*^ in our eyes,
To make petition clear.
3 Queen. Now you may take him.
Drunk with his victory.
3 Queen. And his atmy full
Of bread and sloth.
Thes. Artesius, that best knowV
How to draw out, fit to this enterprize
The prim'st for this proceeding, and the
number
To carry such a business; fortli and levy
Our wortliiest instruments; whilst we di»-
patch
This grand act of our life, this daring deed
Of fi&te.in wedlock!
1 Queen, Dowagers, take hands'!
Let us be widows to our woes'^ ! Dday
Commends us to a famishing hope.
AIL Farewell! [could grief
2 Queen, We come unseasonably; but when
Cull forth, as unpang'd judgment can, fit^t
For best solicitation ? [time
* You cannot read U there; tliere thro" my tears, *
Like wrinkCd pebbles in a glasse stream,'] Mr. Sympson and I change the second there
to here, as she evidently points at her heart, and so explains herself in the sequeK Glassy
for glasse, Mr. Theobald agreed with us in. Seward,
«" Will long last,] Corrected in 1750.
" Drams precipitance,] Mr. Sympson and I di8)oin these two, the one expressing poison,
the other leaping down precipices. Seward,
Precipitance is, we think, rightly disjoined from drams; but signifies, in general, the
unhappy precipitation of suicides in getting rid of their lives, not the particular act of leaping
down precipices, which seems to us a ridiculous explanation.
'^ ih give your dead lords graves,] As both the sense and measure are somewhat de*
ficicnt, there is reason to suspect a part of the sentence dropt, perhaps somewhat like the
following might have been the original.
Butl will give you comfort, and engage
Myself and poor rs to give your dead lords graves. Seward,
^^ And that worlc presents, 4>c.] Former editions. Seward,
■♦ Wrinching our holy begging,] Corrected in 1750.
*' Let us be widows to our woes;] i. e. Let iis continue still in the most distressed widow-
hood by the continuance of pfir woes. The expression, tho' not quite clear, will give tliis
sense, which is certainly a fine one ; and in such writers as our authors we must not alimrs
expect that perspicuity as we meet with in poems of less depth. For this reason I canoot
admit a conjecture of Mr. Sympson, tho' it is undoubtedly an ingenious one;
Let us be wedded to our woes. Seward*
Xkk
Act4* 5ctfne «.]
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
801
Thes. Why, good ladies,
. This is a service, ivhereto I am going,
QreaCer than any war '^ ; it more imports me
^Thau all the actions that I have foregone.
Or futurely can cope,
i Queen* The motoe proclaiming
Our suit shall be neglected : when her arms,
Able to lock Jove from a synpd, shall
By warranting mQon4ight corslet thee, oh,
when [fall
Her twinning cherries *7 shtill their sweetness
Upon thy tasteful lips, what wilt thou ihink
Of rotten kings, or blubber*d quecu.s.? whht
c^ [being able
^r what thou feel'st not, what thou .feel'st
To make Mars spurn his drum? Oh, if thou
couch
Bi^one night with her, every hourin't will
Take hostage of thee for a hundn^d, and
Thou shalt remember nothing more thtm what
That VanqMet bids thee to-
•• Hip. TW much unlike
.You should bcfso transported, as much sorry
I should. be such a suitor ; yet i think
<Did I not^ by th' abstaining of my joy,
Which breeds a deeper longing, cure their
surfeit, • • -
That'craves a presentmed'cine,Islioqldpluck
All ladies' scandal on me : therefore, sir.
As i'slrall here make trial of my prayers,
Either presuming them to hav^ some force,
Or sentencing for ay their vigour dumb,
Prorogue tliis.busitkess we are going about,
and hang
,Y6ur shield afore ycmr.heart, about tliatneck
Which is my fee, and which I freely lend
To do these poor queens 'service !
All Qt<<en«. Qh, help now!
0«r c.^ose cries for your knee.
Emi, If you grant hot
My lister her petition, in that force.
With tliat celerity and mtture, which
She makes it in, from henceforth I'll not dare
To ask y6a any thing, nor be so hardy
Eve^ to take a husband. '
Hies. Pray stand up!
I am entreating of myself to do
That which you kneel to have me. Perithous,
Lead on.the bride ! Get you and pray the goji
For success Jlnd return ; omit not any .tiling
In the pretended celebration. Queens,
Follow your soldier (as before) hence you.
And at the banks of Aulis'^ meet us with
The fonies you can raise, where we shall 6ntf '
The moiety of a number, for a business
More bigger look'd ! — Since tlii^t our theme
IS haste,
I Stamp this kiss* upon thy currant lip;
.Sweet, keep it as my token! Set youlorward;
For 1 will see you gone.
[Exeunt. ton^ar^ tkeTemple,
Farewell, my beauteous sister! Perithous,
Keep the feast full^ bate not an hour on't!
Per, Sir,
I'll follow you at heels : the feast's solemnity
ShsM want till your return '^.
Thes. Cousin, I charge you
Budge not from Athens; we shall be returning
Ere you can end this feast, of which I pray you
Make no abatement. Once more, farewetl all !
1 Queen. Thus dost tliou still make good
the tongue o'th' world.
^Queen. And earnest adeity equal with Max9.
3 Queen. If not above him ; for.
Thou being but mortal, mak*st affections bend
To godlike honours ; they themselves, some
Groan under such a niastery. [say,
Thes. As we are men,
Thus should we do ; bein^ sensually subdtled.
We lose our humane title. Good cheer,
ladies! [Flourish^
Now turn we tow'rds your comforts.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Palmnon and Arcite.
Are. Dear Palamon, dearer in love than
blood,
And our prime cousin, yet unharden'd in
The crimes of nature ; let us leave the city
Thebes, and the tempdngs in't, before w«
further
■* Thitis a service, whereto lam gwng, .
Greater than any was.] War (which is Theobald's variation^ instead of was, is a great
improvement of the old text, and I verily believe it the authors word. The service I am
now going to, (i. e. my marriage) is of more import to my happiness than any tour can
possibly be. Seward. '
.^ " Bier twining cherrkt^ Xliepbald corrected the spelling here.
.** And at the bank* ^Anly.] Mr. Theobald sent me a very probable conjecture upon
this place ; none of us being able to find in any geographer such a name as ^niV in Greece,
he reads Aulis, the celebrated sea-port between Athens and Thebes. It would indeed be
more convihcine #ere there a river of that name, for I don't know whether it be proper, in
speaking of Ca&is or Dover to say. Meet me at tlie banks of Dover. But Aulis being a
tituatiMi so exceedingly proper to be mention'd here, I still believe it the true word, and
^haps hanks may be also a corruption; it might have been At the gates, or at the port, or
M the back of Aulis. Seward.
" '' Shall want till your return."] The editors of 1750, for toant read wait; but want seems
genuine ; signifying, the celebration of the nuptials should remain incomplete till his return,
«s Perithous had rather accompany Theseus uvui stay behind to be his proxy, as the latter
' . Sully
39d
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
[Act 1. Scene %.
Sully our glow of youth?
And here to keep in abstinence we Shame
As in incontinence: for not to swim
Fth' head o* th*current*% were almost to sink,
At least to frustrate striving; and to follow
The common stream, 'twould bring us to an
eddy [thro',
Where we should turn or drown ; if labour
Our gain bat life, and weakness.
Fai, Your advice
Is cried up with example : what strange mins,
Since first we went to school,may we perceive
Walking in Thebes ! Scars, and bare weeds,
The gain o'th' martialist, who did propound
To his bold ends, hononr, and golden mgots.
Which, tho' he won, he had not; and now
florted [shall offer
By peace, for whom he fought! Who then
To Mars*s 8o-8corn*d altar? I do bleed
When such I meet, and wish great Juno
would
Resume ber ancient fit of jealousy.
To get the soldier' work, that peace might
purge
For her repletion, an4 retain anew
Her charitable heart, now hard, and harsher
Than strife or war could be.
Jrc. Are you not out?
Meet you no ruin, but the soldier in
llie cranks and turns of Thebes? Yoo did
begin
As if you met decays of many kinds :
Perceive you none that do arouse your pity,
Bat th' unconsider'd soldier?
PaL Yes; I pity [most
Decays where-e'er I find them; bat such
That, sweating in an honourable toil,
Are paid^with ice to cool 'em.
Are, 1'is not this
I did begin to speak of; this is virtue
Of no respect in Thebes : I spake of Thebes,
How dangerous, if we will keep oar houours»
It is for our residing ; where ^ry evil
Hath a good colour; where evry seeming
good's
A certain evil; where not to be ev'n jump
As they are**, here were to be strangeis
and
Such things to be mere monsters.
PaL It is in our power
(Unless we fear that apes can tutoi^s) to
Be masters of our manners : jvhat need I
Affect another's eait, which is not catching
Where there is foith ? or to be fond upon
Another's way of speech, when by mine own
I may be reasonably conceived ; saVd too^
Speaking it traly? Why am I bound
By any generous bond to follow him
Follows his tailor, haply so long, until
The followed make pursuit? Or let me know.
Why mine own barber is unbless'd, with him
My poor chin too, for 'tis not scissar*d just
To such a favourite's glass? What canon is
there
That does command my rapier from my hip.
To dangle't in my hand, or to go tip-toe
Before the street be foul? Either I am
The fore horse in the team, or I am none
That draw i'th' sequent trace! These poor
slight sores rbosom.
Need not a plantain; that which rips my
Almost to til' heart, 's —
Nf Arc. Our uncle Creon.
PaL He,
A most unbounded tyrant ! whose successes
Make Heav'n unfearxl^% and villainy assured.
Beyond
^ Fth* aid o*th^ current'] The variation is from Theobald's conjectare, which we thinl:
a happy one, tho' rejected by Seward. The oM reading, if sense, is very hard. Palamoo
says, a'few speeches lower.
Either I am
The fare-horse in the team, or I am none
That draw i'th' tequent trace.
** Where not to be ec^n jump
Am tkeff are.'] Jumpy in our ancient writers^ firequently means jta/, exitet; sometimes t0
agree. So, in Otnello, act ii. scene 3.
* Myself, the while, will draw the Moor apart, i
^ * And bring him jump where be may Cassio find
' * Soliciting his wife.*
Again, * Not two of them^vmpe in one tale.' Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication, p. 39. IL
*^ Makes He0V*n^unfiar^d, and villainy assur^d^
Beyond its power ; tkeri^s nothing almost puts
Faith in afaooury and deifies alone
Voluble chance,] This sentence, as hitherto printed, has been a mere chaos, for first, whac
is making villainy assured beyond its power? and how does nothing ahnost put faith in a
fever? 'Tne true adjustment of the points restores connection, sense, and beauty:^ The
' successes of the tyrant makes Heayen unfear'd, and villainy assur'd that nothing is beyond
' its power ; which almost staggers the faith of good men, and makes them think that chance^
* ana not a just Providence, governs the world/ The moral of this is extremely beautiful, for
it is just utter'd before they hear that Theseus, theinstmment of divine Tengeaace, is at hand,
and tlie thunder bursting on the hesd of Crean, In tlie emendation of the points in tkb
puKage, Mr, Sympson concurred with me. Seward:
Sewud
Act 1^ Scene $.y
THE TWO NOBLE KlNSAfEIf.
SOS
Beyond its power; there's nothing aln^iost
pQt9
Faiibia a fever, and deifies alpiie
Voluble chance — who only attributes
Tlie facuhies of other instruments
To his own nerves and act; comnlands mbn*^
service,
And what they win in't, boot and glory too*^ :
That fears not to do harm ; good dares not :
let [suck'd
The blood of mine that's sibbe to him'*, be
From me with leeches : let them break atul
fall
Off me with that corruption !
Arc, Clear-spirited cousin, [share
Let's leave his court, that we may nothing
Of his loud infiimy 1 for our milk
Will relish of the pasture, and we must
Be vile or disobedient ; not his kinsmen
In blood, unless in quality.
Pal. Nothing truer I
I think the echoes of his shames have deafd
The cars of heavenly justice : widows* cries
Descend again into their throats, and have not
Due audience of the gods. — Valerius!
Enter Valerius.
VaL The king calls for you; yetbeleaden-^
footed^
Till his great rage be off him ! Phoebus, when
He broke his whipstock, and exclaim'd against
The horses of the sun, but whisperM,. lo
The k>udness of his fury.
Pal. Small winds sliake him :
But what*s the matter?
Val. Theseus (who where he threats appnls)
hath sent
Deadly defiance to him, and pronounces
Kuin to Thebes; who is at hand to seal
The promise of his wrath.
Arc. Let him approach ! ^not
Bat that we fear the gods in him, he brings
A jot of terror to o» : yet ^hat toast
Thirds his own worth (the case b each of
ours) [sur^d
When that his action's dreggj'd with mind as^
Tis bad be goes about? «
PaL Leave that unreason*d \
Ourservices stand now for ThebeSr not Cmob. \j
Yet, to be neutral to him, were dishonour.
Rebellious to oppose ; thereliMPe we must
With him stand to the mercy of our late.
Who liatli bounded our last minute.
Arc. So we must.
Is*t said this war's afoot? or it shall be.
On fail of some condit4on I
VaL 'TIS in motion ;
The intelligence of state came in the instant
With the defier.
PaL Let's to the king ! who, were he
A quarter carrier of that honour which
His enemy coines in, the blood we venture
Should be as for our beakh ; which were not
spent,
Rather laid out for purchase : but, i^aS|
Our hands advanc'd before our hearts^ wliat
wiU
The fall o' th' stroke do damage t
Arc. Let th' event,
That never-erring arbitrator, tell us [low
Wlien we know all ourselves ; and let us foU
The becking of our chance ! [Exeunt,
SCENE III.
Enter PerithouSf HippoUta^ and Emilia.
Per. No further I
Hip. Sir, farewell ! Repeat my wishes
To our great lord, o£ whose suecess I dure no4i
Make any timorous question; yet I^ wish him
Excess and overflow of power,, ao't might be.
To cure^ ill-dealing fortune*^. Speed to him!
Store never hurts good governors.
Per. Tho' I know
His ocean needs not my poor drops, yet they
Seward points,
Beyond its poVr there's nothing; almost, &c.
In more than the two last lines, k is difficult to make out even a tolerable construction, and
in the first line and half at least, Seward has perverted the sense by altering the pointy:
' Whose successes
Make Ileav'n unfeai'd, and villainy assur'd
Beyond its power;-
plainly signifies, that ' Creon*s success diminishes oar fear of the gods, by making us suppose
' tliat guilt can oppose Uieir power, and defcud itself from their justice.' — Its power refers to
Hea^Uy not to vmainif. The next sentence appears to be incomplete, probably by a casual
omission, or possibly on purpose broken off abruptly ; if the latter, there should be a dash
after voluble chance. ^
^' Booi and glory on.] Former editions ; I read too, L e. both the advantage and honour.
Seward.
*^ Thai's sibbe to him;] i. e. Kin. It is spelt $ib by Spenser^ and aybbe by Chaucer.
Seward.
*^ To dure ill^ealing Fortune.] Tliis makes^an odd conclusion to the climax of Uippoliti^B
good wishes to her husband. She wished him not only succeu, but such excess of it, as to do
what? why, to be able to Kear ill fortune; I read,
To cure ilUlealing Fortune;
t. e. To take from Fortune her malignity, or the power of ever dealing ill to him again. Mr.
Sympson has since sent me dare» as hb conjecture. Seward.
VOLiUL 3£ Must
5M
THE TWO NOBLK KINSMEN.
[Act 1* Scene S.
Must y\M their tribute there. My precious
maid.
Those best affections that the Heairns infuse
In their best-teniper'd pieccs> keep enibron'd
In your deur heart!
kmL Thanks, sir ! Remember me
To our ftll-myal brother! for whose speed
The great Bellona I'll solicit : and
Since, in our terrene state, petitions are not
Without gifts understood, I'll ofter to her
What I shall be advis'd she likes. Our hearts
Arc in his army, in his tent!
Hip, In's bosom !
We have been soldiers, and we cannot weep
When our friends don their helms, or put to
sea, [men
Or tell of babes broach'd on the lance, or wo-
That have sod their infants in (and after eat
them)
The brine they wept at kiUin| 'em : then if
You stay to see of us such spinsters, we
Should hold you here for ever.
Per. Peace be to you,
As I pursue this war! which shall be then
Beyond further requiring. [Exit.
kmi. How his longing ^ .
Follows his friend! Smce his depart, his
sports,
Tho' crav ing seriousness and skill, past slightly
His careless execution, where nor gain
Made him regard, or loss consider; but
Playing o'er business in his hand, another
Directmg in his head, his mind nurse equal
To these so differing twins ! Hai;;e you ob-
seiVd him
Since our ^at lord departed?
Hip. With much labour,
And I did love himfor't. They two have ca-
bin'd
In many as dangerous, as poor a corner^
Peril and want contending, they have skif^
Torrents, whose roaring tyranny and power
r th' least of these was dreadful^ : an(| the?
have [to^i
Fought out together, where death's self was
Yet fate hath brought them off. Their knot
of love
Tied, weav'd, entangled, with so true, so lon^
And with a finger of so deep a cunning,
May he out-worn, never uuaone. I think
Theseus cannot be umpire to himself,
Cleaving his conscience into twain, and doing
Each side like justice, which he loves besL
Em. Douhdess,
There is a best, and Reason has no manners
To say it is not you. I was acquainted
Once with a time, when I enjoyed a playfellow;
You were at wars when she the grave enridi'd,
Who made too proud the bed, took leave
o' th' moon ^ [count
(Which then look'd pale at^parting) wlien our
Was each eleven.
Hip. Twas Flavina."
Emi. Yes.
You talk of Perithous' and Theseus' love :
Theirs has mdre ground, and is more ma*
turely season'd, [their needs
More buckled with strong judgment, and
The one of th' other may b« said to water
Their intertangled roots of love; but I
And she (I sigh and spoke of) were things
' innocent,
Lov'd for we did, and like the elements
That know not what, nor why, yet do eflfect
Rare issues by their operance ; our souls
Did so to one another : what she lik'd,
Was then of me approv'd; what not, coth
demn'd.
No more arraignment^^ ; the flower thai I
wculd pluck
And put oetween my breasts, (oh, then bat
beginning
To swell about the blossom^*) she would l4Mi|
'Till she had such anothcri and commit ii
-f Aey have tk^
Torrents, whote roaring tyranny and power,
rth* least of these was dreadful.] The expnession here is obscure; the pronoun these,
whether it relates to tyranny and power or to torrents, seems very forc'd. Whose tyranmi
and power in the least of these torrents, or of their tyranny and power, was dreadful, I shall
not obtrude my conjecture upon the reader, as the original ; it cfeparts rather too far from the
trace of the letters, but it is offered as what I could have wish'd the poets to have wrote.
' the^ have skift
Torrents, whose roaring tyranny and power
Pth' best oi' ships were dreadful ;
f. e. in a small skiff they have endured storms which would have been terrible to the laigeit
^hips. Seward.
The text is obscure; but the conjectural reading ridiculous. The sense seens to he,
* I'hat the very least of their dangers and distresses w:is dreadful.*
^^ No more arraignment;] i.'e. says Dr. Dodd, ' Her not liking it was snffideot to con*
* demn it, without any further arraignment, or bringing it to its trial.'
^^ Oh, then but beginning ^
To swell about the blouom.'] Somewhat similar to this is a passage in CymbeBnep wheii
Jacliimo, describing Imogen asleep, says,
• on ner left breast
< A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drop»
* V th' bott«»m of a cowslip, 6cc/
To
Act 1. Scene $.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 3^
To the like innoocst cnuUe^ where phoenix-
like
They died in perfume: on my head no toy
But wMB her pattern ; her affections (pretty,
Tho' happily her careless wear) I foUow'd
For my most serious decking^^ ; had mine ear
Stol'n some new air, or at adventure humm*d
From musical coinage, why, it was a note
Whereon her spirks would sojovim (rather
dwelUnJ'),
And sing it in her slumbers: this reliearsal
(Which surely innocence wots well'*) cumelB
in
Like old importment's bastard; has this end,
That the true love 'tween maid and maid ,
'may be "^
More than in sex dividual^ '«
Hip.
*9 I OK my head no toy
Bui was her patterne ; her affections (pretty
Tho* happely, hf.b careUs, weke, Ifollotoed
For, &C.J Thus the old quarto. Syinpson first proposed.
But was her pattern; her affections metty
(Jho* happily thev carelesi were) 1 followed;
and afterwards,
But was her pattern, her affections: pretty
Tho' happily her careless wear I followed.
The first, Seward rejects, because ' to term an accidental careless ornament the affections of
* the wearer, is scarcely to be defended;' and the second, * as not thinking the words £ug-
' li&h/ That gentleman prints thus:
But was her pattern, her affection; her
Pretty, tho' haply careless wear, I followed;
and observes, that the being obliged to depart so far from the trace of the letters, is, he be«
lieves, the chief objection to his reading. ' ,
Dr. Dodd [Beauties of 8hakespear, vol. i. p. 92] reads,
But was her pattern : her affections (pretty,
Tho* happily they careless were) I toUowM;
giving us upon this passage the following note: * — she says, * She had no toy on her head,
*^ but that became her friend*s pattern : and her affections [the things her friend affected,
*« or lik'd, in which sense tlie word is frequently used] (ever pretty, tho' perhaps they were
^' merely casual and careless at firat) yet sbe so much approved, that she ibllowM
" thero for her most serious dressing.' The reader will find this passage differently read by
* the late editors: possibly some may object against a careless dress being called the affection
* of the wearer, and ask how any one can afect or like that, which they take no care about I
* I think two answei's may be given : it is well known how mach some ladies affect a careless
' way of dressing; and what seems in them often the effect of mere chance, is the produce of
* their utmost study— conformable to the old maxim, ars est celare artem^ or it may be, the
* lady calls those the affections of her friend, which she herself esteem'd so, and whicli, as
' being hers, she admired : — Perhaps we might read the passage thus, if these reason^ are not
' satisfactory:
* But was her pattern, her affect ; her pretty
* Though happily her careless wear, 1 follow'd;
* which is almost the same with that Mr. Seward places in the text.'
The difficulties of the passage appear to have arisen partly from a mifr-spelliog (tDtre for
wear) and partly from the commentators' mis-apprehension of the word affections, which is
not here used to signify a solid mature preference (as Seward seems to think it) but merely
choice, fancyi The plam signification then appears to be, * Her fancy (which v^as sure to be
' pretty, even in her most careless dress) I copied in my most studied adornments.' If this
explanation- is admissible, there wants only the orthographical correction: we need not so
much as, with Dr. Dodd, alter her to they, much less subscribe to Mr. Seward's violent
modes. — It may not be amiss to remark, that, in the old quarto, tht parenthesis begins at the
word pretty, but is no where closed.
'^ Or at adveniure hummed on
From musical coinage.] The correction proposed by Seward.
'■ Whereon, &c.] Dr. Dodd makes the following very ingenious remark: ' The reader will
* be pleased, well to observe that heavy line,
* Whereon her spirits would sojourn (rather dwell on) :
' Do not the last words sound as if they had been a marginal note ol some critic, or a re-
* mark of a prompter P The conjecture is so very probable, and the passage would be so
much amenaed, we are almost inclined to discard the words.
3^ (Which fury-innocent wots well) J] Amended bv Sympson.
3^ More than in sex individual.] As the word indwidual is very common, but dividual not
80, the transcriber or printer put the one for the other here, Uiough it absolutely destroyed
3 £ 2 both
9m
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN,
[Actl. fieenftiAb
Wp^ You're out of breath ;
And this high-speeded pace is but to say,
'nmt^od sbaU never, hke the maid Flavina,
^ 2^vc.any.that*« calPd man.
Eml. I'm sare I shall not.
Hip, Now, alack, weak aistary
7 most Ao more believe thc« in this |>oi^t
(Tho* in*t I know thou dost believe thyself)
' Thnn I will trust a aickly appetite, [sister,
Xkkt loaths even as it longs. But sure, my
If I were ripe for your persuasion, you
Have said enough to shake me from the arm
Of the all-noble Theseus; for whose fortunes
I will now in and kneel, with great assurance.
That we, more than his Perithou6, ppssess
The high tlirone in his heart.
EmL I am not
Against your faith: vet I continue mine.
^ ' {Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
A Baffle struck nithin ;, then a "Retreat ;
FUntrith. Then enter Theseus (Victor);
the three Queens meet him, and fall on their
faces before him* ^
1 Queen. To thee no star be dark !
3 Queen, Botli Ileav'n and earth
.'Friend thee for ever!
.'S Queen. All the good that may
fie wi^'d upon thy head, I cry amen to't !
TAtf. Th' impartial gods, who from the
mounted Heav'ns
.View us their mortal herd,>:behold who err,
^nd in tlicir tim^ chastise. Go, and find oat
The bones of your d«Dd iords, and honour
them
With treble ceremony ! rather than a cap
jShould be in their dear rites, we would sup-
piy-t.
But those we will depute wliich shall invest
.y^pu in your dignities^ apd evVi each thing
Our haste does leave imperfects so adieot
And Ueav'n's good eyes look on you ! — What
^are thosei {Kxeunt QueenM.
fferald. Men of great quali^, as may be
jiidg'd {told's
By their appointment; someofTbebesk have
They're sister's children, nephews to the kinj^
llies. By th' helm of Mars, I saw them in
the war.
Like to a pair of lions, succour'd with prej.
Make lanes in troops' aghast : 1 4ix*d my note
Constantly on theai ; for they were a mark
Woirth a god's view! What prisoner was*C
that told me, ' ' _
When I enquir'd their names?
Herald. With leave, they're called
Arciie and Palamon.
Thes. Tis right; those, those.
They are not dead? [been taken
Heraid. Nor in a state of life : had tliej
When their last hurts were given, 'twas pos-
sible [breathe.
They might have been recover'd ; yet they
And have, the name of men.
This. Then like men use'emJ
The very lees of such, millions of cotes
Exceed the wine'of others; all our sunsepns
Convent in their behoof ; our richest bahns^
Rather than niggard, waste ! their lives con^
cem us [xban have 'ts^
Much more than Thebes is worth. Rather
Freed of this plight, and in their morning state
Sound and at liberty, I would 'em dead ;
But, forty thousand ibld« we'd rather h^ve 'em
'Prisoners to us than death. Bear 'em speedily
From our kind air (to them unkind), and
minister .. [moref
What man to man may do! for oar sake,
Since I have known frights, niry, fnends^
behests.
Loves, provocationa^^, zeal, a mistress* task,
Peaire
both sense and measure. Mr. Sympson too saw and corrected the error. Sex dividual for
different sexes, is perhaps an uncommon, but a perfectly poetical expression. $efsmd*
^f ^nce I have known frights, fury, fneuds, behestst, '
^vesy provocations, zeal, a mistress task,
J)esire if liberty, a fever, madness.
Hath set a mUrk which Jiature could not reach to
Without somfi imposition, sickness in wilt
Or wrestling strength in reason, for our love
And great Apolla^s mercy, all our best
Th^ir best skills tender i\ ,'ris a great pity that this fine enumeration of the ills of ha*
inan life (which for conciseness and beauty may almost vie with the celebrated one in the
Wiloquy of Hamlet), should at last, by the errors of the transcriber or printer, vanidi into
darkness and obscurity. There is' hopes that it is nowvestored by a very small change ia
;the auii^liary verb ha^ and a transposition of the lines into the order which the sense seems
to recjujre. I read,
» ■ ■ ■ a fever, madness,
Sickness in will, or wrestling strengUi in reason ;
'Thath set a mark wiiich Nature could not reach to
.Without some imposition. For our love^ &c.
The aentiment is the common one,
Non ignara mali, miseris suecurrere disco,
* That our own miseries natorally awaken our compassioB f<^ tboeo of othen** Wben fintn*
Act t. SoeMl.]
Tiffi TWO NOBLE KINSMEN-
/W
Desire of liberty, a fever, madness,
Sickness in will, or wrestling strength in rea-
son;
*T hath set a. mark whioh Nature could act
reach to
Withotit some imposition. For onr loye^
And great Apo!I<> s mere/, all our best
Their best skill tender! — Lead into the city;
Where having bound things scatter*d, we will
post
To Athens 'fore our anny^'. [Exeunt.
SCENE y.
Enter the Queens with the Heanes of tkeir
fCnightty in a funeral solenm(tjf, 4^.
Urns and odours bring away,
ya|>our<^ sighs, darken the day !
Oor dole more deadly looks than dying 4
Bairns, and gums, and heavy cheers,
Sacced vials £U*d witii tears.
And clamours, thro* the wild air %iag:
Come, all sad and soleiun shows.
That .are quick<«y*d Pleasure's foes !
We convent nought else but wpe9«
We convent, &c,
S Queen. This funeral path brings to your
houshold praves ? [him !
Joy seize on you again ! Peace sleep witk
2 Queen. And this u> yours !
1 Queen. Ypurs this way! Heavens lend
A thousiind Hiltenng ways to one sure end!
3 Queen, This world's a city, f\ill of stray- .
ing streets ;
And death's the market-place, where each
one meets. [Exeunt ievertUly*
lab"
ACT IL
SCENE I.
Enter Jailor and Wooer.
JmlaTm
I MAY d
Hive;
depart with little^^, whUf
.Something I may cast to you, not much. Alas,
The prison I keep, tho' it be for great oites,
yet
They seldom come: before one salmon, you
Shall take a number o* miqnpws. I am given
out
To be better iin'd, than it can appear to me
Jleport is a true speaker: I would I were
Really, that I .am delivered tp be J Marry,
what
J have (be't what it will) I will assure
Upon my daughter at the day o' ray death.
Wooer. Sir, I demapd no more than your
own offer ;
And I'll estate your daughter, in what I
Have promised.
Jailor. Well, well talk more of this.
When the solemnity is past. But have you
A full promise of b^? When Aat AaSl b«
seen,
Enter Daughter,
I tender my consent.
Wootr. I have, sir. Here she comes.
Jaihr. Your friend and I have chanc*d to
name you here,
On the old business : but no more o' that now !
So soon us tiie court-hurry is o'er, we*il have
An end ot 't : i'th' mean time, look tenderly
To the two prisoners ! 1 can tell you they re
princes.
D<itf£r/{. These strewings are for their cham-
ber. It is pity they are
In prison, and 'twere pity tlicy should he out.
I do think they have patience to make any
Adversity asham'd: the prison itself is proud
Of them : and tiiey have all the world in their
chamber. [solute, men.
Jailor. TheyVe /am'd to be a pair of ab>
Dough. By my troth, I think fame but
stammers ^m ;
fore he has enumerated the various ills which he has gone thro', he says, That these ills have
set a mark of humanity on his heart that Nature, without tome impo&itiony i. e. without the
addition of such experience, could m>t have arrived at. The reader will fmd another change,
instead of making /ri^n^it, behests, loves, prococations, four of the ills of life, as in the fonner
.editions, I join them and make only IvrOf friends' behestsy and love's provocations; the former
is particularly apphcable to ITieseus ; the latter gives much the same idea as Shakespear's
pangs of despis^ love. Seward.
This passage is extremely difficult and obscure. Seward's reading and explanation art
certainly ingenious, and his slight transposition in the latter part admissible ; but tlie two
first lines of the old text are preferable.
^* To Athens for our arm}/.] The correction of^ into fore is self^vident, and occurred
to us all three. Seward. \
3^ Depart;] i. e» in this place, part. So Ben Jonson, in the Induction to Bartholomew*
* ' ■ ■ the author having now departtd with his right.' H.
They
309
THE TWO NOBLE KJNSMEST.
[Acta. Sovtl
SCENE II.
Enter Falamon and ArcUe, in Priion,
Pal. How do yowy noble cousin?
Arc. How do you, sir? [scry,
FaL Why, strong enough to laagh at iii»>
And bear the chance of war yet. We are
I fejar for ever, cousin. [prisoner
Arc. I believe it;
And to that destiny have patiently
Lnid up my hour to come.
PuL Oil, cousin Arcite, [country?
Where is Thebes now ? where is our noUc
Where are our friends, and kindreds ? Never
more
Must we behold those comforts; ilerer see
The hardy youths strive for the games of ho-
nour.
Hung with the painted favours of their ladies,
Like tall ships under sail ; then start amongsit
'em, ist'
And, as an e. ,twind, leave 'em allbdiindos
Like iazy clouds, whilst Palanion and Arcite,
Ey'n in the wagging of a wanton leg, [lands,
Out-stript the people's praises, won tlie gar-
£re they have time to wish ^em ours. Ob,
never
Shall we two exercise, like twins of honour,
Our arms again, and feel our^ery hones,
Like proud seas under us ! Our good swonb
now,
(Better the red-ey'd god of war ne'er wore^')
Ravish'd our sides, like age, must run to ros^
And deck the temples of those gods that
hate us.; [ligbt'nipg,
These hands shall never drew *em. out hke
To blast whole annies more !
Arc. No, Palumon, [are.
Those hopes are prisoners with os: here we
And here the graces of our youths mu^
wither, [as.
Like a too-timely spring; here age musttiad
I
^' They ntund a piei."] This is a stiff expression, and only the conjectural reading of the
late editions : the old quarto reads,
— — ^ ihey stand a grUte,
Mr. Sympson and I both read an^ conjecture, gree, the old word for gradus or degree. See
Urry's Glossary to Chaucer. Indeed spelling of words was formerly so very uncertain, that
griese for a step, might have been in use as well wigree, and therefore it is best to restore it
Sezcnrd.
We see no objection to the text, but think it, both in expression and sentiment, every%
way superior to the proposed restoration.
^' The duke himself came privately in the night,
Enter Palamon and Arcite.
And so did they — ] There is a deficiency in the sense here, that seems to denote the
loss of at least one whole line, nor can I, from the context, easily guess the purport of it
By striking out. And so did they, the whole would be sense, but the measure would be lost
So we must leave it to some more fortunate conjecture. Seward*
We do not perceive any fault
'^ — ^ our good swords nozo
(Better the red-et^dgod of war ncdr were)
Bravish*d our ««/«.] The two mistakes of were for awf, and hremisKd for ravMd, vtt
very easily amended, and the reader will observe that the second arose from tbe initial
letter of the former line being repeated. I had the conturreDce here of both my assistantSi
Scscard.
And|
They stand a grief above the reach of re*
port.
Jailor. I heard them reported, in the battle
To be the only doers.
Daugh. Nay, most likely;
For they are noble sufferers. I marvel
How they'd have looked, had they been vio-
tors, that
With such a constant nobility enforce
A freedom out of bondage, making misery
fheir mirth, and aiBiction a toy to jest at.
Jailor. Do they so ?
Daugh, It seems to me.
They've no more sense of their captivity,
Then I of ruling Athens: they eat well,
Look merrily, discourse of many things,
3ut nothing of tlieir own restraint and dis-
asters.
Yet, sometime, a divided sigh, martyr'd
As 'twere in the deliverance, will break
From one of them ; when th* other presently
Gives it so sweet a rebuke, that I could
wish
Myself a sigh to' be so chid, or at least
A sigher to be comforted.
Wooer. I ne'er saw 'em.
Jailor. The duke himself came privately in
the night.
Enter Palamon and Arcite above.
And so did they^'; what the reason of it is, I
Know not— Look, yonder they are ! that is
Arcite looks out.
Daugh. No, sir, no ; that's Palamon :
Arcite's tbe lower of the twain : you may
Perceive a part of liim.
Jailor. Go to, leave your pointing !
They'd not make us their object: out of their
sight! .
Daugh. It is a, holiday to look on them !
Lord, the difference of men ! [Exeunt.
Act % Scene d.]
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
999
And, which is heaviest, Palamon, unmarried ;
The sweet embraces of a loving wife [pids,
Loadeu with kisses, ann'd with thousand Cu«
Shall never clasp our necks ! no issue know
us.
No figures of ourselves shall we e*er see,
To glad our age, and like young eagles teach
'em ,
Boldly to gaze against bright arms, and say,
Kemember what your fathers were, and
conquer ! [men ts,
The fair-e^r'd maids shall weep our banish-
And in their songs curse ever*blinded fortune,
mil she for shame see what a wrong sh' has
done
To youth and nature : this is all our world;
We shall know nothing here, but one another;
Hear nothing, but the clock that tells our
The vine shall grow, but we shall never see it ;
Summer shall come, and with her all delights,
Bot dead-cold winter must inhabit here still !
Fal, Tis too true, Arcite! To ourTheban
hounds.
That shook the aged forest with their echoes,
No more now must we bulloo; no more shake
Our pointed javelins, whilst the angry swine
Flies like a Parthian quiver from our rages,
Struck with our well^steel'd darts! All va-
liant uses
(The food and nourishment of noble minds)
In us two here shall perish ; we shall die,
{Which, is the curse of honour!) lazily ♦^y
Children of grief and ignorance.
Arc. Yet, cousin.
Even from the bottom of these miseries.
From all chat fortune can inflict upon us,
I see two comforts rising, two mere blessings.
If the gods' please to hold here ; a brave
patience.
And the enjoying of our griefs together.
Whilst Palamon is with me, let me )>erish
If I think this our prison!
FaL Certainly, [tunet
1'is a main goodness, cousin, that our for*
Were twinn*d together : 'tis most true, two
souls
Put in two noble bodies, let 'em sufier
The gall of hazard, so they grow together.
Will never sink; they must not; say they
could,
A willing man dies sleeping, and all's done.
Arc, Shall weinake worthy uses of this places
That all men hate so much ?
PaL How, gentle cousin?
Arc, Let*s think this prison a holy sanctnarft
To keep us from corruption of worse men !
We're young, and yet desire the ways of
honour ;
That, liberty and common conversation.
The poison of pure spirits, might, like women,
Wooe us to wandcl" from. What worthy
blessing
Can be, but our imaginations [gether.
May make it ours ? and here beint; thus to-
We are an endless mine to one another;
WeVe.one another's wife, ever begetting
New births of love ; we're father, friends,
acquaintance ;
We are, in one another, families;
I nm your heir, and you are mine; tliis place
Is our inheritance ; no hard oppressor
Dare take this from us : here, with a little
patience, / [seek us;
We shall live long, and loving ; nu surfeits
The hand of war hurts none here, nor the
seas
Swallow their youth ; were we at liberty,
A wife might part us lawfully, or business;
Quarrels consume us; envy of ill men
Crave our acquaintance^' ; I might sicken,
cousin.
40 (Which is the curse of honour) lastly,
CkUdren (^' grief, and ignorance.'] When a word is flat and nnpoetical, and at the same
time detrimental to '^the measure, there is ahnost a certainty of its being corrupt. iMStljf
has both these bad qualities; it is a mere degrading expletive as to the sense, and wants a
syllable tio complete the measure. I cannot doubt therefore of the true word being Inzily;
laziness to a man of spirit being the true curse of honourd* Hence the seatence becomes a
fine climax to that noble spirit of poetry that animates die whole speech. Seward,
Seward's emendation here is happy, and we believe gives the genuine text. He supports
,hh conjecture by the following quotation from the Lovers' Progress:
We shall grow old men and feeble,
Which is the scorn of love and rust of honour. •
*■ envy of ill men
Crave our acquaintance.] We have each a different conjecture here, Mr. Theobald
reads craze, Mr. Sympson, cfirve, and I, reave! I know not whether self*partiality makes me
prefer the latter. It is a common worcl in old authors, tliou^ now we seldom use it except
in the perfect tense r^, as in Mr. JVIallet's charming song, the first stanza of wluch is takes
from Fletcher :
* Such is the robe that kings must wear
* When death has refl their crown.'
See Skinner on the word reave: Spoliare, to sfwl or take away. The two former words,
crate aud caroe^ seem stif!cr than this. Seward.
Reave is a plausible readit^, and much better than crate or carve i but the old Osxt
(crave) being easy and intelligible, should not be disturbed.
Where
400
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMlir.
[Act ft. Scene %-
Where yoto'shoulditdTer know it, and so perish
Without your uoblehand to close mine eyes,
Or prayers to the gods: a thousand chances.
Were we from hence, would sever us.
Fal, You have made me
(I thank you, cousin Arcite !) almost wanton
With rojr'captivity : what a misery
It is to live abroad, and eveir where!
Tis like a beast, methinks! I find the court
here, [sures
Vm sure a more content ; and aH those plesfr-
That wooe the wills of men to vanity,
I see thro* now ; and am sufficient
To tell the world, 'tis but a gaudy shadow,
That old time, as he passes by, takes with
him. ^
What had we been, old in the cocnrt of Creon,
Where sin is justice, lust <and ignorance
The virtues of the great ones? Cousin Arcite,
Had not the loving gods found this place for
as,
We had died as they do, ill old men unwept,
And had their epitaphs, the people's curses!
Shall I say more ?
Arc, I would hear you still.
Pal. You shall.
Is tticre record of any two that lov'd
Better than we do, Arcite f
Arc. Sure there cannot.
PaL I do not think it possible our friendship
Should ever leave us.
Arc. Till uur deaths it cannot ;
Enter Emilia and her Servant.
And after death our spirits shall be led
To those that love eternally. Speak on, sir !
Emi. This garden has a world of pleasures
What flower is this? [in't**.
Serv. Tis call*d Narcissus, madam.
^^ This garden has a world cf pleasures anV.] This in all the former editions was made the
end of Arcite*% speech ; the absurdity was evident to us all, and must have beon so to eveiy
reader of the least atteiitic . Seward.
^3 For when the west'wind courts her gently.] As there is a deficiency in tneasure^ Mc
Theobald reads, «
courts her beauties gently.
But the necessity of such an insertion does not appear, as making getUtly three syllables, a
thing very common in our authors, sufficiently fills up tlic measure. Seward.
Theobald's variation is best, but neither is necessaiy : our authors are not so precise fli
thehr measure.
^ liisthe very emblem efa maid : ^ ^
Eor when the west-^ind courts her gently.
How modestly she blows^ and paints the sun
With her chaste blushes f When the north comes near her,
Rude and impatientf then like chastity
She locks her beauties in her bud ogam,
And leaves him to base briers»] Dr. Farmer (Appendix to Shakespeare, 1773) qnouf
this speech, and with Seward (line 2) reads gentily for gently. I mention this minuteness
of the doctor, because (line 5) he substitutes charity for chastity, and (line 6) shuts fijr locks.
T^e quotation is made in support of a proposal, by ' an eminent critic,' to alter the woni
shakes to shuts, in the following passage m Cymbeline :
* like the tyrannous breathing of the north,
* Shakes all our buds from growing.^
t dare say, the doctor did not intentiomdly violate the poets' text; bat Uuak each iA dM
errors very remarkable. J* N»
Sen,
Emi. That was a fmrboy certain, but a fbol
T» love himself: were there not maids euoui^f
Arc. Pray forward !
Pal. Yes.
Emi. Or were they all hard-hearted f
Serv. They coiiid not be to one so fair.
Emi. Thou woutdst ndt?
Serv. I think I should not, madam.
End. Tliat's a good wench!
But take heed to your kindness tho'!
Serv. Why, madam ?
EmL Men are mad things.
Arc. Will you go forwani, cousin ? «
Em. Canst not thou work such flowers i»
Serv. Yes. [silk, weoch ?
Emi. I'll have a gown full of^'em; and of
This is a pretty colour : will't not do [these;
Rarely upon a skirt, wench?
Sero. Dainty, madam.
Arc. Cousin! Cousin! How do you, sir?
Why, Palamon!
PaL Never 'till now I was in prison, Arcite.
Arc. Why, what's the matter, man f *
Pal. Behold, and wonder!
By lieav'n, she is a goddess!
Arc. Ha!
PaL Do reverence !
She is a goddess, Arcite!
Emi. Of all flowers,
Methinks a rose is best.
Serv. Why, gentle madam ?
Emi. It is the ver^f.erablfiin of a maid :
For when the west wind courts her gently ♦%
How modestly she blows, and paints the sun
With her chaste blushes! when the north
comes near her.
Rude and impatient, fhen, like chastity.
She locks her beauties in her bud again.
And leaves him to base briers^
M^ ScaneS.]
Serv. Vety good madam.
Sometimes her modestv will blow so far
She falls for it: a niaifl,
If she hare any honour, would be loatk
To take example by her.
Emi, Thou art wanton.
Arc. She's wondrous fair!
Fal, She's all the beauty extant!
Em, The sun grows high ; let's walk in !
Keep these fiowers ;
Well see how near art can come near their
colours*
Tm wondrous merry-hearted; I could laugh
now.
Serv, I could lie down, Fm sure.
Em, And take one with you f
Serv, That's as we bargain, madam.
Emi, Well, a^ree then. [Exit with Serv,
Fal, What think you of this beauty ?
Arc, Tis a rare one.
PaL Is't but a rare one ?
Arc. Yes, a matchless beauty.
« Fal, Might not a man well lose himself,
. and love her f [have,
Are, I cannot tell what you have done; I
Beslirew mine eyes for't! Now I feel my
shackles.
PaL You love her then ?
Arc* Who would not ?
FaL And desire her ?
Are, Before my liberty.
FaL I saw her first.
Arc, That's nothing.
FaL But it shall be.
Arc, I snw her too.
FaL Yes ; but you must not love her.
Arc, I will nut, as you do; to worship her,
As she is heav'niy, and a blessed goddess :
I iove tier as a woman, to enjoy her;
So both may love.
FaL You sludl not love at all I
Arc. Not love at ail ? who shall deny me ?
FaL I that first saw lier; I that took pos-
liession [her
First with mine eye of all those beauties in
Eeveal'd to mankmd ! If tliou Invest her.
Or eatertain'sFa hope to blast my wishes,
TIjou tut a traitor, Arcite, and a fellow
False as thy title to her: ^iendship, blood,
And all tlie ties between us, I disclaim,
If thou once think upon her !
• Arc, Yes, I love her ;
i\nd if die lives of all my name lay on it,
I must do so ; I iove her with my soul.
If that will lose you, farewell, Palamon!
I say again, I love; and^ in loving her,
maintain
I am as worthy and as free a lover.
And have as just a title to lier beaaty,
As any Palamon, or any living,
TItat is a man's son.
Fal. Have I cali'd thee friend?
Are, Yes, and have found me so. Why
are you mov^d thus ?
Let me deal coldly with you! am not I
VOL. IlL
TH£ TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
401
Part of your blood, part of your soul? youVe
told me
That I was Palamon, and you were Arcite.
FaL Yes.
Arc, Am not I liable to those affections.
Those joys, griefs, angers, fears, mv friend
FaL You may be. [shall suffer ?
Arc, Why (hen would you deal so cun-
ningly,
So strangely, so unlike a Noble Kinsman,
Tu love alone ? Speak truly; do you think me
Unworthy of her si^^lit ?
FaL No; but unjust
If thou pursue that sight.
Arc. Because another
First sees the enemy, shall I stand still.
And let mine honour down, and never charge?
FaL Yed, if he be but one.
Arc. But say that one
Had rather combat me i
FaL Let that one say so, [her.
And use thv freedom I else, if thou pursuest
Be as that cursed man tht^t hates his country,
A branded villain !
Arc. You are mad.
FaL I must be,
Till thou art worthy, Arcite; it concerns me!
And, in this madness, if I hazard thee
And take thy life, I deal but truly.
'Arc. Fy, sir!
You play the child extremely: I will love her,
I must, I ou(f ht to do so, and I dare ;
And all this justly.
FaL Oh, that now, that now [fortune,
Thy false self, and thy friend, had but this
I'o be one hour at liberty, and grasp
Our good swords in our jiands, I'd quickly
■ teach thee
What 'twere to filch affection from another!
Thou'rt baser in it than a cutpurse!
Put but thy head oat of this window more,
And, as I have a soul. Til nail thy life to't!
Arc: Thou dar'st not, fool; thou can«l
not; thou art feeble!
Put my head out ? I'll throw my body out.
And leap the garden, when I see her next,
Enter Jailor,
And pitch between her arms, to anger thee.
FaL No more! the keeper's coming: £
shall live
To knock thy brains out with my shackles.
Arc. Do!
Jailor. By your leave, gentlemen!
FaL Now/ honest keeper? [tl/dnke:
Jailor. Lord Arcite, you must presently to
The cause I know not yet. ,
Arc. I'm ready, keeper. [reave you
Jailor, Prince Piilamon, I must awhile be*
Of your fair cousin's company.
[Kxit with Arcite.
FaL And me too,
Ev'n when you please, of life ! — ^Why is he
sent fur?
It may be, he shall marry her: he's goodly;
3 F And
40^
THE TWO ^•OBLE KINSMt:>f.
[Act f . Scene 5*
And lik<! enough the duke bath taken notice
Both of liis blood and bod j. But his falsJiood !
Why should a friend be treacherous? If that
Get him a wife so noble, ai»d so fair,
I^t honest men ne'er love again. Once more
I would but see tliift fair one. Blessed p^rden.
And fruit, and flowers more blessed, that still
blossom [were,
As her bHjiht eyes shine on ye! 'Would I
For all the fortune of my life liereafter.
Yon little tree, yon blooming apricot!
How I would spread, and fling my wanton
arms
, In at her window ! I would bring her fruit
Fit for the gods to feed on; youth and plea-
sure,
Still as she tasted, should be doubled on her;
And, if she be not heav'nly**, 1 v^ould'make
her [her;
So near the gods in nature, they should fear
Enter Jailor,
And then Tm sure she'd love me. How now
keeper!
Where's Arcite?
Jttifor. Banished. Prince Peritlious
Obti»in*d his liberty; but never more.
Upon hi:» oath and life^ must he set foot
Upon this kingdom.
Pfl/. He's a blessed man !
He shall see Thebes a&iiin, and call to anas
The bold young men, that, when he bids 'em
charge,
Fall on like fire: Arcite shall have a fortune,
If he dare make himself a worthy lover.
Yet in the field to strike a battle for her;
And if he lose her then, he*s a cold coward :
How bravely may he bear himself to w in her.
If he be noble Arcite, thousand ways !
W^ere I at liberty, I would do thiugs
Of such a virtuous greatness, that this lady,
This blusliii'ig virgin, should take manhood to
And seek to ravish me. . [her,
Jailor, My lord, for you
I have this charge too.
Pa/. To discharge my life ? [your lordship;
Jailor, No ; but from this place to remove
The window^ are too open.
Pal. Devils take 'em.
That are so envious to roe ! Prithee kill me !
Jailor. And hang for't afterward ?
Pal. By this good light.
Had I a sword, Td kill thee.
Jailor, Why, my lord?
Pal. Thou bring'st such peltii^ scnrvy
news continually.
Thou art not worthy life ! I will not gou
Jailor. Indeed you must, my lord.
Pal. May I see the garden?
Jailor. iSo.
Pol. Tlven I'm resolv'd I will not go.
Jailor. I must [oiu^
Constrain you then! and, for you're danger^
I'll ( lap more irons on you.
Pal. Do, good keeper !
ni sliake 'em so, you shall not sleep ;
ni make you a new morris ! Must I go?
Jailor. There is no remedy.
PaL Farewell, kind window!
May rude wind never hurr thee ! Ob,my lady.
If ever thou hast felt what sorrow was.
Dream how I sufier ! Come, now bury rae.
SCENE IH.
Enter Arcite,
Arc. Banish'd the kingdom? Tisabeneiit,
A mercy I must thank 'em for; but banisb'd
The free enjoying of that face I die for,
Oh, 'twas a studied punishment, a death
Bt-yond imagination ! Such a vengeance,
Tiiat, were I old riud wicked, all my sins
Could never pluck upon me. Pulamon,
Thou hast the start now; thou slialt stay and
sec [thy window.
Her bright eyes break each morning 'gainst
And let in lile into thee; thou shalt feed
Upon the sweetness of a noble beauty,
1 hat uatiire ne'er exceeded, nor ne'er shall:
Good gods, what happiness lias Paiamon !
Twenty to one he'll come to speak to her;
And, if she be as gentle as she s fair,
I know she's his; he has a tongue will tame
Tempests, and make the wild rocks waoton.
Come what can come, [domi
The worst is death; I will not leave the king*
I know my own is but a lieap of ruins.
And no redress there ! if I go, he has her.
I am resolv'd: another shape shall makemey
Or end my fortunes; either way, I'm happjt
1*11 see her, and be near her, or no more.
Enter four Countrtf People ; one with a Cafi
land before tfiem,
1 Coun. My masters, I'll be tliere, tliat*l
2 Coun. And I'll be there. [certain.
3 Coun, Aud I. ['tis but a chidiiig:
4 Coun, Why then, have with ye, boys!
*♦ And if the he notheav'nly — ] This and the end of the next speed), which may at first sight
appear a rant, are inimitably beautiful in a character of such wann passions under a phremy
ot love. Our authors have improv'd upon Chaucer, in making Paiamon and Arcite such very
distinct characters; but Arcite^ who is not crowu'd with success, becomes by this means the
more amiable, and has the reader's wishes in his favour. This is a fault that Cbnacer paiv
ticulai'ly gtiards against, for he makes the Two Kinsmen under an engagement upon oatlC tn
assist each other when either happened to be in love. Had our auUiors inserted this, tliey
bad obviated all prejudice agaiust Paiamon, and given su£cieat matter to kindle hk ng»
and violence. Sttvard,
Who ttotcrtains any prejudice eg^nst Palan^oH here?
lit
Act 1L Scene 4.}
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
40S
Let the ploitth play tcMiay ? Fll tickle*t out
Of the jades tails to-morrow !
1 Caun. I am sure
To have my wife as jealous as a turkey :
Bat that's all ooe; TU ^o tbro', let her mum-
ble, [and stow her,
3 Conn. Clap her aboard to-morrow night,
And all's made up again.
3 Cofin. Ay, do but put
A feskue in her iist^and you shall see her
Take a new lesson out, and be a good wench.
Do we all hold against the maying.^
4 Coun. Hold! what
Should ail us ?
3 Coun, Areas will he tliere.
2 Coun, And Sennois,
And Rycas; and three better lads ne*cr
danc'd [Ha !
Under green tree; and ye know what wenches.
But will the dainty //omirif, the schoolmaster.
Keep touchy do you think? for he does all,
ye know. [Go to !
5 Coim. Hell eat a hornbook, ere he fail:
The naatter it too far driven between
Him and the tanner's daughter, to let slip now;
And she must see the duke, and she must
daoce too.
4 Coun. Shall we be lusty?
% Coun, All the boys in Athens
Blow wind i' th' breech on us I and here 111 be.
And there I'll be, for our town, and here
ngain^ [weavers !
And there again! Ha, boys, heigh for the
1 Catm. This must be done i' th* woods.
4 Cottii. Oh, pardon me!
9 Coun, By any means; our tiling of learn-
ing says so ;
Where he himself will edify the duke
Most parlousty in our beltahs: he*s excel-
lent i' th* woods; [cry.
Brin^ htm to th' plains, his learning makes no
^ Coun. Well see the sports; then every
man to's tackle I [means.
And, sweet companions, let*s rehearse by any
Before the ladies see us, and do sweetly,
And God knows what may come on't !
4 Coun, Content : the spoits
Once ended, well perform. Away boys,
and hold ! [y^^i thither go yon ?
Are, By your leaves, honest friends! Pray
4 Coun, Whither? why, what a question's
that! [not.
Arc, Yes, 'tis a question, to me that know
3 Coun. To the games, ihy friend.
2 Coun, Where were you bred, you know it
not?
Arc, Not far, sir*
Are there such games to-day?
1 Coun. Yes, marry are there;
And such ns you ne'er saw : the duke himself
Will be ill person there.
Arc. What pastimes are they?
2 Coun. Wrastling and running. Tis i^
pretty fellow.
3 Coun. Thou wilt not go along?
Arc. Not yet, sir.
4 Coun. VVell, sir.
Take your own time. Come, boys !
1' Coun. My mind misgives me
Thi» tellow has a veiig*ance tfick o'th' hip;
Mark, how his hody*s made for*t!
2 Coun. Ill be hang*d tho'
If he dare venture; hang him, plumb-por-
ridge ! [gnne, lads !
He wrastle ? He roast c^. Come, let's be
[Kreunt Countrj/men,
Arc. This is an offer d opportunity
I durst not wish for. Well I could have
wrestled,
The best men call'd it excellent ; and run, '
Swifter the wind upon a field of com*'
(Curling the wealthy ears) ne'er flew! I'll
venture, [knowa
And in some poor disguise he there : who
Whether my brows may not be^rt with gar-
And happiness prefer me to a place, [laiids^
Where I may ever dwell in sight of her?
[Exit.
SCENE IV.
Enter Jailor*i Daughter.
Daugh. Why should Hove this gentleman?
Mis odds
He never will affect me: I am hase.
My father the mean keeper of his prison.
And he a prince : to marry him is hopeless.
To be his whnre is witless. Out upon't!
What pushes are we wenches driven to,
When fit'teen once lias found us ! First, I saw
him;
I, seeing, thou^^ht he was a goodly man ;
He has tis much to please a woman in him,
(If he please to bestow it so) as ever
These eyes yet look'd on: next, I pitied him;
And so would any young wench, o'my con-
science.
That ever dream'd, or vow'd her maidenhead
Toa young handsome man : then, ( lov'd him.
Extremely lov'd him, infinitely lov*d him !
And yet he had a cousin, fair as he too ;
But ii *
Lorfl,
; in my heart was Palamon, and there,
d, what a coil he keeps ^ ! To hear hii
him
^^ Swifter than wind.'] Amended by Seward and Sympson.
^ Lordf what a coU he keeps ! To hear Ai//i.] This line wants two syllables of its due
measure, and the words that I have inserted seem to improve the sense as well as compleat
the measure, as they imply a continuance of his singing, and her attention to it. Seward*
Seward reads, ^ To ut and hear him ;
hut these sappoted improvements of the iense^ and arbitrary compUtions of the meaeure^ are
unwarrantable. To sit, would rather imply sitting in his oompany, whica is not supposed in
tilis place.
8F8
404
THE TWO NOBLE KIN6MEIT.
[Act S. Soenc B.
Sing in an eventng^^, what a heaven it it!
A nd ^ct his sorfgs are sad ones. Fairer spoken
Wqs never gentleman : when I come m
To bring hirii water in a morning, first
lie bows his noble body, then salutes me thus :
' Fair gentle maid, good morrow ! may thy
goodness
' Gel thee a happy husband !' Once he kiss'd
me ; ^
I lov'd my lips the better ten days after :
'Would he would do soevVy day! He grieves
much,
And me as much to see his misery : [him ?
What should I do, to make him know i love
For I would fain enjoy him: say £ ventur'd
To set him free? what says the law then?
llius much for law, or kindred ! I will do it^^,
And this night, or to-morrow : he shall love
• mc! [Exii,
SCENE V.
[^4 short flourish of cornets, and shouts
within.
lEnter Theseus, Hippolita, Perithous, Emiliay
and Arcite with a Garland, SfC.
Tkes. You have done worthily; I have not
seen.
Since Hercales, a man of tougher sinews :
Whatever you are, you run the best, and
wrestle,
That these tiroes can allow.
Arc, Fm proud to please you.
T%es, What country bred you?
Arc. This; but far off, prince.
Thes. Are you a gentleman ?
' Arc. My father said so;
And to those gentle uses gave me life^«
Thcs, Are you his heir?
- , To hear him
Arc. His yoangest, air.
Thes. Your father
Sure is a happy sire then. Whatjproveyoa }
Arc. A little of all noble quiUxties :
I could have kept a hawk, and well have
hoUoa'd
To a deep cry of dogs; I dare not praise
My feat m horsemanship, yet they tiiat knew
me rgreatestiy
Would say it was my best piece; last, and
I would be thought a soldier,
Thes. You are perfect.
Per. Uoon my soul, a proper man !
Emi. He is so.
Per. How do you like him, lady?
Hip, I admire him :
I have not seen so young a man 80 noble,
(If he say true) of liis sort.
Emi. believe.
His mother was a wondroushandsonie wmnao!
His face methinks goes that way. '
Hip. But his body,
And nery mind, illustrate a brave father.
Per. Mark how his virtue, like a bidden
Breaks thro' his baser garments. [<>»»
Hip. He's well got, sure.
Thes. What made you s«^ek this plaoeysir?
Arc, Noble Theseus,
To purchase name, and do my ablest sftrvicc
To such a well-found wonder as tky worth;
For only in thy court, of all the world.
Dwells fair-ey'd Honour.
Per, All his words are worthy. [tcave],
Thes. Sir, we are. much indebted to font
Nor shall you lose your wishes. PerithcMs,
Dispose ot this fair gentleman.
Per. Thanks, Theseus!— [girevoa
Whatever you are, you're mine; and I shall
., Helena says:
Sing in an evening, 4rcJ In All's Well that ends Well, act i. sc. Ij
, * 'Twas pretty, tho' a plague,
* To see bun every hour; to sit and draw
* His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curlsy
' In our heart's table : heart, too capable
* Of every line and trick of his sweet favour !
' But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
* Must sanctify his relics.' Jl,
** For law or kindred : I will do it.
And this night, or to-morrow he shall love me,^ The first verse wants a syllable, aa4 *6b
odd in her to say tliat he should love her either this night or to-morrow; what she wonld na-
turally say, is, that she would free him tliis night, and that would so oblige him, tliat to-tnop-
row he would love her. I have added one particle and chang'd another, in which I hope I
have only restor'd the original. Seicard,
Seward reads^
For law, or kindred : I will do it, ay
And this night; and to-morrow he shall love me.
Our panctuatlon, we hope, restores the poets' meaning, without committing any violence on
llieoid text. A similar expression occurs, p. 403 of this volume;
they should fear her ;
And then I'm sure she*d love me,
^ And to those gentle uses gave me /i/e;] i. e. Gave me hfe on purpose to educate me gen-
tilely: the reading may be defended, but it would certainly be more natural if we lead^vw
my ujt^ u e. bn>ogl)t me up and dedicated my life to all gentile habito and exercises.
To
Act 5. Scene 6.]
THE TWO NOBLS KINSMMf .
16$
To a most noble semce, to this Ifidy,
This bright young virgin: pray observe her
goodness. [virtues,
YouVe honourM her fair birth-day with your
And, as your due, you're hers; kiss her fair
hand, sir. [beauty,
Arc. Sir, you're a noble c;iver. — iDearest
Thus let me seal my vow'd faith! when your
servant lyou,
(Your most unworthy creature) but offends
Commaud him die, lie shall.
EmL That were too cruel.
If you deserve well, sir, I shall soon see't:
You*re mine; and somewhat better than
?our rank Til use you. [Vou say
W. I'll see you fumish'd : and because
You are a horseman, I must needs entreat you
This afternoon to ride ; but *tis' a rough one.
Arc, I like him better, prince; I shall not
Freeze in my saddle. [then
Thes. Sweet, you must be ready;
And you, Emilia; and yon, friend; and all;
To-morrow, by the sun, to do observance
To flow'ry May^®, in Dian's wood. Wait
well, sir.
Upon your mistress ! Emily, I hope
He shall not go afoot.
EmL That were a shame, sir, [what
While I have horses. Take your choice; and
You want at any time, let me but know it:
If you serve faithfully, I dare assure you
YouH find a loving mistress.
Arc. If I do not.
Let me find that my father ever hated.
Disgrace and blows !
TUes. Go, lead the way; you've won it;
It shall be so*, you shall receive all dues
Fit for the honour you have won; h^ere
wrong else.
Sister, besbrew my heart, you have a servant,
That, if I were a woman, would be master;
But you are wise. \_Flouri8h.
linL I hope too wise for tiiat, sir.
[Extunt.
SCENE \^.
Enter JaihrU Daughter.
Datigh. Let all the dukes, and all the de-
vils roar,
He is at liberty! Fve ventured for him;
And out Fve brought him to a little wood
A mile hen(;.e. I have sent him, where a
cedar,
Higher than all the rest, spreads like a plane'*
Fast by a brook; and there he shall keep.
close,
'Till I provide him files and food ; for yet
His iron bracelets are not otF. Oh, Love,
What a stout-hearted child thou art ! My
father [done it«
Durst better have endur'd cold iron, than
I love him beyond love, and beyond reason.
Or wit, or safety ! I have made him know it:
I care not; I am desperate! If the law
Find me, and then condemn me for*t, some
wenches, r
Some honest-hearted maids, will sing my dirge^
And tell to memory my death was noble.
Dying almost a martyr. That way he takea^
' I purpose, is my way too: sure he cannot
Be so unmanly as to leave me here!
If he do, maids will not so easily [me
Trust men again : and yet he has not thank'd
For what I've done; no, not so much as kiss*d
me;
And that, methinks, is not so well; hoc
scarcely
Could I persuade him to become a freemaiv
He made such scruples of the wrong he did
To me and to my father. Yet, I hope.
When he considers^more, this love ol mine
Will take more root withiu him: let him do
What he will with me, so he use me kindly!
For use me so he shall, or Fli proclaim him.
And to his face, no man. Ill presently
Provide him necessaries, and pack my cloatht
up,
And wheretfaere is a path of ground FU ven-
ture,
So he be with me ! by him, like a shadow,
I'll ever dwell. Within this hour the whoobub
Will be all o'er the prison: I am then
Kissing the man they look for. Farewell,
father! /
Get many more such prisoners, and such
daughters.
And shortly you may keep yourself. Now to
him! [Exit.
• to do observance
Toflow'ry May.] Of the custom of going into theVoods to celebrate the introduction
of May^ and the several rites observed by di£rent people on that occasion, the reader will
see an ample account in Bourne's Observations on Popular Antiquities. See Brand's edition,
8vo. 1777, printed at Newcastle, p. 255. R.
?' Flane;] i. e. The plane-tree. IL
ACT
40«
TIIE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN,
[Acts. Scene 1^,
ACT III.
SCENE T. ;
Comets in sundry Places. Noise and halloo^
ingf 05 People a-maying.
Enter Arcite,
ilrci/e.nPHE duke has lost Hippolita; each
-■• tpok
A sereral land. This is a solemn rite
They owe bloomM May, and the Athenians
pay it
To ih' heart of ceremony. Oh, qaeen Emilia,
Fresher than May» sweeter
Than her gold buttons on the boughs, or all
Th*enameird knacks o*th'mead or garden!
We challenge too the bank of any nymph,
That makes the stream seem flowera ; thou,
oh jewel ^ [place
OWwood, o'th* world, hast likewise Idlest a
With thy sole presence'*. — In thy rumination
That I pour man might eftsoons come be-
tween, [blessed chance.
And chop on some cold thougiit ! — Thrice
To drop on such a mistress! Expectation
J^Iost guiltless oft! Tell me, oh, lady Fortune,
(Next after Emily my sovereign) how far
I may be proud. She takes strong note of me^
Ilath made me near her, and this beauteous
mom
(The prim'st of all the year) presents me with
A brace of horses; two siichbtecds might well
Be by a pair of kings back'd, in a fieUf
That their crowns* titles tried. Al s, alas,
Poor cousin Palamou, poor prisoner! tliou
So little dream*st tipon my fortune, that
Thou think*st thybclf the happier thing, to be
So near Plmilia; me thou deem*st 'at Thebes,
And therein wretched, altho* free: but if
Thou knew'st my mistress breath'd on me,
and that
I ear'd her languajie, liv'd in her eye, oh, coz.
What passion would enclose thee!
Enter Palamon as out of a Bushy with his
Shackles ; bends his Fist at Arcite.
Pal, Traitor kinsman ! f^'^S^^
Thou shouldst perceive my passion, if these
- hast Uketcise blest a pace
Of prisonment were oflTme, and this hand
But owner of a sword. By all oaths in one,
I, and the justice of my love, would make tbee
A confess'd traitor ! Oh, thou most perfidifHis
That ever gert tly look'd ! the void*st oi honour
That e'ier bore gentle token'' ! falsest cousin
Thftt ever blood made kin ! calfst thoa her
thine ?
ni prove it in my shackles, with these bands
Void of appointment, that thouliest, and ait
A very thief in love, a chaffy lord.
Nor worth the name of villain! llnd la sword.
And these house-clogs away—
Arc, Dear cousin Palamon— [snch
Pal. Cozener Arcite, give me languagt
As thou hast shewM me feat \
Arc, Not finding, in
The circuit of iny breast, any gross stuff
To form me like your blazon, holds me t»
This gentleness of ansxver: 'tis your passion
That thus mistakes; the which to you bein^
enemy,
Cannot to me be kind. Honour and honesty
I cherish, and depend on, howsoever
You skip them in me, and with them, faircos^
ni maintain my proceedings. Pray be pleasM
To shew in generous terms .your griets, since
that ^ [fe&ses
Yom* question's with your equal, who pro»
To clear his own way, with the mind and
Of a true eentlemim. [sword
Pal, 'lliat thou durst, Arcite! [advertis'd
Arc, My coz, my coz, you have been well
How much I dare : you've sceu me use ray
sword
Against th* advice of fear. Sure, of anotlier
You would not hear me doubted, but your
siU-nce
Should break out, tiio*i*th' sanctuary.
Pal. Sir, [veil
IVe seen you move in such a plare, which
Might justify your manhood; you wcrecall'd
A good knight and a bold : but the whole
week's not fair.
If any d.iy it rain ! Their valiant temper
Men lose, when they incline to treachery ;
With thy stile presence, in thy rumination
That 1 poor man might eftsoons come between
And chop on some cold thought ^ thrice blessed chance, <5r.] The amendment of the puno»
tuation in this passage, and altering oace to place, are by Seward,
53 O than most perfidious '
l%at ever gently looked the voids of honour^
That ever bore gentle token!] The reader will, I betieve, find this difficult passage
f which had long puzzled us all three) at last cleared up by Mr. Sympsou to entire satisAK>
tion. Seward*
And
4lct 3. Scene !i.]
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
401
^ad then they fight like compeird bears,
would flj
'\Vicre they not tied.
Arc. Kinsman, you might as well
fipeak tlii:>, and act it in your glass, as to
IiJ5 ear, whicii now disdains you!
PaL Come up to me ! [sword
Quit me of" these cold gyves**, give me a
(Tho'ic be rusty), aud U«e charity
Of one meul lend me; come before me then,
A good sword in thy hand, aud do but say
Tliat Eiuiiy is tliine, I will forgive
The txespass thou bast done me, yea my life,
If tlien thou carry't; and brave souls in shades^
That have died manly, which will seek of me
So:ue news from earth, they shall get none
That thou art brave and noble. [but this.
Arc, Be content;
Again betake yoti to your hawthorn-house !
With counsel of the night, I will be here
With wholesome viands ; these impediments
Will I tile od*; vou shall have garments, aod
Perfuinesdo kill the smell oW prison ; after.
When yoirshall stretch yourseU^ and say but,
* Arcite,
' I am in pliglbt!' there shall be at your choice
Doth sword aud armour.
PaL Oil, you Heav'os, dare any
Sii noble bear a guilty business? None
But only Arcite; therefore none but Arcite
In this kind is so bold. ^
Arc. Sweet Palamon —
Pal. I do embrace you, and your OiTer : for
Your otfer do't I only, sir ; your person.
Without hypocrisy, I may not wish
More than my sword*s edge on't.
[Wind hor/is of cornets.
Arc, You bear the horns : [tween's
f ntc-r your muse quick^'^ lest this match bc-
Be crost ere met. Give me your hand; fare-
well !
Tl\ bring you every needful thing: I pray you
Take comfort, and be strong!
PaL Pray hold your proiiiise, [certain
And do tlie deed with a' bent brow ! most
Von love me not: be i*ough with me, and pi»ur
This oil out of your language : by this uir,
*♦ Gyves.] See note 31 on Beggars* Bush.
*5 You hear the horns;
Enter your music lest this match between s
Be crost i^ermet.] Music is evidently corrupt; I read, muse quick; the muse of a hare
is exactly the idea the context requires. I find this emendation in Mr. Theobald's marcin
but as I sent it him, I know not whether he had it from me, or hit upon it before. Seward.
This emendation had been made before by sir William Davenant, to whom, as it seems
a happy conjecture, the merit of it ought to be ascribed. He reads (Rivals, act iii. p. 28)
* You hear the horns; enter your muise. Take
' Comfort and be strong.' R,
" If a good title,
Tm persuaded this question, «5-c.] The reading and pointing of former editions. SewanL
*' He has mistook the beake / meant.'\ Seward alters beake to beck, wliich, says he, ' is ah
* old English word, and now in use in all the northern counties; it signitiesabrook or river-
* and some towns, as NVelbeck, Ilolbeck, &c. take tlieir names from it. Sec Kay's Noi^
' tliem Dialects, and Skmner on the word. '
J^avenant here b lew succewful in hb alteration than in other passages : he reads leach. JL
They
I could for each word gives caff I my stomach
Not reconcird by reason.
Arc. Plainly spoken I
Yet pardon me h.ird language : when I spur
My horse, I chide him not; content and anger
[ Wifid horns^
In me have but one face. Hark, sir ! they call
The scdtter*d to the banquet : you must guess
I have an oitice there.
Pal. Sir, your attendance
Cannot please Heaven; and I know your office
Unjustly is atchiev'd.
Arc. I've a good title*^,
lam persuaded : thisquestion, sick betwecn's^
By bleeJing must be cur*d. I am a suitor
That to your sword you will bequeath this
Aud talk of it no more. [plea^
Pal. But this one word :
You're going now to gaze upon my mistress;
For, note you, mine she is--
Arc, Nay, then^
PaL Nay, pray you!*—
You talk ot feeding me to breed mestrennht
You're going now to l(»ok upon a sun
Tnat strengtiieos what it looks on; there yoi»
have
A vantage o'er me; but enjoy it till
I may enforce my remedy. Farewell !
[Exeunt^
SCENE II.
Enter Jailors Daughter.
Baugh. He has mistook the beck I meaBt'%
'is gone
After his fancy. Tis now well-nigh morning;
No matter! 'would it were perpetual night)'
And darkness lord o'th* world f— Hark ! 'tis
a wolf: [thing.
In me hath grief slain fear, and, bat tor one
I care for nothing, and that's Palamon:
I reck not if the wolves would jaw me, so
He had this hie. What if I halloo'd for himf
1 cannot halloo : if I whoopM, what then ?
If he not answer'd, I should call a wolf^
And do him but thut ser\'ice. 1 have heari
Strange howls' this live-long night; why may*t
not be
408
THE TWO NOBLE KINSIVIEN.
(Actd. Scenes.
They have made prey of him ? He has no
weapons ;
He cannot run ; the jingling of his gyves
Mnbt'call fell things to listen, who have in
than
A sense to know a man unarmed, and can
Smell where resistance is. I'll set it down
He's torn to pieces; they howVd many toge*
ther,
And then they fed on him ; so much for that!
Be hold to ring the bell; how stand I then ?
Alfs charM when he is gone. No, no, I lie;
My father's to be hanj^'d for his escape;
Myself to beg, if I prized life so much
As to deny mv act ; but that I would not.
Should I try death by dozens! — I am mop'd:
Food took I none these two days",
Sipt some water; I've not clos'd mine eyes,
Save when my lids scower*d off their brine.
Alas,
Dissolve, my life! let not my sense unsettle.
Lest I should drown, or stab, or hang my-
self!
Oh, state of nature, fail togetlier in me,
Since thy best props are warp'd 1 — So ! which
way now ?
The best way is, the next way to a grave :
Each errant step beside is tonnent. Lo,
The moon is down, the crickets chirp, the
screecli-owl
Calls in the dawn! all offices are done.
Save what 1 fail in : but the point is this,
An end, and that is all ! [Exit.
SCENE TIL
Enter ArcUe^ toitk Meaty Wine^ and Files.
Arc, I should be near the place. Ho,
cousin Palamon !
Enter Palamon.
Pqf. Arcite? [files.
Arc. The same : I've brought you food and
Come forth, and fear not; here's no Theseus.
Fal. Nor none so honest, Arcite.
Arc. That's no matter ;
We'll argue that hereafter. Come, take cou-
rage; ^ [drink!
You shall not die. thus beastly; here, sir,
I know you're faint; then Til talk further
with you.
Pal. Arcite, thou might'st now poison me.
Arc, I miglit ;
But I must fear you £rtt. Sit down ; aiM^
good now.
No more of these vain parlies! let ns not.
Having our ancient reputation with us.
Make talk for fools and cowards. To jent
Pal. Do-- [health!
Arc. Pray sit down then; and ^ let me
entreat you,
By all the honesty and honour in you.
No mention of this woman ! 'twill disturb us)
We shall liave time enough.
Pal. WeU, sir, I'll pledge you.
Arc. Drink a good hearty draught! it
breeds good blood, man.
Do not you feel it thaw you ?
Pal. Stay ;rU tell you
After a draught or two more*
Arc. Sparc it not ;
The duke has more, coz. Eat nowf
Pal. Yes.
Arc. I'm glad
You have so good a stomach.
Pal. I am gladder
I have so good meat to't.
Arc. Is't not mad lodging
Here in the wild woods, cousin }
Pal. Yes, for them
That have wild consciences.
Arc. How tastes your victuals?
Your hunj:er needs no sauce, I see.
Pal. Not much:
But ilr it did, yours is too tart, sweet cocKiSk
What is this?
Arc. Venison.
Pal. Tis a lusty meat. [wenches
Give me more wine: here, Arcite, to the
We have known in our days! The lord-
steward's daughter;
Do you remember her?
Arc. After you, co*.
Pal. She lov'd a black-hair'd man.
Arc. She did so : well, sir?
Pal. And I have lieard some call him
Arcite ; and —
Arc. Out with it, faith!
PaL She met him in an arbour:
What did she tliere, coz ? Play p' th* vii]giiia]s?
Arc. Something she did, sir.
Pal. Made her groan a month for't;
Or two, or three, or ten.
Arc. The marshal's sister
Had her share too, as I remember, cousin.
^^' Food took I none these ttpo days^
Sipt some watery Pve not closed mine eyes
Save when my lids scower'd off their brine.] Here both sense and measure are very defi*
cient; Mr. Sympson reads,
Food took I none these two days, 'cept some water;
But then the second line becomes an hemistich, and seems to be deficient too in sense, as
tlie does not specify how long she had continued sleepless ; I fill up both verses with what
seems perfectly natural for her to say :
Food took I none these two days, only sipt
Some water, two nights I've not clos'd mine eyes, &c. Seward,
It is not unnatural she should say this ; but not seeing the defect in seme as well as mn*
«ttre, we tliink this way ofjilling up vgrsa aa unwarrautable liceaoe m an editor.
Act 9. Scene 4.]
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
409
Blse there be tales abroad: youll pledge
her?
Pal, Yes. [a time
Arc, A pretty brown wench -tis ! There was
When young men went'a-hunting, and a
wood.
And a broad beech^and thereby hangs a tale. —
Heigh-ho!
PaL For Emily, open my life! Fool,
Away with this strain'd mirth ! I say again,
That sigh was breath'd for Emily : base cousin,
Dar'st thou break first?
Are, You're wide.
PaL By Heav'n and earth,
There's nothing in thee honest !
Arc, Then Fil leave^ou :
You are a beast now.
PaL As thou mak*st me, traito^.
Arc, There's all things needful ; files, and
shirts, and perfumes :
I*U come again some two hours hence, and
bring
That that shall quiet ail.
PaL A sword and armour ?
Arc, Fear me not You are flow too foul :
Farewell !
Get off your trinkets; you shall want nought.
PaL Sirrah 59_
Arc. rU hear no more ! [Exit,
Pal. If he keep touch, he dies for't !
[Exit,
SCENE TV.
Enter Jailor^s Daughter.
Dough, Vm very cold ; and all the stars
are out too,
The little stars, and all th^t look like nglets:
The sun has seen my folly. Pnlaiuoii I
Alas, no; he's in Heav'n! — \Niicrc am I
now? — [tumbles!
YonHer's the sea, and there's a ship ; how^t
And there's a rock lies watching under water;
Now, now, it beats upon it! now, now, now!
There's a leak sprung, a jjound one; how
they cry ! [else !
Up with her *fi)re the wind^% you'll lose all
Up with a course or two, ancf tack about,
boys!
Good night, good night; you're gone! — I'm
very hungry:
'Would I could find a fine frog ! he would
tell me [make
News from all parts o'th' world ; then would I
A carrack of a cockle-shell, and sail
By east and north-east to tlie king of pigmies.
For he tells fortunes rarely. Now my father,
Twenty to one, is truss'd up in a trice
To-morrow morning ; I'll say never a word.
SONG.
For I'll cut my green coat^', a foot above
my knee ;
And I'll clip my yellow locks, an inch below
mine eye.
Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny.
He's buy mc a white cut, forth for to ride.
And I'll go seek him, thro' the world that is
so wide.
Hey, nonny, nonny, nonn^.
OH, for a prick now, like a nightingale**,
To put my breast against! I shall sleep like
a top else, ' [Exit,
^^ Sir, ha.] Former copies.
*° Upon her be/ore the zoind.] Mr. Syrapson thinks thb not trae sea language^ and puts
what I believe is, *
^ Up with her 'fore the wind— —
Mr. Theobald reads,
Spoon lier befi>re the wind,——*
Either of tliem will do. Seward,
** For ril cutf 4 cj Davenant altered this song in the following manner j
' For straight my green gown into breeches I'll make^
* And my long yellow locM much shorter I'll take.
' Sing down a-down, &c.
* Then I'll cut me a switch, and on that ride about^
* And wander and wander 'till I find him out.
< With a heigh down, &c.' ' R.
•* Oh f for a priek now, like a nightingale.
To put my^ breast against,] This allusion is very frequent in our ancient poets : from
several examples whic() might be produced, we shall select the following, from a poem
written by Fletcher's c6usin, 'which at present is scarcely known :
* So Philomel, perch't on an nspin sprig, ^
* Weeps all the night her lost virginitie,
* And sings her sad tale to the merrie twig,
' That dances at such joy full miscrie,
' Ne ever 4ets sweet rest invade her eyes :
* But leaning on a thorn her dainty chest,
* For fear tqjflt sleep should steal into her hrest,
' Expresses in her song grief not to be exprest.'
Christs Victiirie and Triumph in Heaven and Earth over and afler Death. By Giles
Fletcher, '2d edit. 4to. 1632) p. 68. JR.
VOL. HI. 3 G SCENE
\
410
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEIf .
[Acts. Scenes.
SCENE V. I
Enter Gerrold, four Countrymen (and the
Bavian), two or three Wenches, a?iVA a
'laborer,
Cer. Fy, fy !
What tediosity and disensatiity
Is here amoni; ye ! Have my rudiments
Been hibour'd so lone with ye, milkM unto ye,
A!id^ by a figure, ev n the very plunab-Lroth
And marrow of my understanding laid upon
ye, [Joref
And do yc still cry where, and how, and where-
Ye most coarse freeze capacities, ye sleaze
judgments^'.
Have 1 said thus let be, and there let be.
And then let be, and no man understand me?
Froh Deum, tuediusfidius; ye are all dunces!
For why? here slmid I ; here'thc duke comes ;
there are yoti, [meet him,
Close in the thicket ; the duke appears^ I
And unto him I utter learned things,
And many figures ; he hears, and nods, and
hums, [length
And then cries rare/ and I go forward; at
I fling my cap up; mark there! then do you,
As once did Meleagei* and the boar.
Break comely out before him, like true lovers.
Cast yourselves in a body decently, [boys !
And sweetly, by a figure, trace, and turn,
1 Coun, And sweedy we will do it, master
Gerrold* [the laborer ?
2 Coun, Draw up the company. Where*8
3C(iw». Why,Tnnothy!
3a6. Here, my mad boys; have at ye!
Ger. But I say wljere's their women ?
4 Coum Here » Friz and Alaudiin*
2 Coun. And little Luce, with the white
legs, and bouncing Barbai^.
1 CouM. And freckled Nell, that never
f.iird her master*
Ger. W here be your ribands, maids ? Swim
with your bodies,
**' Ye }&vejudg7nvnts.] Whether j*ar?e be some sort of coarse cloth as well as ^/rer-c, or a
mistake of the press, must be uncertain to all who are unacquainted with the word. i?up»
posing it the latter, 1 have two conjectures to ofi^er, first, ye bays judgments, or ye sleuve
judgments, Sleave is the tenn the silk-weavers use for the ravelled knotty gouty parts oi tlie
silk, from whence Shakespeare has taken an extremely beautiful metaphor that has beeo
hitherto gcnendly misunderstood, and therefore dislik'd and ev'n discarded from the text as
spurious by Mr. Pope and the Oxford edition. It is in Macbethi in the fine scene after the
murder of the king ;
* Sleep, thai knits up the ravelVd sleeve of care/
It should have been slcave. The trouble that this ravclfd knotty silk giv^s the knitter or
weaver: aud the confusion and embarrassment of the sleave itself, makes it an exceeding
proper emblem of the per^jlexities and uneasiness of care and trouble. See Skinner on the
word. I owe the emendation in Shakespeare to an ingenious friend. Seward,
^^ A fire ill take her,'\ This may be rivfended, but as the expression is not a very commoa
or eligible one, and the dialogue is with a schoolmaster, who says of himself that.
He humbles witii a ferula the tall ones,
I hope I only restore the original in reading,
Ajeril take her. Seicurd,
We believe there is no such word fxsJ'eriL jMay we not understand by FXB£ iU, a mcBTT
illy R scvLRE punishment f A similar use oijire adjectively is frequent.
^^ Frttmpal.l See note 30 on Wit at Several Weapousi
And
And carry it sweetly, and delirarly; ^
And now and then a favour, and a frisk!
NelL Let us alone, sir.
Ger, Where's the rest o'th'rau^ic?
3 Coun, Dispersed as you comiiianded.
Ger, Couple then.
And sec what's wanting. Where's the Baviaaf
My friend, carry your tail without oftbnce
Or scandal to the ladies; and be sure
You tumble with audacity, and manhood I
Aud when you bark, do it withjudgment.
Bav. Yes, sir. [wanting.
Ger, Quo usque tandem f Here's a M.-uman
4 Coun. We may go whistle ; all the lat's
Ocr. Wehave, [i'th'fire!
As learned authors utter, wash'd a tile;
We have heewfotuus, and labour'd vainly.
5 Coun, This is that scornful piece, that
scurvy hildiug, [be here.
That gave her promise faitlifully she would
Cicely, the sempster s daughter! [skin !
The next gloves that I give her shall be dog's
Nay, an she fail me once — You can tell, At^
cas, IT [break.
She swoi«, by wine and bread, she would not
Ger, An eel and woman,
A learned poet !>ays, unless by th' tail
And with thy teeth thou hold, will either fail.
In manners, this was fal^e position, [npw ?
1 Coun, A fire ill take her^^ ! does she flinch
3 Coun, What
Shall we determine, sir ?
Ger, Nothing;
Our business is become a nullity.
Yea, and a woful, and a piteous nullity !
4 Coun, Nowy when the credit of our towa
lay on it.
Now to be frambal^^, now to piss o'tli'netde!
Go thy ways : I'll remember thee, I'll £t thee 1
Enter Jailof^s Daughter,
Dough. The Geoi^e alow came from the
From the coast of Biu-bary-a. [soutb^
Act 3. Scene 5.]
tHE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
411
And there he met with brave gallants of war,
By one, by two, by three-a.
Well hail'd, well hail'd, you jolly gallants !
And whether now are youbound-a?
Oh, let me have your company
Till I come to the Souud^t!
There was three fools, fell out about an buwlet:
The one said 'twas an owl,
The other he said nay^
The third he said it was a hawk,
And her bells were cut away.
3 Coun. There is a dainty mad woman,
magister^'.
Comes i'th' nick; as mad as a March hare!
If we can get her dance, we're made again :
I warrant her, she'll do the rarest gambols !
1 Coun. A mad woman ? We are made,
boys!
Ger, And are voumad, good woman?
Daugk, I would be sorry else ;
Give me your hand, ^
Ger. Why?
Daugk. I can tell your fortune :
Yoa are a fool Tell ten : I've poz*d him.
Buz! [do.
Friend, you must eat no white bread ; if you
Your teeth will bleed extremely. Shall we
dance, ho?
I know you ; youVe a tinker : sirrah tinker®^,
StoD ho more holes, but what you should!
uer. I>u boni /
A tinker, damsel?
DaugL Or a conjurer i
Raise me a devil now, and let him play
QuipasM, o* th' bells and bones !
Ger. Go, take her,
And fluently persuade her to a peace^^ :
Aiaue apu$, cxegi, quod nee Jovis ira, nee
Stnke up, and lead her in ! [ignis —
9 Caun, Come, lass, let's trip it !
Daugh. ril lead. [Wind horns.
3 Coun. Do, do, [boys I
Ger. Persuasively, and cunningly ; away,
lExeunt all but Gcrrold.
I hear the horns: give me some meditation.
And mark your cue. Pallas inspire me!
Enter Theseus, Perithous, HippMa, Epilia,
Arcite, and Train.
Tkes. This way the stag took.
Ger. Stay, and edify !
Thes. What have We here?
Per, Some country-sport, upon my life, sir.
Thes. Well, siis go forward: we will edify.
Ladies, sit down ! we'll stay it«
** There's a dainty mad woman, Mr.! As most, and I believe all the Countrymen^s i^peeches
are in verse, I fancy Air. stood for Magister here. The Schoolmaster's first speech and the
greatest part of this scene was printed as prose. But I have found it running easily inta
measure, which Fletcher's drollery frequently docs. Seward.
^^ Sir, ha. Tinker.] Former copies.
*^ Persuade her to a peace.] I think we should read appease; i. e. be quiet, or silent^
^' Ladies, if we Iiave, &c.] We have ventured to prenx the Schoolmaster's name to this
speech. It has always been given to Ferithous,
3G2 Hip.
Ger, Thou doughty duke> all hail! all bail,
sweet ladies !
Thcs^ This is a cold beginning.
Ger. If you but favour, our country pas*
time made is.
We are a few of those collected here,
That ruder tongues distinguish villager;
And to say verity, and not to fable,
We are a merry rout, or else a rabble,
Or company, or by a figure, chorus.
That 'fore thy dignity will dance amorris.
And I that am the rectifier of all,
By title Pedagogus, that let fall
The birch upon the breeches of the small ones.
And humble with a ferula the tall ones.
Do here present this machine, or this frame :
And, dainty duke, whose doui^hty dismal fame
From Dis to Dcdalus, from post tf) pillar.
Is blown abroad: help me. thy poor welU
wilier, [straight
And with tliy twinkling eyes, look right and
Upon this mighty morr — of mickle weight;
is — now comes in, which being glew'd toge
ther [hither.
Makes morris, and the cause tliat we came
The bodr of our »port of no small study,
I first appear, tho' rude, and raw, and muddy.
To speak before thy noble Grace, this tenor;
At whose great feet I offer up my penner.
The next, the lord of May, and lady bright,
The chambermaid, and servingman by night.
That seek out silent hanging : then mine host.
And his fat spouse, that welcome to their cost
The galled traveller, and with a beck*ning
Informs the tnpster to inflame the reck'niiig:
Then the beast-eatingclown, and next the fool.
The Bavian, with long tail, and eke long tool;
Cum multis aliis, that make a dance;
Say at/, and all shall presently advance,
Thes. Ay, ay, by any means, dear domine f
Per. Produce.
Ger. Intratejilii! Come forth, and foot it.
Enter Countrymen, ^r. They dance^
Ladies, if we have hern n^rrv*^^^
And have pleas'd ye with si (ferry.
And a derry, and a down,
Say the Schoolmaster's no clown,
Duke, if we have pleas'd thee too,
And have done m got>d boys should do.
Give us but a tree or twain
For a Maypole, and again,
Ere another year run out.
We'll make thee laugh, and all this rout.
Thes. Take twenty, dojiUnc^-^HQw does
my sweetheart ?
41»
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
[Act 3. Scene 6.
Hip* Never so pleas'd, sir.
Emi. Twas an excellent dance;
AntI, tor a preface, I never beard a better.
Thei, Schoolmaster, I thank you. One see
"em all rewarded ! [pole withal.
Fen And here's something to paint your
Tfie$, Now to our sports again !
Ger. May the stag thou hunt'st stand long,
And thy dogs be swift and strong!
May they kill him without ietts,
And the ladies eat's dowsets !
Come, we are all made! \Wind horns.
Dii Deaque omnes ! ye have danced rarely,
wenches. [Exeunt,
SCENE vr.
Enter PalamonJ'rom the Bush.
Pal, About this hour my cousin gave his
faith ... *
To visit me again, and with him bring
Two swords, and two good armours; if he
fail [me,
lie*s neither man, nor soUlier. AVhen he left
I did not think a week could have restored
My lost strength to me, I was grow^^so low
And crest-ftdrn with my wants: I thank thee,
Arcite,
Thou'rt ^et a fair foe ; and I feel myself,
With this refreshiiig, able once again
To out-dure danger. To delay it longer
Would make the world think, when it comes
to hearing,
That I lay tatting, like a swine, to fight.
And not n soldier: therefore, this blest morn-
ing
Shall be the last; and that sword he refuses,
If it but hold, I kill him with: 'tis justice:
So^ Love and Fortune for me ! Oh, good-
morrow!
Enter Arcite, with Armours and Szcords,
Arc, Good-morrow, Noble Kinsman!
PtU. I have put you
To too much Aains, sir.
Arc, That Coo much, fair cousin, .
Is but a debt to honour, and my duty.
Pal, 'Would you were so in all, sir! I
could wish you
As kind a kinsman, as you force me find
A beneficial foe, that my embraces
Might thank you, not my blows.
Arc. I sliall think either,
W^ell done, a noble recompense.
Pal, Then I shall quit you.
Arc. Defy me in these tair terms, and you
shew
More than a mistress to me : no more anger.
As you love any thing that's honourable !
Wc were not bred to txdk, man; when weVc
ami'd,
And both upon our guards, then let our fury,
Like meeting of two tides, fly strongly from us !
And then to whom the birthright of this
beauty
Truly ]^rtains (without upbraidings, scorns,
Despisings of our persons, and such poutings,
Fitter for girls and schoolboys) will be seen,
And quickly, yours, or mine. Wilt please
you arm, sir?
Or if you feel yourself not fitting yet.
And furnished with your old strength, Fll
stay, cousin.
And every day discourse you into health.
As I am spar'd : your person I am friends
with.
And I could wish I had not said I lov'd her,
Tho* I had died ; but loving sucb a lady.
And justifying my love, I must not fly from'u
Pal. Arcite, thou art so brave an enemy.
That no man but thy cousin's fit to kill thee:~
I'm. well, and lusty ; ciinse your aims!
Arc. Chuse you, sir!
Pal, Wilt thou exceed in all, or dost
To make me spare thee ? [thou do it
Arc. If you think so, cousin,
Yuu are decciv'd; for, as I am a soldier,
*ril not spare you!
Pal. Tint's well said!
Arc. You will find it. [lore
Pal. Then, as I am an honest man, and
With all the justice of affection,
III pay thee soundly ! This I'll take.
Arc, That's mine then;
I'll arm you first.
Pal. Do. Pray thee tell me, coasin.
Where got*st thou this good armour?
Arc, Tis the duke's ;
And, to say true, I stole it. Do I pinch you?
Pal. No.
Arc. Is't not too heavy ?
. Pal. I have worn a lighter;
But I shall make it serve.
Arc, I'll buckle't close.
PaL By any means.
Arc. You care not for a grand-guard ?
Pal. No, no; we'll use no horses: I
perceive
You would fain be at that fight.
Arc. I'm indifferent. [the buckle
Pal. Faith, so am I. Good cousin, thrust
Thro' far enough!
Arc. I warrant you.
Pal, My casque now!
Arc. Will you fight bare-arm'd ?
PaL We shall be the nimbler.
Arc. But use your gauntlets tho': those
are o*tir least;
Prithee take mine, good cousin!
Pal. Thank you, Arcite!
How do I look? am I fall'n much awav?
Arc. Faith, very little ; Love has usd yoo
kindly.
Pal, I'll warrant thee Til strike home.
Arc. Do, and spare not !
I'll give you cause, sweet cousin.
Pal, Now to you, sir!
Methinks this armour's very like that^ Arcite,
I'hou wor^st that day the three kings fell, but
lighter.
Are.
Act 3, Scene 6*]-
Arc. Tliat was a very good one; and that
day,
I weu remember, you out-did me, cousin ;
I never saw such valour : when you chargM
Upon the left wing of the enemy,
I spurr'd hard to come up, and under me
I had a right good horse.
Pal, You had indeed ;
A bright-bay, I remember.
Arc. Yes, But all
Was vainly laboured in me; you out-went me.
Nor could my wishes reach you: yet a little
1 did by imitation.
Pal, More by virtue ;
YouVe modest, cousin.
Arc, When I saw you charge first,
Methought I heard a dreadful dap of thunder
Break from the troop.
Pal. But still before that (lew
The lightning of your valour. Stay a little !
Is not this piece too straight?
Arc. No, no; 'tis well.
Pal. I would have nothing hurt thee but?
my sword;
A bruise would be dishonour.
Arc. Now I'm perfect*
Pal' Stand off then !
Arc. Take my sword ! I hold it better.
Pal, I thank you, no ; keep it ; your life
lies on it :
Here's one, if it but hold, I ask no more
For all my hopes. My cause and honour
** gu(ird me!
[Thej/ bow several tcu^s; then advance
and stand.
T»E TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
413
Arc, And me, my love J Is there aiight
else to say ? [mine aunt's son.
Pal. This only, and no more: thou art
And that blood we desire to slied is mutual;
In me, thine, and in thee, mine : my sword
Is in my hand, and if thou killest me
The gods and I forgive thee! If there be
A place prepar'd for those that sleep io
honour,
I wish his weary soul that falls may win it!
Fight bravely, cousin : give me thy noble Iiand!
Arc, Here, Palamon! This hand shsli
never more
Come near thee with such friendship.
Pal, I commend thee. [coward;
Arc. If I fall, .curse me, and say I was a
For none but such dare die in these iust
trials<^».
Once more, farewell, my cousia!
Pal. Farewell, Arcite! [Fight.
[Horns within; the if stand.
Arc. Lo, cousin, lo ! our folly has undone us!
Pal. Why? fyou;
Arc, This is the duke, a-hunting as I told
If we be found, we're wretched ! Oh, retire,
For honour's sake ! and safely presently '^
Into your bush again, sir! We shall find
Too many hours to die in. Gentle cousin,
If you be seen you perish instantly.
For breaking prison ; and I, if you reveal me.
For my contempt : then all the world will
scorn us,
And say we had a noble difference.
But base disposers of it.
Pal. No, no, cousin ;
•^ If I fall, curse me, and say I was a coward^
Par none but such dare die in these just triaU.] Mr. Sympson thiuks this a strange senti-
ment, and indeed it must appear so, till we recollect that our scene lies in the land of
knight errantry rather than in Athens : that our authors follow Chaucer, and dress their
heroes after the manners of his age, when trials by the sword were thought just, and Che
confjuer'd always supposed guilty and held infamous. In this light the sentiment is proper,
though it would certainly be more in character in PalanunCs mouth, whose enthusiastic zeal
for the justice of his cause, would be the proper father of such a sentiment. Perhaps there-
. fore the original might have run thus, ^
Pal: I commend thee.
If I fall, curse me, and say I was a coward,
For none but such dare die in tliese just trials.
Instead of returning this with the like violence, Arcite (with a look where disdain and
tenderness struggle awhile and then settle to u firm resolution) answers.
Once more farewell, my cousin.
But if this change of the speakers takes place, it might be necessary to give the former
speech'of Palamon to Arcite, and make Palamon only speak the last hue of it. It is very
'common to have whole scenes confused thus in their speakers. Seward,
We cannot see any need of change.
7c f^J^fl safely presently
Into your bush again,] The two adverbs, safely presently in conjunction, are very
unlike our authors ; by puttmg a comma between them they may suit the hurry of the
speaker. But it seems much more probable that the first is a mistake, and that the true
reading is,
■■ — Oh, retire
For honour's sake, and safely, presently
Into the bush again,
Mr. Theobald concurred with me in this emendation. Seward.
Bat being merely conjectural, and not mcessury, is not admissible.
I will
414
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
[Act 3. Scene 6.
I will no more be hidden, nor put off
This great adventure to a second trial !
I know your cunning, and I know your cause.
He that faints now, sliame take him! Put
Upon thy present guard— [thyself
Arc. You are not mad ? [hour
PaL Or I will make th* advantage of this
Mine owu; and what to come shall threaten
me, [cousin,
I fear less than ray fortune. Know, weak
I love Emilia ! and in that I'll bury
Thee, and all crosses else!
Arc. llien come \\ liat can come,
Thou shalt know, Palamon, I dare as well
Die as discourse, or hleep : only this fears
me,
The law will have the honour of our ends.
Have at thy life !
PaL Look to thine own well, Arcite !
[Fight again. Horns.
Enter Theseus^ Hippolita, Emilia, Perithous,
and train,
Theii. What ignorant and mad malicious
traitors
Are you, that, Against the tenor of my laws,
Are making battle, thus like knights appointed,
Without my leave, aud officers of arms ?
By Castor, both shall die!
PaL Hold thy word, Theseus !
We're certainly both traitors, both despisers
Of thee, aud of thy goodness : I am Palamon,
'That cannot love thee, he that broke thy prison ;
Think well what that deserves! and this is
Arcite ;
A bolder traitor never trod thy ground,
A falser ne'er seem'd friend : this is the man
Was begg'd and banish*d; this is he con-
temns thee,
And what thou dar'st do ; and in this disguise,
Against this known edict, follows thy sister.
That fortunate bright star, the fair Emilia,
(Whr»se servant, if there be a right in seeing,
And first bequeathing of the soul to, justly
I am); and, which is more, dares think her
his!
Tliis treachery, like a most trusty lover,
I call'd liim now to answer: if thou be'st,
As thou art spoken, great and virtuous.
The true decider of all injuries, [Theseus,
Say, * Fight again !' and thou shalt sec me,
Do such a justice, thou thyself wilt envy ;
Then take my life! I'll wooe thee to't.
Per. Oh, Heaven,
What more than man is this!
Thes. I've sworn.
Arc, We seek not
Thy breath of mercy, Theseus! Tis to me
A thing as soon to die, as thee to say it,
And no more mov'd. Where this man calls
me traitor.
Let me say thus much : if in love be treason,
In service of so excellent a beauty.
As I love most, and in that faith will perish ;
As I have brought my life here to confirm i^
As [ have serv'd her truest, worthiest;
As I dare kill this cousin, that denies it;
So let mc be most traitor, and you please
me.
For scorning thy edict, duke, ask that lady
Why she is fair, and why her eyes command
me
Stay here to love her; and if she say traitor,
I am a villain fit to lie unburied.
PaL Thou shalt have pity of us both, ob^
These ub,
If unto neither thou shew mercy ; stop.
As thou art just, thy noble ear a<raiust us;
As thou art valiant, for thy cousin's soul,
Whose twelve strong labours crown his me*
mory,
Let's die together atone instant, duke!
Only a little let him fall before me.
That I may tell my soul he shall not have her.
Thes. I grant your wish; for, to say tme,
your cousin
Has ten times more offended, for I gave him
More mercy than you found, sir, your offences
Being no more than his. None here speak
for 'em !
For, ere the sun set, both shall sleep foj ever.
Hip. Alas, the pity ! now or never, sister,
Speak, not tu be denied : that f:ice of yours
Will bear the curses else of atter-ages,
For these lost cousins !
Emi. In my face, dear sister,
I find no anger to 'em, nor no ruin ; .
The misadventure of their own eves kills *em:
Yet that I will be woman, and have pity.
My knees slmll grow to th' ground but III
get mercy.
Help me, dear sister ! in a deed so virtuous.
The powers of all women will be with us.
Most royal brother —
Hip. Sir, by our tie of marriage —
Emi. By your own spotless honour —
Hi;?. By that faith,
That fair hand, and that honest heart yoo
gave me — [iter,
EmL By that you would have pity in ano*
By your own virtues infinite —
tiip. By valour, [you —
By all the cha&te nights I have ever pleas'4
Thes. These are strange conjuriugs!
Per. Nay, tlu^n Til in too :
By all our friendship, sir, by all our dant^ers,
By all you love most, wars, aud this sweet
lady — [deny,
EmL By that you would have trembled CO
A blushing maid —
Hip. By your own eyes, by strength,
In which YOU swore I went beyond all women,
Almost all men, and ycti yielded, Theseus—
Per. To crown all this, by your most no-
ble soul.
Which cannot want due mercy ! I beg fiist
Hip. Next hear my prayers!
EmL Last, let me entreat, sir!
Per, For mercy !
Hip, Mercy!
Em.
Act 3. Scene 6.]
EmL Mercy on these princes !
Thes, You make my fauli reel; say I felt
Compassion to 'era both, how would you
place it? [nishments.
Emi. Upon their lives; but with their b»-
Thes. You're a right woman, sister; you
have pity,
But want the understanding where to use it.
If you desire their lives, invent a way
Safer than banishment: can these two live,
And have the agony of love about 'eni,
And not kill one another? Every day
They'll fight about you; hourly bring your
honour [then,
In public question with their swords: be wise
And here forget 'em ! it concenis your credit,
And my oath equally : I have said, thiy die !
Better they fall by th'law, than one another.
Bow not my honour.
Emi. Oh, my noble brother,
That oath was rashly made, and in yournnger;
Your reason will not hold it: if such vows
Stand for express will, all the world must
perish.
Beside, I have another oath 'gainst yours,
Of more authority, Vm sure more love;
Mot made in passion neither, but good heed.
Tha. What is it, sister?
Per. Urge it home, brave lady !
Emi. That yoii would ne'er deny me any
thing [ing:
Fit for uiy modest suit, and your free grant*
I tie you to your word now; if you fail in't.
Think how you maim your honour;
(For now I'm set a-begging, sir, I'm deaf
To all but your compnssion !) how their lives
Might breed the ruin of my name, opinion^' !
Shall any thing th<it loves me perish for me?
That were a cruel wisdom ! do men prune
The straight young boughs that blush with
thousand blossoms, [seus.
Because they maybe rotten? Oh, dukeXhe-
. The goodly mothers that have groan'd for
tliese.
And all the longing maids I lint everlov'd,
If your vow stand, shall curse me and my
beauty, [sins,
And, in their funeral songs for these two cou-
Despise my cruelty, and cry woe-worth me,
^ill I am nothing but the scorn of women :
For Heav'u's sake save their lives, and banish
The$. On what conditions? ['cm!
EmL Swear 'em never more
To make me their contention, or to know me,
To tread upon thy dukedom, and to be,
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN^
415
Wherever they shall trarel, ever strangers
To one another.
Pal. I'll be cut a-pieces
Before I tuke this ^ath! Forget I love herf
Oh, all ye gods, despise me then ! Thy ba-
nishment
I not mislike, so we may fairly carry
Our swords, and cause along ; else never trifle.
But take our lives, doke ! I most love, and
will [sin,
And for that love, must and dare kill this cou«
On any piece the earth has!
Thes. Will you, Arcite,
Take these conditions ?
Pal. He's a villain then !
Per. These are men ! [^^^infe
Arc. No, never, duke; 'tis worse to me than
To take my life so basely. Tho' I think
I n " er shall enjoy her, yet Til preserve
The honour of atl'ection, and die for her,
Make death a devil ! [compassion*
Thes. What may be done? for now I feel
Per, Let it not fall again, sir I
Ihes. Say, Emilia,
If one of them were dead, as one must, are you
Content to take the other to your husband ?
They cannot both enjoy you; they ar«
princes
As goodly as your own eyes, and as noble
As ever Fame yet spoke of; look upon 'em.
And if you can love, end this difference !
I give consent ! are you content too, princes?
Both. VVith all our souls.
Thes. He that she refuses
Must die then.
Both. Any death thou canst invent, duke.
Pal. If I fall from that mouth, I fall with
favour.
And lovers vet unborn shall bless my ashes*
Arc. If she refuse me, yet my grave will
wed me,
And soldiers sing my epitaph.
Thes. Make choice then I [cellent:
Emi. I cannot, sir; they're both too ex*
For me, a hair shall never fall of these men.
Hip. Wliat will become of *em?
Thes. Thus I ordain it;
And, by mine honour, once again it stands,
Or both shall die! — You shall both to your
country:
And each within this month, accompanied
With three fair knights, appear again in this
place.
In which III plant a pyramid: and whether
Before us that are here, can force his cousin *
7»
• hmo their lives
jiiight breed the ruin of rni/ name ; opinion.
Shall any thing that laves me perish for me f] Opinion is ofWn used by the old writers
in the sense of reputation, in which sense it is here to be taken. Macbetli says,
* We will proceed no further in this business;
* He hath honoured me of late; and I have bought
' Golden opinions from all sorts of people,
* Which would be worn now in their newest gloss.
* Not cast aside so soon.'
By
416
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
[x\ct4. Scene 1.
By fair and knightly strength to touch the
pillar ;
He shall enjoy her ; the other lose his head^*.
And all his friends : nor shall hegrudge to fall,
Nor think he dies with interest in this lady:
Will this content ye?
Pal. Yes. Here, cousin Arcite,
]*m friends again 'till that hour.
Arc. I embrace you.
Thes. Are you content, sister ?
EmL Yes : I must, sir;
Else both miscarry.
Thes. Come, shake hands again th«i ;
And take heed, as you^re gentlemen, this
quarrel
Sleep 'till the hour prefix*d^ and hold your
course!
Pal. We dare not fail thee, Theseus.
Thes. Come, HI give ye
Now usage like to princes, and to friends.
When ye return, who wins, I'll settle here;
Who loses, yet I'll weep upon his bier.
^£r€tiiit«
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Enter Jailor arid a Friend*
Jailor. TTEARyouno more? Was nothing
•'•'■• said of me '
Concerning the escape of Palamon?
Good sir, remember! ''
1 Friend. Nothing dmt I heard;
For I came home before the business
Was fully ended : yet I might perceive.
Ere 1 departed, a great likelihood
Of both their pardons; for Hippolita,
And fair-ev'd J£mily, upon their knees
Begg'd with such handsome pity, that the duke
Methought stood staggering whether he should
follow
His rash oath, or the sweet compassion
Of those two ladies; and to second them.
That truly noble prince Perithous,
Half his own heart set in too, that I hope
All shall be well: neither heard I one que^
Of your name, or his 'scape. [tioo
Enter Second Friend,
Jailor. Pray Heav'n, it hold so !
2 Friend, Be of good comfort, man ! 1
bring you news.
Good news.
Jailor, They're welcome.
2 Friend. Palamon has clear'd you,
And got your pardon, and discover'd bow
And by whose means he 'scap'd, which wn
your daughter's, [soner
Whose pardon is procur'd too; and tlie pri-
The other lose his heady
And all hisfriends.'\ Chaucer's doom on this occasion is only banishment, and our authon
altered it, to render the catastrophe more interesting. As to the probability of their pro-
curing each three seconds upon such odd terms, it may shock us to suppoSe any such gallant
idiots ; but even so low as our authors' age, it was reckoned cowardice to refuse any man,
even a stranger, to be a second in almost any duel whatever, of which there is a most ioim)-
table burlesque in the Little French Lawyer. Mankind were mad after, knight^rraotry ; and
the reader must catch a little of the spirit himself, or he'll lose a great part of the beauties of
this play; he must kindle with the flames of military glory, think life a small stake to hazard
in such a combat, and death desirable to the conquer'd as a refuge from shame. While the
judicial trials by the duello were part of our laws, this was really the spirit of our ancestors.
I have a treatise now hefore me of Mr. Selden, wrote in 1610, probably about the very time
of our authors publishing this play, where tliese duello trials are very lifarnediy traced) with
all their forms and ceremonies from the Norman conquest to James the First, in whose reign
they still contiimcd part of the laws of our land, and seem to have been not out of fashion;
for we find by all the writers of tliat age, how common the private extrajudicial duel thea
was, and this author, after reciting the decrees of two popes against such trials, and the
thunder, as he calls it, of the Council of Trent, with a veryyserious face subjoins: * Jo those
< which were the observant sonnes of the Roman church, this and tlie other decrees extend
* their inhibitions; but the English customs never permitted themselves to be subjected to
< such clergy canons; alwaies (under parliament correction) retaining, as whatsoever they
* have by long use or allowance approved, so this of the duel.' — I am told by lawyers, that
this superstitious and barbarous law has never to this day met with parliament corrtctkmj
but has by custom only sunk into obsoleteness. , Our ancestors in this instance as well as
that of our calendar, most resolutely avoided the example of Papists, even where the latter
were evidently right. Saoard,
(Not
Act 4. Soene 1.]
THE TWO NOBXiE KINSM£!C.
447
Sot to be held oomtHTul to farr goodness)
iS given a sum of money to her raarnage^
A laise one, Fll assure yoa.
Ja^, You're a good man.
And ever brine good news.
1 Friend, now was it ended f '
S Friend. Why, ai it should be; they that
never begg'd [granted.
But they prevail'd, had their suits fairly
The prisoners have their lives.
1 Friend. I knew 'twould be so.
2 Friend. Bat there' be new coadidons,
which youll hear of
At better time.
JaOor, I hope they're good.
9 Friend. l^heyVe honourable;
How good they'll prove, I know not*
Enter Wooer.
1 Riend. Twill be known.
Wvoer. Alas, sir, where's your daughter?
Jkihr. Why do you askf
Wooer. Oh, sir, when did you see her?
t Friend, flow he looks!
Jailor. This morning. [sir?
Wooer. Was she wdl ? was she in liealth,
When did she sleep? >
• 1 Friend, llieso are strange qnestions.
Jaiigr. I do not think ahe was very well ;
ibr^ now
You m$ke me mind her, but this very day
I askM lier questions, and ^e answer'd me
So iar from what she was, so childishly.
So sillily, as if she were a fool.
An innocent^' ! and I was very angry.
But what of her, sir?
Wooer. Nothing but my pity ;
But you must kuow it, and as good by roe
As by another that less loves her.
Jiuior. Well, sir?
t Friend. Notriglit?
2 FriW. Notwell?
ITooer.'No, sir; not well:
*lls too true, she is mad.
1 Friend. It cannot be.
Wooer. Believe, yoi/A fiad it aou
Juiior. I half suspected Pierf
What you have told me ; the gods oomfiKt
Either this was her love to Palamon, i
Or fear of my miscarrying on his 'scape.
Or both.
Wooer. 'Tis likely.
Jailor. But why all this haste, sir?
Wooer. Ill tell you quickly. As I ktt
Inthe great lake that Itesbdiind thepalace^^
From the hx shore, thick set with reeds and
sedges,
As patiently I was attending sport,
I heard a voice, a shrill one; and attentive
I gave my ear; when I might well perceive
^Twas one that sung, and, by the smallneift
of it,
A boy or woman. I tiien left my an[j^
To his own skill, cama nenr, but yet per*
ceiv'd not
Who madethesound, the rushes and the reeds
Had so encompassed it: I laid me down
And listened to the words she snne ; for then^
Thro' a small glade cut by the fishemen^
I saw it was your daughter*
Jailor. Pray go on, sir!
Wooer. She sung much, but no sense;
only I heard her
Repeat this often : * Pahunon is gone,
^ Is gone to th' wood to gather wulbemes;
* FU find him out to-morrow/
1 JWead. Pretty soul! [hell be taken;
Wooer. * His lOiackles w3l betray him,
< And what shall I do then? Fll bring a heavy,
* A hundred bUck-eyM maids that love as I
'do,
^ With chaplets on their heads, of daffiwiillies,
' With cherry lips, and cheeks of damask
* roses,
* And all well dance an antick 'Xbre this duke,
* And beg his pardon.' Hien she talked of
you, sir ; [morning,
That vou must Inse your liead to^norrow-
And she must gather m>wers to bury yon,
. ^^ An innocent.] In the northern puts of tins kingdom, the common appeUatiou of an
iieot is an innocent to this day. R.
'^ As I late, 4'<^-] This description bears a striking resembhmce to the following in
Hamlet:
* There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
* That shews his hoar leaves in tlie glassy stream :
* Thefe with fantastic garlands did she come,
* Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,
' That liberal sheplierds give a grosser name,
' But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them;
* There on the pendant boughs, her coronet weeds
* Clambering to hang, an envioos sliver broke;
* When down h^r weedy trophies and herself
* Fell in the wec{)ing brook ; her cloaths spread wide,
* And, mennaid-like, a while they bore her op :
* Which time she chauuted snatches of old tunes,
' As one incapable of her own distress,
< Or like a creature na^e, and inducid
* Unto that elemeot.' R*
VOL. in. SB And
418
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
[Act 4. Seme t.
And see the Loose made handsome: then
she sung [between
Nothing but * Willow, willow, willow 7*;' and
Ever was, * Palamon, fair Palanion !'
And ' Palamon was a tall young wan!' The
place [tresses.
Was knee-deep where she sat ; her careless
A wreath of bull-rush rounded^'; about her
stuck [lours ;
Thousand fresh-water flowers of several co-
Tliat met bought she appear*d like the fair
nymph
That feeds the lake with waters, or as Iris
Newly dropt down from Ileav'n! Kmgs she
made
Of rushes that grew by, and to 'em spoke
'J'he prettiest posies ; ' Thus onr true love's
tied ;• [one :
* This yon may loose, not me ;' and many a
•And then she wept, and sung again, and sigh*d)
And with .the same breath smil'd, and kist
her hand.
2 Friend. Alas, what pity 'tis !
Wooer, I made in to her ; [sav'd her,
She saw me, and straight sought the flood ; I
And set her safe to land ; when presently
She slipt away, and to the. city made.
With such aery, and swiftness, that believe me.
She left me far behind her : three, or four,
I saw from far ofi* cross her, one of 'em
I knew to be your brother ;^ where she stay'd.
And fell, scarce to be got away; I left them
with her.
Enter Brother^ Daughter, and others. ,
And hither came to tell you. Here they are !
Daugh, May you never more enjoy the
Is not this a fine song? [hgiit, &:c.
Brot/icr, Oh, a very fine one !
Daugh, I can sing tvieitty more.
Brother, I think you can. [Broom,
Daugh,, Yes, truly can I ; I can sing tlie
And Bonny Robin ^^. Are not you a ta^or ?
Brother, Yes.
Daugh, Where's m^ wedding-gown?
Brother. 1*11 bring it to-morrow.
Daugh, Do, very early ^^; I must be
abroad else,
To call the maids, and pay the minstrels ;
Fori must lose mymiddenhead by cock-light;
'Twill never thrive else.
Oh, fair, oh, sw€^et, &:c. [Sings,
Brother. You must ev*n take it patiently.
Jailor, Tis true. [you ever hear
Daughf Good e'en, good men! Pray did
Of one young Palamon f
^* Willott, <5 c] See Othelto. TJie song here alluded to, is printed in Percy's Reliqucs uf
Ancient Poetry. R,
^* A wreak ofbuh-rush.] Corrected in 1750.
^* Bonny Robin.] Ophelia, in Shakespeare's Hamlet, sings part of this song. .
'' Do, very rarely.] I had put early into die text here before I received Mr. Symp»>n'$
reading rearly, i. «. betimes in the morning. If there is such a word, it is undoubteuiy tlie
true one ; but as he ipiotes no autiiority, and I can find none in my glossaries, [ uiu»t Jet
tofly remain, which Mr. 'i heobald has likewise put in his margin. Seaard,
UFritMi.
Jailor. Yes, wencn, we know hkn.
Daugh. Is*t not a fine young gentleman ?
Jailor. 'Tis love ! [then di&teiupef*d
Brother. By no means cross lier; blie is
Far ^orse than now she shews.
1 Friend. Yes, he's a fine man.
Duvgh. Oh, is he so ? You have a Aster?
1 Frtend. Yes. [her so,
Daugh, But slie shall never have him, tell
For a trick that I know : you had LvjA. ionk
to her, [dosie,
For if slie see him once, she's gone; she'&
A nd uudone in an hour. All the young nuiids
Of our town are in love with him ; hut I
laugh at 'em.
And let 'em all alone ; is't not a wise course ?
1 Friend, Yes.
Daugh. Inhere is at least two hundred now
with child by him.
There must be four; yet I keep close for all
• this, ^
Close as a cockle ; and all these must be boY$i
He' has tlie trick on't; and at ten yeura M
Thev must be all gelt for musicians.
And sin^ the Wars of Theseus.
iA Friend, I'his is strange.
Daugh, As ever you heard ; but say nothiQ|t.
1 Friend. No. [dukedom to hini :
Daugh. They come from ail parts uf the
I'll warrant you, he had not so i'ev las»t night
As twenty to dispatch ; he'll tickle't up
In two hours, if his hand be in.
Jailor, S lie's lost.
Past all cure !
Brother. Heav'n forbid, man !
Daugh. Come hither ; you*re a wise mas.
1 Friend. Does she know him?
2 Friend. No ; 'would she did !
Daugh. You're master uf a ship?
Jailor. Yes.
Dttvgh, Where's your compass ?
JaiUyr. Here.
Daugh. Set it to th' north ;
And now direct your cour:>e to tl/ wood«
where Palamon
Lies longing for me; for (he tackling
Let me alone : come, weigh my hearts, cheerly!
All. Owgh, owgh, owgli ! 'lis up, the wiaJ
is fair.
Top the bowling; out with the main-sail L*
Where is your whistle, master?
Brother, Let's get her in. •
Jailor. Up to the top, boy.
BrtUher, Where's the pilot?
1 Friend, Here.
Daugh. What ken'st thou?
Act 4. Scene 2.]
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
41d
2 Friend, A fair wood.
Vaugh. Bear for ii, master ; tack about !
[Sings,
WhcQ Cinthia with her borrowed light, &lc.
[kxcunt,
SCENE II.
Enter Emilioj rcith two Pictures,
Kmi, Yet I may bind those wounds up,
tliHt must open [chuse,
And bleed to death for my sake else: IMl^
And emi their strife ; two such young hand-
some men
Shall never fiill fur me : their weeping mothers,
Following the dead-cold ashes of their sons,
Shall never curse my cruelty. Good Ileav'n,
What a sweet face has Arcite ! If wise Nature,
With all her best endowments, all those
beauties
She sows into the births of noble bodies,
Were here a mortal woman, ftod had in her
The coy denials of young maids, yet doubtless
She wouUl run mad for this man : what an eye !
Of what a fiery sparkle, and quick sweetness.
Has this young prince ! here Love himself
sits smihng ;
Just such another wanton jGaniraede
Set Jove afire witii^', and enibrc*d the ji^od
Snatch up the goodly boy, and set him by him
A shining constellation ! what a brow.
Of what a spacious majebty, lie carries,
Arch*d like tlie great-ey'd Juno's, but fhr
sweeter, [Honour,
Snio<}ther than Pelop's shoulder ! Fame and
Methinks, irom hence, as from a promontory
Poiuted in Heav*n, should clap their wings,
and sing
To all tlie under-world, die loves and fights
Of gods, and such men near 'em. Palamon
Is but his foil; to him, a mere dull shadow; .
He's swarth and meagre, of an eye as heavj
As if he'd lost his mother'*; a still temper.
No stirring in him, no alacrity;
Of all tliis sprightly sharpness^ not a smile.
Yet these tliat we count errors, may become
him:
Narcissus was a sad boy, but a heav'nly.
Oh, who can find the bent of woman's tancy?
-I am a fool, my reason is lost in me 1
I have no choice, and I have lied so lewdly,
That women ought to beat me. On my knees
I ask thy pardon, Palamon ! Thou art alone.
And only beautiful; and these thy eyes,
These the bright lamps of beauty, that com-
mand [dare cross 'em f
And threaten love, and what young maid
What a bold gravity, and yet inviting,
Has this brown manly face ! Oh, Love, this
only . [cite!
From this hour is complexion; lie there, Ar-
Thou art a clungeling to him, a mere gipsy.
And this the noble bodv— I am sotted.
Utterly lost ! my virgin s fiiith has tied me'%
For if my brother but ev'n now had ask'd me
Whether I lov'd, I had run- mad for Arcite;
Now if my sister, more for Palamon.
Stand both together ! Now, come, ask me,
brother,
Alas, I know not! nsk me, now, sweet sister;
1 may go look ! What a mere child is fancy.
That having two fairgawds of eqnal sweetness.
Cannot distinguish, but must cry for both I
Enter a Gentleman,
How now, sir^
Gent, Fit>m the noble duke, your brother.
- here Lave himself tits smiling
Jn*t such another wanton Ganimede,
Set Lave ajire with, mid enforced the god
Snatch up the goodly 6t>y.— 1 This is certainly corrupt; every body must sec that Jove,
is somewhere left out. But says Mr. Sympson,. suppose we read,
Set Jote afir« with
it is stiil not sense; he tliereibre propo^rf^s,
Jove such another wanton Ganimed«
Set Love afire with
But this, I fear, will hardly be thought good English. I had long since discovered what still
seems the real mistake, ^re like hour^yovr, 6ic, is often made two syllables by our authors;
the actors and transcribers not knowing this, thought the verse wanted a syllable, and pro-
bably intruded the particle with to supply it, not observing bow much it embarrass'd the
construction. Lirce for Jote seems a mere accidental error ol tlie press. I read therefore,
Just such another wanton Ganime<te
Set Jove afire, and enforc'd the god, &c.
There is another way of correcting this, by the insertion of a nominative case in the end of
the second line, as
here Lave himself sits smiling,
Just such another wanton Ganimede A«
Set Jove afire with, ,
The former seems for preferable. Seward,
''* As ifhe*d lost his mother.] This seems directly opposite to the sense intended, the elTe*
minacy 6( Faltmon, compared with Arcite* ferlmps we should read, As IChmd »ot last his
mother, i. e. the mother in his mind.
'9 ATv v'lrem faith hasjled me,] So xcadi Seward.
8 H 3 Madam,
410
THE TWO KOBUB UNSMZN.
[Act4.fioeBet.
Madtniy I bring you news: the knightt are
come!
Erni. To end the qnarreR
Gent, Yes.
Emi. 'Would I might end 6rst !
^hfit sins heve I committed, chaste Diana,
That my unspotted yoatfa must now he soU'd
With blood of princes ? and my chastitj
Be made the altar, where the hyesof lovers
(Two greater and two better never yet
Made mothers' joy) must be the sacrifice
To my unhappy btuatyf
Enter The$eu$y Bippolitay Perithaut, and
Attendanis.
Tkes. Bring 'em in
Quickly by any mcanfe ! I long to see Vm. —
Your two contending lovers are retum'dy
And with then their fair knights: now, my
fair sister.
You must love one of them. -
EmL I had mthcr botfa»
Sa neither for my sake should &11 oatimely.
Enter Mtuenger.
Thee. Whosaw'em?
Fer, Imwliile.
Gent. And I.
The$, From whence come you, .sir ^
Meu. From the knights.
Thee. Pray q)eaky
You that have seen them, what they are.
Mete. I willy sir.
And truly what I think: six bmver spirits
Than these theyNre brought^ (if we judge by
the outside)
I never saw, nor read of. He that stands
In the first place with Arcite, b^ his seeming
Should be a stout man, by his face a prince
(His very looks so say him); his complexion
Kearer a brown, than black; stern, and yet
noble, [dangers ;
. Which shews him hardy, fearless, proud of
The circles of his eyes shew far within him*%
And as a heated lion, so he looks; [shining
His hair hangs long behind hiin, black and
Like raven's wings; his shoulders broad, and
strong;
Arms long and rooad*' : and on his tfai|^ a
sword
Hung by a curious baldrick'%
frowns
when he
[ence.
To seal his will with; better, o' my oousci*
Was never soldier's friend.
Thee. Th'hast well describe liim.
' Fer, Yet a ^reat deal short,
Methinks, of hmi tbnt*s first with Palamoo.
Thee, Pray speak him, friend.
Fer. I guess lie is a prince too.
And, if it may be, greater ; fbr his show
Has all the ornament of honour in*t.
He's , somewhat bigger than the knight be
spoke of^
But of a face far sweeter; his complexion
Is (as arripe grape) ruddy ; he has felt,
Witboiit doubt what he fights fbr, and so
apter
To make this cause his own ; in'sfitice appeal*
All the fair hopes of what he undertakes;
And when he's angry, then m settled valour
(Not tainted with extremes) runs thro' his
body, [cannot.
And guides bis am to brave-things ; fipar he
He sMws no such soft temper; his head's
yellow, [ivy tope,
Hard-hair'd, and curi*d, thick twin'd, hke
Not to undo with thunder; in bis &ce
The livery of the warlike maid appears.
Pure red and white, fiir yet no beard has blest
him;
And in his rolling eyes sits Victory,
As if she ever meant to crOwn his vakMO*';
His nose stands high, a character of honour.
His red lips, after fights, are fit for ladies.
EmL Must these men die too ?
Fer, When he speaks, his tongue
Sounds like a trumpet; all his lineaments
Are as a man would wish ^em, strong and
clean;
He wears a well-stecrd axe, the staff of gold;
His age some five and cwenty.
Meeu There's another,
A little man, but of a tough soul, x
As great as any; fiurer promises
In such a body yet I never look'd on,
Fer. Oh, he that's ireckle-fac'd ?
^ The drclee efhk eyes ehew fiiir within him^
And ae a heated /ton, eo he looke.] He is describ'd of a very dark-brown complexion,
with raven-bhusk hair, of a noble but withal of so stem a lock, that his eyes were like those of
a heated lion. To every part of this description the ndjcctive>«ir is diametrically opposite,
not only as to the colour, but to tlie sternness and fierceness of his looks,^o4r couveyiw the
idea of openness and mildness. But tiie corruption consists only in the addition of an^
vowel, which being removed, the expression regains iu original strength and jftropriety :
The circles of his eyes shew^ar within him. Seward^
** Arm'd lon^; and rmmd.] Former editions. Seward,
^^ Btddrick.] See note 49 ou Beggars' Bosh.
•J sitt Fictorjff
Ai if she ever meant to correct )iie taUmr.] How does Ttcetnj torrtet valow? The
word 16 undoubtedly corrupt, and equally hurts both the measure and sense. Cramn is what
the context evidently requires, and tho' it diflersjnucli in its letten booL the old readiog^ yet
it is rather a proof what great mistakes printers sometiaset make, than aa aspoacpt a^uvt
its being admitted fbr the genuine text. SMerdL
Mem
Act 4* occn^ 3«J
THE TWO NMLB WSKmoOf.
42t
Jlen. Tbeioiieymylord:
Are they not sweet ones?
Per. Yes, they're welU
Mm, MetbLuks,
Being so iew, and well dtsposM, they shew
Gietty and fine art in Nature. He*s white-
bair'd.
Not wauton^wbite, but such a manly o^our
Neit to an auburn ; tough, and nimble set.
Which shews an active soul; his arms are
brawnvt
Iia*d with strongfinews ; to the sboulder-piece
GentW they swdi, like women new-conceivM,
Which spnks him prone to laboor, never
fiunling
Under the weight of arms; stout-hearted, still,
Bat, when he itirs, a tiger; he^s grey-«y*d.
Which yields compaseion where he con-
qoers; sharp
To spy advantages, and where he finds *em,
lle*s swift to make 'em his; he does no wrongs,
Nor takes nonej he's rouad-fiw'd, and when
he smiles
fieshews a lover, when he firowns a soldier ;
About fab head he wears the winner's oak,
And in it stuck the fitvour of his lady;
His age, some %\tl and thirty. In his hand
He beanacharging-staff,emhoss*d with silver.
Tka, Ate they ail thus?
Ter. The/re all the sons of honour.
Tke$. Now, as I have a soul, I hmg to
see 'em!
Lady, you shall see men fight now.
nip^ 1 wish it.
Bat not the causey my lord: they would shew
braviily
Flirting about the titles qf two kingdoms*^;
*Tn pity love should be so tyrannous.
Oh, nny sofi>hearted sisler, what thiuk vou?
Weep not, tall they weep blood, wench ! it
most be.
net. You*ve steeFd 'em vrith your beauty.
Honoured friend,
To von I give the field ; pray order it.
Fitting the persons that must use it!
Per. Yes, sir
The$. Come, FU go visit 'em : I cannot stay
rrheir fiime lias fir^ me so) till they appear;
Good friend, be royal!
Per. There shall want no bravery.
*^Buimiitkeeau$ejViyiord: theywouUahe^
Brmel^ about the tUi€$ of two tungdoim.] As two syllables ate somewfapre wanting in
ibese lines, and the sense as well as measure is improved by insertinc the wofd figktine^
which ts evidently understood in the construction or the passage aji mtherto printed, 'us
hoped that the genuine text is only restored. Seward.
** FaUk rU teU yooy iometmie re go to the harley-break, we of the bletted, alas, *tk a torn
life the^f have Cth' other place^ eueh burning, frying, boiling, hissing, howling, chat f ring,
ewning^ &c,] The printers here, contrary to their usual rustonj, have divided the lines of
this whole scene as if they were verse, though it is evidently all prose, Seward,
The printers having divided the lines as verse, is a strong presumption of their having
b#en no written. They often run verse into prose, but we remember no instancy of the
veverye. A kind of loose measure, often used by our authors, was pcobf^bly intended here ;
mm such we have siven it, endeavoorine to make out the verse as nearly as possible accoiding
to fth« division of lines in the old books*
Boilings
Mm. Poor wend^ go weep; Ibr nhoac^
ever wins.
Loses a nobis osiisitt fiv thy sins. [JBjmwiA.
SCENE ni.
EnUr Jailor^ Wooer^ and Doctor^
Doetor. Her distraction is moic at msam
time of the moon
Than at other soase, is it not^
Jailor, She is
Continually in a harmless distemper;
Sleeps little, altojf^ther witliont a^petiia^
Save often drinking ; dreasung ot another
World, and a better; and what broken pioot
Of nmtter soe'er she*s about, the name
Palamon buds it ; that she larces ev'ry
Enter Daughter.
Business withal, fits it to every question.
Look, where slie comes! yon shall peicnive
her behaviour. [onit
t)augh. I have forgot it quite; the burden
Was doum^ down^; and penn*d by no wocse
man than
Giraldo, Emiiia^s schoolmaster t be*s m§ . '
Fantastical too, as ever he may go upon's
legs;
For m the next woHd will Dido see Falamoiv
And then will she be out of love with JEneasii
Doetor, What stuflTs here ? poor soul !
Jttikr, £v*n thus all day long.
Daugk Now for this charm, that I told
you of; you must
Brings piece of silver on tlie tip of your tongue.
Or no ferry: then if it be your chance to conK!
Wh^re the blessed hpirits, (as there's a sight
now) we maids
That liave our livers perish'd, cracVd to pieces
With love,we8hallcoraethere, and do notliing
AH day long but pick flowers with Pros^fv
pine;
Then will I make Pahunon a noesgay ;
Then let him — mark me — then !
Doctor. How prettily she's amiss! note
her a little furtiier!
Dough. Faltl), ril tell yon; sometime we
go to barley-break,
We of the bless*d >' : aias, 'tis a soie life
They have i'th* other place, such bwning,
fiying^
tfS
The two noble kinsme?^.
[Act 4. Scene 9.
Boiling, hissing, ho\^Uiig, chatt'ring, cursing,
Ob, they have shrewd measure; take heed!
If one be mad, or hang, or drown them*
selves.
Thither they go ; Jupiter bless us! and there
Shall we be put in a caldron of lead
And usurers grease, amongst a whole million
of cutpurses.
And there boil like a gammon of bacon
That will never be enough.
Doctor. How lier bram coins!
Dough, Lords and courtiers, tliathaye
got maids witb-child,
They are in this place ; tliey shall stand in fire
Up to the navel, and in ice up to th' heart,
And there th* offending part burns, and the
deceiving part
Freezes : in troth, a very grievous j^unishment,
As one would think, for such a trifle! believe
me, [on*t.
One would marry a leprous witch, to be rid
ni assure you.
Doctor, How she continues this fancy !
' Tis not an engrafted madness, but a most
And profound melancholy. [thick
Duugh, To hear there [together!
A proud lady, and a proud city-wife, howl
I were a beast, an I'd call it good sport : one
Cries, OA, this moke I another, thUfire! one
cries,
Oh, that ever I did it behind the arras /
And then howls; th*othei* curses a suing
And her carden-house. [fellow,
[Sing8,jl will be true, my stars, myfate, &c.
[Exit Daughter,
Jailor. What tliink vou ot her, sir ?
Doctor. I think she has a perturbed maud,
Which I cannot minister to.
Jailor, Alas, what then r [any man.
Doctor, Understand you she ever anected
Ere she beheld Palamon ?
Jailor, I was once, sir,
In ^reat hope she had fix'd her liking on
This gentleman, my friend.
Wooer. I did think so too ;
And would account I bad a great penVorth
on't.
To give half my state, that both she and I
At this present stood uufeignedly on the
same terms*
Doctor. That intemperate surfeit of her eye
hath distempcr'd
The other senses ; they may return and settle
again
To execute their preordained fiiculties ;
But they are now in a most extravagant vagary.
This yuu must do : confine her to a place
wtierc the liglit
Mayraihersceni to steal in, than be permitted.
Take upon you (young sir, her friend) the
name
Of Palamon ; say you come to eat with her.
And to commune of love; this will catch her
attention.
For this her mind beats upon ; other objects.
That ar6 inserted 'tween her mind and eye.
Become the pranks and firiskins of her
madness ;
Sing to her such green songs of love, as she
Says Palamon hath sung in prison ; come t«
her.
Stuck in as sweet flovers as the season
Is mistress of, and thereto make an addition
Of some other compounded odours, which
Are grateful to the sense : all this
Shall become Palamon, for PaWmon
Can sing, and Palamon is sweet.
And evVy good thing; desire to eat with her,
Carve for her, drink to her, and still among
Intermingle your petition of grace and ao<
ceptance
Into her favour; learn what maids have been
Her companions, and pl'ay-pbecrs** ; and let
them
Repair to her with Palamon in their mouths,
And appear with tokens, as if they suggested
for him :
Tt is a falshood she is in, which is
With falshoods to be combated. This may
bring her
To eat, to sleep, and reduce what are now
Out of square in her, into their former law
And regiment*^ : I have seen it approv'd, ,
How many times I know pnt; but to make
The number more, I have great hope in this.
I will, between the passages of this project.
Come in with my appliance. Let us put it
In execution ; and liasten the success.
Which, doubt not, will bring forth com-
fort. [EjceuMt.
•' Play-pAeer«.]See note 95 on this play.
'^ J{fgi7nmi{.| Thus the old quarto, and right, signifying gacernment.
tnher copies exhibit) conveys another idea.
JRegimcn (which
ACT
Aet b. Scene 1.]
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
4S9
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Enter Tkaeus^ PerithotHy Hippolita, and
Attendunti,
Theu 'M^OW let *ein euter, and before the
^^ gods
Tender their holy prayers! let the temples
Buru bright wltli sacred fires, and the alters
lu iiallow'd clouds commend their surelling
incense
To those above us! Let no due be wanting!
\Flour'nh of comets.
They have a noble work in hand, will honour
The very powVi that love *em,
Mnier Palamon, Arcite, (md their Knights.
Per. Sir, they enter.
Thes. You valiant and strong*hearted ene-
mies.
You royal germane foes, that this day come
To blow that nearness out that fliuues be-
tween ye,
L4ky by your anger for an hour, and dove-like
Before the holy altars of your helpers
(The all-fenr'd gods) bow down your stubborn
bodies !
Your ire is more than mortal ; so your help be !
And as the gods regard ye, fight with justice !
ni leave you to your pniyers, and betwixt ye
1 part my wishes.
per. llonour crow^n the worthiest !
[Ej;eunt Thes. and train.
Pat. The glass is running now that cannot
fiuiah
Till one of us expire: thiuk you but thus;
That wert- there auglit in nie which strove
t»> shew
Aline enemy iu this business, were*t one eye
Against another, arm oppress'd by ann,
I would destroy th'.ofFcnder ; c«j/, I would,
Tho' parcel of myself ! then from tliia gather
IIow I should tender you !
Arc. I am in labour
To push your luune, .your ancient love, ou
kindi-ed,
Out of my memory; and i*th* self-same place
To seat something I would confound : so
hoist we [where
The sails, that must these vessels port*^' ev'n
The heav'nly Limiter pleases !
Pal. You speak well :
Before T turn, let roe embrace thee^ cousin!
Ttiis I shall never do again.
Arc. One ferewell !
PaL Why, let it be so : farewell, coz!
Arc. Farewell, sir !
[Kxe. PaL and his Knights.
Knights, kinsmen, lovers, yea, my sacrifices^
True worshippers of Mani, whose spirit in
you
Expels the seeds of fear, and th'apprehensioo.
Which still is furtlier off it, go with me
Before tlie god of our profession! There
Require of him the hearts of lions, and
The breath of tigers, yea, t)ie fierceness too !
Yea, the speed also ! to go on, I mean,
J^Mse wish we to be snails : you know my prize
Must be dragg'd out of blood! force and
great feat
Must put my garland on, where she will stick
The queen ot*fiovv*rs; our intercession theij
Must be to him that makes the camp a ccstron
Brim*d with the blood of men; give me your
aid^
And bend your spirits towards him!«-
[Th^ kneel.
Thou mighty one, that with thy powV liafit
tuniM
Grfeii Neptune into purple*^; whose ap-
proach
Comets prewam ; whose havock in vast field
Unearthed skulls proclaim; who^e breath
blows down
■ The teeming Ceres* foyzon •' ; who dost pluck
*' The sails, that must thae vessels part.] Tliis reading, so different from the poets'
rneajiing, is in several of the last editions.
•• Grte,i Nfptune into purple,
Comets prezoam, whose havock in vast field, ^-c] With this great deficiency of sense
and measure has this passage been hitherto printed. The bcnse is easily restor*d, because
thu* half tl)e sentence is lost, the two remaining words. Comets preuarn, sufliciently point
out tlie meaning; for that Comets preuarn or J'oretel uun, is the vulgar as well as poetical
creed; thus Milton,
* and like a comet burn'd,
* That fires the length of Ophiucus huge
'In th' arctic sky, and from his horrid hair
* Shakes pestilence aud war.*
The rage, the ravage, the devastations of Mars, will give the idea requir*d ; but among tliese
and many other words tliat would suit the !»ense, only two have occurr*d tiiat supply both
aeiise and measure, vis. approach, and destructions; the former is certainly the best word,
therefore bids ^eiry fair for having been the original. Sezcard.
*^ FovzonA i, e. Munduncct lliis word also occurs in tJie Tempest, act ii. sc. 1.
With
THE TWO NOILE KINSMfiV.
lAtt 5. Scepe U
r heard citrnging^amuui
t thufuier, ai the hint ef
Witfa band nnttipotent^from forthblue clouds
The masonM turrets ; that both inak'st and
break'st
The stony girths of cities; me thy pupil,
Young*8t follower of tliy drum^', instruct
thisda^
With niiliuiry skill, that to thy laud
I ma^ advance my streamer, and by thee
Bestifdthe lord o*t}i* day ! Give me, great
Mars,
le token of thy pleasure!
[Here they fall m their faeUM» formerly,
and there it '
with a short
haitie, whereupon they aU riie, and
bow to the AUer.
Oh, great corrector of enormous times,
Shaker of oVfHtuik states, thou grand decider
Of dusty and old titles, that faeal*st with blood
Theearai when it is sick, and cur'st the world
O^th* pleurisy of people ; I do take
Thy signs auspiciottsly, and m iby name
To my design march boldly. Let us go f
[Exeunt,
Enter Palamon mnd hii Knights, with the
former observance,
Fai. Otr stars must ^ister with new fire,
or be
To-day extinct': our aisument is love,
Whieh if tlie goddess of it grant, she gtres
Victoiy too: then blend your spirits with
To be his tufejects* vassal, and indnce
Stale gravity to danoe; the polled hacbetof*',
(Whose youths like wanton boys tliro' boa-
fires'*, [caicb.
Have skint thj flame) at seventy thou canst
And male him, to the scorn of his hoarse
throaty [power
Abuse yoong lays of love. What godlike
Hast thou not power upon ? Xo Phmbus thoa
Add'st tames, botser than l&s; the beaValy
fires
Did scorch his mortal aon^ thine him ; &e
InintresB,
AH BM»istaad cold, some say, began to throw
Her bow away, and sigh; take to thy gnoe
Me €by vow*dsoidier1 who do bear tt^ yoke
As 'tweite a wreath of roses, yet is heavier
Than lead itself, slings more than nettles :
I've never been foul-mooch'd against thy law;
Ne*er reveal'd secret, fiur J kn^-noae^ w«dd
not
Had I kenM all that were ; I never practis*d
Upon manS wile, nor wotdd the libok read
Of liberal wits ; I never at great feasts
Son^t to betray a beatiqr, but have UosM
At smipring sirs that did ; I bate been hatsfi
To lai^ confessors, and have hotly a^'d *ea
If they had mothers! I had one, a woman.
And women *twere they wrongfd. I knew a
man
Of eighty winters, (this I told them) who
A lass of fonrteen brided ; 'twas thy power
To nut life into dust; the aged cramp
Had screW'd his square foot ronnd,
The gout had knit lus fingers into knots^
Torturing convulsions firom his gjobr eyes
Had almost drawn their spheres, thai what
was lite
In him seem'd torture ; this anatomv
Had by his younj; fair pbeer a bojf '% and I
Believ d it -was his, for she swore it was.
And who would not believe her ! Brief] I sm
To those that prate, and have done, no com-
panion;
To those that boast, and have not, a defier ;
To those that would, and cannot, a r^oicet :
Yea, him I do not love, that tells close offices
Tl\e foulest WHY, nor names concealments in
^ ArmenyjiHttent.'\ Corrected by Seward; who observes that * Armtpotent is apply^'d to
< Mars by Chaucer m the same tafe of Palamon and Arcite/
•■ Youngest ,/o</over.] Seward reads, Young ybWower.
** And areepuuto a g»W.] Bir. Theobald's margin says mf o, i. e. HtU he fieceme tender as
a girU But surely to become a whining lover and weep unto a |^r!, is an idea more proper
to the context. I cannot indeed make it connect grammatically with the former part of the
' sentence, without changing and to to. Seward.
^' The pould bachelor.] Varied by Seward ; who says, * Pould is what we now spell potTit
* denilatus; bald-headed. Chaucer's word h pilled, as < The Pardoner widi his PilkdVeXL*
^* Whose youthy like wanton boys thro* bonffres,] Seward, to assist the measure, read|S
Whose freaks ^ youth, like wanton boys through bonfires;
wfuch most raateriallv injures the sense.
*' Pilfer;] i. e. Vumpanlon. Coles*s Diet. 1677, where it ismariied as'dien obeolete^— ^
The word occars in Titos Andronicus, act iv. sc. 1. In the Silent Womatn, Morose wep,
* — her that I mean to chuve for my bed^heer/
In this phiyi p. 4S8, yle^pkeers are spoken o^
Yen, ariose fi(«e nobleness do make my cause
Your personal hacard! To the goddess Venus
Cemnend we our proceeding, and implore
Her power unto our party ! [Here they kneel.
Hail, sovereign ^iMei] of secrets! wIhi hast
power
To Ofdl the fiercest tvrant firom his rage,
To weep unto a girl^^ ; that hast the might
Ev*n vntli an eye-gfance to choak Man^s
drum.
And turn th*idann to whispers; that canst
make
A cripple flourish with his cratch, and cure
him
Before Apollo; that may'st force the king
Acts. Sceoe i.]
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
4SS
The boldest language^; such a one I am.
And vow chat lover uever yet made sigh
Truer than I. Ob, tlien, most soft sweet
goddess.
Give me the victory of this question, which
Is true love's merit, and bless me with a sign
Of thy great pleasure !
[Here music is heard, doves are seen to
flutter; they fall again upon t/ieir
faces, then on their knees.
Oh, thou that fr^m eleven to ninety reign *st
In mortal bosoms, whose cliace ib this world,
And we in herds thy game, I give thee tiianks
For this fair token ! which being laid unto
Mine innocent true heart, arms iii as-
surance ^ [Thet/ bow.
My body to t)iis business. Let us rise
And bow before tiie goddess! Time comes
on, [jExeunt,
[Still music of records.
Enter Emilia in white, her hair about her
shoulders, a wheaten wreath ; one in white
holding up her train, her hair stuck with
flowers; one before her carrying a silver
Hind, in which is conveyed inccme and
sweet odors, which being set upon theAltar^
her Maid standing aloof, she selsjire to it ;
then they curtesy and kneel.
£mi. Oh, sacred, shadowy, cold and con-
stant queen,
Abandoner of revels, mute, contemplative,
Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure
As wind-faDn*d snow^^, who to thy female
knights
Allow'st no more blood than will make a
blush.
Which is their order's robe; I here thy priest
Am humbled *fore thine altar. Oh, voucli-
safe,
With that thy rare green eye'*, which never
yet
Beheld thing maculate, look on thy virgin !
And, sacred silver mistress, lend thine ear
(Which ne'er heard scurril term, into vvh'>se
portly
Ne'er entered wanton sound) to my petition,
Seasoned with holy fear! This is my last
Of vestal otficc; I'm brifle-lmbited.
But nmiden-liearied ; a hubhund I have
'pointed.
But do not know him ; out of two T should
Chuse one, and pray for his success, but I
Am (guiltless. of election of mine eyes;
Were I to lose one, (they are equal precious)
I could doom neither; that which perish'd
should
Go to't unsentenc'd : therefore, most modest
queen,
He, of the two pretenders, that best loves
me,
A nd has the truest title in*t, let him
Take oifmy wheaten garland, or else grant
The file and quality L hold I may
Continue in thy band !
[Here the hind vanis/ies under the Altar,
and in the place ascends a rost-tree,
having one roue upon it.
See what our general of ebbs and flows
Out frouj the bowels of her hoiyaltiur
With sacred act advances! But one rose?
If well inspir'd, this battle shall confound
Both these brave kniglits, and I a virgin flower
Must grow alone unpluck'd.
[Here is heard a sudden twang of itistrv
ments, and the rose falls from the
tree.
The flower is fiill'n, the tree descends! Oh,
mistress.
Thou here discliargest me; I shall be gathered,
I think so ; but I know not tiiine own will :
Unclasp tiiy mystery ! I hope ahe's pleas'd ;
ller signs were gracious.
[They curtesy, and exeunt.
•^ Nor names, 4c.] This clause is hard ; taken with the preceding and subsequent, all
together they imply, ' He does not love the man who speaks too gross! \ of liis success in
^ love, or does not defend secrecy in amours; the last of which he ever maintained.'
97 J^nft pny.g
At windfann'd snow,] Very similar to tliis are a passage in the Double Marriage, and
one in Coriolanus: the reader may find them both in act iii. of this play. In Comus
also, Milton gives a most nervous eulugium on Chastity. ?'.
'* With that thy rare green eye,] Seward reads, * s/icen eye, i. e. extremely shining.' We
believe the old text genuine.
w , — thine ear
■ ■ into whose port,] Mr. Theobald reads, porch, and quotes Hamlet:
* Into the porches of my ears did pour
* The leprous distilraent.' ,
Mr. Theobald follows several great critics, particularly Dr. Beutley, in tliinking an author's
use of a metaphor at one time is a reasou why he should repeat ^lie satn«, when it is again
aipplicable; but perhaps the very reverse is true: a good poet will always avoid tautology,
it he can, and will not repeat his own or any other person's expression, if another occurs
full as good. Thus port in this place being full as good a word as porch, for the sake of
novelty would be most probably preferr'd to it. Scaard.
Parch seems tlie more prohable reading, and Theobald's argument appears truer than
Seward's ; but as port is sense, and authorized by the old books, it should not be removed
from the text.
VOL- in. 3 1 SCENE
428
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEJf.
(Act S. Scent 5.
Hip. You must go.
Emi, In faith, I will not.
TA€5. Wiijf the knights must kindle
Their valour at your eye: know, of this war
You are the treasure, and must needs be by
To irivc tfie service pay.
Ktni, Sir, pardon me;
The title o.f a kingdom may be tried
Out ot itself.
Thes. Well, well then, at your pleasure !
Those that remain with you coulcl wish their
To any of their enemies. [ottice
Hip. Farewell, sister !
I'm like to know your husband 'fore yourself,
By some small start of time : he whom the
gods
Do of the two know best, I pray them he
Be made your lot !
[Exeunt Theseus, HippoUtay Perithmis, <Sc.
Emi. Arcite is gently visag'd : yet his eye
Is like an engine bent, or a sharp weapon
In a soft sheath ; mercy and manly courage,
Are bedfellows in his visage. Palamon
Has a most menac ing aspect; his hrow
Is grav'd, and seems to bury what it frowns on;
Y'et sometimes 'tis not so, hut alters to
The qunlity of his thoughts; long time his eye
Will dwell upon his object; melancholy
Bec-omes him nobly ; so does Arcite's mirth;
But Palamon's sadness is a kind of mirth,
So mingled, as if mirth did make him sad,
And sadness, merry; those darker humours
that
io« ,
those darker httmours that
Stick roisbecomingly on otbcr5*°*, on him
Live in fair dwelling.
[Comets. Trumpets sound as to a Charge,
Hark, how yon spurs*®' to spirit do iiftcite
The princes to tiieir proof! iVrcite inaj win
me;
And yet may Palamon wound Arcite, to
The spoiling of his figure. Ob, what pity
Knough for such a chance ? If I were by,
I might do hurt; for they would glance tlieir
eyes
Toward my seat, and in that motion nigbt
Omit a ward, or forfeit an offence'®*,
Wiiich crav'd that very time ; it is much belter
[Cornets. Cry within, A Palamon \
T am not there ; oh, better never bom
Than minister to such liarm ! — What is tlie
chauce ?
Enter a Servant,
Serv. The cry's a Palamon.
lltni. Then he has won. Twas ever likely:
He look'd all grace and success, and he is
Doubtles-s the prim'st of men. I prithee moy
And tell me how it goes.
[Shout, and cornets ; cry, A Palamon !
5fyi;. Still Palamon. [hast lost!'
Emi, Run and enquire. Poor servant, tbou
Upon my right side still I wore thy pictare,
Palamon's on the left: why so, I know not;
I had no end in't'^ ; chance would have it so.
[Another cryandshout within, and Cometsu
Ou the sinister side the heart lies : Palamon
Had
Stick misbecoming iy on others, on them
Live in/air dweUing.'\ Arcite does not appear to have any of tlie melandioly or darker
humours; these therefore seem only applicable to Ptdamon, and make it probable that ire
should r^ad on him, instead of on them. Seward.
107, fiark, hoxc yon spurs.'] W e have not, for several plays past, amused bur readers with
an accoiint of the amendments which the editors of 1750 pretend to have made, in order to
enhance the idea of their own ingenuity : we have not, however, discontinued that infbp-
mation for want of matter (there has all along been abundance!) but for fear of its bccomiag
troublesome. After so long a recess, it may not be disagreeable to resume the character of
Detectors, and reveal the falshoods told of the play now before us.
In the pasisage quoted at the head of this note, they pretend to have altered your to yon ;
p. 401, 1. 8, Hd col/eat ioftet; p. 405, I. 17, 1st col. A jewel to O jewel; p. 407, last- tine
Ist col. ont to ott^, though Davenant, a.s well as our old quarto, reads out ; p. 417, 1. 34, 1st
col. and innocent to an innocent; p. 424, 1. 1, 1st col. when to with ; p. 424. 1. S, 2d col. state
to stale ; p. 424, 1. 40, 2d co\. sphere to pheer; aii\d p. 427, 1. 31, 1st col. to liave added the
word grown. — Every one of these passages stands right in the first quarto, which their own
notes prove they were possessed of.
'°^ Omit a ward, or forfeit an offence.] Mr. Sympson would read defence, but vard and
defence is the same thing. Offence is the reverse to ward, as offence and defence. To for- -
fe'it an otfence therefore, is to miss the opportunity ol striking some advantageous blow, that
might give the viitory. The weapon used in the legid duello in England was only a battbon
or truucheon, and this was designed by the authors to be understood of the present combat.
It is extremely beautiful to have this duel performed behind the scenes, yet within hearing.'
All battles on the stage make, as Shakespear says, but brawls ridiculous. Here is a method of
concenliiig all the aukwardness of such combats, and keeping the attention of the aadiencr
upon the full stretch. It wns an art well known to the Greek tmgedians, as in the famous
instance of Clytemnestra's murder, who is heard to deprecate her son's vengeance behind the
scenes, and Electra upon the stage continues to irritate it. Seward.
■^ I had no end int; else chance wwld have it so.] Former editions. Mr. Sympson
would
Act 5. Scenes.)
THE TWO NOHLE KINSMEN.
42»
This burst ^ * ^e gods, by their divine arbitremecrt,
'yfj^ we given you this knight: lie is a good one
\£j ever struck at head. Give me your hands!
iieceive you her, you him; be plighted with *
A love that grows as you decay !
Arc, Emilia,
To buy vou I have lost what's dearest to me.
Save what is bought; and yet I purchase
cheaply,
As I do rate your value.
Tim. Oh, lov'd sister,
Tie speaks now of as brave a knight as e'er ,
Did spur a noble steed ; surely the gods
Would have htm die a bachelor, lest his race'
Should shew i'th' world too godlike ! His be«
haviour
So charm*d me, that methought Alcides was
To him a sow of lead : if I could praise
Each part of him to th' all I've spoke^ your
Arcite
Did not lose by*t ; for he that was thus good.
Encountered yet his better. I have lieard
Two emulous Philomels' w beat the ear o'th'
night [higher.
With their contentious throats, now one the
Anon the other, then again the first,
And by and by out-breasted"', that the sense
Could not be judge between 'em: so it fitrM
Good space between these Kinsmen; 'tijl
Heaves did [land
Make hardly one the winner. Wear the gar-
With joy tliat yon have won ! For the subdu'd.
Give tliem our present justice, since I know
Their lives but pinch *era ; let it here be done.
The scene's not for our seeing: go we hence.
Right joyful, with some sorrow! Arm your
prize"*,
I know you will not lose her. Ilippolita,
I see one eye of yours conceives a tear,
The which it will deliver. [Flourish*
Emi, Is this winning?
Oh, all you heav'nly powers, where is your
mercy ?
But that your wills have said it must be so.
And charge me live to comfort thus un*
friended,
Thiii miserable prince, that cuts away
Had tbe best-boding chance.
clamour
Is sare the end o'th' combat.
Enter Servant.
Serv. They said thatPalamon bad Arcite's
body
Within an inch o'th* pyramid, that the cry
Was genera] a Palamon; but anon,
111* assistants made a brave redemption, and
The two bold tilters at this instant are
Hand to hand at it.
EmL Were they metamorphos'd [man
Both into one — Oh, why ? there were no \vo-
\Vorth so compos*d a man ! Their single share,
Their nobleness peculiar to thera,»09 gives
The prejudice of disparity, value's shortness,
[Cornets. Cry within, Arcite, Arcite !
To any lady breathing. — More exulting ?
Palamon still ?
Serv. Nay, now the sound is Arcite.
Emi. I prithee lay attention to the cry;
[Cornels. A great shout and cry, Arcite,
victory !
Set both tliine ears to th' business.
Serv. The cry is
Arcite, and victory ! Hark ! Arcite, victory ! i
The combat's consummation is proclaim'd
iBy the wind-instruments.
EmL Half-sights saw
That Arcite was no babe : God's 'lid, his
richni-!?s [could
And costliness of spirit look'd thro' hnn ! it
No more be hid in him than fire in flax,
Tlian htimble banks can go to law witli waters,
That drift winds force to raging. I did
think [not
Good Palamon would miscarry ; yet I knew
Why 1 did think so : our reasons are not pro-
phets,
\V hen oft our fancies are. They're coming off:
Alas, poor Palamon ! [Cornets.
Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Perithous, Arcite
us Victor, Attendants, ^c.
Thes. Lo, where our sister is in expectation.
Yet quaking and uns^ettled. Fairest Emilia,
would read less, i. e. unless : and that too was my first conjecture. But more probably tbe
particle else may be a mere interpolation, for the ^nse and measure are better without it. «
Seward.
W9 Their nobleness, <5c.] This line is now first restored from the old quarto. The conse-
quent deficiency of sense greatly distresses Seward.
*>o Two emulous Philomels.] I cannot pass by this simile without begging the reader to
give a due attention to it, as it may rank with the most beautiful descriptions of the nightio*
gaie that arc met with in Virgil and Milton. It is also totally different from all the attitudes
of this atigel of night that tliose poets, who were so enamour'd of her song, have ever painted
her in. It may be further observ'd that those similies strike the most, which, in their own
natures, seem totally averse to their archetype, but are join'd to it in perfect union by the
art of the poet. What, at tirst sight, could be more unlike than the fury of a combat to the
singing of nightingales? Yet how charmingly are they marry'd together? They who are con-
versant in Homer, Virgil, Spenser, Milton, 6cc. will be able to recollect many instances of
the like nature. Seward,
•" Ott/ -breasted.] See note 28 on the Pilgrim. _
>|2 Ann your priie-/\ t. e. Take the lady, whom you have won^b|f the hand.
A life
430
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
[Act 5. Seeocl.
Ypa*ll see*t done now for ever. Pray bov
A life more woirthv from him than all women, f
I should, and would die too. I r^ docs she ?
Hip, Infinite pity, . \^^i heard she was not well; her kind of ill
Tliat four such ejpes should besoiix'd on one, |
That two must needs be blind for*t! I
Thes. So it is. [Exeunt. I
SCENE IV.
Xnter Palatncn and hU Knighti pinioned,
Jailor, Executioner, and Guard,
FuL There's many a man alive that hath
oui4i¥*d [state
The love o' th' people ; yea, i* th' seU-sanie
Sunds many a father with his child: some
comfort
We have by so considering; we expire,
And not without men^s pity; to live still,
Have their good wishes ; we prevent
The loathsome misery of age, beguile
^ The gnut and rheum, that in lag hours attend
For grey a«iproachers; we come towards the
gods
Young, and anwarp*d,i>) not halting under
crimes
Uany and stale ; that sure shall please the
gods
Sooner than such, to give us nectar with 'em,
Jor we are more clear spirits. My dear
kinsmen, [dawn,
Whose lives (for this poor comfort) arc laid
You've sold 'em too, too cheap.
1 Knight. What ending could be
Of more content? O'er us the victors have
Fortune, whose title is as momentary
As to us death is certain ; a grain of honour
They not o'er-weigh us.
S Knight. Let us bid farewell ;
And with our patience anger totfring fortune.
Who at her certain'st reels !
3 Knight. Come; who begins?
Fal. £v*n he that led you tq this banquet
shaU
Taste to you all. Ah-ha, my friend, my
friend !
Your gentle daughter gave me freedom once;
Gave me some sorrow.
Jaihr. Sir, she's well restored.
And to be married shortly.
Pal. By my short life,
I am most slad ou't! 'tis the latest thing
I sliall be glad of; prithee tell her so :
Commend me to her, and to piece her portion
Tender her this.
1 Knight. Nay, let's be offerers all!
2 Knight. Is it a maid ?
Pal. Verily, I tliiuk so;
A right good creature^ more to me deserving
Than I can quit or speak of!
All KnigiUs, Commend us to her.
[Ohe their pwrUL
Jailor. The gods requite you all.
And make her thankful !
Pal. Adieu ! and let my life be now as short
As my leave-taking. [Lies om the Wpc*.
1 Knight. Lead, courageous cousin!
2 Knight. We'll foUow cheerfully,
[A great noiiewithinf crying. Run, save,
hold!
Enter in haste a Messenger.
Mess. Hold, hold! oil, hold, hold, bold!
Enter Perithous in haste.
Per. Hold, boa! it is a cursed haste jom
made,
If YOU have done so quickly.— Noble PalamoB,
The gods will shew tlieir glory in a liie
That thou art yet to lead.
Pal. Can that be, when
Venus I've said is false ? How do things fare?
Per. Arise, great sir, and give the tidings
ear
That arc most dearly sweet and bitt«r!"^
Pal. What
Hath wak'd us from our dream ?
Per. List then ! Your cousin,
Mounted upon a steed that Emily
Did
«s Young and unwapper'd ;] i. e. says Sympson, young and unfrighten*d. He quotes no
anthoritv, nor can I fina one in my dictionaries. Mr. Theobald concurs with me in readii^
unwarp*df which, supposing the former word to be true English, and to give the idea men-
tioned, rather better agrees with the sense, and much better with the measure of (he context*
Thus Valerie, in A Wife for a Month, says in the like circumstances,
To die a young man is to be an angel ;
Our yet good parts put wings unto our souls*
And again,
As it [age] encrcases, so vexations,
riefs of th
Griefs of the mind, pains of the feeble body,
Rheums, couehs, catarrs ; we're but our Itvnig coffins^
Besides, tlie fair soul's old too, it grows covetous.
And we are earth again. See the whole scene, act iL
P. S. I find in the Glossary to Urry's Chaucer, wapid and awhapid, daunted, astonisbetf.
This is probably the same word that Mr. Sympson may have somewhere found spelt
wapper*d. Seward.
114 That are most eariy siceet and bitier.] Mr. Sympson and I agree in rejecting early as
n corruption, but he reads rarely sneet, and I dearly. The adverb dearly m the sense of
exceedingly or extremely^ seems particularly beautiful when expressive of any of tlie tender
paasioxis.
A€t 5. Scene 4.]
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
43«
Bid first bestow on him, a black one, owl\|^^ «mM with strange art to hang : his victor*s
Not a hair-worth of white, which some will y^^vrrtath
*7
Weakens his price, and many will not buy
His goodness with tiiis note; which super-
stition
Here finds allowance : on this horse is Arcite,
Tn>tting the stones of Athens, which the
calkins "5
Did rather tell than trample ; for the horse
Would make his length a mile, iCt pleas'd
his rider
To put pride in him; as he thus went counting
The 6inty pavement, dancing as 'twere to
th' music
His own hoofs made (for, as the}r say, from iron
Came music's origin) what envious flint.
Cold as old Saturn, and like him possessed *
With fire malevolent, darted a spark,
Or what fierce sulphur else, to this end made,
I comment not ; the hot horse, hot ns fire,
Took toy at this, and fell to what disorder
His pow«>r cpuld give liis will, bounds, cqmes
on end, ' ^
Forgets school-doing, being therein train'd,
And of kind manage; fng-like he wliines
Vlt the sliarp rowel, which he frets at rather
Than any jot obeys ; seeks all foul means
Of boisterous and rough jadry, to dis-seat
His lord that kept it bravely : When nought
eerv'd.
When neither curb would crack, girth breaks
nor differing plunges
Sis-root his rider whence he grew, but that
e kept him 'tween his legs, on his hind'
hoofs on end he stands.
That Arcite's legs being higher than his head,
passions, whether of joy or sorrow, and after I had inserted it in my notes, I found in the
ULSt speech of this play a confirmation of it :
for whom
But one hour since, I was as dearli/ sorry^
As glad of Arcite:
The repeated use of the same adverb, in the same sense, is not an instance of that tautology
^poke of in the last note of the first scene of this play, for a metaphor repeated di(fe»
much from simple words. Words, when they occur twice, must generally have the same
ideas fixed to them ; but metaphors always containing double ideas, witi^i a similitude be-
tween them, or, as has been frequently observ'd, being short similses, they should be as
seldom repeated as possible ; as the same simile should not be used twice. Seward.
Di^rly is, we think, right : but poor Seward is a little gravelled witli his own doctrine of
tautology.
«»s Calkins ;] i. e. Hoqfty we suppose, from the Latin cah. — There are some hard and
odd passages, mixed with much poetical expression, in this description.
»»6 I was falseJi 1 believe the reader will not be easily convinced, that Arcite had been
false. But our authors seem to have bcVn so possessed of tiie story from Chaucer, that they
even forgot that they had inserted an essential part of it, the oath between the Two Kins-
znen never to rival, but always to assist each other in love. This, as was before observ'd,
would justify FalamorC^ anger, and render him the more amiable character. ' ikzcard.
The characters of Falamon and Arcite are finely discriminated. Palatnon is certainly the
aggrieved party >yet there is a gallantry in Arcite that redeems his fnlshood ; and a passion
in Falamon tha rrenders him still more amiable and interesting, from the very infirmity of
his temper. — Either SewartI, or his printer, have made a mistake here ; for our authors h^ve
vor inserted the oath.
yy Arowze you ;] i. e. Water, sprinkle; bedew firom the French, arrmer. Sacard,
It should then be spelt arrose ; arouse is an English word of very difi'ereut import.
And
l!.ren then fell off his head ; and presently
Backward the jade comes o*er,and nis full poize
Becomes the rider's load. Yet is he living,
But such a vessel 'tis that floats but fur
The surge that next approaches: he much
desires [appears !
To have some speech with you. Ix), he
Ent^r Theseus, Hippolita, Emilia, Arcite ia
a Chair,
Pal. Oh, miserable end of our alliance?
The gods are mighty ! — Arcite, if thy hearty
Thy worthy manly heart, be yet unbroken,
Give mc thy last words ! I am Palamon,
One that yet loves thee dying.
Arc. Take Emilia, [hand;
And with her all the world's joy. Reach thy
Farewell! I've told my last hour. I was
false,"*
Yet never treacherous: fors;ive me, cousin!
One kiss from fair Emilia ! ^ Tis done :
Take her. I die! [Diet,
Fal. Thy brave soul seek Elysium!
Emi. IM close thine eyes, prince; blessed
souls be with thee!
Thou art a right good man ; ant) i^liile I live
This day 1 give to tears^
Fal. And I to honour. [very hero
Thes. In this place first vou fought; even
I sunder'd you : acknowledge to the gods
Our thanks that vou are living.
His part is play'ci, and, tho* it were too sfiort^
He did it well : your day is lengthened, and
The blissful dew of Heaven doeb arrose you ;'*7
The powerful Venus well hath grac'd her altar
4S^
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
[Act 5. Scene 4.
given you your love ; our mabter Mars -^ ^'^le executioners. Lead your lady off;
vouched hU oracle, and to Arcite ^av||^^|/^\nd call your lovers"* from the stage of death,
grace of the contention : so the deities Whom I adopt my friends ! A day or two
J^nd
Has
Tiie grace
Have shewed due justice. Bear this lience !
FaL Oh, cousihy
That we should things desire, which do cost us
The loss of our desire! that nouf^bt could buy
Dear love, but^loss of dear love!
2'hes. Never fortune [triumphs.
Did play a subtler game: the conquer^
The victor has the loss ; yet in the passage
The gods have been most equal. Palamon,
YourKinsman hath confessed the right o'th'lady
Did lie in you ; for you first saw her, and
£ven then proclaim d your fancy; he restvr'd
her,
As your storn jewel, and desir'd your spirit
To send liim hence forgiven : the gods my
justice [come
Take from my hand, and they themselves be*
adopt my friends ! A day or two
Let us look sadly, and give grace unto
The funeral of Arcite !'ln whose end
The visages of bridegrooms wc*U put on.
And smile with Palamon ; for whom an hour.
But one hour since, I was as dearly sorry.
As glad of Arcite; and am now as glad.
As for him sorry. Oh, you Leav'nly
charmers,"9
What things you make of us! For what wc
lack
We laugh, for what we have are sorry stiU ;
Are children in some kind. Let us be
thankful
For that which is, and with you leave dispute
That are above our question ! Let's go ofl^
And bear us like the time !
[Flourish, EjcewU,
"8 Your LOVERS ;] i. e. the knights who assisted you.
119 HtaT^nly charmers ;] >. £• Enchanters, ruling us at their will, whose operations aie
Veyond our power to conceive, till we see the effects of them. Seward,
So in Othello, act iii. scene 4 :
< That handkerchief
' Did an iLgyptian to my mother give !
^ She was a charmer, and coiUd almost read
< The thoughts of people.' H.
EPILOGUE.
I WOULD now ask ye how ye like the play;
But, as it is with schoolboys cannot any,
I'm cruel fearful ! Pray yet slay a while,
And let me look upon ye ! No 'man smile ?
Then it goes hard, I see : he that has
Lov'd a young handsome wench then^ shew
his face !
'Tis strange if none be here ; and if he will
Against .his conscience, let him hiss, and kill
Our market! Tis in vain, I see, to stay ye;
Have at the worst can come, tlien! Now
what say ye i
And yet mistake me not: I am not bold ;
We've no such cause. If the tale we have
told
(For 'tis no other) any way content ye,
(For to that honest purpose it was meant ye)
We have our end ; and ye shall have ere
long
I dare say many a better, to prolong
Your old loves to us: we, and aH our
might.
Rest at your service. Gentlemen, good
night! [Flourui.
This whole play, Mr. Seward observes, ^ abounds with such sublimity of sentimeDt and
' diction, that were the beauties to be mark'd with astcri^ms, after Mr. rope and Mr. War-
* burton's manner, scarce a page would be left uncovered with them.'
The capital defect in the piece is hiuted at in these words of the £pilogue,
Ifthe'VALU tee have told
(For Uis NO other)
It is indeed rather a talc than a drama, particularly towards the conclusion, which has per-
haps bo lonv prevented its rcpresentatioit on the stage ; where some scenes of it would pro-
duce a great effect, tho' there are in this dramatick tale many excellent passages, more cal-
culated to please the reader than spectator. The mixture of Gothick with antient manners
was the common vice of the writers of the age in which it was wrote. It is, however, a
most noble play, replete with animated discourse, smd sublime toucfaes» of poetry.
THE
THE TWO NOBIS KINSMEN. .439
THE Two NoUe Rinsmen, on the authority of the title-page to the first editioBy has beea
looked on as the production of Shakespeare alid Fletcher; hut not being* able to find anjr
satisfactory proof (nor indeed presumptive, except that it contains manT passages not un-
worthy of him) that the former was joint author of it» we acknowledge we doubt tM tradition
of his' being at all concerned in the piece. Little stress can be laid on the title-page in
f|uestion (the only shadow of authority), which bears evident marks of the craft of a pub-
lisher, and was not printed till nine years after the death of Fletcher, and sixteen after
ShakespeareV Seward, however, takes it for granted to be the production of the poets to
whom It has been attributed; of which he does not mention a doubt, but snys,
I. * It will be an entertainment to the curions, to distineoish the hand of Shakespeare
■ tpdm that of Fletcher. The only external evidence that I ever heard of, is a tradition of
* the playhouse, that the first act only was wrote by Shakespeare, and this Mr. Warburton
< says in his Preface to that author. If it is true, it does great honour to Fletcher,. for
* though there are menv excellent things in that act, it is in every respect much inferior to
^ the four Others. Had it fallen within Mr. Warburton's province to have examined the in«
' temai evidence, I know no man so capable of striking light out of obscurity. I shall lay
* before the reader the reasons which make me doubt the authenticity of this tradition, and
* shall endeavour to prove that eitlter Shakespeare had a very great hand in all the acts of
* this play, particularly in the whole charmine character of the Jailor's Daughter, or else that
* Fletcher more closely imitated him in this Uian in any other part of his works.'
II. The prison scene between Palamon and Ardte ^ is,' says Seward, * more worthy of
* Shakespeare tlian any long one in the first act. It is in Shakespeare's SECoinHBEST man«
* ner, or m Fletchet^s best, and these are not easily disttngnishable. If tlie reader will coo*
^ suit the first scene of tlie two brothers, with their supposed father coming out of the cave»
' in Cymbeline, and the description of the Spartan houo<b by Theseus, in Imdsummer-Night's
< Dream, he will find a great similitude of sentiment, stile, and spirit : add to these, the
* following lines in Richard II. Mowbmy bein^ banish*d, thus complains of his want of
* foreign languages :
** Within my mouth you have engoal'd my tongue,
'' Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips,
^ And dull unfeeling barren ignorance
^ Must be the jailor to attend on me.'
* All but the second of these are noble lines, though so great a man as Mr. Pope discarded
< them from tlte text. The end of Arcite*s former speech, (which Milton very closely foK
' lows, bewailing his blindness, in his Hymn to Light) and the lines refen^d to in thtf
' emendation above, have the sublimity of these lines of Mowbray, without the quaintness of
' thought that disgraces one of them, notwithstanding its similitude to the tfnoi o^bnwv
* of Homer. These reasons may induce one to place this scene to Shakespeare.' Here^
liowever, arise doubts: * On the other hand, the simile of a wild boar in chase to thm
< Parthian archer (who by a bold poetic liberty is called the Parthian quiver), the bristles
* and darts sticking on his back to the arrows on the archer's shoulder, and the freouent anti
' fnrious turnings of the boar to the Parehian's turning to shoot as he flies. This noble
* simile is a favourite of Fletcher's, and he uses it in another play that seems to have beeti
* wrote before this. And I believe it no where occurs in Shakespeare. As to the amf-
* chronism of making Parthian archers talk'd of in Theseus's time, it is an impropriety thiA
* both Shakespeare and Fletcher are equally juilty of.'
HI. Speaking of the Jailor's Daughter, * The Aurora of Guido has not more strokes of
' the same hand which drew liis Bacchus and Ariadne, than the sweet description of thia
* pretty maiden's love-distraction has to the like distraction of Ophelia in Hamlet: tluit of
' Ophelia ending in her death, is like the Ariadne more moving, but the images here, liko
' those in Aurora, are more numerous, and equally exquisite in grace and beauty. May w*
' not then pronounce, that either this is Shakespeare s^ or that Fletcher has here equalfd
* him in his very best manner?'
IV. In p. 431, the reader will find Mr. iSeward propose a mode of iustification (or Pa*
laman's auger; after which he adds, ' ThU seems the whole that is wanting (which might be
* added in three lines) to render this play equal to Cymbeline, Measure fbV Measure, Twelfth-
' Night, As You Like it, and all the plays of the secoxb-class of Shakespeiire;. and to The
* Maid's Tragedy, The False One, The Bloody Brother, A King and No Kibg, Philaster, The
^ Double Marriage, and the rest of the first-bats plays of Beaumont and Fietcii^'
V. The description of female friendship, p. 394, 4* seq, he says, * was prob^bjy Sh^e»
' speare*s, and in bis second, if not in his very best manner, which will evioently Appear by
' its preference, which it may justly claim to the like description in I^lidsuminec-Night^
* Dream, act iii. scene 8.
** We, Hermia, like two artificial gods
^^ Created with oar needles both one flower,
^ Both 00 one sampler, sittipz on one cushion:
VOL.ni, 3K «Boih
43* IBB TWO HCnUS KOniOW.
V
^ &»tli WttUhH af one to^, both imont\uji
** Ab if our faanos, cnr ri^es, Toicea and minds *
** Had been incorpomte; so we grew to^xkistf
** like to a doublB chenryy seeming pnrtedy
^ But yet an anion in partition,
*^ Two lovely berries moUed in one stem ;
*' Or with two seeming bodies^ but one hcMurt,
^ Two of the first, lilce coots in heraldry,
^ Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.*'
VI. Rebtire to the madness of the Jailor's Daughter, * There are, says Seward, sich cha-
^ racterising strokes, and sod) strong tetures of both Ophelia and Lear ia their phmsiea,
^ that one cannot but believe that the same peactt drew them all.' ,
VII. We will new mention a doubt or two more. < If the reader will please to consuk
* tlie solilo(]uy of Kicfaard II. in prison, he will find several strokes much resembling sobm m
* this scene, [the prison ^cene between PttUMon and ArcUe\f and whilst he compares tbens
* may be apt to ascribe them both to tlie same band ; bnt the foUowing lines out of Fleicher'n
* Lovers* Progress, ma? again stagger onr opinion, and make us as apt to aaeribe the wbals
* scene to Fletcher. Lk^tHy a young lover, in a fit of despair turns henaiti and thus d^
* Scribes the happiness of solitu'des
u ^^^^ These wild fields are my gaodens ;
** The crystal liv^n they a£R>rd their waters, •^^
** And grudge not their sweet stremns to qoen'ch affliction^
" Tlie hollow rocks dierr beds, which tho' they're hard
'< (The emblems of a dotinc lover's fortune)
^ Yet they are quiet, and the weary slumliers
** Tlie eyes catch there, softer than beds of down;
** Tije birds my bell to call me to devotions;
** My book the story of my wand'ring life,
*< In\vbich I find more houk's doe to repentance ^
^ Than time hath told me yet.'
'See the whole dialogue, act iv. scene S/
VIII. Again, < What was said of the difficulty of judghig whether Shakespeare or Fletctier
* had the greatest hand in the scene of the Two Kinsmen in prison, is applicable to thin,
* [the temple scene] and indeed to all the scenes in which they appear. Fletcher fte^iiently
* writes lis well, and Shakespeare perhaps akme of all our dramatick poets can be said ever
* tobttVe wrote better/
IX. A|^n, ^ Tliis Schoolmaster and his fellow-comedians seem very like the faickal
' clowns in Midsummer-Nieht*s Dream, and other plays of Shakespeare; yet it seems pra-
* bable that Fletcher had the greatest share of this, as the quotation from Tully's Onatiosi
' lu^ainst Catiline, and all the latinisms of the Schoolmaster seem wrote by one who *<
*more ready in Latin quoutions than Shakespeare; who, notwithstanding all the
* wliioh learned men have taken to prove the contrary, seems to have had no more '.
* than falls to the- share of a very young scliool-boy, the Grammar and a little of Ovid. At
< the same time, I allow him an excellent scholar in English, French, and Italian, whioh
* comprehend a rasi extent of literature.'
X. Shakespeare's supposed wont of erudition, Mr. Seward considers as an argument for
some other particnlar parts l)eing attributed to Fletcher: tlius, atler observing that the me>
thod ofconcealhig combats was an art well, known to the Greek tragedians, he says,* Idoo^
* remember either in Shakespeare or Fletcher, any instance of this kind before this coaabac
* As Fletcdier was a scholar, and Shakespeare not one in Greek, the former was probably tlie
' authdrhere.' . .
XI. Again, spesdcing of The$eM\ address to tlie Firtf Queen, wherein he mentions Jaia^'a
mantle, &ward says, * As there h more display uf learning in this speech than is usually aeen
< in Shakespeore's,'may we not probaUy suppose this scene to have been Fletcher's, ootitrarj
' to the receiv*d opinion ?-
Xn. The modesty of the eipression, ' Weak as we are,' in the orologue, makes Seward
think, it ' probable, that the play was acted before the death of SWespeare, and that it
* was wrote in conjunction as much as those which Beaumont joined in.' And the modesty
of promising, in the epilogue, < many a better play,' says he, < strengthens the piobidiility i(
* the two great authors having nearly an eoual share of tlie ^lay. Had Fletcher finished n
* work of Shakespeare's, he would probablv have spoke in a different stile.'
I.. Seward is rather unfortunate m his Winning; fi>r Warburton do^s not even roentioo
The Two Noble Kinsmen in the Preface.— rope speaks of it in his Prefiioe, In the foUovii^
manner : * ■■■ if that play be his, as there goes a tradition it was, {and indeed it had
little resemblance of Fletcher, and more of our author than some of those which have been
* received as genuine) :' An assertion which thnt great man would not imve made, had he ever
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 4S5
read Fletcher with Attention. — Mr. Steevens ranks this play in the same list with Lccrine,
London Prudi);a), Sir John Oldcastle, and the other pla^s asciitied to Shakespeare by cata-
logues and editions, whose authority lias not been sutBcient to guin the several pieces there
mentioned a place among the dramas at present received as Shakespeare's; and except the
posthumous title-page of 1634, tliere is indeed no kind of autliority.
IL III. TV. Seward is very fond of the idea of Fletcher^s B£ST manner resembling Shake-
speare's second-best ; but we cannot help thinking it childish to account the poetry of those
scenes which he cites, Shakespeare's second-best. Whether they were his work or Fletcher's,
tbcy arc most excellent; ana might have been produced by either, or by Beaumont. That
Shakes]^eare is, taken altogether, superior to our abtliors, is certain ; but there oiten occur
passages in their plays far beyond the promise of the subject, and equal to the pen of any
writer ancient or modem ; as may be evinced by numberless passages in Philaster, the
Maid's Tragedy, King and no King, Bonduca, Wife for a Month, Cupid's Revenge, S^e. 4'C.
4rc. notwittotanding what is above quoted from the Preface of tluit great man, Mr. Pope.
V. In our opinion, there is more ease, spirit, and nature, in the description in the Mid-
summeihNight s Dream, than in that of the Two Noble Kinsmen. However, if it be olher-
wiae, Fletcher has confessedly so much poetical merit,* that to attribute his most exquisite
beauties to Shakespeare, is doing him an injury. And in this injury we are sorry to find Dr.
Farmer has taken part, who, speaking of Etftilia^s fine comparison of a maid to a rose, which
he highly praises, says, ' I have no doubt those lines were written by Shakespeare.' And
because the speech of Theseuty p. 396, is particularly beautiful, Seward thinks that it < looks
' extremely like the hand of Slmkespeare.-
VI. Though there is much poetical fancy in the phrensy of the JaUarU Daughter, we can-
not with Mr. Seward tliink it equal to the natural madness painted by Shakespeare. Like
the assumed distraction of Hamlet add Edgar,
* Tho* this be madness, yetxhere*s method in*t;'
more apparent method than in the drawing of Ophelia and Lear.
VII. VIII. IX. Nothing need be said of the doubts.
X. XI. What is here said, tending to invalidate Shakespeare^s claim, is apart from the
argument; but we may, however, just remark, that there are many speeches in Shakespeare,
as much abounding with learned allusions as any part of Theteui*^ address.
XII. That the play was < wrote in conjunction,' we will readily suppose; but no kind of
information can be derived from either prologue or epilogue, wAe tlie associate was.
We have now gone through all that Mr. Seward had said on this subject ; wherein we can-
not find one plausible argument for ascribing to Shakespeare any part of the Two Noble Kins-
men; which certainly abounds with the peculiar beauties anci defects that distinguish the
rest of this collection, and should, in our opinion, (if a joint work) be attributed to the same
authors. There are too, many particular passages and expressions in this play, which bear
a striking similarity to others wrote between them: of this sort are trace, and turn hoift t
p. 410 : on the same mob-occasion, the saaie expression occurs in Philaster. In that play
too, the Frince talks of discoursing from a pyramdy to all the under^worldi So here, p. 419»
JSmiUa says, in one of the most b^utiful passages of the play,
« ^ Fame and Honour,
^ Methinks, from hence, as from a promontory
* Pointed in Heav'n, should clap tlieir wings, and sing
« To all the under^oorid /
And various others might be quoted. Writers often unknowingly copy themselves, as well
as other autlior:^ ; and tho' it might here be answer'd, that Fletcher is allowed to have wrote
in both, and the similar passages may he his ; yet Beaumont Twho bad a great sliare in Phi-
laster) is as likely to have produced them tit both as hU associate. And (what is rather re-
markable) it wdl appear to my attentive reader, that the cMef similarities are to pieces in
which Beaumont is universally allowed to have been connected, not where his assistance is
doubted. — Had Shakespeare been considered as one of the joint authors, is it not natunil to
suppose, that a play ofso much excellence would have found a place in the collection of his
Dramas published by Hemines and Condell? But they have neither admitted the piece, nor
taken the least notice of Shakespeare's being at all concerned in it. We must not, indeed^
rest too much upon this, as it is certain they omitted Troilus and Cressida, a play, however,
of much less eminence: on the whole, we think that there ought to be more authority than
an uncertain tradition, to t^e tlie credit of this play from Beaumont and Fletcher, the joint
authors of so manv other excellent dramas, written very much in the stile and spirit of the
play before as. Iplace Shakespeare's name before several other of these dramas, how
many criticks^Uke Seward^ would labour to ascertain tlie particular passages that came from
bislmnd}
d&« TUK
THE
TRAGEDY
OF
THIERRY AND THEODORET.
The first edition of this' Plaj was printed in quarto, 1621, withoat the name of either
Author. The edition of 1648, ascribes it to Fletcher; and that of 1649, to both writers.
Dr. Hyde, in the Bodleian Catalogue^ assgns it to Ben Jonson, without any authority
whatever. It was fonnerly performed frequently, hut of late years has been entirely laid
aside.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Men.
Thisrrt, > Br<fthers, Kin^ ef France
Theodoret, ) andAuxtrotw.
Martell, a Soldier^ Friend to Theodoretm
pROTALDYE, GoUont to Brunkoit.
De Vitrt, « disbanded Officer^
Jt£VSLI.EH8.
Courtiers.
Huntsmen.
Women.
Brunhalt, Mother to Thierry and Tkeo'
doret.
Ordella, the King rfArragon's Daughter,
married to Thierry,
Memberge, TheoddreCi Daughter.
Lauies.
SCENE, France.
ACT L
SCENE I.
JSfi<«r Theodorety Brunhalt, and Bawdber.
Brunhalt, 'T^AX me with these hot tain-
•■• 'tures'?
Tkeod, YooVe too sudden ;
I do but gently tell you what becomes you,
And what may bend your honour! how these
courses,
Of loose and lazy pleasures, not suspected.
But done and known; your mind that grants
DO limit, [people.
And all your actions follow, whicn loose
That see but thro* a mist of circumstance.
■ Tax me with these hat tainters?] Theobald would read, hot taints. The oldest quarto
exhibits iahiturs; we therefore prefer taintures; and though we do not remember meeting
with the word, it is more expressive of the sense of taints (here required) than tainters.
Dare
488 TH6 TRAGEDY OF THIERRY AND THEODORET. [Act 1. Scene l.
He that ne'er knew more trade than taleS, and
tumbling;
Suspicions into honest hearts; whatyoaorbe.
Or all the world dare la^ upon my worthy
This for your poor opinions! I am $be,
And so will bear myself, whose truth and
whiteness
Shall ever btand as far from these detectioiii
As you from duty. Get you better servants.
People of honest actions, without ends,
Ancf whip these knaves away ! they eat yoor
favours.
And turn *em onto poisons. My known ciedi^
WhoiD all the courts o* this side Nile have
€«vied, [lyaestion.
And happy she could cite me', broqghl in
Now in my hours of age and reverence.
When rather superstition should be reoder'd?
And by a rush that one day's warmth [tkt^
Hath shot op to this swelling? Give me his-
Which is his life!
Dare term ambitious; all your ways hide
sores
Opening in the end to nothing but ulcers^.
Your instruments like these may call the
world,
And with a fearful clamour, to examine
Why, and to what we govern. From example,
If not for virtue's sdce, you may be honest:
There have been great ones, good ones, and
'tis necessary,
Because you are yourself, and b^ yomrself,
A self-piece from the touch of power and
justice, [imagine
You should command yourself. You may
(Which cozens all the world, bat diiefly wo-
men)
The name of greatness glorifies your actions;
And strong power, like a pen^house^ promises
To shade you from opimon s take heed, mo-
ther!
And let us aU take heed ! these most abase us:
The sins we do^ people behold thro' optics.
Which shew them teo times more than couh-
moa vices.
And often multiply them : then what justice
Dare we taiiict upon the weak o&Bdera,
Wlien we are thieves ourselves?
Brun. Tliis is Martell, [son.
Studied and penn'd unto you; whose base per-
I charge you by the love vou owe a modier.
And as yoa hope for blessings from her
prayers.
Neither to gire belief to, nor allowance !
Next, I tell you, sir, you from whom obedi*
ence
Is so far fled that you dare tax a mother,
NaT, further, brand her honour with your
slanders.
And break into the treasures of her credit.
Your easiness is abased, your faith fpeiglited
W itli lies, malicious lies ; ^oor merchaat Mis- I
chief; * * '
Theod. This is ao ImpodeDce;
And he must tdl ypu, Uwt 'tiU ao«^ mother^
Drought you a son's obedience, and now
Above the suftrance of a soa, [breaks iu
&». Blew us!
For I do now begin to feel Hiyself
Tucking into a halter^, and the ladder
Turning from me, one pulling at my legs too.
Tkeod, These truths are no man's tulc%
but all men's troubles; [outrstare *em :
They are, tho* your strange greatness woold
Witness the daily libels, Smost ballads.
In every place almost, in every province^
Are made upon your lust; tavern discburses;
Crowds crau'd with whisperst; nay, the hoi/
temples £bi«sJi;
' A re not without your curseau NowyouwnuM
But your black tainted blood dare not i^ipeary
For fear I should fright that too.
Brun. Oh, ye godsl {y^ur 9otio9mi
Theod. Do not abase their names ! ihcy sc«
^ Opening in the end Ao nothing hut ulcers,'] Tlie ancient English poets were certainly not
sufficiently cautious of properly accenting their verses, insomuch that it may be doubted
whether they thought the rule oi* accenting the even syllables (viz. the second, fourth, sixth,
eighth, and tenth) a necessary part of our measure. This line has the accent upon all the
odd syllables, and, tho* the thought is poetry, it is not verse at all. Our authors indeed in
eeneral have such good ears, and this is so easily made right measure, that it may probablj
be a corruptionf and the original have run.
To nothing opening in the end but ulcers.
See the rule above more fully explain'd, with the exception it admits, in a note in the fint
scene of Wit Witliout Money. Seward.
3 And happy «4e could site tne.] Corrected in 1750,
♦ ^^—feelmyKlf
Turning into a halter, and the huUer
Tumtngfrom me.] l^immg intv a kaiUr^ is no very natural expression. The common
word of being tuck*d in a halter, seems |>ttibafaly Che true reading. . Semard,
' In everyplace^ almost in every proomce^^ Everyplace being much OMre minutdy poiti^
cular than exiery prawnce, the aknoit seeBis layiopefly plac'd iMe. It ib not veiy mattfial^
but rather more correct to read.
In every pUce almost of every province;
t. e. In every comer of every previnoe-of our kingdom. Semari.
We apprehend the error to be mereW in the ponctoatioD^ aod tbe po^ ta tigjc ipianr,
* in itlmMt eiwrv nlafie. m everv uroviiiee «t least.'
I iflmott every place, m tteiy proviaee «t leaf|«'
AdA
iUtl. SceAcl.] THE T&AGEDY OF THIEBEY AND THEODORET.
And yxmt conceard fins, tho' you work like
Lie le?el to their justice. [n\oles,
firax. Art thou a son? [a mother,
I'keod. The more my shame is of so had
And more yoar wretchedness you let me
be to. [me,
But, wonan (for a mother's name bath left
Since you hare left your honour), mend these
ruins,
AndbaiW a|:aio that broken fame ; and fairly,
(Yoor most intemperate fires hare burnt) and
c|uicklY,
Within these ten days, take a monastery,
A most strict faosse ; a house where none
may whisper, [make yon
Where no more light is known but whatmay
Believe there is a day ; where no hope dwells.
Nor comlbtt but in sears-*
Brun. Oh, misery ! [starv'd penance,
Tkeod. And there to cold repentance, and
Tie your succeeding days: ,or curse me, bea*
ven.
If ^i yoorgilded knaves, brokers, and bedders,
Even he you built from nothing, strong Pro-
taldye, [maids,
Be not made ambling geldings! all your
If that name do not shame 'em, fed with
spunges.
To sock away their rankness! and yourself
Only Co empty pictures'and dead arras
Offer your old desires !
Brun, I will not curse you,
Nor lay a prophecy upon your pride,
Tko'Heav'n might grant me both: unthank-
fill, no! [you;
T nourish*d you; 'twas Ij poor I, groaird tor
Twas I lelt what you suner'd; 1 lamented
When sickness or sad hours held back your
sweetness; [wakmgs;
Twos I pay'd for your sleeps^ ; I watch'd your
My daily cares and fears that rid, play*dj
waik'd,
DiscoiirsM, discovexM, fed and fasluon*d you
To what you are; aud I am thus rewarded?
T/tead, But tliat 1 know these tears, I could
dote on *em. Pern
And kneel to catch 'cm as they fall, then knit
Into an annlet, ever to be honour*d : [ful,
But, woman, they are dangerous drops, deceit- »
Full of the weeper, anger and ill-nature.
Bran. In my last hours despis'd?
Theod. That text sliould tell,
How ugly it becomes you to err thus :
Yonr flames are spent, nothing but smoke
maintains you; [fers^.
And those your fiivour and your bounty su^
Lie not with you, they do but lay lust on you.
4Sf
And then embrace you is theyeangbt apaby'
Your power they may love, and like Spanish
jennets.
Commit with soch a guat—
Baw. 1 would take whippings
And pay a fine now ! Exii*
Theod. But were you oncedisgrac*d.
Or falFn in wealth, like leaves they would fly
from you, [will'd me
And become browse for every beast. Yoa
To stock myselt* with better friends, and ser*
vants ; [kind.
With what face dare you see me, or any man*
That keep a race of such unheaid-of relics»
Bawds, lechers, leeches, female fornications.
And children in their rudiments to vices*
Old men to shew examples, and (lest art
Sbr»uld lose herself in act) to call back custooit
Leave these, and live like Niobe! I told you
how; [brance
And wiien your eyes have droptaway remem-
Of what you were, I am your son ; perfonn it!
[Exit,
Brun, Am I a woman, and no more power
in me
To tie this tiger up? a soul to no end ?
Have I got shame, and lost my will? Vmn-
halt, [him.
From this accursed hour forget tliou bor'st
Or any part of thy blood gave him living !
Let him be to tliee an antipathy, [ward ;
A thing thy nature sweats at, and turns back-
Throw all the mischiefs on him that thyself
Or woman worse tlian thou art, have invented^
And kill him drank, ordoubtftil!
Enter Baicdber, Protaldi/e, and Lecure*
Baw, Such a sweat
I never was in yet! dipt of my minstrels.
My toys to prick up wenches withal? uphol4
It runs like snctw-balls thro* me! [me;
Brun. Now, my varlets, [tions!
My slaves, my running thoughts, my execu-
Baa;. Lord, how she looks !
Brun. Hell take ye all I
Baw. We shall be gelt.
Brun. Your mistress, [ourtals.
Your old and honoured mistress, you tir*d
Suffers for your base sins 1 I most be doister'd,
Mew'd up to make me virtiibus: who can
help this ? ' [taldye !
Now you stand Hill, like statues! Come, Pro-
One Iciss before I perish, kiss me strongly !
Another, and a third!
Lee. I fear not gelding,
As long as she holds this way.
Brun. The young courser,
* 'Ttoas I ^fdfor four sle^s,] To watch another while he's sleeping, cannot simply be
said to pay for fais'sleep; a metaphor of that nature would require a nirther exphination, as,
I pay'd for your sleep at the price of my own watchtngs. As nothing of that nature appears,
k IS most probable that it is the mere omission of a letter, it is therefore restored, prafd.
7 .^^rfiwmnmd^ottr bounty 90i&n.] Sewaid conjectured we shodd read f osiers g
and SympsoQ succours i but sufftrs^ in the senae of ji^r Us, is inteUigiWe*
That
440
TIIE TRAGEDY OF TEIEBRY AND THEODORET. [Act 1. Scene ft.
Tbftt unllck*d lump of mine, will win thy mis*
tress" :
Most I be chaste, Protaldye ?
Prot. Thus, and tlius, lad^! [vestals!
Brun. It shall be so: let liim seek fools for
Here is my cloister.
Lee. But what safety, madom^
Find you in staying here ?
Brun, Th'hast hit my meaning :
I will to Thierry, son of my blessings, [tilly,
And there complain me, tell my tale so sub-
That the cold stones shall sweat, and statues
moom ; [ness;
And thou shaltweep, Protaldye, in my wit-
And these forswear.
Baw, Yes; any thintr but gelding!
I am not yet in quiet, noble lady:
Let it be done to-night, for without doubt
To-morrow' we are capons !
Brun. Sleep shall not seize me.
Nor any food befriend me but thv kisses,
Ere I forsake this desart. I live honest }
He may as well bid dead men walk! I
humbled, [tear me,
Or bent below my power? let ni^t-dogs
-And goblins ride me m my tdeep to jelly.
Ere I forsake my sphere !
Lee. This place you wilL
Brun. What's that to you, or any.
Ye dross^, ye powder'd pigsboues, rhubafb
clisters!
Must you know my designs ? a college of you
The proverb makes but fools.
Prot. But, noble lady — [not,
Brun. You are a saucy ass too! Off! will
If you but an^er me, 'till a sow-gelder [me !
Have cut you all hke colts: hold me, and kiss
For T am too much troubled. Make up my
treasure,
And get me horses private; come, about it!
[Exeunt.
SCENE ir.
Enter Theodoret, Mariell, 4c.
Theod. Tho* I assure myself, Martell, your
counsel
Had no end but allegiance and my honour.
Yet I am jealous^ I have pass*d tlie bounds
Of a son's doty : for, suppose her \
Than your report, not by bare ciicumstaoce.
But evident proof connrm'd, has given her
out";
Yet since all weaknesses in a kingdom are
No more to be severely punish'd, than
The faults of kings are, by the Thnnderer,
As oft as they offend, to be reveng*d;
If not for piety, yet for policy.
Since some are of necessity to be tpar'd,
I might, and now I wish I had not look'd
With such strict eyes into her follies.
Mart. Sir,
A dutv well discharged is never followed
By 9fA repentance ; nor did your highnos
ever [better
Make payment of the debt , yon owM her,
Tliao in your late reproofs, not of her, but
Those crimes that made her worthy of re-
proof.
The most remarkable point in which kina
differ
From private men, is that they not alone
Stand boimd to be in themselves innocent.
But that all such as are allied to them
In nearness, or dependance, by their cure
Should be free from suspicion of all crime:
And you have reap'd a double benefit
From this last great act : first in the restraint
Of her lost pleasures^' you remove th*exaraple
From others of the like licentiousness;
Then when 'cis known that your severicj
Extended to your motiier, wlio dares hopefor
The least indulgence or connivance in
The easiest slips that may prove dangerous
To you, or to the kingdom f
'iheod. I must grant
Your reasons good, Martell, if, as slie is
My mother, she had been my subject, or
That only here she could make challenge to
A place of beiug : but 1 know her temper.
And fear (if such a word become a king)
That in discovering her, I have let loose
A tigress, whose rage l»eing shut up in dark-
ness
Was grievous only to herself; which, brooghft
Into the view of light, her cruelty,
Provok'd by her own shame, will tumonliia
* Will win thy vmtre$$.'] The word win does not seen& very expressive, th*/ as it beaxs
some affinity to the courser in the former line, I shall not change it, but suppose it may
mean, win her from her evil courses. Were a change necessary, we might use cAiim, cn»*
fine (cutting off a? in will), or ginn, perhaps the best word of all, and the nearest to the oU
reading, for the two first editions xead winne^ SewartL
Perhaps we should read, wean.
^ Ye doss.] Nut finding doiis in any glossary, I am forc*d to treat it as cornipt, and sap*
pose dross or dolt to have been the original. Seward,
>^ 2'han you report, not by bare circumstance^
But evident pro(f conjinn'd, has given her out.'] The grammar seems deficientheir, but
it is easily cur'd two ways ; the most pi-obable I shall insert, but it might be.
Than you repor^ not that bare circumstance. Seward,
tiQfher lost pleasures,'\ Lost might possibly be interpreted, abandon^ d^ lost to all good*
ness. But as loose seems the natural word, it was probably the true one. Seward.
Luit will certainly admit uf So^vard*8 first interpretation: it seems therefore arbitrair to
change the test.
Act i. Scene 2.] THE TRAGEDY OF THIEERY AND THEODORET.
441
That foolislily presnm'd to let her see
The loath'd shape of her own defonnity.
Mart. Beo&ts of that nature, when rebel-
lious threats
Be);in Co appear only in their eyes,
Or any motion that may give suspicion
Of the Least violence, should be chaineci up ;
Their fangs and teeth, and aU their means of
hurt, [unable
Par'd off, and knocked out; and so made
To do ill, they would soon begin to loath iu
1*11 apply nothing ; but had your grace done,
Or would do yet, what your less-forward zeal
In words did only threaten, far less danger
Would grow from acting it on her, than may
Perhaps have being from her apprehension
Of what may once be practised: for believe it.
Who, confident of his own power, presumes
To spend threats on an enemy, that hath
means [mour
To shun the worst they can effect, gives ar-
To keep off his own strength ; nay, more,.
disarms
Himself, and lies unguarded 'gainst all harms
Or doubt or malice may produce.
IVieod, Tistrue:
And such a despemte cure I would have us*d,
If the intemperate patient had not been
So near me as a mother; but to her.
And from me, gentle unguents only were
To be applied : and as physicians,
When they are sick of fevers, eat themselves
Such viands as by their directions are
Forbid to others, tho' alike diseas*d ;
So she, considering what slie is, may chal-
lenge
Those cordials to restore her, by her birth
And privilege, wliichat no suit must be
Granted to others.
Mart. May your pious care
Effect but what it aiinVl at ! £ am silent.
Enter Be Vitry,
Theod, What langh'd you at, sir?
Vitry. I have some occasion,
I sboald not else ; and the same cause perhaps
That makes me do so, may beget in you
A contrary effect.
Theod. Why, what's the matter?
Vitry, I see, and joy Ut see, that sometimes
peor men
(And most of such are good) stand more in-
debted [cious,
For meana to breathe, to such as are htid vi-
Than those that wear, like hypocrites, on
their foreheads
Tb' ambitious titles of just men and virtuous.
Mart, Speak to the purpose!
VUry, Who would eer have thought
The good old queen, your highness' reverend
mother,
Into whose house (which was an academe,
In which ail tlie principles of lust were pnic-
tis'd)
No soldier might presume to set liis foot;
At whose most blessed intercession
All offices in the state were charitably
Conferred on pandars, o*er-wora chamber*
wrestlers,
And such physicians as knew how to kill
With safety, under the pretence of saving.
And such-like children of a monstrous peace;
That she, I say, should at the lengtli provide
That men of war, and honest younger bro*
thers, [codpiece.
That would not owe their feeding to their
Should be esteem'd of more than moths'^ or
Or idle vagabonds. [drones,
Theod, 1 am glad to hear it;
Prithee what course takes she to do this?
Vitry, One
That cannot fail : she and her virtuous train,
Wi* her jewels, and ail that was worthy the
carrying.
The last night left the court; and as 'tis more
Than said, for'tis conBrm'd by suchas met her^
She's fled unto your brother.
Theod, How!
Vitry. Nay, storm not; ,
For if that wicked tongue of hers hjith not
Forgot its pace, and Thierry be a prince
Of such a hery temper as report [to use
lias given him out tor, you hiiall have cause
Such poor men as iiiyself; and thank us too
For cominsr to you, and witfiout petitions:
Pray Heaven reward the good old woman for'tt
Mart. I foresaw this.
Theod. I hear a tempest coming.
That sings mine ami my kingdom*s ruin.
Haste,
And cause a troop of horse to fetch her bark !
Yet stay ! why should I use means to bring in
A plague that of herself hath left me ? Muster
Our soldiers up ! we'll stand upon our guard;
For we shall Ije utteniptcd. — Vet forbear!
The inequality ot our powers will yield me
Nothing hut loss in their defeature: something
Must be done, and done suddenly. Save your
labour!
In this I'll use no counsel but mine own :
That course though dangerous, is best. Com-
mand
Our daughter be in readiness to attend us !
Martell, your company ! and honest Vitry,
Thou wilt along with me ?
Vilry. Yes, any where;
To be worse than I'm here, is past my fear.
\^Exeuntn
More than mothers or drones,'] Corrected iu 1750.
VOL. HI.
3L
ACT
44t
THE TRAGEDY OF THIERRV AND THEODORET., [Act 3. Scene 1.
ACT 11.
SCENE T.
[ Enter Thierry t Brunhalt, Bawdber, and
Lecure.
Thi "XrOV are here in a sanctuary; and
^ that viper
(Who, since he )iath forgot to be a son,
I much disdain to think of as a brotlier)
Had belter, in despite of all the gods,
To haveraz'd their temples, and spurn*d down
their altars,
Than in his impious abuse of you,
I'o have caiPd on my just anger.
Brun. Princely son,
And in this worthy of a nearer name,
I have, in the relation of my wrongs.
Been modest, and no word my tongue de-
liver'd
To express my insupportable injuries.
But gave my heart a wound: nor has my grief
Being from what I suffer* ^ ; but that he,
33egenerate as lie is, should be the actor
Of niy extremes, and force me to divide
The fires of brotherly affection'*.
Which should make but one flame.
Tki. That part of his,
JVs it deserves, shall burn no more, if or
The tears of orphans, widows, or nil such
Ab dare acknowledge him to be their lord,
Join*d to your wrongs, with his heart-blood
have power [vaiits,
To put it out : and you, and these your-ser-
AVhu in our favours shall find cause to know,
1 n that they left not you, how dear we hold
them,
8hall give Theodoret to understand
' 3ris ignorance of tlie pri2ele>s jewel which
lie did possess in you, mother, in you;
, Of which I am more proud to be the owner'^.
Than if th' absolute rule of all the world
Were offer'd to this hand. Once more, you're
welcome !
Which with all ceremony due to greatness
I would make known, but that our just re-
venge
Admits not of delay,
uerai !
Your hand, lurd-ge
Enter Protaldye, with SMtert,
Brun. Your favour and bis merit,! may say,
Have made him such ; but I am jealous how
Your subjects will receive it.
Thi, How! my sul^ects?
What do you make of'^me ? Oh, Heav'n ! my
subjects?
How base should I esteem the name of prince.
If that poor dust were any thing before
The whirlwind of my absolute command!.
Let *cm be happy, and rest so contented.
They pay the tribute of their hearts and knees
To such a prince, that not alone has power
To keep his own, but to encrease it; tliat,
Altho' he hath a body may add to
The fam'd night-labour of strong Hercules,
Yet is the master of a continenfe
That so can temper it, that I forbear
Theirdaughters, and their wives ; whose hands,
tho' strong,
As yet have never drawn by unjust mean
Their proper wealth into my treasury ! —
But I grow glorious — aud let them beware
That, in their least repining at my pleasure^
They change not a mild prince (for if provok'd,
I ^are and will be so) into a tyrant !
Brun, You see there's hope that we shall
rule again.
And your falln fortunes rise.
Biiw. 1 hope your highness [with yoa ;
Is pleasM that I should still hold my place
I'^or I liave been so long us'd to provide yoa
Vresh bits of flesh since mine grew stale, that
surely
If cashi»>r*d now, I shall prove a bad caterer
In the fisl>market of cold Chastity.
Lee. For mc, I am your own; nor, since I
first [ber'd
Knew what it M'as to serve you, have remem-
I had a soul, but such an one wliose essence
Depended wholly on your highness' pleasure;
And therefore, madam—-
JVor hai my grkfy
Being jTrom whut 1 suffer. \ The comma at grif/* should be out, for it confounds themeax^
ing; which is, that * her grief does not take its being merely from her sufferings, but, ifcJ It
is not at first obvious that the word bein^ is here used as a substantive, and the comma
leads the reader furtlier astray.
'♦ to divide
The fires o/' brotherly affection.'\ Mr. Theobald lias very justly put in the margin, Eteo-
cles and Polynices. The metaphor is a noble allusion to the remarkable poetic flcti(m of
the flames of their funeral pyre, dividing and (lying asunder. Seward,
'^ To be the donor.] Owner secm'd at first sight self-cvidently the true reading both to Mr.
Svnipsou and myself. Seuard,
Brwu
Act «. Scene 1.] THE TRAGEDY OF THIERRY AND THEODORE?.
44a
Thi. This is above belief, "[spoke much,
Brun. Sir, on my knowledge^ iho* he huth
He's able to do more.
Lee, She menus on her.
Brun. And howsoever in his than' fulness,
For some few favours done him by nysclti
He left Austracin; not Theodoret,
Tho* he was chiefly aim*d at, could have laid,
VVitli all his dukedom's power, that shame
upon him,
Which in his barbarous malice to my honour^
He swore with threats t' effect.
Thi. I cannot but
Believe you, madam. — Thou art one degree
Grown nearer to my heart, and I am proud
To have in tiiec so glorious a plant
Transported hither : in thy conduct, we
Go on assured of conquest ; bur remove
Shall be with the next sun.
Enter Theodoret^ Memberge, MarUll, and
Be Viiry.
Lee, Amazement leave me! .
Tishe!
Baw. We are again undone !
Frot. Our guilt
Hath no assurance nor defence.
Baw, If now
Your ever-ready wit fail to protect us.
We shall be ail discover*d.
Brun, Be not so
In your amazement and your foolish fears !
I am prepared for*t. ^
Theod. How ! not one poor welcome.
In answer of so long a journey made
Only to see you, brother?
'FhL I have stood
Silent thus long, and am yet unresolved
Whether to entertain thee on ray sword,
As fits a parricide of a mother's honour;
Or whether, being a prince, I yet stand bound
(Tho' riiou art here conderaii'd) to give thee
hearing,
Before I execute. What foolish hope,
(Nay, pray you forbear) or desperate mad-
ness rather,
(Unless thou com*st assur'd, I stand in debt
As fur to all impiety as thyself)
Since lookins ottly here, it cannot but
Draw fresh blood from thy sear'd up con- '
science,
Has made thee bnng thy neck unto the axe?
To make thee sensible of ihat horroi\ which
They ever bear about them, ihatlikeNero —
Like, said 1? tljou art worse; since thoa
dar'st strive
In her defame to/nurder thine alive* [ness to
Theod, That she thatlongsiuce hod the bold-
*« Tou shall seeme,] Former editions. Corrected by all, Seward.
*^ And with some other care and hidden acts.] Mr. Sympson concurred with me in reading
arts for acts, but there seenis another corruption in the line; care, 'tis true, is sense, but
rare is so much better suited to the ridiculous brags of Frotaldye, that I have but little
doubt of its being the true reading. Seuard,
This is plausible; but the old reading, being sense, should stand.
^ ' ^ 3L3 Be
Brun. Rest assur'd you are
Such instruments we must not lose!
Lee, Baw. Our service I
2%i. You've view*d them then? what's
your opinion of them ? [em
In tliis dull time of peace, we have prepar*d
Apt for the war; ha?
Prot. Sir, they have limbs
That promise strength sutficient, and rich ar-
mours, [pears
The soldier's best-lov'd wealth : more, it ap-
They have been drilfd, nay, very prettily
drill'd; [quets
For many of them can djschnro;e their mus-
Witbout the danger of throwing off their
heads.
Or being offensive to the stand ers-by.
By sweating too much backwards: nay, I
find [niay.
They know the right and left-hand file, and
'With some impulsion, no doubt be brought
To pass the A, B, C, of war, and come
Unto the horn-book.
Thi, Well, that care is yours ;
And see that you effect it !
Prot. I am slow
To promise much; but if within ten days,
By precepts and examples, not drawn from
Worm-eaten precedents, of the Roman wars,
But from mine own, I make them not trans-
cend
All that e'er yet bore arms, let it be said
Protaldye brags, which would be unto me
As bate£ul as to be esteem'd a coward !
For, sir, few captains know the way to win
him,
And make the soldier valiant. You shall see
me'*
Lie with them in their trenches, talk, and
drink.
And be together drunk ; and, what seems
stranger.
We'll sometimes wench together, which, once
practised.
And with some other care and hidden arts' ',
They being all made mine, Fll breathe into
them
Such fearless resolution and such fervor.
That, tho' I brought them to besiege a fort
Whose walls were steeple-high, and cannon^
proof,
Not to be undermin'd, they should fly up
Like swallows; and, the parapet once won,
For proof of tlieir obedience, if I will'd them.
They should leap down again ; and what is
more.
By some directions they should have from me.
Not break their necks.
44^
THE TRAGEDY OF THIERRY AND THEODORET. [Acta. Scene 1.
Be a bad woman (tbo* I wish some oth^r
Should so report her), could not want the
cunning, flours
Since ihey go hand in hand, to lay fair co-
Ou her black, crimes, I was resolved before ;
Nor make I doubt but that she bath em-
poison'd
Your good opinion of me, and so far
Incensed your rage against me, that too late
I come to plead my innocence.
Brun. To excuse
Thy impious scandals rather !
trot. Rather forc'd with fear
To be compell*d to come.
ThL Forbear ! [not been
Theod. This moves not me; and yet had I
Transported on my own integrity,
I neither am so odious to my suhjects^
Nor yet so barren of defence, but that
By force I could have justified my guilt,
Had I been faulty : but since Innocence
Is to itself an hundred thousand guards,
And that there is no son, but tho* he owe
That name to an ill mother, but stands bound
Rather to take away with his own danger
Prom th' number of her ikults, than for his
Security, to add unto them : this, [own
This hath made me to prevent th* expcnce
Of blood on both sides; the injuries, tht rapes,
(Pages, that t\ er w ait upon the war) [cause,
The account ot all which, since you are the
Believe it, would have been requir'd tromyou;
Ilather I say to oi^'cr up my daughter,
"Who living only cpuld revenge my death,
"With my heait-blood a sacrifice to your
anger, [more curbes
Than that you should draw on your head
Than yet you have deserved.
Thi. I do begin
To feel an alteration in my nature.
And, in his full-sail'd confidence, a sliower
Of gentle rain, thai fallhig on the fire [would
Ofmy hot rage, hath quench'd it. Ha! I
Once more speak roughly to him, and I will;
Yet there is something whispers to me, that
I have said too much ; how is my heart divided
Between the duty of a son, and love
Due to a brother ! Yet I am sway'd here.
And must ask of you, how 'tis possible
You can aOectmc, that have learned to hate
Where you should pay all love ?
Theod. Which, join'd with duty,
ILJpon my knees J should be proud to tender,
JIad she not us'd herself so many swords
To cut those bonds that tied me to it.
Tfa. Fy,
No more of that!
Theod. Alas, it is a theme
I taKC no pleasure to discourse of: 'would
It could as soon be buried to the world.
As it should die to me! nay more, I wish
(Next to my part of Heav'n) tliat she would
spend
The last part of her life so here, that all
Indifferent judges might condemn me for
A most malicious slanderer, nay, text it
Upon my forehead**. If you hate roe, mother,
Put me to such a shame; pray you do! B^
lieve it.
There is no glory that may fall upon me.
Can equal the delight I should receive
In that disgrace ; provided the repeal
Ofyour loug-banish'd virtues, and good name.
Usher d me to it.
ThL See, she shewgL herself
An easy mother, which her tears confirm !
Theod, 'Tis a good sign; the comfurtablest
I ever saw, [rain
Thi. Embrace !— Why, this is well :
May never more but love in you, and duty
On your part, rise between you !
Baw. Do you hear, lord-general ? [sadden
Does not your new-stamp*d honour ou the
Begin to grow sick ?
Frot. Yes; I find it fit,
I'hat, putting off my armour, I should think of
Some honest hospital to retire to.
Baw. Sure,
Alt bo' I am a bawd, yet being a lord, [nion?
They cannot whip me fort: what's your opi-
Lec. The beadle will resolve you, for i can-
not : [myself
There's something that more near concerns
That calls upon me.
Mort. Note but yonder scarabes".
That liv*d upon the dung of her base plc&«
sures ; [honest
How from the fear that she may yet prove
Hang down their wicked heads !
Vitry. What's that to me ?
Tho* they and all the polecats of tlie conrt
Were truss'd together, I perceive not bow
It can advantage me a cardecue,
To help to keep me honest. \^A horn.
Enter a Post.
Thi. How ! from whence ?
Fost. These letters will resolve your grace.
Thi. What speak they ?— " [Reads.
How all things meet to make me this day
happy !
See, motlier, brother, to your reconcilement
Another blessing, almost equal to it,
Is coming towards me I my contracted wife
•■ JV«7/, texde it -
Upon my forehead.'] So quartos; folio, texte; and Seward, tax. We should surely read
text, in the sense of write, vmrk. 'i'o text, as it is technically understood, is to write in
that kind of imnd which lawyers distinguish by the name of a ^exMiand, and which is uKd
in those writings intended to last a long time : to text, therefore^ means to make a deep and
lasting impression. R.
'P Scrabs.] See note 49 on Eider Brother.
., ' Ordellii,
Act^ Scene l.J THE TRAGEDY OF XmEtlRY AND THEODOHET.
44S
Ordella, daughter ot wise Daurick,
The kinf; of Arr^on, is on our confines :
Then, to arrive at such a time, when joa
Are happily here to honour with your pre-
sence
Our long-deferrM, but much-wish'd nuptial.
Falls out above expression ! Heav'n be pleas'd
That I may use these blessings pour*d on me
With moderalion !
Brun. Hell and furies aid me,
That I may have power to avert the plagues
That press upon me !
Thi. Two days' journey, say'st thou?
We will set forth to meet her. lo the mean
time,
See all things be prepared to entertain her:
Nay, let me have your companies! there's a
forest
In the midway shall yield us hunting sport,
To ease our travel ! I'll not have a brow
But shall wear mirth upon it; therefore clear
them !
We'll wash away all sorrow in glad feasts;
And th* war we meant to men, we'll make on
beasts.
[Exeunt omnespraterBrun. Baw, Trot, Lee,
Brun. Oh, that I had the magick to trans-
form you
Into the' shape of such, that your own hounds
Might tear you piece-meal ! Are you so stu-
pid ? ' [mouths*®
No word of comfort? Have I fed your
From ray excess of moisture, with such cost,
And can you yield no other retribution,
Bat to devour your maker ? pandar^ spunge,
Imcoisoner, all grown barren ?
Prot. You yourself.
That are our mover, and for whom alone
We live, have fail'd yourself, in giving way
To th' reconcilement of your sons.
Ijtc, Which if
Tou had prevented, or would teach us how
They might again be sever'd, we could easily
Remove all other hindVances that stop
The passage of your pleasures.
Baw. And for me,
If I (nil in my otfice to provide you
Fresh delicates, hang me !
Brun, Oh, you are dull, and find not
The cause of my vexation; their reconcilement
J% a mock castle built upon the sand
By children, which, when I am pleas'd to
I can with ease spurn down. [o'crthrow,
Lee, If so, from whence
Grows your affliction ?
Brun. My grief comes along [power
\Vith the new queen, in whose grace all my
Mast suffer shipwreck: for me now,
That hitherto iiave kept the first, to know
A second place, or yield the least precedence
To any other, 's death ! to have my sleeps
X^e^ enquired after, or my rising up
Saluted with less reverence, or my gales
£mpty of suitors, or the king's great faronrs
To pass thro' any hand but mine, or he
Himself to be directed by another.
Would be to me — Do you understand me yet?
No means to prevent this ?
Frot, Fame gives her out
To be a woman of a chastity [dam.
Not to be wrought upon; and therefore, ma-
For me, tho' I have pleas'd you, to attempt
Were to no purpose. [her,
Brun. Tush, some other way 1
Baw. Faith, I know none else; allmy brin^*
ing-up
Aim'd at no other learning.
Lee, Give me leave !
If my art fail me not, I have thought on
A speeding project.
Brun. What is't ? but effect it.
And thou shalt be my il^culapius;
Thy image shall be set up in pure gold.
To which I will fall down, and worship it.
Xec The lady is fair ?
Brun, Exceeding fair.
Lee, And young ?
Brun, Soitie fifteen at the most.
Lee, And loves the king with equal ardour?
Brun, More; she dotes on him.
Lee. Well then; what think you if I make
a drink.
Which, given unto him on the bridal-night.
Shall for five days so rob his faculties
Of all ability to pay that duty
Which new-made wives expect, that she shall
swear
She is not match'd to a man ?
Prot, Twere rare !
Lee. And tlien.
If she have any part of woman in hei.
She'll or fly out, or at least give occasion
Of such a breach which ne'er can be made
up;
Since he that to all else did never fail
Of as much as could be perform'd by man.
Proves only ice to her.
Brun. 'I'is excellent!
Baw, The physician
Helps ever at a dead lif^: a fine calling.
That can both raise and take down: out
upon thee!
^ orun. For this one service, I am ever thine!
Prepare't; 1*11 give it to him myself. For
yon, Protaldye,
By this kiss, and our promised sport < at night,
I do conjure you to bear up, not minding
The opposition of Theodoret,
Or atiy of his followers : whatsoe'er
You are, yet appear valiant, and make good
Th' opinion that is had of you! For myself.
In the new queen's remove being made secure.
Fear not, I'll make the future building
sure. [Exeunt,
"^^ Have I fed your mothers.] This is the second time that mothers has been intruded into
the text, ^liuth is here pretty evidently the true word, and appear'd so to ail three. Sewar4,
Wind
440
THE TRAGEDY OF THIEItRY AND THEODORET. [Act 2. Scene I.
Wind horns. £nter Tkeodaret and ThUny.
Theod. This stag stood well, and canniDgly*
Thi. My horse,
I'm sure, has found it, for his sides are blooded
From flank to shoulder. Where's the troop ?
Enter Martell.
Theod, Pass'd homeward.
Weary and tir*d as we are. Now, Martell ;
Have you remember'd what we thought of?
Mart. Yes, sir; I've singled him*'; and
if there be
Any desert in's blood, beside the itdi.
Or manly beat, but what decoctions.
Leeches, and cuHises have cram'd into him.
Your lordship shall know perfect.
ThL What is that?
lllay not I know too ?
I%eod. Yes, sir ; to that end
We cast the project.
!!%». Wbatis^t?
Mort. A design, sir**,
Upon the gilded fls^ your grace's fevoor
Has stuck up for a general ; and to inform yon
(For this hour he shall pass the test) what
valour.
Staid judgment, soul, or safe discretion,
Your motber^s wandring eyes, and your obe-
dience,
Havefiung upon us ; to assure your knowledge.
He can be, dare be, shall be, must be nothing
(Load him with piles of honours, set him off
With all the cunning foils that may deceive
Bat a poor, cold, unspirited, iinmanner*d,
Unhonest, unafifected, undone fool,
And most unheard-of coward; a mere lump.
Made to load beds withal, and, like a night-
mare.
Ride ladies that forget to say their prayers ;
One that dares only be diseased, and in debt;
Whose body mews more plaisters every
Than women do old faces! [month ^^^
Thi. No more ! I know him ;
I now repent my error : take your time.
And try him home, ever thus far reserv'd^
You tic your anger up !
Mart. I lost it else, sir. [violence,
Thi. Bring me his sword fair-taken witliout
(For that will best declare him)—
Theod. That's the thing.
Thi. And my best horse is thine.
Mart, Your grace's servant! [Exit,
Theod, Youll hunt no more, sir ?
Thi. Not to-day; the weather [speat:
Is grown too warm ; besides, the dogs are
Well take a cooler morning. Let's to liorse.
And halloo in the troop !
[Exeunt. Wind Aonu,
Enter 7\oo IhaU$men.
' 1 Hunts. Ay, marry, Twainer, [aogeb
This woman gives indeed; these &re the
Hmt are the keepers' saints !
2 Hunts, I like a woman [cretion.
That handles the deer's dowscts with di»*
And pays us by proportion.
1 Hunts. Tis no treason
To think this |ood old lady has a stamp yet
That may reqmre' a coral.
2 Hunts. And the bells too;
Enter Protalefye.
Sh'has lost a friend of me else. Bat bere's
the clerk :
No more, for fear o'th* bell-ropes !
Prot. How now, keepers ?
Saw you the king ?
1 Hunts. Yes, sir; he's newly mounted^
And, ai we taket, ridden home.
Frot. Farewell then ! [Exeunt Kceperu
Enter Martdl.
Mart, My honour'd lord, fortune has
made me happy
To meet with such a man of men to side me.
Prof. How, sir ? I know you not.
Nor what your fortune means.
Mart, tew words shall serve :
I am betrayed, sir; innocent and honest.
Malice and violence are both against lue.
Basely and foully laid for; for my life, ur!
Danger is now about me, now in my throaty
Prot. Where, sir ? [sic
Mart. Nay, I fear not ;
And let it now pour down in stonns upon me^
l\e met a noble guard.
Prot. Your meaning, sir?
For [ have present business^
Mart. On, my lord.
Your honour cannot leave a gentleman.
At least a fair design of this brave nature^
To which your worth is wedded, your pro-
fession [peril. .
Hatch'd in, and made one piece, in such a
There are but six, my lord.
Prot. What six?
^' Yes, sir, I have snigled htm.] As smgle was a word new to me, I conjecturV] singled
him, t. e. I know where to find hhaa alone ; and find that Mr. Theobald mid propos*d the
same conjecture : bat upon looking into Skinner, I find snigle a fisherman's term, which he
explains by scindere; 1 suppose tnerefore it means cutting up, dissecting; but then this
could not have been the case, the dissection was to come; and it seems necessary tliat the
future tense should be restor'd, IHl snigle hinu Seward.
This conjecture is not without ingenuity; but single appears to be genuine, as we after-
wards find that Protaldye is singled, or left alone. .
** A desire, air.'] We all three concurred in changing this to design, Seward.
%3 Whose body mews more plaisters,] Mews; i. e. sheds. A term in falconry.
Mart.
Act ft. Scene !•] THE TEIGEDY OF THIEERY AND THEODORET.
Mart. Six villains;
Sworn, and in pay to kill me.
Prot. Six?
Mart, Alas, sir, [present ?
What can six do, or six score, now you're
Your name will blow 'em oflf : say they have
shot too, [sir.
Who dare present a piece; your valour^s proof,
Prot. No, ril assure you, sir, nor my dis;^
cretion.
Against a multitude. Tis true, I dare fight
Enough, and well enough, and long enough ;
But wisdom, sir, and weight of what is on me,
(In which I am no more mine own, nor
your's, sir.
Nor, as I take it, any single danger,
But what concerns my place) tells me directly,
Beside my person, my fair reputation.
If 1 thrust mto crowds, and seek occasions,
Suffers opinion. Six ? why, Hercules
Avoided two, man : yet, not to give example.
But only for your present danger's sake, sir.
Were there but four, sir, I car'd not if I
kiird them ;
Theyll serve to set my sword.
Mart. There are but four, sir;
1 did mistake them : but four such as Europe,
Excepting your great valour-
Prof. Wellconsider'd!
J will not meddle with 'em; four, in honour.
Are equal with four score : besides^ they're
Only directed by their fury. [people
Mart. So much nobler
Shall be your way of justice.
Prot. That I find not.
Mart. You will not leave me thus ?
Prot. I would not leave you ; but, look
you, sir.
Men of my place and business must not
Be question'd thus.
Mar^ You cannot pass, sir, [danger:
Now they have seen me with you, without
They are here, sir, within hearing. Take
but two! [sir —
Prot. Let tlie law take 'em ! take a tree',
I'll take my horse — that you may keep with
safety, [this hour
If tbey have brought no hand-saws. Within
ni send you rescue, and a toil to take 'cm.
Mart. You shall not go so poorly. Stay!
but one, sir! [rescues,
Prot. I have been so hamper'd with these
So bew'd and tortur'd, that the truth is, sir,
I've mainly vow'd against 'em : yet, for your
sake.
If, as you say, there be but one. Til stay
And see fair play o* both sides.
Marts There is no
More, sir, and, as I doubt, a base one too.
Prot. Vy on him ! Go lug him out by th' ears !
Mart. Yes,
This ^is he, sir ; the basest in the kingdom.
Prot. Do you know mc f
Mart, Yes, for a general-fool,
A knave, a coward, an upstart stallion baw(j^
Beast, barking puppy, that dares not bite.
Prot. The best man best knows patience.
Mart. Yea,
This way, sir; now draw your sword, and
right you, [Kicks him.
Or render it to roe ; for one you shall do!
Prot. If wearing ic may do you any ho*
nour,
I shall be glad to grace you; there it is, sir!
Mart. Now get you home, and tell your
lady mistress, [place too,
Sh' has shot up a sweet mushroom ! quit your
And say you are counsell'd well ; uiou wilt
be beaten else [know thee)
By thine own lanceprisadoes*^, (when they
lliat tuns of oil of roses will not cure these:
Go, get you to your foining work at court,
Andlearn tp sweat again, and eat dry mutton!
An armour like a frost will search your bone«
And make you roar, you rogue ! Not a reply.
For if you do, your ears go oif !
Prot. Still patience! [Exeunt.
Loud Munck. A Banquet tet out.
Enter Thierry, Ordella, Brunhalt, Theodoret,
Lecure, BawtUter, Sfc.
Thi. It is your place; and tho' in all things
else
You may and ever shall conmiand me, yet
In this I'll be obey'd.
Ord. Sir, the consent
That made me yours, shall never teach me to
Repent I ani so : yet be you but pleas'd
To give me leave to say so much ; the honour
You offer me were better given to her,
To whom you owe the power of giving.
Thi Mother, ^ ^ .
You hear this, and rejoice in such a blessing
That pays to you so large a share of duty.
But, fy ! no more ! for as you hold a place
Nearer my heart than she, you must sift
nearest
To all those graces that are in the power
Of majesty to bestow.
Brtin. Which I'll provide
Shall be shortriiv'd. Lecure!
Lee. I Ijave it ready.
Brun. 'Tis well ; wait on our cup«
Lee, You honour me.
TAi. We're dull;
No object to provoke mirth?
Theod. Martell,
If you remember, sir, will grace your fea^t
With something that will yield mutter of
mirth.
Fit for no common view.
27»i. Touching Protaldye?
Theod. You have it.
Bru7i. What of him? I fear his baseness,
[Aside.
In spile of all the titles that my favoui-s
*♦ Lanceprisadoes.] See note 1 on RoUo.
Ilav
THE TRAGEDY OF THIERRY AND THEODORET. - [Act 2. Soeat 1.
44d
Havecloth'd him with*', will make discovery
Of what is yet conceaFd.
Enter Martell
Thtod, Look, sir ; he has it !
Kay, we shall have peace, when so great a
soldier
As the renowned Protaldye will give up
His sword rather than use it.
Brun, Twas thy plot,
"Which I will turn on thine own head !
[Aside,
Thi, Pray you speak ;
How won you him to part from't f
Mart, Won him, sir ^
He would have yielded it upon his knees,
Before he would have hazaitied the exchange
Gf a filJip4)f the forehead : had you wiil*d me,
I durst have undertook he should have sent
you
His nose, provided that the loss of it [sir,
Might have sav'd the rest of bis face. He is.
The most unutterable coward that eVr Na-
ture [given him
Bless'd with hard shoulders; which were only
To tb' ruin of bastinadoes.
Thi, Possible?
Theod, Observe but how she frets !
"Mart. Why, believe it,
Hut that I know the shame of thb disgrace
Will make the beascto live wichsach and ne-
ver [zard
Presume to come more among men; I'll ha-
My life upon it, that a boy of twelve
Should scourge him hither like a parish-top,
And make him dance before you.
Brun, Slave, thou liest! [ing
Thou dar*st as well speak treason in the hear^
Of those that have the power to punish it.
As the least syllable of this before him:
But *tis thy hate to me.
Mart. Nay, pray you, madnm;
I have no ear§ to hear you, tho' a foot
To let you understand what he is.
Brun, Villain —
Tkeod» You are too violent.
Enter Frotaldye.
Prol, The worst that can come
Is blanketing ; for beriting, and such virtues^
I have been long acquainted with.
Mart. Oh, strange !
Baw, Behold the man you talk of!
Brun. Give me leav«!
Or free thyself— think in what place you are—
From the foul imputation that is laid
Upon thy valour — be bold ! 1*11 protect you —
Or here I vow — deny it or swear it —
These honours whicJi thou wear'st unwor-
thily— [them—
Which he but impudent enough, and keep
Shall be torn from thee, with thy eyes.
Prot, I have it.—
My valour? is there any here, beneath
The stile of king, dares question it?
Thi, This is rare ! [been noble,
Prot. Which of my actions, which hovesfill
Has rendered me suspected ?
Thi, Nay, Martell,
You must not fell off.
Mart, Ob, sii', fear it not:
D'you know this sword?
Prot. Yes.
Mart. Tray yoU, on what terms
Did you part with it ?
Prot. Part with it, say you?
Mart, So.
Thi, Nay, study not an answer; confeit
freely! [fell,
Prot, Oh, I remember now : at the stag'i
As we to-day were hunting, a poor fellow,
(And now I view you better, I may say
Much of your pitch) tliis silly wretch I spoke o(
With this petition falling at my feet,
(Wiiich much against my will he kiss*d) desir'd,
That as a special means for his preferment
I would vouchsafe to let him use my sword^
To cut off die stag's head.
Brun. Will you hear that?
Batr. This lie bears a similitude of truth.
Prot, I, ever courteous (a great weakne^^
in me).
Granted his humble suit.
Mart. Oh, impudence !
Thi, This change is excellent.
Maj't, A word with you :
Deny it not ! I was that man disguisM !
You know my temper, and, as yon respect
A daily cudgelling for one whole year,
Without a second pulling by the ears.
Or tweaks by th' nose, or the most precious
balm ^ Ijoe^
You us'd of patience, (patience, do you mark
Confess before these kings, with what base feu
Thou didst deliver it.
Prot. Oh, I shall burst!.
And if I have not instant liberty
To tear this fellow limb by limb, the vrrong
Will break my heart, altho' Herculean,
And somewhat bigger! There's my g^!
pray you here
Let me redeem my credit!
Thi. Ha, ha! forbear ! [do not,
Mart, Pray you let me take it up; and if I
Against all odds of armour and of weapons,
With this make him confess it on his knees,
Cut off my head.
Prot. f^^o, that's my office.
Baw. Fy!
You take the hangman's place?
Ord. Nay, good my lord.
Let me atone tlus difterence ! do not sufler
Our bridal night to be tlie centaurs' feast
You are a knight, and bound by oath to grant
^' Have clolKd hiniy which will maki discovery,'] ToTpies editioDS* Mr. Sympson
ivrM in ihf> f-orif«fl:iiiii. S£.uitird.
1 urr\i in the con-ectiou.
ii€ward.
AU
Actft. Scene L] TH£ TRAGEDY OF THIERRY liNO THEODORET.
449
All just suits upto ladies t for my sake^
Foreet yoar suppos*d wrong !
frot. Welly W him thiink you !
For your sake^lie shall live, perhaps a day;
And, may be, on submission, longer.
Tkeod. Nay,
Martelly you must be patient.
Mart, I am your*s ;
And this slave shall be once more mine.
TAL Sit all !
One health, and so to bed ! for I too long
Defer my choicest delicates.
Brun. Which, if poison
Have any power, thfju shalt, like Tantalus,
Sehold and never taste. Be careful!
Lee Fear not! [onoe
Brun, Tho' it be rare in our sex, yet, for
I will begin a health.
TAi. Let it come freely !
Brun, Lecure, the cup ! Here, to the son
we hope
This night shall be an embrion!
Thi, You have nam'd
A blesung that I most desired ; I pledge yoo :
Give me a larger cup; that is too little
Unto so great a good.^^
Brun, Nay, then you wrong me;
Follow as I bef^an !
TAi. Well, as you please.
Brun, Is't done?
Xec. Unto your wish, I warrant you ;
For this night I durst trust him with my mo-
Thi, So, 'tis gone round: lights ! [tlier.
Brun, Prav yon use my service.
€)rd, ^r'n that which I shall ever owe you,
inadam» [don me !
And must havenone from you : pray you pai^
1%L Good rest to all!
2%ead. A^^i ^ you pleasant labour!
Martell, your company ! Madam, good nis^fat !
£^tini ail fyut ^run, Prot, Lee, afid iaw.
Brun. Nay, you have cause to blush; but
I will hide it, [pity,
And, what's more, I forgive you. Is't not
That thou tha( art the first to enter combat
With any woman, and what's more, eVrcome
Ler, [fui
In which sheu best pleas'd, should be yo fear-
To meet a man?
Trot. Why, woidd you have me lose
That bl^d that's dedicated to yoor service^
In any other quarrel ?
Brun, No; reserve it!
As I will study to preserve thy credit.
You, sirrah^ bVt your care to find out one
That's poor, tho' valiant, that at any rate
Will, to redeem my sen^ant's reputation.
Receive a public baffling.
Bow, 'VVould your highness
Were pleas'd to inform me better of your
Surpose ! [bo&'d or kick'd ;
\run. Why one, sir, that would thus be
D'you apprehend me now?
Baw. I feel you, madam.
The man that shall receive this from my lord.
Shall have a thousand crowns?
Prel, He shall.
Baw, Besides,
His day of bastinadoing past o'er, [favour?
He shall not lose your grace nor your good
Brun. That shall make way to it.
Baw, It mubt be a man
Of credit in the court, that Ls to be
The foil unto your valour ?
Prot. True, it should. [the worse?
Baw, And if he have place thert^ 'tis not
Brun, 'TIS much the better.
Baw. If he be a lord,
'Twill be the greater grace?
Brun. Thou'rt in the right. [and lord,'
Baw. Why then, behold that vsoiant man
That for your sake will take a cudseling:
For be assur'd, when it b spread abroad
That you have dealt with me, they'll give voa
For one of the nine worthies. (oul
Brun, Out, you pandar 1
Why, to beat thee is only exercise
For such as do aifect it : lose not time
In vain replies, but do it! Come, my solace.
Let us to bed 1 and our desires once quench'd»
We'll there determine of Theodoret's death.
For lie's die eugii^e us'd to ruin us.
Yet one word more; Lecure, art thou assured
Th^ potion will work?
Lee. My life upon it !
Brun. Come, my Protaldye*^, thott tlien
glut me wich
Those best delights of man, that are denied
I To her that does expect tliem, being a bride 1
lE^unt.
*^ Unto 90 great a God.] Amended in 1750.
*7 Come^ my Protaldye, tJifin glut me with.\ Former ec^tipQS.
Seward*
\ceL m.
tyi
Act
456
THE TRAGEDY OF THIERRY AND TH£OD0R£T. [Acts. %o$De%
ACT IIL
SCENE I.
Enter Thierry and Ordella, as from bed.
ThL CURE T have drunk the blood of ele-
*^ phants**.
The tears of mandrakes, and the marble dew,
IVIix'd in n\y draughty have quench*d my na-
tural heat,
And left no spark of fire, but in mine eyes,
With whicli I may behold my miseries:
Ye wretched flames which play upon my sight,
Turn inward! make meal! one piece'*, tho'
earjthl
My tears shall overwhelm you else too.
Ord. What moves ray lord to this strange
sadness ?
If any late-discerned want in me
Give cause to your repentance, care and duty
$hult find a painful way to recompense.
. Thi. Are you yet frozen, veins? feel you
a breath, [North star reel,
W'hose temperate heat'** would make the
Her icy pillars thawM, arid do you not melt ?
Draw nearer ! yet nearer,
That from thy barren kiss thou may*st confess
1 have not heat enough to make a blush !
Ord, Speak nearer to my understanding,
like a husband ! * [husband,
TTii. How should bespeak the language of a
TVIk) wants the tongue and organs ofliis voice?
Ord, It is a phrase wiD part with the
same ease
From you, with that you now deliver.
7'//t. Bind not his ears up with so dull a
chann, [thy words
Who hath no other sense lefl open ! why should
Find tnore restraint than thy free-speaking
* actions.
Thy close embraces,^ and thy midnight sighs.
The silent orators to slow desire? .
Ord. Strive not to win content ftom ig-
norance^*, [can witness.
Which must be lost in knowledge ! Heav'n
My furthest hope of good reached at your
pleasure,
W^hicb seeing alone may in your look be read:
Add not a doubtful comment to a text>
That in itself is direct and easy.
Tki. Oh, tliou hast drunk the juice of
hemlock too :
Or did upbraided Nature make this pair.
To shew she had not quite foreot her first ,
Justly-praisM workmanship, the first chaste
couple, ^ '^
Before the want of joy taught guilty sight
A way, thro* shame and sorrow, to delist?
Say, may we mix, as in their innocence.
When turtles kisit'd to confirm happiness^
Not to beget it ?
V Ord. I know no bar. - [beats woman,
ThL Should I believe thee, yet thy poise
And sa^'s the name of wife did promise diee
The blest reward of duty to thy mother;
Who gave so often witness of her joy.
When bhc did boast thy likeness to ter hus-
band, [to vonrself
Ord. Tis true, that to bring forth a second
Was only worthy of my virgin loss ;
And should I pnze you less unpattemM, sir,
Than being exemplified ? Ts*t not more honour
To be possessor of unequall'd virtue,
Than what is paraliel'd ? Give me belief;
Tlie name of mother knows no way of good,
More than the end in me : who weds for lust
Is oft a widow ; wlien I married you,
I lust the name of maid to gain a title
Above the wish of change, which that paft
can
Only maintain, is still the same in man,
nis\nrtue and his calm society;
Which no grtiy hairs can threaten to dissolve.
Nor wrinkles bury. [^^^
ThL Confine thyself to silence, lest thou
That part of reason from me, is only left
To give persuasion to me I'm a man !
Or say, th* hast never seen the rivers haste
With gladsome speed, to meet thcam'roussea.
Ord. We're bul to praise the coolness of
' their streams. [lustful fires,
ThL Nor viewM the kids, taught by their
Pursue each other thro' the wanton lawns,
And lik'd the sport.
Ord. As it uiade way unto their enviecf rest;
With weary knots binding their harmless ey«.
ThL Nor do you know the reason wfa/tiie
dove.
One of the pair your hands wont hourly feed.
So oflcn dipt and kissM her happy mate?
Ord. Unless it were to wekHjme his wish'd
sight,
** The blood of elephants.] Both Mr. Theobald and Mr. Symp^n observed that this pro-
petty of elephants' blood is mentioned by Pliny. Sctcard.
*' Make me all one piece, though earth.] We cannot clearly comprehend why TAtmyt
being composed of carik, should prevent his being all one piece.
3^ Whose temperate heat, SfcJ Temperate seems an oddly-chosen word in this place,
when he is talking of a heat to overcome the influence of the North star.
" Strive not, S^c] This sneech is rather obscurely expressed, but signifies, * Strive boc
* to rob my ignorance of that content, which knowledge would destroy. All my wishes
' were to read satisfaction in your couotenance. Add not thereforci 5(c/
Act a Scene 1.] THE TRAGEDY OF THIERRT AND. THEODORET.
45*
Shall be the period of all good men's wishes.
Which frieudsy oay^ dying fathers sliali be»
qaeatiiy
And ill my one give all! Is there a duty
Belongs to nny power of mine, or love
To any virtue I liave right to ? Here, place
it here ;
Ordeila*s name shall only bear command.
Rule, title, sovereignty. . .
Brun, VV bat passion sways my son ?
m. Ohy mother, she has doubled every
good
The travail of your blood made possible
To my glad bemg !
Prot. He shoidd have done
Little unto her, he is so light-hearted.
Thi My brother, friends, if honour unto
shame.
If wealth to want, enlarge the present sense.
My joys are unbounded : instead of question,
I^t it be envy not to bring a present
To die high oflferiog of our mirth! banquets
and masGjues^^ [malice.
Keep waking our delights, mocking night's
Whose dark brow would fright pleasuie from
us! our court
Be but one stage of revels, and each eye
The scene where our content moves !
Theod, There shall want [light, sir.
Nothing to express our shares in your dc-
Mart. 'Till now I ne'er repented the estato
Of widower.
Whose absence only gave her mourning
voice.
T&L And you could, dove-like, to a single
object • [one
Bind your loose spirits? to one ? nay, such a
W^hom only eyes and ears must flatter good,
your surer sense made useless? nay, myself^*.
As in my all of good, already known ?
Ord. Let proof plead for me ! let me be
mew*d up [own!
Where never eye may reach me, but your
And when I shiul repent, but in my looks;
if Mgh —
ThL Or shed a tear that's warm ?
Ord, But in your sadness, [their mates,
ThL Or when vou hear the birds call for
A^k if it be St. Valentine, their coupling day ?
Ord. If any thing may make a thought
suspected
Of knowing any happiness but you.
Divorce me, by the title of most falsehood !
TJni Ob, who would know a wife.
That might have such a friend ? Posterity,
Henceforth los^ the name of blessing, and
leave
Th' earth uninhabited to people Heaven'' j
Enter Theodoret, Bntnhalt, Martell, and
Protaldj^e, .
Mart. All happiness to Thierry and Ordella !
Thi, Tis a desire but borrowed from me ;
my happiness
^* And tm/selff nay.] Former editions. Seward.
^^ And leave the earth inhabited to people Heav*n.] A \iTpn state resembles that of the
angels^ and may be a good means to pave tlie wny to it, but it would not leave the- earth in*
habited J but tiie reverse, I therefore read, uninfHibited, Seward,
'♦ Brother, friends, if honour unto shame,
If wealth to want enUirge the present sense,
Aly jotfs are unbounded, instead itf question
Xi€t it be envy, not bring a present
To the high offering of our mirth, banquets, and nsasqves,'] In tills very mangled state
with regard to measure and sense has this passage passed thro* all the editions : in the first
place, what is
- ■ instead of question f
In the next place,
Let it be envy ?
Are baAiquets and masques the presents that were to he offer*d by his friends and courtiers ^
I hope the changes which have appeared necessary, will be tliought by the reader to liave
been probably tlie original text. 1 read,
jMy brother, friends, if honour unto shame.
If wealth to want enlarge the present sense^
My joy's unbounded; 'stead of questioning,
Ijet it be envy not to bring a present
To the high offering of our mirth ; banquets and masques, &c. Seward.
The word my in the first line, and to in the fourth, are rightly -inserted; hut questi&n
shoulrl not be changed to questioning, the old reading being perlectly intelligible. — ^There is
often a strange uncouthness in the stile of this play, which obscures the sentiment : ia this
•peecb,
• if honour unto shame,
If wealth to want enlarge the present sense.
My joys are unbounded.
The meaning of honour unto ^uaue, and wealth to wavt, is not obvious: it is, we apprelientf^
* if honour and zoealih, comfa&si» with shame and want, are grateful to the sense, then my
* joys are hoondless^'
5Ma ThL
45« TIIE THAGUDY or THTEKRY AKD nrroDORET. [Act S. Sete 1.
Thi Mnsic, wliy art thou so [della;
Slow-voic'd ? it itayi thy prewnce, my Or-
This chamber is a sphere too narrow tor
Th V all-TOOving virtue. Make way, free way,
fsay!
Who must alone her sex's want supply,
Had need to have a room both large and
high.
Mart. This passion*s above utterapce.
Theod, Nay, credulity! , « •
[Exe. ah M Thi. and Brtin.
Brun. Why, son, what mean you? are
i^ou a man }
'i'Ai. N o, mother, I'm no man :
Were I a man, how could I be thus happy.;
Bt-vn. How can a wife be author of this
joy then? [woman:
Thi. That being no man, I'm married to no
The best of men in full ability
Can only hope to satisfy a wife ;*
And, for that hope ridiculous, I in my want,
(And such defective poverty, that to her bed
From my first cradle brought no strength
but thought) [rocky me.
Have met a temperance beyond her's that
Necessity being her bar; where this
Is so much senseless of my depriv'd fire,
She knows it not a loss by her desire.
Brvn. It is beyond my admiration !
Thi. Beyond ^oursex^s faith!
The unripe virgjns of our age, to hcar't,
Will dream themselves to women, and con-
Th* example to a miracle. [vert
jBrttti. Alas, 'tis your defect moves my
amazement;
But what ill can be separate from ambition?
Cruel Theodoret!
Thi. Wliat of my brother?
Brun. That to his name your barrenness
adds rule:
Who, loving the effect, would not be strange
In favouring the cause : look on the profit.
And gain will quickly point the mischief out.
Thi, The name of father, to what I possess,
Is shame and care.
Brun. Were we begot to single happiness,
I grant you ; but from such a wife, such virtue,
To get an heir, what hermit would not find
Deserving argument to break his vow,
Bven in his age of chastity?
Thi. You leach a deaf man language.
Brun. The cause found out, thf malady
may cease.
Have you heard of one Leforle?
Jlii. A leam'd astronomer, a great magician,
Who lives hard-hy retir'd.
Brun Repair to him, with the just hour
and place
Ofyour nativity! fools arc amaz'd at fate;
Griefs, but concealM, are never desperate.
JT^t. You've timely waken*d me; nor shall
I sleep
.Without the tttisfaction of his art. [Exit,
Eni^ LtcurB^
Brun, Wisdom prepares you to't. I^cure*
met liappily ! [the conveyam^
Lee. Ibe ground answers your purpose
Being secure and easY> falling just
Behind the state set for Theodoret.
Brun. Tiswell: your trust invites yoBtt>
a second charge ;
You know Leforte's cell?
Ixc. Who constellated your fair birth.
Brun. Enough; I see thou know'st Wm;
where isBawdber?
Ltc. I left him careful of the' pr<ject cast
To raise Protaldye's credit.
JB»t«n. A sore that must bcjplaiatei'd; i«
whose wound fgelves sound-
Others shall find their graves think tbem-
Your ear and quickest apprehension! [JSni.
EntcrBawdbermhiaServani.
Baw. This man of war will advance ?
Jjec. His hour's upon the stroke, [ears !
Bav>. Wind him back, as you favoar my
I love no noise in my head; my braina
Have hitherto been employed in silent busi-
nesses.
Enter Be Vitry.
Lee. The gentleman's within your rpacli»
sir. {itrir,
Baw. Give ground.
Whilst I drill iny wits to the encQunter.
De Vitry, I take it?
Vitry. All that's left of him.
Baw. Is there another parcel of you ? If
It be at pawn, I will gladly redoem it.
To make you wholly mine.
Vitry. You seek too hard
A peuny worth.
Baw. You do ilP' to keep [known to me.
Such distance; your parts have been long
Howsoever you please to forgL't acquaintanpe.
VUry. I must confess, I have been subject to
Lewd company.
Baw, Thanks for your good remembrance !
You've been a soldier, D^ Vitry, and bocne
arms.
Vitry. A coaple of unprofitable ones, that
Have only serv'd to get ih^ a stomach to
IVly dinuer.
'Baw. Moch good may it do yon, sir.
Vitry. You should
Have beard me say I'd din*d first: I have built
On an unwholesome ground, rais*d up ahoose.
Before I kn^w ^ tenant, march'd to nieet
weariness,
Fought to find want and hanger.
Buw. Tis time you [sir:
Put up your sword, and ron away for meat^
Nay, if^I had not withdrawn ere now,
I might have kept the fast'with yoa: bat sbee
The way to thrive is never late, what is
* The n^rest course to profit, thipk yoo?
s> Fra to iU.'\ Corrected by Seward,
Tfi^
Acts. Scaoel.} THE TRAGEDY OF THIERRY AND THEODORET.
Vitry, It may ba
Y«»iir worship will say bawdry.
Jbaw, True seiise^ bawdry, [ne'er knew
Viirtf. Why, is there &v^ kinds of* 'em? I
But one
Sine, ni shew you a new way
Of prostitution: tifiH back! further yet! [to
Farther I Titere's fifty crownb; do biit as much
Protaldye, the queen's Juvoarite, tltey are
Vitry. But thus much? [doubled.
JSauf. Give him but an affront as
He comes to th* prebenoe, and i* his drawing
make way, [own ;
Like a true bawd t'his valour, the sum*s thy
If ye take a scratch in the arm or so, every
Xyf blood weighs down a ducat. [drop
Viiry. After that rate,
I and my friends would beggar the kingdom.
Sir, you have made me blush to see my want,
\V hose cure is such a cheap and easy pur-
This is mule-bawdry, belike? [chase:
JSnfer Protaldye, a Lady, and Revellers.
Baw. See!
Yoii shall not be long earning your wages ;
Your work*s before your eyes.
Vitry. Leave it to my
Handling; I'll fall upon it instantly.
30V. What opinion^ ^ will the managing
Of tLi# aflbir bring to my wisdom I my inven-
Tickles with apprehension on't! [tiou
Prot. These are
The joys of marriage, lady, whose hights are
Able lo dissolve virginity. Speak freely !
Do you not envy the bride's felicity? '
t^idy. How should I, being partner oft ?
Prot. What you
Enjoy is but the banquet*s view; the taste
Stands from your palate : if he impart by day
So much x»f his content,' think what night
gave?
Vitry, Will yon have a relish of wit, huly ?
Bate, This is the man.
JLady. If it be not dear, sir.
Vitry. If you a£fect cheapness,
How can you pri^e this sullied ware so much?
Mine's fresh, my own, not retail'd.
Prot. You are saucy, sirnih i
Vitry. Tlie fitter to be in
The dibh with si|ch dl7 stockfish as you are.
How ! strike?
Baa. Remember thf conditio^, l^
You look for payment.
Vitry. That box was left out
(Xth* bargain.
Prat. Help, help, help;
Bm. Plague of [this to
The scrivener's running baud ! what a blow's
My reputation !
EfUer Thierry, Theodaret, Brunhalt, Ordella,
Memherge, and Martell.
Thi. What villain dares ttiis outrage?
Yitry. Hear me, sir!
45S
Tills creature hirM mc, wi' fifty crownt ia
hand.
To let Protaldye have the better of me
At single rapier on a made quairel: be.
Mistaking th* weapon, lliysiiie over the chapt
With his club-fist, for which I was bold to
The art of memory. [teach hiin
Omnet. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Thiod, Your genci'al, mother, will displaj
himself, /
'Spite of our peace, I see.
Thi. Forbear these civil jars : fy, Protaldye!
So open in your projects? Avoid our pie-
sence, sirrah!
Vitry. Willingly. If you have any more
Wages to earn, you see I can take paint,
Iheod. There^s somewhat for thy labour^ .
More than was promis'd. Ha, ha, ha !
Baw. Where could I wish myseU'now? ja
, the Isle gf Dogs,
So I might escape scratching; for I see
By her cat*s eyes I shall be claw'd fearfollj.
Thi. We'll bear no more on*t; music drowa
all sadness ! [S^ mtuie.
Command the revellers in. At wiiat a rate I
do [spleen
Purchase mv mother's absence, to give mj
Full liberty! [thy ruin.
Brun. Speak not a thought's delay, it names
Proi. I had thought mylilehad home inorft
value with you. [secure thee J
Brun, Thy loss carries mine with't; let that
The vault is ready, and tlie, door conveyato*t
Fails just behind his chair; the blow ono«
Thou art unseen. [gi^^n,
Prot. I cannot feel more than I fear, I'm
sure*
Brun. Be gone, and let them laugh their
own destruction ! [Prot. withdratciu
Thi. Youll add unto her rage.
Theod. '6foot, I shall burst.
Unless I vent myself: ha, ha, lia!
Brun. Me, sir?
You never could have found a time finvite
More willingness in my dispose to pleasure.
Mem. * Would you would please to make
some other choice ! [lady.
Rev. *T\s a dibgrace would dwell upoume.
Should you refuse. [mother's looks
ASem. Your reason conauers.*-My grand-
Have tnm'd all air to earth in me; thcv sit
Upon ray heart like night-charms, black and
heavy.
7^1. You're too much libertine. [jHI^ danee,
'Theod. The fortune of the tool persuadei
my laughter
More than his cowardise : was ever rat
Ta'en by the tail thus? lu^ ha, ba!
Ti^ Forbear, I say ! [and strike,
Pro#. No eye looks this way: I will wink
Lest I betray myself.
[^eAind the ttaiey itab$ Theod.
Theod, Ha! did you not see one near m??
^ Opinions] u «. Reputation, See aotf 71 «n U^f Two NoUe Kimmen.
Thi.
4S6
TBE THAGEDY OF THIERlELV AND THEODORET. [Act 4. Sooie J.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Enter Thierry and Mariell*
Mart* "^OVR Grace is earlv stirring.
■^ Thu liow can he sleep,
Whose happiness is laid up in an hour.
He knows comes stealing toward him? Oh,
Martelll
Is't possible the longing bride, whose wishes
Outrrun her fears, can, on that day^~ she's
married.
Consume in slumbers? or his arms rust in
ease, [purchase
That hears the chaise, and sees the houfjur'd
Ready to gild his v^our? Mine is more,
A power above these passions; this day
France [us,
(France, that in want of issue withers witli
And like an aged river runs his head
Into forgotten ways) again ] ransom, [errj^,
And his fair course turn right: this day Thi-
The son of France'*'3,>vhose manly powers like
prisoners
Have been tied ap, and fetterVI,by onetleatb
Gives life to thousand ages ; this aay beauty,
The envy of the vvorld, the pleasure, glory,
Content aoove the world, desire beyond ii^
Are made mine own, uud useful !
Mart, Happy woman
That di^s to do these things!
Thi. But tom times happier
That lives to do tiie greater! Oh, Martett,
The gods have heard lue now ; and tliose chat
scom'd me.
Mothers of many children, and Uess'd fin
thers,
That see their issues like the stars unnombcrd,
l*heir comforts more than them, shall in my
praises [ages
Now teach their infants songs; and tell their
From svicb a son of mine, or such a queen,
I'hat chaste OrdcUa brings me. Bleshcd
marnage,
The chain that links two holy loves togethtr!
And, in the mai'huge, more than blessed Of-
della.
Seward reads
If not in thee, *^ least ease my pain, SfC.
The^ insertion is nee<lless; and the elision, like many hundred others, ridiculoas. The pas-
sage seem^ to be corrupt. The first line is, we think, ingenioudy and ju:>ily iuterpreted;
but. the two next will not convey tlie meaning Seward has assigned to them.
^^ Can on that duy^ 4'C-] Seward rejects the word on.
43 TkU day Thierry^
The son of Trance, w/ume manly powers like prisoners
Have been tied up ] That this is good sense is allow'd, but that the sun ofTranee'va
much more poetical, I believe will be equally alhjw'd. How long i^lic sun has been the eat-
hlern of the French King, I have no book by me that will tell us. It was the emblem whit h
Louis the Fourteenth most delighted in; if it was of older date in the arms of France, it wuuM
be a confirmation of the emendation here, and i^till more so, of the exquisite beauty of ti<
following passage of Shakespeai-e in Hurry the Fifth, the French King describing tlic batUe
ofCressy:
* When Cressy battle fatally was struck ;
' And all our princes captiv'd by the hand
* Of that black name, EdWard black prince of Wales:
* Wliile that his mountain-sire on mountain standing,
* Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun,
* Saw his heroic seed, and smil'd to see him
' Mangle the work of Nature *
Were a painter to give us this battle in colours, wlmt a noble image might he take frmn
liencc? The king of more tliau human stature, aud enlai^'d beyond the strict rules of per*
spective, aloft on a hill, with the run in his zenith darting all his glory round bis hesd.
Shakespeare expresses tliis in words that exceed all colours; mountain, when made an adjec-
tive, is something bevond theepitlM't, great, vast^ tJ/tmense. I should not have ueutionM) this
but to shew tlie fallibility of criticism, since the greatest of the critics ou Shakespeare lir
mouniairt^ire reads mounting tire, and rejects the line
' Up in the air, crown*d with the golden sun,*
fts the nonsensical insertion of some player. As to. the change, I propose of ton to nw, I
shall not mscrt it in the text, as the former, though not so poetical, may perhaps be tiwugbt
full as proper, now he is talking of a son to succeed him. ^ Seward,
We have uo doubt but the text is genuine ; yet there is au mousing couceitedness in Se>
«vard'* note, ^hich has indticsd lu \o retaui it.
ThU
id 4. Scene 1.] TitE TRAGEDY OF tSIERttY AND THEODOItST.
4St
That comet so near the sacrament itself^
7be priests doubt whether purer!
Mart. Sir, you're lost!
Thi. I^pritbiee let me be so!
Mart. The day wears ; [prayers,
^nd those that have been offering early
^re now retiring homeward.
Tku Stand, and mark then !
Mart, Is it the first must suffer?
ThL The first woman.
Mart, What hand shall do it, sirf
Thi. This hand, Martell ;
J^or who less dare presume to give the gods
An incense of this offering ?
Mart, 'Would I were she !
For such a way to die, and such a blessing.
Can never crown my parting.
[1\do men pass over,
J^L What are those ?
Mart. Men, men, sir, men.
7*hL The plagues of men light on 'em !
They cross n^ hopes like hares. Wlio's
that ? [A priest passes over.
3tart. A priest, sir.
Thi, 'Would he were gelt!
Mart. May not these rascals scrve^ sir,
VKTell hang'd and quarter'd ?
Thi. No.
Mart. Here comes a woman.
Enter Ordella^ veiVd.
Thi. Stand, and behold her then !
Mart. I think, a fair one. [her peace,
Thi. Move not, whilst I prepare her : may
(Like his whose innocence the gods are
pleasM with.
And, offering at their altars, gives his soul
Far purer than those fires) pull Heav'n upon
ber!
You holy powers, no human spot dwell in her !
No love of any thing, but you and goodness.
Tie ber to earth! Fear be a stranger to her;
And all weak blood's affections, but thy hope,
L«t her bequeath to women! Hear me,
Heav'n!
Give ber a spirit masculine, and noble,
Fie for yourselves to ask, and me to offer !
Ob, let her meet my blow, dote on her
death;
Apd as a wanton vine bows to the pruner,
That, by his cutting off more, msty eiicrease,
Bo Jet ber /all to raise me U-uitl— Hail,
woman!
The ^ppiest, and the best, (if thy dull will
l)o not abuse thy fortune) France e'er found
yet ! [worse than woman,
Ord. She's more than dull, sir, less, and
That may inherit such an infinite
'At you propound, a greatness lo near
goodnessy
And brings a will to rob her.
ni. Tell me this then;
W|M thera e'er vroman yet, or maybe found,
That for fair fame, unspotted meflliory,
For virtue's sake, and only fisr it8elf-»ke^
lias, or dare make a story ?
Ord, Many dead, sir;
Living, I think, as many.
Thi. ^2Ljy the kingdom
May from a woman s will receive a blessings
The king and kingdom, not a private safety^
A general blessing, lady ?
Ord, A general curse
Light on her heart, denies it!
Thi. Full of honour!
And such examples as the former ages
Were but dim shadows of, and empty figures!
Ord. You strangely stir me, sir; and werii
my weakness '
In any otlier flesh but modest woman's.
You should not usk more questions: may I
do it? [must.
TtU, You mav ; and, which is more, you
Ord, I joy in t,
Above a moderate gladness ! Sir, you promise
It shall be honest?
Thi. As ever time discovered. [dare,
Ord, Let it be what it may then, wtiat it
I haVe a mind will hazard it.
TAt. But, hark you; [blessing?
What may that woman merit^ makes this
Ord. Only her duty, sir.
Thi, Tis terrible!
Ord. 'Tis so much the more noble.
Thi. Tis ^11 of fearful shadows!
Ord. So is sleep, sir.
Or any thing thats merely ours, and mortal;
We were begotten gods else : but those fears«
Feeling but once the fires of nobler thoughts.
Fly, like the shapes of clouds we form, t0
2^'. Suppose it death ! [nothing.
Ord. I io.
ThL And endless parting [sweetness.
With all we can call ours, with all our
With youth, strength, pleasure, people, time^
nay reason I
For in tlie silent grave, no conversation.
No joyful tread of friends, no voice of lovers,
No carefiil fathai^fM^unsel, notljing's heard ^,
Nor nothing is^ but alTo^ivion, [woman.
Dust and an endless darkness : and dare yoo^
Desire this place ?
Ord. Tis of all sleeps the sweetest:
Children begin it to us, strong men seek it,
And kings from height of ail their painted
glories
Fall, like spent exhalations, to this centre:
And those are fools that fear it, or imagine
A few unhandsome pleasures, or life's profits^
Can recompense this place; and mad tiiat
stay it, [luours
'Till age blow out their lights, or rotten h»
Bring them dispers'd to th' earth.
Thi. Then yuu can suffer?
Ord. As willingly as say it.
Tiu, Martell, a wonder!
voL.ni»
kinu^s hard.] Amended in 1750*
SN
SUst
458
THE TRAGEDY OF THIERRY AND THEODORET. [Act 4. Scene 1.
Here is a woman that dares die. — Yet, tell
Are you a wife? [me,
Orii, I am, sir.
Tfii. And I nve children?—
She siuhs, nud vieepb!
, Ord, Oh, none, sir.
T/iL Dare you venture,
For a poor barren prais^,* you ne*er shall hear,
To part with these sweet hopes?
\ Ofil. With all but Heaven, [me
A nd yet die full of children : he that reads
When I am ashes, is my son in wishes;
And those chaste dames that keep my me-
mory, [ters.
Sinking my yearly requiems, are my dautrh-
TI.L Then there is nothing wanting but
niy knowledge,
^nd what I must do, lady,
i Ord, You are the king, sir.
And what you do ril suffer; and that blessing
That you desire, the gods shower on the
kingdom! [I must kill you,
Thi. Thus much before I strike then ; for
-^'he gods have willed it so : thou'rt miide the
blessing ^5
Must make France young again, and me a man.
Keep up your strength still nobly!
Ord. Fear me not.
Thi, And meet death like a measure !
Ord, I nm stedfast. [thy tomb
2'hL Thou/ shalt be sainted, woman; and
Cat out in crystal, pure and good as thou art ;
And on it shall be graven every age*^;
Succeeding peers of France that rise by thy
fall, [Nature.
Tell thou liest there like old and fruitful
Dar'st ihqn behold thy happiness ?
Ord, I dare, sir.
TALKv^llPullsoffherveil,letsfallhissword.
Mart, Oh, sir, you must not do it.
Thi. No, I dare not!
There is an ant^el kee])s that paradise,
A fiery angel, friend. Oh, virtue, virtue.
Ever and endle&s virtue !
Ord, Strike, sir, strike ! [nient.
And if in my poor death fair France may
Cjive me a thousand blows! be killing uie
A thousand days!
ThL First, let the earth be barren.
And man no more remembered! llise- Or-
della.
The nearest to thy Maker, and the purest
That ever dull flesh shew'd us! — Oh, my
heart-st rings ! [ Jijrii.
Mart. 1 see you full of wonder; therefore,
noblest,
And truest amongst women, I will tell you
The (nd of this strange accident.
Ord. Amazement
Has so much won upon my heart ♦^y that truly
1 feel myself unfit to hear: oh, sir,
My lord has sli«j;hted me!
Mart. Oh, no, sweet lady. rpi^*"
Ord, RobhVi nic of sucli a glory, hy ha
And most unprovideiit respect —
Mart, Dear lady, ^
It was not meant to you.
Ord. Else, where the day is,
And hours distinguish time, time nms to nges.
And ages end tlie world, I had been spoken!
Mart, V\\ tell you what it was, if but
Will give me hearing. [your paiieiic*
Ord, If I Have transgressed
Forgive me, sir!
Mart. Your noble lord was counselFd
(Grieving the barrenness between you both,
/\nd all the kingdom with him^) to seek
oiit
*^ They're made the blessing,] Amended in 1750,
^ And on it shall be graveUf excry age^
Succeeding peers of France that rise by thy fall,
Tell thou ly'st there like old and fruitful Nature,] 1 flatter myself, that I hare fulh
* }y*st there like Nature, the fruitful mother of all things.' The image is full as noble as the
famous simile of Virgil of the city of Rome to Berecynihia the mother of the gods :
Ilia inclyta Roma
Felix prole virHm. Qualis Berecynthia mater,
Invehitur curru Fhrygias turrita per Urbes,
Lata Deihn partu, centum complexa nepotes,
Omnes CaUicolas, omnes supera alia tencntes. Setcard,
The old text (with no variation, but a stronger point, a semicolon, at the end of the first
line) is much preferable : the sense then is plain and easy : * Every age shall be graven on
* thy tomb; and the succeeding trench prir.ccs shall tell^ having risen from tiiy fall, that thou
* liest there like fruitful Nature.' The obscurity proceeds from the omission of the second sAa/Z»
*7 F[as so much wove upon my heart,] W(rpe is a strange expression here, and much less
in the manner of our poets, than the word substituted.
^^ And all the kingdom with him,] Was all the kingdom counsell'd to seek out an astio*
loger? This seems the construction of the words as they now stand: I read.
And ail the kin/sdofna with him,
t. e. all the kingdom*8 barrenuess in his. Seward,
Seward misconceived xhis passage: kingdom refers to grieving, not to counselled.
Act 4. Scene 1.] TIIE TEAGEDY OF THIERRY AND THEODORET.
459
A msin that knew the secrets of the gods :
lie <vrcnt, found such an one> and had this
answer;
ThvLt if he would have issue, on this morning,
(Kor this liour was prefixed him) he should kill
The first he met, being female, from the
teinple, [take
And then he should have children : the mis-
Is now too perfect, lady.
Ord. Still 'tis 1, sir ; [men ?
For may this work be done by common wo-
Durst any but myself, that know the blessing,
And felt the benefit, assiune this rlyin'i?
In any other, *thad been lo.t and nothing,
A curse and not a blessinir: I was figurVI ;
And shall a little fondness I ar my purchase?
JlrTart, Where should ho then seek children ?
C?rd. Where tliey are ;
In wombsordainM for issues; in those beauties
That bless a marriage-bed*^, and make it
procreant [sures:
"With kisses that conceive, and fruitful plea-
Mine* like a grave, buries those loyal hopes,
And too a grave it covets.
Alart. You are too good,
Too excellent, too honest! Rob not us,
And those that shall hereafter seek example,
Of such inestimable worth in woman ^",
Your lord of such obedience, all of honour !
In coveting a cruelty is not yours,
A will short of your wisdom, -make not error
A tombstone of your virtues, whose fair lite
Deserves a constellation ! Your lord dare not,
He cannot, ought n»t, must not run this
hazard ;
He makes a separation Nature shakes at.
The gods deny, and everlasting justice
Shrinks back, and sheaths her sword at.
Ord. Airs but talk, sir!
I fiud to what I am refeerv'd, and needful :
And tho' ray lord's compassion makes mo poor.
And leaves me in my best use ' *, yet a strength
Above mine own, or liis dull fondness, finds
me : ^
The gods have given it to me '*.
[Draws a knife.
Mart. Self-destruction ?
Now all good angels bless thee ! oh, sweet
lady!
You are abns'd; this is a way to shame you,
And with you all tliat know you, all that love
you;
To ruin all you build ! Would you be famous?
Is that your end ?
Ord, I would be what I should be.
Mart. Live and confirm the gods then!
live and be loaden [autumn!
With more than olives bear'^, or fruitful
This way you kill your merit, kill your cause.
And him you would raise life to : where or how
Got you these bloody thoughts? what dexil
durst [know
Look on that ansjol face, and tempt ? do you
What 'tis to die thus? how you strike the
stai*s.
And all good things above us ? do you fet-l
What follows a self-blood ? whither you
venture.
And to what punishment ? Excellent lady,
Be not thus cozen'd! do not fool yourself!
The priest was never his own sacrifice,
But he that thought his hell here.
Ord. I am couusellM. [dare not.
J^lart. And I am glad on*t ; lie, I know you
Ord. I never have done yet.
Mart, Pray take my comfort ! [men
Was this a soul to lose ? two more such wo-
Would save their sex. See, she repents and
prays !
Oh, hear her, hear her ! if there be a faith
Able to reach your mercies, she hath sent it.
Ord. Now, good Martell, confirm me!
Mart. I will, lady,
And every hour advise you ; for I doubt
Whether this plot be Ileav'n's, or hell's yqur
mother!
And [ will find it, if it be in mankind
To search the centre of it : in the mean time,
1*11 give you out for dead, and by yourself,
And siiew the instrument ; so shall I find
A joy that will betray her.
Ord. Do what's fittest;
And I will follow you.
Mart. Then ever live
Both able to engross all love, and give !
[Ejeunt,
Enter Brunhalt and Proialdj/e.
Brun. I am in labour
To be deliver'd of that burthcnous project
^ That bless a marriaf^e-hcd, and make it proceed
With kisses that conceive.] The variation in the text is by Seward. The conjecture is
happy, and very possibly restores the original word. We might read breed; but Seward's
text is more oleganL ..,.,,
5«* Of such inestimable worthies in woman.} Former editions. The origmal might have
been either worths or worth. Se/iard.
5* And leaves me in my best use;] t. c. Neglects putting mc to the use I am most fit for,
the best use I can be employed in.
** ■ ■ yet a strength
Above fkine own, or his dull fondness finds me:
The gods have given it tome.] This reading may be construed into sense, but the change
of a colon to a comma, and the omission of the relative if, mak^s it much more easy. Seward,
Surely, tliese variations greatly injured the text.
« With more than olives bear.] So first quarto, Seward reads, oUtc bears.
8 N il I havo
i60
THE TJRAGEDY OF TfflERRY AND THEODORET. [Act 4. Scene 1.
I have so long gooe with! Ha, here's the
midwife :
Or life, or death ?
Enter Lecun.
Xfc. If in the supposition [me,
Of her death in whose life you*die, you ask
I think you're safe.
Brun. Is s^e dead f
Lee. I have uR*d
i^ll means to make her so: I saw him waiting
At th' temple door, and u^'d such art within.
That only she of all her sex was first
Giv'n up unto his fury.
Brun, Which if love
Or fear made liim forbear to execute.
The vengeance he determin'd his fond pity
Shall draw it on himself; for were there left
Not any man but he, to serve my pleasures.
Or from me to receive commands, (wluch
are
The joys for which I love life) he should be
RemovM, and I alone Icil to be queen
O'er any part of goodness that's l^ft In me.
Lee. It you are so resolv'd, I have pro-
vided
A means to ship him hence: look upon this,
But touch it sparingly; for this once us'd,
Say but to dry a tear, will keep the eye-lid
from closing, until death perform that office.
Brun. Givc't me! I may have use oft;
and on you
ril make the first experiment, if one sigh
Or heavy look beget the least suspicion,
Childish compassion can thaw tlic ice
Of your so-long-congeal'd and flinty hardness.
"Slight, go on constant, or I shall-—
ProL Blest ladjr,
Wf have no faculties which are not yours.
Lee. Nor will be any thing without you.
Brun. Be so.
And we wi)|^tand or fall together: for
Since we have gone so far, that death must
stay
The journey, which we wish should never end.
And innocent, or guilty, we must die;
When we do so, let's know the reason why !
Enter Thierry and Courtien,
Lee. The king!
Thi. Well be alone.
Brot, I would I hsxd
A convoy too, to bring roe safe off!
For rage, altho' it be ^lay'd with sorrow.
Appears so dreadful itt him, tliat 1 shake
To look upon it.
Brun. Coward, I will meet it.
And know from iv'hence*t has birth. Son !
kingly Thierry ! [men,
Thi, Is cheatmg grown so commou among
And thrives so well here, that the gods en-
To practise it above ? [deavour
Mrun. Your mother!
Thi. Ha!—
Or are they only careful to revenge.
Not to reward? or when, for our offenoes'^.
We study satisfaction, must the cure
Be worse than the disease ?
Brun. Will you not hear mc ? [dotiei
Thi^ To lose the ability to perform tboM
For which I entertain'd the name of hashaiw!,
Ask*d more than common sorrow; hot te
impose,
For the redress of that defect, a torture
In marking her to death, (for whom alone
J felt that weakness as a want) requires
More the making the head bald, or falling
1 hus flat upon the earth, or cursing that may,
Or praying this. Oh, such a scene of grie(
And so set down, (the world the ftage to
act on)
May challenge a tragedian better practisM
Than I am to express it ! for my dkube
Of pasbion is so strong, and my perfonnaiice
So weak, that tho* the part be good, I fear
The ill acting of it will defitiud it of
The poor reward it may deserve, men's pty.
Brun. I've given you way thus long: a
king, and what
Is morej^my son, and yet a slave to that
Which only triumphs over cowards, sorrow?
For shame, look up !
Thi. Is't you ? look down on me !
And if that you are capable to receive it.
Let that return to you, that have brooght
iorth [these?
One mark'd out only for it! — ^What a»
Come they, upon your privilege, to tresid oa
The tomb of my imictious ?
Prot. No, not we, sir.
Tiki. How nare you then omit thecemnoBy
Due to the funeral of ail my hopes?
Or come unto the marriage of my sorrows,
But in such colours as may sort with them.^
Prot. Alas, we will wear any thing.
Brnn, This is madness!
Take but my counsel!
Thi. Ypurs? dare you again,
Tho* am^^ with the authority of a motlier.
Attempt the danger that will fall on jou.
If such another syllable awake it ? [cause
Go, and with yours be safe; I baTe snck
Of grief, (nay more, to love it) that I will
not
Have such as these be sharers in it.
Lee. Madam!
Prot, Another time were better.
Brun- Do not stir,
For I must be resoVd, and wtU : be statncsf
Enter MartelL
Thi. Ay, thou art welcome; and upon my
soul
Thou art an honest man. Do yon see? he htt
tears
To lend to him whom prodigal ezpence
^ Or whtn, for your Ggcnca."] Fonner editions. Seward.
Of
kt4. Scentl] THE TRAGEDY OP TfflEllRY AND THEODORET,
46t
Of sorrow has made bankrupt of sach treasure!
Nay, thou dost well.
Marl. I woald it might excuse
The ill I bring along !
ThL TBou niak*8t me smile
r tir height of my calamities : as if
There could be the addition of an atom,
To the giant-body of ray miseries ! [death
But try; for I will hear thee. All sit dqwn ! 'tis
To any that stmll dare to interrupt him
In look, gesture, or word.
Mart, And such attention
As is due to the last, and the best story
That ever was deliver'd, will become you.
The griev*d Ordella (for all other titles
But take away from that) having from me,
Prompted by your last parting croan, enquired
What drew it from you, and the cause soon
Ieam*d ;
For she wliom barbarism could deny nothing,
IVith such prevailing earnestness desir'd it,
^was not in me, tho' it had been my death.
To hide it from her: she, I say, in whom
AH was, that Athens, Home,or warlikeSparta,
Have register'd for gowl in their best women.
But nothing of their ill; knowing herself
Uark'd out (I know not by what power, but
sure
A cruel one) to die, to give yon children ;
]Having first with a settled countenance
LookVT up to Heaven, and then upon herself,
(It bein^ the next best object) and tlien smil'd,
As if her joy in death to do you service
Would break forth, in despite of the much
sorrow [taking
She shew'd she had to leave you ; and then
Me by the hand (this hand, which I must ever
Love better than I have done, since she
touch'd it),
Co, said she, to my lord (and to go to him '
Is such a happiness I must not hope for),
And tell him that he t«>o much prized a trifle
)lade only worthy in his luve, and her
Thankful acceptance, tor her sake to rob
The orphan kingdom of such guardians, as
Must of necessity descend from him;
And therefore, m some part of recompense
Of his much love, and to shew to the world
That 'twas not her fault only, but her fate.
That did deny to let her be the mother
Of such most certain blessings; yet, for proof
She did not envy her, that happy her,
That is appointed to (hem, her r]uick end
Shtiuld make way for her. \Yhich no sooner
spoke,
But in a moment this too-ready engine
Made such a battery in the choicest castle
That ever Nature made to defend life,
That straight it shook and sunk.
TAi. Stay! dares any
Presume to shed a tear before me ? or
Ascribe that worth unto themselves to merit^
To do so for her? I have done ; now on !
Mart, Fall*n thus, once more she smil'd, a«
if that death
For her had studied a new way to sever
The soul and body, without sense of pain;
And then, Tell him, quot)i she, what you have
seen, [which
And withf what willingness 'twas done ! for
My last request unto ))im is, that he
Would instantly make choice of one (most
happy
In being so chosen) to supply my place ;
By whom if Heav'n bless him with a daughter.
In my remembrance let it bear my name !
Which said, she died.
ThL I hear this, and yet live !
Heart! art thou thundei^proof? will nothing
break thee ? [be
She's dead ; and what her entertainment may
In th' other world without me, is uncertain; j
And dare I stay here unresolv*d ?
Mart. Oh, sir!
Brun. Dear son !
Prot. Great king !
ThL Unhand me ! am I falFn
So low, that I have lost the power to be
Disposer of my own life ?
Mart, Be but pleas'd
To borrow so much time of sorrow, as
To call to mind her last request, for whom
(I must confess a loss beyond expression)
You turn your hand upon yourself! 'twas hers.
And dying hers, that you should live, and ^
happy,
In seeing little models of yourself,
By matching with another : and will you
Leave any thing that she desir*d ungranted?
And suffer such a life that was laid down
For your sake only, to be fruitless ?
ThL Oh, S [which
Tliou dost throw charms upon mc, against
I cannot stop my ears ; bear witness. Heaven !
That not desire of life, nor love of pleasures,
Nor any future comforts, but to g:ive
Peace to her blessed spirit, in satisfying
Her last demand, makes me defer our meet*
ing I [shall b«
Which in my choice, and sudden choice,
To all apparent.
Brun How ! do I remove one mischief^
To draw upon my head a greater?
ThL Go,
Tliou only good man, to whom for herself
Goodness is dear, and prepare to inter it
In her that was ! Oh, my heart, my Ordella^^!
A monument worthy to be the casket
I Of such a jewel.
Mart, Your command, that makes way
Unto
'* — Oh, my heart f my Ordelhy
A monument zcorthy to be the casket
Of such ajeweL] The whole is confused, anid both sense and measure require the ad-
nrb on/y to be inserted in the second line : the former wants a verb to make it clear. Seward,
Seward
4S9
TH£ TRAGEDY OF THIERRY AND TUEODORET. [Act 4. Scael
Unto my abftence, is a welcome one ; [tell
For, but yourself, there's nothing here Mar-
Can take delight to look on : yet some com-
fort [want it,
Goes back with me to her, who, tho* she
Deserves all blessings. [Exit,
Brun. So soon to forget
The loss of such a wifp, believe it, will
Be censured in the world.
Thi, Pray you, no more !
There is no argument you can use to cross it,
But does encrease in mc such a suspicion
I would not cherish.— Who's that?
Enter Memberge.
Memb. One no guard [threats
Can put back from access, whose tongue no
Nor prayVs can silence ! a bold suitor, and
For that which, if you are yourself, a king.
You were made so to grant it: justice, jus-
tice ! [for that
T'hL With what assurance dare you hope
Which is denied to me ? or how can I
Stand bound to be just unto such as are
Beneath me, that find none from those that
iVbove me? [are
Affm6. There is justice: 'twere unfit [him,
That any thing but vengeance should fall on
That, by his giving way to more than murder,
(For my dear father's death was parricide)
Makes it hiso\%n.
Bnin. I charge you, hear her not !
Atemb. Hell cannot stop just prayers from
entVing lieav'n :
I must and will be heard ! Sir, but remember
That he that by her plot fell, was your bro-
ther ;
And the place where, your palace, against all
Th'inviolal>le rights of hospitality;
Your word, a king's word, given for his safety;
His innocence, his protection; and the gods
Bound to^Rvenge the impious breach of such
So great and sacred bonds ! and can you
wonder
(That in not punishing such a horrid murder
You did it) that Heav'n's favour is gone from
you ?
Which never will return, until his blood
Be wash'd away in hers.
Brun. Drag hence the wretch !
Thi. Forbear. With what variety
Of torments do I meet ! Oh, thou hast open'd
A book, in which, writ down in bloody letters,
My conscience finds that I am worthy of
More than I undergo ; but I*ll begin.
For my Ordella*s sake, and for thine own.
To make less IIeav'n*s great anger: thou hast
lost
A father; I to thee am so : the hope
Of a good husband ; in me have one ! Nor
Be fearful I am still no man; already
That weakness is gone from me.
Brun, That it might {Aade,
Have ever grow n inseparably upon thee ! —
What will you do ? Is such a thing as this
Worthy the lov'd Ordella's place? the daugb-
Of a poor gardener? [ttf
Mentb. Your son !
Thi. The power
To take awvLy that lowness is in me.
Brun. Stay yet; for rather than that thoa
shalt add
Incest unto thy other sins, I will,
With hazard of my own life, utter all:
Thcodoret was thy brother.
' Thi. You denied it,
Upon your oath; nor will I now believe you:
Your Protean turnings cannot change my
purpose ! [to be
'Memb, And for mc, be assur d the mea&s
Reveng'd on thee, vile hag, admits no thought
But what tends to it !
Brun, Is it come to that?
Then have at the last refuge! Arttbouprowo
Insensible in ill, that thou goest on [that!
Without the least compunction ? There, take
To witness that thou hadst a mother, whicli
Foresaw thy cause of grief and sad repentance^
That, so soon after hless'd Ordella s death.
Without a tear, thou canst embrace another!
Forgetful man !
Thi. Mine eyes, when she is nana'd,
Cannot forget their tribute, and your gift
Is not unuseful now. ^
Lee. He's past all cure ;
That only touch is death.
Thi. This night I'll keep it;
To-morrow I will send it you, and fbll
Of my affliction. [£iifc
Brun, Is the poison mortal ?
J.ee. Above the help of physic
Brun. To my wish.
Now for our own security ! You, Protaldy^
Shall this night post towards Austracia,
W^ith letters to Theodoret's bastard son.
In which we will make known what for his
rising
We have done to Thierry : no denial, [of;
Nor no excuse in such acts, must be tliought
Which all dislike, and all again commend
When they are brought unto a happy end.
Seward reads.
Oh ! my heart, my Ordella, is
A monumeut only worthy to be th* casket^ &G.
ACT
4ct5. Scene 1.] THE TRAGEDY OF TfflERRY AND THEODORET,
461^
ACT V,
SCENE L
Enter De Vitry, and four Soldiers.
V'Ury, "VfO war, no money, no master!
-*-^ banisird the court, [try,
Not trusted intlie city, whipt out of the coun-
In what a trianulc runs our misery !
Let me h^ar which of you has the best voice
to beg in,
Tor other hopes or fortunes I see you have not.
Be not nice ; Nature provided you with tones
for the purpose ;
The people's charity was your heritage,
And 1 would see which of you deserves- his
birtb-ripht.
Omnes. We understand you not, captain.
Vitry. You see this cardecue ; [crowns,
The last, and the only quintessence of fifty
DistiU'd in the limbeck of your gardage,
Of which happy piece thou shalt be treasurer:
Now he that can soonest persuade him to
part with it.
Enjoys it, possesses it, and, with it,
Me and ray future countenance.
1 Sold, If they want art
To persuade it, I'll keep it myself,
Vitry, So you be not
A partial judge in your own cause, you shall.
Omnes, A match !
^Sofd. ril begin to you : Brave sir, be proud
To make him happy by your liberality.
Whose tongue vouchsafes now to petition,
Was never heard before less than to command.
I am a soldier by profession, a gentleman
By birth, and an officer by place ;
V^liose poverty blushes to be the cause
That so" high a virtue should descend
To the pity of your charity.
1 Sold, In any case keep your high stile !
It is not charity to shame any man.
Much less a virtue of your eminence; [serve
Vlicrefore preserve your worth, and I'll pre-
My money.
3 Sold. You persuade ? You are shallow !
Give nay to merit : Ah, by the bread of God,
man'*,
Thou hast a bonny countenance and a blith,
Proniisuig mickle good to a biking wemb'^^
That has trod a long and a sore ground to
meet
With friends, that will owe much to thy re-
verence,
When they shall hear of thy courtesy
To their wandring countryman.
1 Sold, You tlmt will use [sir,
Your friends so hardly to bring them in debt,
W^ill deserve worse of a stranger; wherefore,
Pead on, pead on, I say^* !
4 Sold, Jtisthe Welsh
Must do*t, I see, — Comrade, man of urship,
St. Tavy be her patron, thegods of the moun-
tains [never
Keep her cow and her cupboard ; may she
Want the green of the leek, nor the fat of the
onion, [great deal
If she part with her bounties to him, that is a
Away from her cousins, and has two big suits
in law
To recover her heritage !
1 Sold, Pardon me, sir;
I will have nothing to do with your suits;
It comes witliin the statute of maintenance.
Home to your cousins, and sow garlick and
hempseed !
The one will stop your hunger, tlie otlier end
your suita ;
Gammawash, comrades, gammawashf
4 Sold. 'Foot, hell hoord all for liimself.
Vitry. Yes, let him :
Now comes my turn ; III see if he can an- »
swer me: [money.
Save you, sir! they say you have that I want,
1 Sold, And that you are like to want, tor
aught I perceive yet.
Vitry. Stand, deliver !
1 Sold. 'Foot, what mean you ^
You will not rob the exchequer ?
Vitry. Do you prate?
1 Sold. Hold, hold ! here, captsiin !
2 Sold, Why, I could have done tlus
Before you.
3 Sold. And I.
4 Sold. And I.
Vitry, You have done this:
' Brave man, be proud to make him happy !'
' By the bread of God, man, thou hast «
bonny countenance !' [patron \*
' Comrade, man of urship, St. Tavy be her
Out u^on you, you uncurried colts !
Walkmg cans, that have no souls in you^^.
But
'^ By the bread o/good man.'] The variation is proposed by Theobald and Sympson. Se-
"^ard reads, by the bread qfo. gode man, and says, * One would wish to put mty tiling rather
* dmn the true wonn.*
" To a sicker womb.] Seward alters sicker to siking, and says, * A siking womb is a groau-
* ing stomach or belly.' But jcemb surdy should displace womb.
'* Pead on;'] i. e. Pad on, foot it en, Seward,
''^ Walking cans that have no souls in you.] The metaphor is here taken from the old
English blackjacks, made almpst in the shape of a boot, (the uame Erasmus gave them; lUvf-
were
IM
THfe TttAGEDY OF THIfeRRY AND tHE0l!)6RfiT. [Act 5. SeeM U
But a little rosin to keep yoar ribs sweet.
And hold in liquor !
Omnes, Why, what would you have us to
do, captain r [ing,
Vitry. Beg, beg, and keep constables wak-
Wear out stocks and whipcord,
Maunder for butter-milk, die of the jaundice,
You have the cure about you, lice, large lice,
Begot of your own dust, and the heat of the
brick-kilns !
Hay you starve, and the fear of the gallows
(Which is a gentle consumption to it*')
Only preserve you (rom it f or may you fall
Upon your fear, and be IiaagM for selling
Those purses to keep you from famine.
Whose monies my valour empties.
And be cast without other evidence !
Here is my fort, my castle of defenpe ;
Who comes by shall pay me toll;
The first purse is your mittimus, slaves.
a Sold. The purse i 'foot, we'll share in the
money, captain.
If any come within a furlong of our fingers.
4 Sold, Did you doubt but we could bteal
As well as yourself? did not I speak Welsh?
3 Sold. We are thieves from our cradles,
and will die so.
Vitry, Then you will not beg again ?
Omncs. Yes, as you did;
^tand, and deliver !
5 Sold. Hark ! here comes handsel :
Tis a trade quickly set up, and as soon cast
down. [lets, and to't
Vitry. Have goodness in your minds, var-
Like men : he that has more money than we
Cannot be our friend, and I hope there is no
For spoilint/ the enemy. flaw
3 Sold. You need not
Instruct us further; your example pleads
euough. [company is, fall on !
Vitry. Disperse yourselves; and as their
2 Sold. Come, there are a band of 'em ! I'll
charge single.
[Exeunt Soldiers,
Enter Protaldye,
Frot, Tis wonderful dark! I have lost my
man.
And dare not call for him, lest I should have
More followers than I would pay wages to.
What throes am I in, in this travel! These
'Be honourable adventures! had I
1 hat honest blood in my veins again, queen,
That your feats and these frights have drained
from mc,
Honour should pull hard, ere it drew me
Into these brakes.
Vitry. Vvho goes there?
Prot. Hey ho !
Here's a pang of preferment !
Vitry. 'Heart, who goes there?
Prot, He that has no heart to your ie«
quaifitance.
What shall I do with my jewels and my letteif
My coflpiece, that's too loose; good, my
boots!—-
Who is't that spoke to me? Here's a fricwL
Vitry. We shall find that p^resently : stand^
As you love your safety, stand !
Prot, That unli^ky word
Of standing, has brought me to all this. Hold^
Or I shall never stand you.
Vitry. I should know
That voice. Deliver!
Enter Soldicn.
Prot. All that I have
Is at your service, gentlemeB; and mncli
Good may it do you !
Vitry. Zoons, down with liim !
Do you prate ?
Prot. Keep your first word, as yoo are geiH
tlemcn,
And let me stand ! alas, what do you mean i
2 Sold. To tie you to ua^ sir, bind you in
the knot
Of friendship.
Prot, Alas, sir, all the physic in Europe
Cannot bind me.
Vitry. You should have jewels aboot youp
Stones, precious stones.
1 Sold. Captain, away ! ponger.
There's company within hearing; if you stay
We are surprised.
Vitry. Let the devil come,
ni pillage this frigate a little better yet !
3 Sold. 'Foot, we are lost ! th^y are upon ai«
Vitry. Ha! upon us?
Make the least noise, 'tis thy parting gasp!
3 Sold. Which way shall we make, sir?
Vitry. Every man his own! [and wboi
Do you hear ? only bind me before yoo ^
The company's past, make this place again:
This carvet should have better lading in hio«
You are slow; why do you not tie harder?
I Sold. You are' sure enougli,
I warrant you, sir.
Vitry, Darkness befViend you! away!
[EjteuntSoll
Pro. What tyrants have I met with ! tbey
leave me [ciy.
Alone in the dark, yet vi«>uld not have m
I shall grow wondrous melancholy.
If I stay long here without company : [en;
I was wont to get a nap with saying my piaj*
ril see if tliey will work upon me now.
were stiffened leather lin'd with rosin, from whence a stiffenM boot is called Rjaek boot. Smt
therefore is eqnivociil, and the too comnoon pun; but the allusion to the rosin is extremei|
arvh. Seward.
We canuot believe any pun was intended here.
•' And fear ofthtgaUQus (tchkh is agentie consumption to*t) only prefer it,} Amended bt
Seward.
But
Act.5« Scene 1.] THE TRAGEDY OF THIERRY AND THEODORET.
4M
Hat tlien if I should talk in my sleep, and
they [windpipe,
He&r me, they would make a recorder of my
Slir my throat. Heaven be prais'd ! I hear
some noise ; [have fellows.
It may be new purchase, and then I shall
P^iiry. They are gone past hearing: Now
to task, De VitryT—
Help, help, as you are men, help ! some cha-
ritable hand,
Itelievc a poor distressed miserable wretch !
Xhieyes, wicked thieves, have robb'd me,
bound me.
^ f*^^' Toot, [will betray us,
*Would they had ga^'d you too ! your noise
And fetch them again.
Vitry. What blessed tongue spake tome.^
Where, where are you, sir?"
Prot, A plague of your bawling throat:
"We «re well enough, if you have the. grace
To he thankful for't. Do but snore to me,
And 'tis as much as I desire, to pass
Away time with, *till morning; then talk
As loud as yoa please; Sir, I am bound not
to stir.
Wherefore, lie still and snore, I say.
Vitry. Then you have met with thieves
loo, I see. [them.
Prot. And desire to meet with no more of
Vitry, Alas,
What cah we suBFer more? They are far
enough Thave, sir?
By this time ; have they not all, ail that we
JPro/. No, by my faith, have they not, sir !
I gave them [sir,
One trick to boot for their learning: my boots.
My boots I I have sav'd my stock, and my
jewels in them.
And therefore desire to hear no more of them.
Vilry. Now blessing on your wit, sir! what
a duU
Slave w^sl, dream*d not of your conveyance?
Help CO unbind me, sir, and Til undo you;
My life for yours, no worse thief than myself
Meets you again this night !
JProt, Reach me thy hands! '
Vilry, Here, sir, here; 1 could heat my
brains out,
That could not think of boots.
Boots, sir, wide-topt boots; I shall love them
The better whilst I live. But are you sure
Your jewels are here, sir?
Frot, Sure, sayst thou? ha, ha, ha!
Vitrv. Soho, illoho!
SoifL Ut'ithin.'] Here, captain, here.
JPr^f. Foot, what do you mean, sir ?
Enter Soldiers,
Vitry. A trick to boot, say you ?
Here, you dull slaves, purchase, purchase^^ !
The soul of the rock, diamonds, sparkling
diamonds !
Frot. Tm betray 'd, lost, past recovery lost ?
As you are men —
Vitry. Nay, rook, since you'll be prating,
We*ll share your carrion withyuu. Uuieyou
Any other conveyance now, sir ?
1 Sold. 'Foot here are letters.
Epistles, familiar epistles : we*ll see fsiire.
What treasure is m them. They are senl'd
Frot. Gentlemen I [take all
As you are gentlemen, spare my letters, and
Willinj^l y, all I I'll give you a release,
A general release, and meet you here
To-morrow with as much more.
Vitry. Nay, since
You have your tricks, and your conveyances,
We will not leave a wrinkle otyou unsearch'd.
■Frot. Hark! there comes company; you
will be betray Vl.
As you love your safeties, beat out my brains;
I shall betray you else.
Vitry. Treason, [villainies!
Unheard-of treason ! monstrous, • monstrous
Frot, I confess myself a traitor; shew
yourselves
Good subjects, and hang me up for*t.
16W(i. Ifitbe
Treason, the discovery will get our pardon.
Captain.
Vitry. 'Would we were all lost, hang'd,
QuarterVI, to save this one, one innocent
prince !
Thierry's poisoned, by his mother poison'd.
The mistress to this stallion !
Who, by that poison, ne er shall sleep again !
2 Sold. 'Foot, let us mince him by piece*
Eat himself up. [meal, *till h«
3 Sold. Let us dig out his heart
Wich needles, and half broil him, like a mus-
sel! [blood's
Frot. Such another and I prevent you; my
Settled already.
Vitry. Here's tliat shall remo%'e it !
Toad, viper ! Drag him unto Martell !
Unnatural parricide ! cruel, bloody won:an!
Omnet. On, you dog-fish, leech, caterpillar !
Vitry. A longer sight of him will make my
rage turn
Pity, and with his sudden end prevent
Revenge and torture ! wicked, wicked Brun<«
halt ! [Exeunt.
Enter Bawdber and three Courtiers,
1 Cour. Not sleep at all? no means?
C Cour, No art can do it. ,
Baw. I will assure you, he can sleep no moi#
Than a hooded hawk ; a centinel to him.
Or one of the city constables, are tops.
3 Cour. How came he so ?
^^ Furchasef] Purchase, in the cant language of the times, always means any thing ao
i[uired by robbery or cozening: thus Gadshill says, in First Part of Elenry IV. actii. s^. 1,
* Give me thy hand, (hou shalt have a share in qw purchase; X am n true man/ See Mr,
fl^vens's note on this passage, R^
VOL. Ill, 3 O B€W4.
^4
THE TRAGEDY OF THIERRY AND THEODORET. [Act 5. Seen* J*
Why do you crucify me thus with faces.
And gaping strangely upon one another?
When ^ilail I rest?
2 Doctor, Ob, sir, be patient !
ThL Am I not patient ? have I notendQr*(i
More than a mangy dog, among your duaas?
Am I not now your patient? Ye can make
Unvvholsome foois sleep for a gu^ed foot-
cloth" ;
Whores for a hot sin-offering; yet I mustcrave.
That feed ye, and protect ye, and proclaim ve.
Because my power is far above your Bearchio^
Are my diseases so ? can ye cure none,
But those of equal ignorance? Dare ye kill me?
1 Doctor. We do beseech your grace be
more reclaimed** !
This talk doth but distemper you.
m. Well, I will die,
In spite of all your potions ! One of yoa sleep ;
Lie down anci sleep here, that I may belicMii
What blessed rest it is my eyes are robb'd of!
See ; he can sleep, sleep any where, sleep
now, [ber I
When he that wakes for him can nevor sloitt*
Is't not a dainty ease ?
3 Doctor* Your grace shall feel it. [jen.
Tin. Oh, never, never I ! The eyes of Hcsh
See but their ceitain motions, and tlten sleep ;
The rages of the ocean liave their slambers.
And quiet silver calms; each violence
Crowns in his end a peace; but my fix*d fircft
Shall never, never set! — Who's that?
Enter Martell, Brunhaliy De Viiry, and
Soldiers.
Mart. No, woman,
Mother of misobief, no ! the day shall die first.
And all good things live in a worse than tboa
art*'.
Ere thou shalt sleep! dost thoii see him?
Brun. Yes, and curse him; [him.
And all that love him, fool, and all live by
Mart. Why art thou such a monster i
Brun. Why art thou
So tame a knave to ask me ?
Mart. Hope of hell,
By this fair holy light, and all his wroogSy
Whicb^ are above tny years, almost thy vice%
Thou shalt not rest, nor feel more what it
Know notliing necessary, meet no society
^' Untcholesome fools sleeps for a guarded fvotcloth.] Seward is at a loss to know whetber
the cuardedfootcloth is spoke of as a * reward given to the doctor,' or as < a soft footcioih
* guarded from pressure,' for * the use of the patient.' He gives the preference to garded
(for so he erroneously spells it), i. e. lac*d. This word occurs in the Merchant of Venice.'
«♦ Be wore reclaim^.] Seward proposes to read becalmed, instead of redaini'd : we think
the text right.
6* And all good things live in a worse than fhou art.] The leaving out the substantive that
should agfee witli worse, renders this scarcely English. It might, easily be ameaded h^
reading, ....
And all good thmgs live m worse stcUf; than thpu art,
Or, in worse hell than thou art. Seward.
The meaning seems to be,
And all good things live in a worse {thing) that tliou art^
But
Bow. They are t»o wise tliat dare knovjr;
Something's amiss: Heav'n help all!
1 Cour, What cure has he ?
Bazv, Armies of those we call physicians ;
Some with cHsters, some with letticc-caps,
Some posset'd rinks, some pills; twenty con-
sulting liere
About a drench, as many here to blood him;
Then comes a don of Spain, and he prescribes
More cooling opium than would kill a Turk,
Or quench a whore i'th' dog-days; after him,
A wise Italian, and he cries, Tie unto him
A woman of fourscore, whose bones are
marble, [about her
Whose blood snow-water, not so much heat
As may conceive a prayer ! after him.
An English doctor, with a bunch of pot-herbs,
And he cries out endive and suckery,
W^ith a few mallow-roots and butter-milk !
And talks of oil made of a churchuun's cha-
Yet still he wakes. [rity;
1 Cour. But your good honour
Has a prayer in store, if all should fail?
fiarii. I could have pray'd, and handsomely,
And an ill raemorj^'— r [but age
3 Cour. Has spoil'd your primmer.
Baw. Yet if there be a man of fiuth i^th'
And can pray for a pension— [court,
Enter Thierry on a Bed, tcith -Doctors and
Attendants.
2 Cour. Here's the king, sir
And those that will pray without pay.
Bazv. Then pray tor me too.
1 Doctor. How does your grace now feel
yourself?
Thi. What's that? [fancy.
1 Doctor, , Nothing at all, sir, but your
Thi. Tell ipe.
Can ever these eyes more, shut up in slumbers.
Assure my soul there is sleep ? is there night
And rest for human labours? do not you
And all the world, as I do, out- stare time.
And live, like fuueral lamps, never extin-
guish'd?
Is there a grave ? (and do not flatter me,
Nor fear to tell mc truth) and in that grave
Is there a hope I shall sleep? can I die?
Are not my miseries immortal ? Oh,
The happiness of him that drinks his water.
After his weary day, and sleeps for ever!
• Act*. Scene 1.] THE TRAGEDY OF THIERRY AND THEODORlilt. '4&f
Sue what ihall corse and crucify thee, feel in
thjpself ^ [science.
Nothing but what tkon art, bane and bad coii-
'Till this man rest; but for whose reverence,
Because thou art his mother, I would say.
Whore, this shall be ! Do you nod ? I'll waken
With my sword's point. [you
Brun. I wish no more of Heaven,
Nor hope no more, but a su^cient anger
To torture thee !
Mart, See, she that makes you see, sir!
And, to your misery, still see your mother,
(The mi>tber of your woes, sir, of your waking.
The mother of your people's cries and curses,
Yoar murdering mother, your malicious mo-
ther! / [hour now!
TkL Physicians, half my state to sleep an
Is it so, mother ?
Brun. Yes, it is so, son ;
And, were it yet f^in to do, it should be.
Mart. She nods again; swinge her^^ !
-Thi, But, mother,
fPor yet I love that reverence, and to death
I>are not forget you have been so) was this,
^ This endless misery, this cureless malice,
This snatching from me all my youth together,
AU that you made me for, and happy mothers,
Crown'd withetemal time are proud to finish,
'i>one by your wMi ?
JBrttit. It was, and by that will —
Tki. Oh, mother, do not lose your name !
- forget not
The touch of Nature in you, tenderness!
^is all the soul of woman, all the sweetness :
Forget not, I beseech you, what are children,
J^OT how you havegroau'd fur them; to what
Jove
They are born inherirors,*with what care kept ;
And, as they rise to ripeness, still remember
iHow they imp out your age ! and when time
calls you,
That as an autumn flower you fall, forget not
How round about your hearse they hang, like
Brun. Holy fool, [penons !
Whose patience to prevent my wrongs has
kUI'd thee.
Preach not to me of punishments or fears.
Or what I ought to be; but what I am,
A woman in her liberal will defeated,
In all her greatness crossed, io pleasure blasted!
iltfy angers have been laugh'd at, my ends
slighted, [tunes.
And all those glories that had crown'd my for-
Suflfer'd by blasted virtue to be scattered :
I am the fruitful motlier of these angers.
And what such have done, read, and know
Thi. Heav'n forgive you ! [thy ruin !
Mart, She tells you true ; for millions of
Iier mischiefs
Are now apparent: Protaldye we have taken.
An equal ngent with her, to whose care,
After the damn'd defeat on you, she trusted
Enter Messenger.
The bnnging-in of Leonor the bastard.
Son to your murdered brother: her physician
By this time is attached to that damn'd deviL
Mess, Tis like he will be so; for ere we
came.
Fearing an equal justice for his mischiefs.
He drcnch*d himself.
Brun, He did like one of mine then !
Thi, Must I still see these miseries ? no
night [dye
To hide me from their horrors? ThatProtal-
See Justice fall upon !
Brun. Now I could sleep too. [the lady.
Mart, I'll give you yet more poppy: bring
Enter Ordelia.
AndHeav'n in her embraces give him quiet* 'I
Madam, unveil yourself.
Ord, I do forgive you; . [for you.
And tho' you s iught my blood, yet 1*11 pray
Brun. Art tliou alive ?
Afart, Now could you sleep ?
Brun. For ever. [or quiet.
Mart. Go carry her without wink of sleep.
Where her strong knave Protaldye's broke o'
th' wheel,
And let his cries and roars be musick to heri
I mean to waken her.
Thi. Do her no wrong !
Mart, Nor right^*, as you love justice !
Brun. I will think ;
And if there be new curses in oI4 nature,
I have a soul dare send them !
Mart. Keep her waking ! [Exit Brun»
Thi. What's that appear) so sweetly f
There's that face —
Mart, Be moderate, lady !
Thi. That angel's face —
Mart. Go nearer. [soul
2^hi, Martell, I cannot last long ! See the'
(I see it perfectly) of my Ordelia,
The heav'nly figure of her sweetness, there !
*• Swing ker.] Former editions. Swinge, which properly signifies to beat with rods, is
probably die tru6 word. Seward.
^^ And Heav*n in her embraces give him quiet.] The editors of 1750 pretend to have
amended this passage by substituting give for gives. So, p. 438, 1st col. I. 18, to have
alter^ promise to promises; p. 431>, 2d c'ul. 1. 16, letches to leeches; p. 451, 2d col. 1. 24,
keeping to keep; same p. and col. I. 27, ye to eye ; p. 454, 1st col. 1. 40, myxx> thy; p. 402,
1st col. i. 17, praises to prayers; and p. 449, 1st col. 1. -30, to have placed the name Mai^
tell as being spoken to, instead of n& speaker. The quarto is right in all.
^* Noa right. \ This seems corrupt. The context requires, no heii right y or something
to that eflfect. Ui
i her tko iavour/.
f not corrupt it may^ by a licentious conbtruction, be interpreted,
V
Shew
SOS
forgive
THli TRAGEDY OF THIERRY AND TIlEODOfeET. tAct5. S<Me&
4oe
Forgive me, gods ! ic comes ! Divinest sub-
stance ! [sex,
Kneel, kneel, kneel, every one ! Saint ot thy
If it be for my cruelty thou comest —
Do ye see her, lioa ?
iiart. Yes, sir; and you shall know her. .
Thi. Down, down agaiul To be reveng'd
for blood !
Sweet spirit, I am ready. She smiles on me!
Oh, blessed sign of peace!
Mart. Go nearer, lady.
Ord. I come to make you happy.
Thi. Hear you that, sirs? [crifice!
iShe comes to crown my soul : away, get sa-
W^iiilbt I with holy honours —
Mart. She's alive, sir.
Thi, In everlasting life; I know it, friend:
Oh, happy, happy soul !
Ofd. Alas, i live, sirj
A mortal woman still.
Thi Can spirits weep too ? [Lady,
MurL She is no spirit, »r; pray kiss her.
Be very Rciiile to hiui !
Thi' Stay I — Slie's warm ; [brightness.
And, by my life, tl»e same lips! TcU me,
Are you the same Ordella still?
Mart. The name, sir, [from ruin.
Whom Heav'ns and my good angel stay'd
Thi Kiss me again !
Ord, The same still, still your servant.
Thi 'Tis bhe 1 I know her now, Martell.
Sit down, sweet ! [slumber
Oh, hlesiiM aud happiest woman I -—A dead
Ijcgius to creep upon me : oli, my jewel I
Enter Messenger and Memherge,
Ord. Oh, sleep, my lord !
Thi My joys are too much for me !
Mess, Brunhalt, impatient of her coostxauH
to see
Protaldye tortur*d, has choak'd herselL
Mart, No more !
Her sins go with her!
Thi Love t must die; I faint:
Close up my glasses!
1 Doctor. 1 he queen faints too, and dead!/.
2%i One dying kiss !
Ord. My last, sir, and my dearest*' !
And now, close my eyes too !
Thi Thou perfect woman I —
Martell, th^ kingdom's yours: take Mem*
berge to you,
And keep my line alive ! Nay, weep not, lady!
Take me ! I go.
Ord. Take me too ! Farewell, HoDour !
IDiebotL
2 Doctor. They're gone for ever.
Mart. The peace of happy souls go aftrr
them !
Bear them unto their last beds, wliilst I study
A tomb to speak their loves whih»i old Tune
lasteth.
I am your king in sorrows.
Omnes. We your subjects! [near us!
Mart. De Vitry, for your services'®, be
Whip out these instruments of this mad bid-
ther [caote
From court, and all good people; and, be-
She was born noble, let that tide find her
A private grave, but neither tongue nor ho-
nour'' I
And now lead on! — ^They that shall read
this story.
Shall find that Virtue lives in good, not glorj-
lExeunt omneu
^^ My last, sir, and my deareat.'] There are two senses of this, which the reader wiH
please to take his choice of. If the above points be right, last aud dearest relate to her kiasf
if we point with the old editions (which the suspicion of another sense made me turn to)
cb( My lai?t sir, and mv dearest,
> The sense will be, my last aud dearest lord \ For sir is often Vus'd in this its original sense.
Seward.
Ordella had no other lordt. The sense obviously is, * Take my last kiss, and the moU
affectionate I ever gave.*
^° For your service.] Services was probably the original word here.
'.' But neither tongue nor honoui:] Both Mr. Theobald and Mr. Syropson would reject
tongue here, and read tomb, but s^irely without sufficient reason : for tongue signifies the
funeral oration, honour the escutcheoUs and other ceremonies of tlie funeral, togedjer *%itli
the monument, ot whatever may shew respect to the dec^as'd. As to tlie character of Bn«*
/wit, or Brunhaudy ihoUi^h it may [Perhaps be thought tod shocking to appear upon the sti^e,
history has still represented her as a worse devil than our poets have done. Thierry m
Thcodoret, or Theodibert, were her grand-children, wliose father she had poisoned when he
Came of ajj;e, in order to keep the government in iier own hands. She irritated Tkitny
aguiiidt Theodibert, whom she caub'd him to slay, and then poisoifd Thierry, in hopes that
the slates would have bubmitted to her goveniiucnt; but her horrid wickednesses bciugiai4
open to the peers of France, she was accusM of having been the murdress of ten kiugi»
bebide debauching her grand-child Thierry, making him put away a virtuous wife, aiul pit>
vidiug him with misses. SliQ was coridemi/d to the rack, which she suiferd three days, wo
then carry 'd about the camp upon a camel's back, afterwards ty d by the feci toawiidmsre,
ii«d so dush'd iu pieces, Seutard*
TII£
THE WOMAN-HATER,
This Play iras originally printed in t^axtto in the year 1607. It was afterwards reYived by
Sir William Davenant, who added a second title, Or, The Hungry Courtier, and wrote a
new Prologue to it, printed in his Works, p. 239, and in the quarto of 1^49. The titl«
page of the latter edition ascribes it to both Authors : both the Original and Davenant^s
Prologues, however, speak of it as the production of but one; and Langbaine positively
says it was one of those plays which Fletcher wrote alon«. It has not been acted manj
years.
PROLOGUE.
I
GesTTLCMfiN, inductions' are out of date, a'^.d a Prologue in Terse is as stale as a black
^Ivec cloak, and a bay garland ; therefore you shall have it plain prose, thus : if there be
any amongst you that come to hear lascivious scenes, let them depart ; for I do pronounce
this, to the utter discomfort of all two-penny gallery-men, you shall have no bawdry in it :
or if there be any lurking amongst you in comers, with table-books, who have some hope to
find fit matter to feed his nialice on, let them clasp them up, and slink away, or stay and
be converted. For he that made this Play means to please auditors so, as he may be au
auditor himself hereafter, and not jpurchase diem with the dear loss of his cars. I dare not
eall it Comedy or Tragedy ; 'tis perfectly neither : a Play it is, which was meant to make you
laugh ; how it will please you, is not written in my part : for though ^ou should like it to-day,
perhaps yourselves know not how you should digest it to-morrow. Some things in it you
may meet with, which are out of the common road : a duke there is, and the scene lies in
Italy, as those two things lightly we never miss. But you shall not find in it the ordinary
and oven-woru trade of jesting at lords, and courtiers, and citizens, without taxation of any
particular or new vice by them found out, but at the persons of them : such, he, that made
this, thinks vile, and for his own part vows, that he did never think^ but that a lord, loni*
born, might be a wise man, and a couriier an honest maa^.
PROLOGUE AT THE REVIVAL.
Ladies, takc't as a secret in your ear,-
Instead of homage, and kind welcome here,
I heartily could wish you all were gone ;
Tor if you stay, good faith^ we arc un-
done.
Alas ! you now expect, the usual ways
Of our address, which is vour sex's praiso;
But we to-night, unluckily, must speak
Such things will make your lovers' heart*
strings break,
" Inductions.'] Such as precede Cynthia's Revels, Bartholomew^Fair, The Taming of the
Shrew, and many other plays of that period. By the former of those we learn, tliat it was
nsual for the speaker of a prologue, in those times, to be habited in a tlack cloak: it is
possible the custom of dressing in black, which continued to be the fashion for prologue-
speakers until very lately, was derived from hence. R,
* From this prologue as well as a thousand other passages in our authors, it is very
trident that their plays were in the age they liv'd remarkable for the decency and delicacy
of their language; tliough several of their expressions are become now very gross, ond are
apt to give olfeuce to modest ears; bu they ou»hc to be judjed by the fashion vi the age they
jiived iu^ not by tliat which now reigns. Smard.
■ Be-lie,
4T0
THE WOMAN-HATER.
Be-lie your vircaes, nnd your beaudefl stain,
Witli words, coutriv'd long since, in your
disdain.
'TIS strange you stir not yet ; not all this while
Lift up your fans to hide 8 scornful sniile ;
Whisper, or jog your lords to steal away.
So leave us t'act, unto ourselves^ our play:
Then sure, there may be hope^ you can
subdue
Your patience to endure an act or two;
Nay more, when you are told our poet's rag^
Pursues but one example, which that age
Wherein heliv'd produc'd; and we rely
Kot on tlie trutli, but the variety.
His muse believ'd not what she then did write;
Her wings were wont to make a nobler flight.
[Act 1. Scene h
did
Soar'd high, and to the stars your
raise;
For which, full twenty years be wore the bays.
'Twas he reduced Evadne from her scorn,
And taught the akd Aspatm how to moani;
Gave Arethusa's love a glad relief;
And made Panthea elegant in grief.
If those great trophies of his noble moae
Cannot one humour 'gainst your sex excuse^
W-bich we present to-ntgbt, yoo^U find a wiqf
How to make good tlie Ubel in our piay :
So you are cruel to yourselves; whibt he
(Safe in the fame of his integrity)
Will be a prophet, not a poet thought^
And this fine web last long, tho* loowlj
wrought.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Men.
Duke OP Milan, in lave with Oriana,
Count Va LORE.
GoNDARiNo, the Wonian-Hater.
Arrigo, a Courtier,
Lucio^ a weak formal Statesman.
Lazarillo, a voluptuous Smell-Feast,
BoT, Lazarillo^ s Servant,
JMercer, a JDu^ey and an affected admirer of
Learning.
Pandar.
Two Intelltgencers.
Secretary to Lucia,
Gentleman.
Servants, ike,
WOWBK.
Ortana, Sister to Valort*
A deaf Gentlewoman.
Ladies.
SCENE, Milan4
ACT I.
SCKNE I.
Unier Duke, Arrigo, and Lucio,
Duke, *nriS now the sweetest time for
■*• sleep ; the ui^ht is
Scarce spent: Arrigo, what's o'clock?
Jrr, Past four. [up?
Duke. Is it so much, and yet the morn not
See yonder, where the bhame-lhc*d maiden
comes :
Into our sight how gently doth she slide,
Hiding her chaste cheeks, like a modest bride, .
"With a red veil of blushes; as is she^,
.Even such all modest virtuous women be!
, Why thinks your lordship I am up so soon ?
Lucio. About some weighty state-plot.
Duke. And what thinks
Your knighthood of it ?
A?T, I do think, to cure [wealth.
Some strange corruptions in the common*
Duke. You're well conceited of TourselTCS.
to think ^
I chuse you out to bear me company
In such alTairs and business of state :
But am not I a pattern for all princes.
That break my soft sleep for my subjectir
Am I not careful? very provident? [good?
Lucio. Your grace is careful.
Arr. Very provident^ [working plots
Dulie, Nay, knew ybti how my* senou^
3 As if she.] This nonsensical lection is in all editions but tlie' first quarto,
^ Mtf serious working plots.] I never think ii right to discard good sense because another
readnif appears preferable, but a compound word, secret-working, occurred at first siehLaad
was rejected as unnecessary, 'till reading three lines below Arrigos answer.
You secretly will cross some other state,
which seems to irai.ly something of secrecy being meation'd before, the conjecture scem'd
much more probable. Sevard^ / *^
Concern
Act i. Seefle l.}
THE WOMAN-HATEB.
4ft
CoDcrra the whole estates of all my sul^ects,
Ay, and their lives; then, Lucio, thou
.wouldst s»wear,
I were a loviug prince.
jMcio. I think your grace
Intends to walk the puhhc streets disguised.
To see the streetb' disorders.
Duke, Tis not so. [states,
Arr, You secretly will cross some other
That do consf^ire against you.
Duke, Weii^htier fkr: [cause;
You are my friends, and you shall have tlie
I break my sleeps thus soon to see a wench.
Lucio. YouVe wondrous careful for your
subjects' good !
Arr, You are a very loving prince indeed !
Duke, ThiA care I take for tliem, when
their dull eyes
Are clos»*d with heavy slumbers.
Arr. Then you rise
To see your wenches.
Lucio. VVliat Milan beauty hath the powV
To pharm her soverei);n*s eyes*, and break his
sleeps f
Duke. Sister to count Valore ! she's a maid
Would make a prince foiget his throne and
state.
And lowly kiieel to her: the general fate
Of all mortality, is hers to give ;
As. she disposeth, so we die and live.
Lucio, My lord, the day grows clear; the
court will rise. [head ^,
Duke We stay too long.— Is theumhrana's
As we commanded, sent to the sad Gonda-
Our general ? Crino,
Arr. Tis sent.
Duke. But stay ! where shines
That light?
Arr, Tis in the chamber of Lazarillo.
Duke. Lazarillo? what is he?
Arr, A courtier, my loi d ;
And one that I wonder your grace knows not,
for [predecessors,
H^.hatb followed your court, and your last
From place to place, any time this seven year,
As faithfully as your spits and your dripping-
.pans
Have done, and almost as greasily.
Duke, Oh, we know him: as we have
heard, he keeps
A cidendar of all tlie femoua dishes
Of meat, that have been in the court, e*er
since [can thrust*
Our great-grandfather's time; and when hm
in at no table, lie makes liis meat of that.
Lucio. The very s;inie, my lord.
puke, A courtier call'st thou him?
Believe me, Lucio, there he many such
About our court, respected, us they think,
Ey'n by oorself. With thee I will be plain:
We princes do use to prefer many for no-
thing,
And to take particular and free knowledge,
Almost in the nature of acquaintance^ of
many
Whom we do use only for our pleasures;
And do give largely to numbers,
INlore out of policy to be thought liberal.
And by that means to make the people
strive
To deserve our love, than to reward
Any particular desert of theirs [hear
To whom we give ! and do suffer ourselves to
Flatterers, more for recreation
Than for love of it, tho' we seldom hate it :
And yet we know all these; and when wtf
please, [about.
Can touch the wheel, and turn their names
Lucio, I wonder they that know their
' states so well,
Should fancy such base slaves.
Duke, Thou wonder'st, Lucio ? [Milan,
Dost not thou think, if thou wert duke of
Thou shouldst be fluttered ?
Lucio. I know, my lord, I would not.
Duke, Why, so I thought 'till I was duke;
I thought
I should have left me no more flatterers
Than there are now plain-dealers ; and yet.
For all this my resolution, ] am most
Palpably flatter'd : the poor man may loath
Covctousness and flattery, but fortune will
Alter the mind when the wind turns; therv
may
Be well a little conflict, but it will drive
The billows before it. Arrigo, it grows latj*
For see, fair Tethys hath undone the bars
To Phcebus* team ; and his nnrivard lit^ht
j Hath chas'd the morning's modest blush away;
Now must we to our love. Bright Paphiau
(jueen,
' Thou Cytherean goddess^ that delights
^ Her sovereign e^.] First quarto and Seward rend as in text,
^ Tke umbrana.] In another passsige, this fish is called an umbrane; and is probably the
same which Cotgrave describes in t!e following manner, under the name of an ttwAr/ne:
* A great-«yed, rouiid'tongued, smaU-tootbed, and holesome sea-fish, which hath certain©
* barres over croase lier backe, and growing often to the bignesse of a maigre, is sometimes
* taken for it.' Florio, in his * Worlde of Wordes,' folio, 1598, voce umbrine, calls it * a
' kinde of fish, which some take to be the halybut;' and Cotgrave, who, as before, says it is
sometimes taken for a maigre^ gives the following account of the latter: * A great and skalie
* 4sb, havin^Au wattle OB-his chinne, two holes on the top of his beake neerc" his eyes; and
< Uva stones within his head of some vertue Xas is supposed) against tiie cholicke: the
* French do tearme him thus, not bet^ause he is leane, but because by the whitenesse of his
< fash he seems to ; hovsoeT^r. and howsoever he be dressed, lie is reasonable eood
III
«r«
THE WOMAN-HATER.
[Act 1. Soeac %
To have devonrM her, with more longing ttgkt
Expect the coining of some hardj kuight.
That might have quelL'd his pride, and set
her free,
Than I^with longing sight have look'd for thee.
Bov. Your Perseus is come, master, that
will destroy him ;
The very comfort of whose presence shuts
The monster hanger from your yelping fiitfc
Laz, Brief, hoy, brief!
Discourse the service of each several tahk
Compendiously.
Bay, Here is a bill of all, sir*
Lax, Give it me!
A bill of all the several services this d§,f
Appointed for every table in the court:
Ay, this is it on which my hopes rely ;
Within this paper all my joys are closTd!
Boy, open it, and eead it with reverence^
Boy. For th' captain of the guard's tohk*^
three chines
Of beef, and two joles of sturgeon.
Las. A portly service, [table^
But gross, gross. Proceed to th'duke^ own
Dear boy, to the duke's own table !
Boy* r or the duke's own table^
The bead of an umbrana.
LoM. Is it possible ?
Can Heaven be so propitious to the duke?
Boy, Yes, I'll assure you, sir, 'tis possible;
Heaven is so propitious to him.
Laz, Why then,
He is the richest prince alive! He were
The wealthiest monarch in all Europe,* had he
No other territories, dominions,
Provinces, seats, nor palaces, but only
That umbrane's head.
Boy. Tis very fresh and sweet, sir ;
The nsh was taken but this uight, and the
head,
As a rare novelty, appointed by [table,
Special commandment for tlic doke% own
This dinner.
Laz, If poor an worthy I may come to eat
Of this most sacred dish, I liere do vow
(If that blind huswife Fortune will bestow
But means on me) to keep a somptoooi
house,
A board groaning under the heavy burden
Of the beast that cheweth tlie cud.
And die fowl that cutteth the air: it shall
Not, like the table of a country justice.
Be sprinkled over with all manner of
Chenp sallads, sliced beef, giblets, and
pettitoes.
To fill up room ; nor should there stand
Any great, cumbersome, un-cut-up piesy
At the nether end, filled with moss and
stones.
Partly to make a show with, and partly
To keep the lower mess from eating* ; nor shrfl
My
« The haer meas,] That is^ tliose who used to set at the table below the salt; a costom
frequently mentioned in our ancient writerf« Mr, Whaliey gives tha foilowiog accaunt of
In stirrinp; glances, and art still thyself
More toying than thy team of sparrows be;
Thou laughing Ereciua, oh, inspire
Her heart witli love, or lessen my desire!
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Eater LazarUlo and Boy.
Laz, Go, run, search, pry in every nook
and angle
O'th' kitchens, larders, and pastcries ;
Know what meats boil'd, bak'd, roast,
stcw'd, fried, or sous'd, ("directly,
At this dinner, to be serv'd directly, or in-
To every several table in the court;
Be gone!
Bay, 1 run ; but not so fast as "3
Your mouth will do upon the stroke of
eleven. ' [Exit,
Laz. What an excellent thing did God
bestow [stomach!
Upon man, when lie did give him a good
What unbounded graces there are pour*d
Upon them that have the continual command.
Of the very best of these blessings! Tis
An eicellcnt thing to be a prince; he is
Serv'd with such ulmirable variety of fare.
Such innumerable choice of delicates;
His tables arc full fraught with most nou-
rishing food, [wines ;
And his cupboards heavy laden with rich
His court is still fiU'd with most pleasing
varieties!
In the summer his palace is full of sreen-geese.
And in winter it swarmeth woodcocks.
Oh, thou goddei<s of plenty !
Fill me this day with some rare delicates,
And I will every year most constantly.
As this day, celebrate a sumptuous feast
(If thou wilt send me victuals) in thine
honour!
And to it shall be bidden, for thy sake,
Ev'n all the valiant stomachs in the court;
All short-cloak'd knights, aqd all cross*
gartered gentleioen ;
All pump and pantofle, foot-cloth riders;
Wito all the swarming generation
Of lone stocks, short pained hose, and huge
stuffM doublets : [yet
All these shall eat, and, which is more than
Hatli e'er been seen, they shall be satisfied ! —
I wonder my ambassador returns not.
Enter Boy.
Boy. Here I am, master.
Laz. And welcome !
Never did tliat sweet virgin in lier smock,
Faircheek'd Andromeda, when to the rock
Her ivory limbs were chained, and straight
before
A huge sea-monster, tumbling to the shore.
Aet I. Scene S»]
THE WOMAN-HATKR.
478
My meat come in snenking^ like the cit^service,
One dish a Quarter of an hour after nnotlier,
A tuigone as if theyhad appointed to meet there.
And had mistook the hoar; nor should it,
like the new court service, come in iu haste,
As if it fain would be gone ag«in, all courses
A t once, like a hunting breakfast ; but I
Would have my several courses, and my dishes
Well Hll'd : my first course should be brought in
After llie ancient manner, by a score
Of old bleei^y'd servingmen,in long blue coats,
(Marry, they shall buy silk, facing, and buttons
Themselves) but that's by the way.
Boj(. Master,
The time calls on ; will you be walking ?
Laz, Follow, boy, follow!
Mt gats were half an hour since in the privy
kitchen. [Ereunt,
SCENE IIL
Enter Valore and Oriana.
OrL Faith, brother,! must needs ^o yonder.
Vol, And i'faith, sister, what will you do
yonder ?
OrL I know the lady Honoria will be glad
Ori, Ay, bat they say one shall see &i\e
The court. [sights at
VaL rU tell you what you shall see ;
You shall see many faces of man*s making,
For you shall find very few as God
Left them : and you shall see many legs too;
Amongst the rest you shall behold one pair,
TImj feet of which were in times past sock«
less, but are now, fthiugs).
Thro' the change of time (that alters all
Very strangely become the legs of a knight
And a courtier; another pair you shall see.
That were heir-apparent tegs to a glover,
These tegs hope shortly to b^ lionourable ;
When they pass by they will bow, and tiie
mouth [courtship ;
To these legs will seem to offer you some
It will swear, but it will lie ; hear it not!
Ori Why, and are not these fine sights?
Vai. Sister,
In seriousness you yet are young, and fiur ;
A fiiir yonng maid, and apt*->
Om. Apt?
VaL Exceeding apt;
Apt to be drawn to— -
Ori. To what? [dispraise;
VaL To that you should not be ; tis no
She is not b id diat hath desire to ill,
But she that hath no power to rule that will :
For there you shall be woo*d in other kinds
Tlian vet your years have known ;
The ciuetest men will seem to throw them-
selves
As vassals at your service, kiss your hand.
Prepare you bauquets, masques, shows, all
inticeroents
That wit and lust together can devise.
To draw a lady from* the state of grace
Tot
VaL Glad to see you? Faith, the ladv
lionoria cares for yea as she doth for all
Otlier young ladies; she is glad to see you.
And will shew you the privy-garden, and tell
you [you have
How many sowns the duchess had. .Marry, if
fiver an oln unde, that would be a lord.
Or ever a kinsman that hath done a monder,
Or committed a robbery, and will j^ve
Good store of mone^^ to procure his pardon.
Then the bdy Honorta will be glad to see
you.
the manner in which our ancestors were usually seated at their meals : < Tlie tables being
* long, the salt was commonly placed about the middle,, and ser\'ed as a kind of boundary to
* tlie different quality of the guests invited. Those of distinction were ranked above ; the
* space below was assigned to the dependants, or inferior relations of the master of the
' house. An allusion to this custom (x:curs in a satire of bishop Hall. As it is but sliort,
* the reader perhaps will not be displeased if I transcribe the whole :
<* A gentle squire would gladly entertain
'' Into his house some trencher chaplain ;
** Some willing man, that might instruct liis sons,
^ And that wonld stand to good conditions.
** First, that he lie upon the truckle bed,
*' Whilst his young master lieth o*cr his head.
^ Secondly, that he do on no default,
" Ever presume to tit above the salt,
** Third, tliat he never change his trencher twice*
^ Fourth, that he use all common courtesies ;
^ Sit bare at meals, and one half rise and wait.
^ Last, that he never his young master beat,
** But he must ask his mother to define, /
'< How many jerks she would his breech should line.
^ All tliese observed, he could contented be,
^ To give ^i^ marks, and winter livery/
' Again, by a reference to this fashion, we arc told m a little piece, called News from the
' Lower End of the Table, that the best company makes the upper end of tlie table, and not
' the salt-celler. This custom is yet preserved at the lord-mayor s, and some other publick
« tables.* JL
VOL.UL 3 P T«
474
THE WOMAN-HATER.
[Act 1. Scene 5.
To an old lady-wi(lo%V*s gallery ;
And \hej will praise your virtues; beware tbot!
The only way to turn a woman whore.
Is to commend her chastity : you'll go ?
Ori. I would go, if it were but
Only to shew you, that I could be there,
And be mov'd with none of these tricks.
Vol. Your servants
Are ready?
Ori. An hour since.
Val. Well, if y©u come [shall be
Off clear from (his hot service, your |)raise
The greater- Farewell, sister!
Ori, Farewell, brother! [sencc
Val, Once more ! If you stay in the pre-
Till candle-light, keep on the fore^ide o'th'
curtain ;
And, do you hear, take heed of the old bawd.
In the cloth of tissue sleeves, and the knit
mittens !
Farewell, sister! — Now am I idle; I would
I'd been [Exit Ori.
A scholar, that I might have studied now !
The punishment of meaner men is, they have
Too much to do ; our only misery is, .
That without company we know not what
Tp do. I must take some of the common
Of our nobility, which is thus: [courses
If I can find no company that likes me^.
Pluck off my hatband, throw an old cloak over
My fiace, and, as if I would not be known.
Walk hastily thro* the streets, 'till I be
Discover*d; tlien * There goes count Such-a-
one,' [says anotlier:
Says one ; * There goes count Such-a-one,'
'lx>ok how fast he goes,' says a third : * There V
some [fourth ;
< Great matters in hand questionless,' says a
Wlien all my business is to bave tliemsay lo.
This hath been used.
Or, if I can find any company*,
ril after dinper to the stage tu see [faav*
A play ; where when I first enter, yoo «ba]|
A murmur in tho honse, ev'ry one
That does not know cries, * What nobleman
is that?' T^
All the gallants on the stage rise, veil to me,
Kiss their hand, odor me their places ; then
I pick out some one, whom I please to g^race
Among therest^, tsike his seat, use it, throw
My cloak over my face, and laugh at him:
The poor gentleman imagines himself most
highly
Graced, tliinks all the auditors esteem lum
One of my bosom-friends, and in right special
Regard with me. But here comes a gentle-
man, 0- [either
That I hope will make me better sport than
Street or stage fooleries. This man loves
Enter iMzhyilb and Boy,
To eat good meat ; al\%ays provided,
Uc do not pay for*t himself. He goes [becaose
By the name o^ the Hungry Courtier; marry;
I think that name will not sufficiently
Distinguish him (for no doubt he hath
More fellows there) his name is Lazarillo ;
He is none of these same ojtli nary -eaters'*' ;
That will devour three breakfasts^ and as
many ^ [vers.
Dinners, without any prejudice to their be-
Drinkings, or suppers; but he hath a more
Courtly kind of hunger, and doth bunt more
After novelty than plenty. I'll ovei^hearhim.
Laz. Oh, thou mo^t itching kindly appe-
tite", V
Which
^ UJ^es we;} i. e. Pleasesi me. So, in King Lear, Kent says, act ii. scene 2, * His counte-
nance likes me not;* and, in the Maid's Tragedy,
What look likes you best '<' R.
* Or if I c^wjind any company. '\ As ho. describes his coming into the plz^'house alone, this
Seems a second expedient to pass away time for want of company at home. I therefore lead
can*t for can, Seward.
We see no objection to tlie old text.
5 To grace among the re&t.'] All this speech, and far the greatest part of the play, was
printed before as prose; thougli most of it runs easily into a familiar verse. I don't change
among here, as tlie sense is mucli ilie same as above, but the latter seepis^tlie more natural
preposition. Seuard.
'° He is none of^ these ordnary eaters.] IJere I was puzzled to make out the measure, a
syllable, being wanting, and I diought to have resolved tione into not one, but looking in the
old quarto, I found same was the monosyllable that the late editions had dropt. This is a
strong proof that the whole was that kind of familiar verse that I place it in. By ordnary
eaters! believe we should not understand common eaters but ordnary eaters, or eaters^ ord-
naries, where great eaters frequently crowd, as they can have more for their money than
vhen they pay for their meat by weight : this seems more humorous thaii the fisrmer inter-
pretation, though that also will well suit the context. Seward,
We think ordinaryin this place has no extraordinary sense, but signifies merely cpmmon. The
scene seems to be loose verse ; but we have endeavoured S.o divide it more naturally and nu-
merously than Seward, and nearer in general to the quarto. It is sometimes, however, at
any rate, very rugged.
*' Ohy thou most itching kindly appetite] There is great humour in the pomp of LasariUo*i
atllc, but here, I believe, it has been a little degraded by thd epithet kindly. As itching ex-
presses the troublesome effects of the appetite, so kindly may be thought well adapted to the
pieasirtg
Act 1. Scene 3.]
THE WOMAN-HATER.
475
Which every creature in his stomach feels,
Ofa, leave, leave yet at last thus to torment
Three several sallads have I sacrjfic*d, [me !
Bedew'd with precious oil and vinegar,
Already to appease thy greedy wrath.
Boy! »
Boy. Sir?
XaJr. Will the eount speak with me?
Bay, One of
His gentlemen is gone to inform him of
Your coming, sir.
Lax. There is no way left [ing
For me to compass this fish-head, but by be-
Presently made known to the duke.
Boy. That will be hard, sir.
Lms. When I have tasted of this sacred dish.
Then shall my bones rest in my father's tomb
In peace; then slialll die most willingly.
And as a dish be serv*d to satisfy
Death's hunger; and I will be buried thus:
My bier shall be a charger borne by four.
The coffin where I lie a powd'ring-tub,
Bettrcw'd with lettuce, and cool sallad-hcrbs;
]Viy winding-sheet of tansies; tlie black guard
Shall be my solemn mourners ; and instead
Of ceremonies, wholsome burial pniyers;
A printed dirge in rhime'% shall bury me.
Instead of tears let them pour capon-sauce
l7pon my hearse, and salt instead of dust,
Moncliets for stones; for otlier glorious
shields
Give me a voider; and above my hearse,
I'or 'a trutcb sword, my naked knife stuck up !
[ Valore duscovers hifuselj'.
Bay, Master, the count's here,
Laz. Where?— My lord, I do
Beseech you —
VaL lou are very welcome, sir;
1 pray you stand up; you shall dine with roe.
Las, I do beseech your lordship, by the
love
I ttiU have borne to your honourable house —
VaL Sir, what need all this? you shall dine
I pray rise. [with me.
Laz, Perhaps your lordship takes me
For one of these same fellows, that do, as it
were.
Respect victuals.
VaL Oh, sir, by no means.
Laz, Your lordship
Has often promised, tliat whensoever
I should atfect greatness, your own hand
should help
To raise me.
VaL And so much still assure yourself o£
J^iz. And tho' I must confess I've cvef
shunn'd
Popularity, by the example of others.
Yet I do now' feel myself a little
Ambitious: your lordship is great,
And, tho* young, yet a privy-counsellor.
VaL I pray you, sir, leap into the matter;
What would you have me do for you?
Laz. i would entreat '
Your Irrdsliip to makeme known to the duke.
VaL When, sir?
Laz. Suddenly, my lord; I would have you
Present me unto him this morning.
VaL It shall [him
Be done: but for what virtues would you have
Take notice of you ?
Laz. Your lordship sliall know
That presently.
VaL T's pity of this fellow; he is
Of good wit and sufficient understanding.
When lie's not troubled with this greedy womL
IjOz. ^ Faith you may entreat him to take
notice of me
For any thing ; for being an excellent farrier,
For playing well at span-counter, or sticking
knives
In walls, for being impudent, or for nothing;
Why may not I k^ a favourite on the sudden?
I see nothing against it. .
pleasing effects of it; but as the change of n single letter 2;ives a much more pompous word,
It seems highly probable that kingly was the true reading, for Lasarillo had betbre made the
whole glory ot a prince to consist in satiating his royal maw. Seward,
We think the text far preferable.
■* — — — instead
W ceremonieSf Y:ho\somt; buriul pray^rSf ^
A printed dirge in rhime shall bury tne.] If he would have no ceremonies nor prayers, it
is probable we should xetkA fulswne^ or perhaps, as wholsome is a word proper to LazarillOy the
following transposition may have been the original,
■■ instead
Of ceremonies, printed burial prayers,
A wholsome dirge in rhime shall bury rae«
A dirge in this sense may signify verses setting forth the wholsomeness and excellency oC
good eating. Dirge is derived firom tho Latin word dirige, which begins a part of tho Popish
Litany. The more I consider tltis latter conjecture, tlie more probabli^ it appears; I shall
therefore venture it into tho text. Seward.
The old text is very good, and should not be changed : he first says, there shall be at bis
Aineral^
^ Instead of ceremonies, tc?Ao2K»7te burial prayers;'
and then proceeds to specify, that
^ * A printed dirge in rhime shall bury him/
instead of the usual service.
3P2 ' VaU
47a
THE WOMAN-HATER.
[Act 2. Scene 1«
The pretty court-oaths that are, I had been
ivelcomer
Than your soul to your body.
Gond, Now she's in, [sooner
Talking treason will not get her uut*^; I durst
UnderUike to talk an iutelligencer out of the
room, [a woman
And speak more than he durst hear, than talk
Out o'niy company.
Enter a Servant.
Sero, My lord, the duke
Being in the streets, and the storm continuing,
Is enter*d your gate, and now coming up.
Gon«/. The duke?— [plots
Now I know your errand, madam; you have
And private meetings in hand: why do you
chuse I
My house P are ;^ou asham'd to go to it
In the old coupling-place? tho* it be less
Suspicious here (for no Christian will
Suspect a woman to be in my house).
Yet you may do it cleanliei" there,
Voc there's a care had of those businesses ;
And wheresoever you remove, your great
maintainer - [opposite ;
And you shall have your lodgings directly
It is but putting on your night-gown and
Your slippers : madam, you understand me'^?
Ori. IBefore, [speaks
I would not understand him; but now he
Riddles to me indeed.
Enter the Duke, -Arrigo, and Lucio,
Duke, Twas'a strange hail-storm.
Lucio. 'Twfts exceeding strange.
Gond, Good-morrow to your grace!
Duke, Good-morrow, Gondarino.
G&nd, Justice, great prince!
Duke. Why should you beg for justice ?
1 never did you wrong; what a the offender?
Gond, A woman.
Duke. Ob, I know your ancient quarrel
Against that sex; but, what bemoos criiB«
Hath she committe<l ?
G&nd. She hath gone abroad.
Duke, What? it cannot be.
Gond, She hath done it.
. Duke. How!
I never heard of any woman that
Did so before.
Gond. If she have not laid by
That modesty that should attend a virgin,
And, quite void of shame, Iwtli left the house
Where she was bom (as they should never do).
Let me endure the pains tliat she should sni^
fer!
Duke. Hath she so? which is the woman
Go)ul. This'*.
Duke, This? how!— Arrigo! I^ncio!
Gond, Ay, then it is a plot: no prince alive
Shall force me make my house a brothel*
house ;
Not for the sin's, but for the woman*s sake;
I will not Iiave her in my doors so long :
Will they make my house as bawdy as their
Duke. Is it not Oriana ? [own arc ?
Jmcw. It is.
Duke. Sister to count Valore ?
Jrr. The very same.
Duke. She that I love?
Lucio. She that you love.
Duke. 1 do suspect—
Lucio. So do I.
Duke. This fellow to be but a counterfeit;
One that doth seem to loath all woman-kind.
To hate. Iiimself because he hath some part
Of woman in him, seems not to endure^
To see or to be seen of any woman.
Only because he knows it is their nature
To wish to taste that which is most forbidden :
And with this show he may the better compass
(And with far less suspicion) his base ends.
Lucio. Upon- my lite, 'tis so.
Duke. And I do know.
Before his slain' wife gave him that oflfencc'^'.
■^ Will get her out.] The negative added, and we think justly, by Seward.
*7 Your ni^kt-goton, and your slippers ; madam y you understand weY] To make out the
ir^rse here with the context, I am forced co divide one word into twx) liues; this, which giire»
the measure a more comic aspect, is done by our authors indisputably in the comic pan of
the Schoolmaster, in The Two Noble Kinsmen.
Upon this mighty morr — of mickle weight,
Ts — now comes in^ which being glcw'd together.
Makes morris. Sezcard,
Seward (oh, miserable division !) exhibits,
Your night-gown, and your slippers; madam, y* under^
Stand me ?
But the example from The Two Noble Kinsmen is so far from apposite, that it rather prove*
our authors would not gravely practise what they there exposed as supremely ridiculous.
'* Gond. This, this.] As we have no doubt but the second this belongs to the DukCf ««
have removed it to his speech.
'S' Before his ^him tcife.] I have ventured to alter this to late wife; there not beins (be
least hint of his wife's being slain by him or any other. Lain for buried might probabi}* he
allowed, b^^t I lay it down as a rule, never to ascribe to my authors an expression that I
thou Id be ashamed to use myself. Seward.
TVe variation s^uld at most have only been offered as a conjecture. Late wife is vert
flat aud modcro^
Act f . Scene 1.]
THE WOMAN-HATER.
479
He was the g^atest servant to that sex
That ever was. What doth this ladjr here
With him alone? Why shonld he rail at her
To me ?
Lurio, Because your grace might not sus-
pecc.
Duke. It was so ! I do love her strangely. I
Would fain know the truth ; counsel me.
[Tftey three whuper-
Enter Valore, Lazarillo, and Boy.
VaL It falls out better than we could ex-
pect, sir.
That we should find the duke and my lord
Goudarino together, both which you desire
To be acquainted with.
L/iZ, Twas very happy.—
Boy, go down into the kitchen, and see
If you can spy that same. — ^I am now in
some hope ; [Exit fioy.
I havA metninks a kind of fever upon me,
A certain gloominess within me, doubting,
As it were, betwixt two passions : there's no
Young maid upon her wedding-night, when
her husband
Sets first foot in the bed, blushes, and
LooVs pale again, oftner than I do now.
There is no poet aojuainted witli more
Shakings and quakings, towards the latter
end
Of bis new play, (when he's in tliat case
That he stands peepius betwixt the curtains^
So fearfully that a botUe of ale cannot
Be open'd, but he thinks somebody hisses)
Than I am at this instant.
VaL Are they in consultation ?
If they be, either my younp; duke hath gotten
Some bastaixl, and is persuading my knight
yonder [else
To father the child, and marry the wencn, or
Some cockpit*s to be builL
Laz. My lord! what nobleman's that?
VaL Ilis name is Lucio ; 'tis be that was
made a lord . [wife's sake ;
At the request of some of his friends for^s
lie affects to be a great statesman, and thmks
It consists in night-capsy and jewels^ and
; Toothpicks.
; Laz, And what's that other?
I VtU. A knight, sir, that
jl^leaseth the duke to favour, and to raise
I To some extraordini^ry fortunes; he can
, mitke [week.
At good men as himself ev'ry day m the
Aod doth.
XajL For what was he raised ?
VaL Truly, sir,
I am not able to say directly for what.
But for wearing of red breeches, as I take it :
lie is a brave man; he will spend three
^ knighthoods
lAt a supper without trumpets.
[ Laz. My lord. Til talk with him ;
For Fve a fiiend that would gladly receive
the honour" — [him, let him
VaL If he have the itch of knighthood upon
Ilepair to tliat physician, he'll cure him.
But I will give you a note : is your friend
Fat or lean ?
Laz. Something (at.
Vol. It will be the worse for him.
Laz. 1 hope that's not material.
Vol. Very much,
For there's an impost set upon knighthoods,
And your friend shall pay a noble in tha
poOmd.
Duke. I do not like examinations ;
We shall find out the truth moue easily.
Some other way less noted, and that course
Should not be ns'd, 'till we be sure to prove
Something directly ; for when they percehre
Themselves suspected, they will tiien provide
More warily to answer.
Lucio. Doth she know
Your grace doth love her ?
Duke. She hath never heard it.
Lucio. Then thus, my lord.
[Tkey whisper agaifu
Laz. What's he that walks alone
So sadly, with his hands behind him?
VaL The lord
Of the house, he that you desire to be
Acquainted with. He doth hate women for
The same cause that I love them.
Laz. What Is that? [ceive me, sir?
VaL For that which apes want : you per-«
Laz. And is he sad ? can* he' be sad that
hath
So rich a gem under his roof, as that
Which I do follow ? — What young lady's that ?
VaL Which? Have I mine eye-sight per-
fect? *tis
My sister! Did I say the duke had a bastard?
Wliat should she make here with him and
his council? [them;
She hath no papers in her hand to petition to
She liath never a husband in prifton, whose
release [wench,
She might sue for: that's a fine trick for a
To get tier husband clapt up, tliat she may .
More freely, and with less suspicion, vjsit
The private studies of men in authority.
Now I do discover their consultation ;
Yon fellow is a pandar without all salvation !
But let me not condemn her too rashly,
without
Weighing the matter : she is a ^oun^ lady ;
She went forth early this morning with •
A waitinfin-woman, and a page or so :
Tliis is no garden-house ; in my conscience.
She went forth with no dishonest intent; for
* She did not pretend going to any sermon
In the further end of the city; neither went
she
To see any odd old gentlewoman, that mourns
for
■^ Gladljf receive the humour.] Corrected in 1750.
The
480
THE WOMAN-HATER.
The deaifa of ber busbaod^ or the loss of her
friend, [her ;
And most have young ladies come to comfort
Those are the damiuible bawds! ^was no
set meeting [her
CertoinW) for there was no wafer-woman with
These three days, on my knowledge. I'll
talk with h^.
— Good morrow, my lord! [brotlier
Gond, You're welcome, sirw— HereV her
Come now to do a kind office for his sister;
Is k not strange }
Vol. I am glad to meetyoo here, sister.
Ori. I thamL you, good brother ; and if you
doubt of
The cause of my comings, I can satisfy you.
Fa/. No, faith, I dare trust thee: I do
suspect thou*rt honest ;
For it is so rare a thrn<<; to be honest,
Among you, that some one man in an age
May perhaps suspect some two women to
be honest,
But never believe it verily.
Lucio. Let your return be sudden 1
Arr. Unsuspected by them.
Dnke, It shall; so shaU I best
Perceive their love, if there be any : farewreH !
VaL Let me entreat your grace to stay a
little,
To know a gentleman, to whom yourself
Is much beholding: he hath made the sport
For your whole court these eight years, on
Duke. His name? [my knowledge.
VaL Lazarillo.
Duke, I heard of him this morning ;
Which is he?
VaL Lazarillo, pluck up thy spirits!
Thv fortunes are now raismg ; the duke calls
for thee,
And tfoou sbalt be acquainted with him.
Luz, He's going away, /
And I must of necessity stay here.
Upon business.
. VaL Tis all one; thou shalt know him first.
Lag. Stay a little !—
If he should offer to take me away with him.
And by that means I should lose that I seek
for—
But if he sliould, I will not go with him.
VaL Lazarillo, the duke stays! wilt thou
This opportunity ? [lose
Laz, How must I speak to him ?
Vol. Twas well thought of; you must not
talk to him
As you do to an ordinary man, [him :
Honest plain sense, but you must wind about^
For example; if he should ask you what
o'clock It is, [' tis nine ;'
You must not say, * If it please your grace.
But thus, ' Thrice three o'clock, so please
* ray sovereign ;* [* dwell
Or thus, ' Look how many muses there doth
* Upon the sweet banks of the learned well,
'And just bO many strokes the clock hath
' struck;'
[Act S. Scene i.
And so forth : and yo«i must now and then
Enter into a description.
Laz. I hope I shall do it.
VaL Come! pgentlemaa,
' May it please your grace to take note of a
* Well seen, deeply read, and througldy
' Grounded in the hidden knowledge of all
' And pot-herbs whateoever.' [salladi
Duke. I shall desire to know him more
inwardly.
Laz. I kiss the oit-hide of your grace^s foot
VaL Very well!— Will your grace questioB
him a little?
Duke. How old are you ? [manackt
Laz. Full eight and twenty several al-
Have been compiled, all for several years.
Since first I drew this breath ; four prentke-
ships
Have I most truly served in this world ;
And eight and twenty times hath Phcebn^
car
Run out his yearly course, since—
Duke. 1 understand you, sir.
Lucio. How like an ignorant poet he talks!
Duke. You are eight and twenty year old.
What time of the day do you hold it to be?
Laz. About the time that mortals whet
their knives [stairs;
On thresholds, on their shoe-aoals, ajid on
Now bread is grating, and the testy cook
Hath much to do now ; now the tables aU^
Duke. Tis almost dinnep-time ?
Laz. Your grace doth apprehend me veiy
rishtly. [further conference^
VaL Your grace shall find him, in yuur
Grave, wise, courdv, and scholar-like, on-
derstandin^lj- readl
In the necessities of tlic life of man :
He knows that man is mortal by his birdi;
He knows that man roust die, and therefore
live; [eat.
He knows that man must live, and dierefive
And if it shall please your grace to accompany
Yourself with him, I doubt not but tbatfae
will.
At the least, make good my commendatioiis.
Duke. Attend us, Lazanllo; we do want
Men of such action, as we have received joa
Reported from your honourable friend*
Laz. Good my lord, stand betwixt me
and my overthrow! [part! —
You know I'm tied here, and may not de-
M y gracious lord, so weighty arc the bus-
ness of mine own,
Which at this time do call upon me, that I
Will rather chuse to die, than to neglect them.
VaL Nay, you shall well perceive; besides
the virtues
That I have alread}r infbrm'd-yon of, he bath
A stomach which will stoop to no prince alive.
Duke. Sir, at your beU leisure; I shall
thirst to see you.
Laz. And I shall hunger for it. '
Duke. Till then, farewell all!
C9nd. VaL Long life attend yowr mce!
IhUx.
Act a. Scene 1.]
THE WOMAN-HATER.
481
Duke, I do DOt taste this sport. Arrigo !
Arr, Jmcw, We do attend. [Lucio!
[Exeunt Duke, Arr. ana Lucio,
Gond, His erace is gone, and liatli left
His Helen with me : I am nopandar for him;
Neither can I be won, witli the hope of gain,
Or the itching desire of ttistiug my lord's
Lechery to him, to keep her at my houte.
Or bring her in disguise to his bed-chamber.
The twines of adders and of scorpions
About mv naked breast, will seem to me
More tickling than those clasps, which men
adore,
The iustfal, dull, ill-spirited embraces
Of women ? The much-praised Amazons,
Knowinc their own infirmities so well,
Made of themselves a people, and what men
They take amongst them they condemn to die;
Perceiving that tlieir folly made theiu fit
To live no longer, that would willingly
Come in the worthless presience of a woman.-—
I will attend and see what my young lord*
IViH do with his sister.
Enter Boy.
' Boy, My lord, the fisii-head
Is gone agaip.
VaL Whither?
Boy. I know whither, my lord.
VaL Keep it from Lazarillo ! — Sister, shall I
Confer with you in pritrate, to know the cause
Of the duke's coming hither? I know he
makes you
Acquainted with his business of state.
Ori, ril satisfy you, brotlier; for I see
You're jealous of me.
Gond. Now there shall be some course
Taken for her conveyance.
Lax. Lazarillo,
Thoo art happy f thy carrif^ hath .begot
love, [here
And that love hath brought forth fruits; tbou'it
In the company of a man lionourable,
lliat win help thee to taste of the bounties
Of the sea ; and when thou has( so done.
Thou shalt retire thyself unto the court.
And there taste of the delicates of the earth.
And be great in the eyes of thy sovereign.
Now no moi£ shalt tliou need to scramble fur
Thy meat, nor remove thy stomach with the
court; [sire,
But thy credit shall command thy heart sde-
And all novelties shall be sent as presents
unto thee.
Vol. Good sister, when you see your own
time, wilt you
Return home?
Ori. Yes, brother, and not before.
Laz, I will grow popular in this state,
And overthrow the fortunes of a number.
That live by extortion.
VaL Lazarillo,
Bestir thyself nimbly, and suddenly.
And hear me with patience.
Laz. Let me not fiill from myself!
Speak / lam bound to hear^\
VaL So art thou to revenge, when thou
shalt hear; [tlicr.
The fish -head is gone, and we know not whi-
Luz. I will not curse, nor swear, nor rage/
nor rail,
Nor with contemptuous tongue accuse my fate
(Tho* I might justly do it^; nor will I
Wish myself uncreated, tor tliis evil I
Shall [ entreat your lordship to be seen
A little longer in the company
Of a man crossed by fortune?
VaL I hate
To leave my friend in his extremities.
Lax, Tis noble in . you ; then I take your
And do protest, I do not follow tlus [hand,
For any malice or for private ends,
But with a love, as gentle and as chaste,
As that a brother to his sister bears :
And if I see this fisMiead, yet unknown,
^he last words that my dying father spake.
Before his eye-strings brake, shall not of me
So often be rememberM, as our meeting:
Fortune attend nie, as my ends are just.
Full of pure love, and free from servile lust!
VaL Farewell, my lord ! I was entreated
to invite
Your lordship to a ladv*s upsitting.
Gond. Oh, my ears i —
Why, madam, will not you follow your bro«
ther ? [you to *em.
You are waited for by great men; he'll bring
Ori. I am very well, my lord : you do mis-
take me,
If you think I affect greater company
llian yourself. *
Gond. What madness possesseth thee.
That thou canst imagine nie a fit man
To entertain ladies ? I tell thee, I do use
To tear their hair, to kick theui, and to
twinge
Their noses, if they be not careful in
Avoiding me.
*^ So art thou to revenge, when thou thalt hear.
The fish-head is gone, and we know not whither.] As wliere is equally sense here, it adds
ttach to the humour to make this hobliug comic verse rlilmc to the grandeur of the line
above quoted from the most solemn scene in all Shakespeare. Mr. Svmpson asks. Is this a
bttriesquc upon Hamlet's Ghost ol' not? I am quite clear that it is not, and have ^iven, I
believe, convincing reasons at note 43, in that exceeding comic character, the Little French
Lawyer. Sentiments and expressions of acknowledged dignity, when applied to a ridiculous
sul^ect, only render it still more ridiculous, and tor that end only are used, burlesqntng, as
in this place LaxariUo, not Hamiet. Seward,
We see no humour in this unwarranted alteration, nor conviction in the note referred to.
. VOL.UL 3Q OrL
4Sft
THE WOMAN-HATSIt
[Act3. 9c«Ml.
Ors. Your lordtbip mny descant
Upon jf our own behaviour as please you, but I
Protcsti so sweet and courtly it appears
In ray eye, that I mean not to leave you yet.
Gond, I shall grow rou^
Oru A roueh cartia^ is best
In a man. — 1*11 dine with you, my lord,
Gond, Why, I will starve thee;
Thou shalt have nothing.
Ori* I have heard of your lordship's notlung;
rU put that to the Tenture.
uond. Well, thou shalt have meat;
ril send it to thee.
Ort. rU keep no state, ray lord^' ;
Neither do I mourn; I'll dine with yovu
Gond. Is such a thing as thisallow^l to live ?
What power hath let thee loose upon the
earth,
To plague us for our sins f Out of my doors !
Vru I would your lordship did but see how
weU
Tliis fury doth become you ! it doth shew
So near the life, as it were natural.
Gond, Oh, thoudamn'd Woman! I will fly
the vengeance
That hangn above thee : foUow^if thou dar^st !
[Exit Gond.
Ori. I must not leave this fellow; I will
torment him to madness !
To teach his passions against kind to move ;
The more be nates, the more I'll seem to love.
[Exeunt Orwna and MtUd,
Bnier Fandar and Mercer,
Pandar, Sir, what may be done by art
^hall be done;
I wear not this black deak for nothing.
Mercer, Perform this,
Help me to this great heir by learning.
Ana you shall want no black cloaks; Uffiities,
Silk-grograms, sattinsi and velvets are mine ;
They ^all be jourii perform what yoo have
promis*d ;
And vou shall make me lover of sciences ;
I will study the learned languages^ and keep
My shop-l>ook in Latin.
Pandar, Trouble me not now; [shop*
I will not fail you within this hour at yonr
Mercer. Let Art have her course. [^Exit.
Enter JnUa.
Pandar. Tis well spoken^ — ^Madona;
Julia. Hast thou brought meany customeis?
Pandar. No.
Juiia. What the devil dost thou in black ?
Pandar. As all soleom professors of aei-
tled courses do.
Cover my knavery with it. Will you many
A citizen, reasonably rich, and unrpusonably
foolish.
Silks in his shop, money in his purs^
And no wit iu his head f
Jului. Out upon him !
I could have been otherwise than so; tlieie
was a knight [liave'lent him
Swore he would have had me, if I wcwid
But forty shillings to have redeem*d hisckmk,
To go to church in.
Pandar. Then your waistcoatrwaitev
Shall have him ; call her in.
Julia, Francissina!
Fran, [within.] Anon. [youraclf^^,
JuUa. Get you to the church, and ahrive
For you shall be richly married anon.
Pandar, And get you after het, I will
work
Upon my citizen whilst he is warm;
I must not suffer him to consult with ha
neighbours ;
The openest fook are hardly cavened.
If they once grow jealous^
[BMmi.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
Enter Gondarino, flying the Lady.
Gond. QAVEme, ye better powers! let me
^^ notfiill
Between the loose enibracements of a woman !
HeaVn, if my sins be ripe, grown to ahead.
And must attend your vengeance, I beg not
to divert my fate,
Or to reprieve awhile thy paDiafameiil;
Only I crave, (and hear me, equal Hc8v*as!)
Let not joxtt fnrioas rod, that moat aflUct oic^
Be that imperfect piece of Nalnre
That Art makes up, woman, ^"witiiTr m— aa \ ■
Had we not knowing sofils, at first infiis'd
To teach a difference "tvrizt vttnmm and
goods?
Were we not made oursehes^ free^anooafii^
^' m keep no siatetmy lord; neither do I moMrtt.] Fll, instead of i, crept in i
line below. Ifoara, here signifies keeping house on acctmt of n^ffT^i^ lor aw
dead. Seward. ^
There sorely is not the least cause fiw variation.
*3 And shrive yourself i] L e. Go to confemom. The sane expreasioB accanin
Juliet.
Met*. Setma i.J
THE WOMAN-HATER.
CcMnmand^rs of our own ftovctions?
And can it be, that this most perfect creature.
This ima^ of his Maker; well-squar'd man,
Shoald leave the bandfast, that he bad of
grace.
To fall into a woman's easj arms?
Enter Orian0.
OrL Now, Venus, be my speed ! inspire
m^ with ,
All the several subtile temptations, that
Hiou hast already given, or hast in store
Hereafter to bestow upon our sex!
Grant that I may appfy that physic that is
Most apt to work upon him ; whether he will
Soonest be mov'd with wantonness, singing,
Dancing, or (being passionate) witb sconi.
Or with sad and senous looks, cunningly
Minted with sishs, with smiling, lispnig^,
Kisstntf the baud, and making slrart curtesies;
Or wiui whatsoever other nimble power
He may be caught, do thou infuse into me !
And, when I have him, I will sacrifice him
Up to thee !
Gond. It comes a^ain ! new apparitions.
And tempting spirits! Stand and reveal
thyself;
Tell why thou ibllow'st me? I fear thee
As I fear the place thou cam'st from, hell.
OrL My lord, I am a woman, and such a
one—
Gond, That I hate truly!
Thou hadst better been a devil.
Ort. Why, ray unpatient lord ?
Gond, Devils were once good ; there they
exceU'd you women.
Ort. Can you be so uneasy ? can you freeze.
And such a summer's heat so ready to dis-
solve ?
Nay, gentle lord, turn not away in scorn.
Nor liolH me less fair clum I am! Look on
tliese cheeks;
Tbev^ve yet enough of nature, tme com-
plexion :
If to be red and white*', a forehead high,
An easy melting lip, a speaking eye,
I
And such a tongne, whoie language takes
the ear
Of strict religion, and men most austere :
It' these may hope to please you, look you
here**!
Gond. This woman with entreaty would
shew all. [woll^
Lady, there lies your way; I pray you, fare-
Cfri. You're yet too harsh, too dussonant ;
There's no true music in your words, my lord.
Gond. What shall I give thee to be gone?
Here stay ; ['tis big enough,
An thou want'st lodging*', take my house,
It is thine own; 'twill hold five lecherous
lords
And their lackies, without discovery:
There's stoves and bathing-tubs.
Ori. Dear lord, you are
Too wild.
Gond. Shalt have a doctor too, tbou shalt,
'Bout six and twenty, 'tis a pleasing age;
Or I can help thee to a handsome usher;
Or if thou lack'st a page, I'll give thee one :
Prithee keep house, and leave me!
Ori. I do
Confess I am too easy, too much woman,
Not coy enough to uke afiection ;
Yet I can firown, and nip a passion.
Even in the bud : I can say, [leave us.
Men please their present heats, tlien please to
I can hold off, and, by my chymic power.
Draw sonnets from tKe melting lover*s brain;
Ai/ni£s^ and elegies: yet to you, my lord,
My love, my better self, I put these off.
Doing that office not befits our sex,
Entreat a man to love. Are you not yet
Relenting? ha' you blood and spirit in those
veins ?
You are no image, tho' yon be as hard
As marble: sure you've no liver; if you had,
Twould send a lively and desiring licat
To every member! Is not this miserable?
A thing so truly form'd, shap'd out by
symmetry.
Has all the organs that belong to man,
And workii^ too, yet to shew all these
** Or with $ad and terum looki^ cunningly nwigUd with tight, with smiHng, Utping.] This
speech, all printed before as prose, I have fomid not the least difficulty in restoring to its
measure, 'till I came to this passage; and here there is the greatest reason to believe a
monosyllable added, more injurious to the seive than measure : for what cunning is there in
mingling sad looks with sighs ? It does indeed require cunning to mingle sighs and smile» to-
getl^r, so as to appear engaging and charming. I therefore read,
Cunningly-mingl^ sighs, with smiling, lisping.
Kissing the hand, &C Seward.
*^ I/to he red ahd white.] The construction here seems a little difficult; I therefore read.
If »t be tod and white ;
{. e. If true complexion consist in red and white. Seward,
There is no occasion to depart from the old text.
** If thete may hope to please^ look here.] Former editions. The insertion of two rriatives
ttot only completes the comic dignity of the measure, but is rather preferable as to the
•ense. Seward.
*^ Here't ta, and tha wanti lodgmg.] These mangled words Mr. Sympson has happily
eured: he reads.
Here stay, an thou want'st lodging. Setomrd.
^ •* 3 Q 2 Like
484
THE WOMAN-HATER.
[Act S. Scene 1.
Like dead motions moving upon wires?
Thtjn, good my lord, leave off wbat you have
been, [a man!
And freely be what you were first intended £br,
G<md, Thou art a precious piece of sly
damnation [
I will be deaf; I will lock up my ears :
Tempt me not* I will not love! if I do—
Ori. Then I'll hate you. [tum*d
Gond. Let me be *iibinted with honey, and
Into the sun, to be stung to death with
horse-flics !
Hear*st thou, thou breeder? here III sit^
And, in despite of thee, I will say nothing.
OrL Let me, with your fair patience, sit
beside you! [man, air,
Gond, 'Madam, lady, tempter, tongue, wo-
Look to me, I shall kick ! I say again.
Look to me, I shall kick!
OrL I cannot think your better knowledge
Can use a woman so uncivilly.
Gond, I caimot think I shall become a
coxcomb.
To ha* my hair curl'd by an idle finger.
My checks turn tabors, and be play'd upon,
Mine eves look*d babies in^% and my nose
blowVi to my hand:
I say again, I shall kick ! sure, I shall.
Oru Tis but [mind
Your outside that vou shew ; I know your
Never was guilty of^so great a weakness*.
Or, could the tongues of all men join*d toge*
thtr
possess me vi^th a thougl^ of your dislike,
My weakness were i\bpve a woman's, to fall off
From my affection, for one crack of thunder.
'Oh, would yoMjcoukl love, my lord !
Gond, I would tliou wouldst
Sit still, and say nothing ! What madman let
thee loose, [winds?
To do more mischief than a dozen whirl-
Keep thy hands in thy muff, and warm the
idle . [still?
Worms in thy fingers* ends: will you be dojng
Will no entreating serve you ? no lawful warn^
ing?
I must remove, and leave your ladyship :
Nay, never hope to stay me; for I will run
From that smooth, tinifiog, witching, cozen-
ing, tempting,
Damning face of thine* 9» far as I can find
any land,
Wliere I will ptit myself into a daily coursie
Of curses for thee and all thy fiimily.
Ori. Na}', good my lord, sit still ! Til pro-
mise peace^ . [course;
And fold mine arms up, let but mine eye dis-
Or let my voice, set to some pleasing chord,
sound out I
The sullen strains of my neglected love J
Gond. Sing 'till thou crack thy treble-string
in pieces, [and walk!
And when th* hast done, put up thy pipes
Do any tiling, sit still and tempt me not !
Ori. I'd rather sing at doors for bread,
than sing to
This fellow, but for hate: if this should be
Told in the court, tbat I begin to wooe lords,
What a troop of the untruss'd nobility
Should I have at my lodging to-morrow mont-
ing?
SONG.
Come, Sleep, and, with thy sweet deceivingy
lx)ck me in delight awhile;
I^t some pleasing dreams beguile
All my fancies; that from thence,
I may feel an influence,
All my powers of care bereaving!
Tho' but a shadow, but a sliding,
Let me know some little joy!
We that suffer long annoy.
Are contented with u thought.
Thro' an idle fancy wrought;
Oh, let my joys have some abiding !
Gond, Have you done your wassail^' ?
'Tis a handsome drowsy ditty, 1*11 assure you;
Now I had as lief hear a cat cry, when her
tail
Is cut off, as hear these lamentations.
These lousy love-lays, these bewaihueats.
You think you have caught roe, ladj! yon
think I melt now.
Like a disli of Mayrbutter, and run
All into brine and passion: yes, yes, Tbi
t«ikeu: [dwindle.
Look how I cross my arms, look pale, and
And would cry, but/or spoiling my hucel
We must part*: nay, we'll avoid alt ceremony;
No kissing, lady ! I desire to know
Your ladvship no more. Death pf jpay soul,
the duke !
Ori, God keep ypor Iprdship !
Gond. From tliee and all Uiy sex.
Ori. Ill be the cle^k, and cry. Amen !
Your lordship's
Ever-assured enismy, Oriana.
[E^t Ori. Mtnet Gond.
Enter Duke, Arrigo^ end Lucio,
Gpndp All the day's good attend your lord-
ship! (possibfef
Duke. We thank you, Gondarino. — Is A
Can belief lay hold on such a miracle?
To see thee (one that hath cloistef'd np aQ
passion,
Turn'd wilful votary, and forsworn copverst
With women) in company and^fair discoone
With the best beauty of Milan ?
*• Mine eyes looKd babies in."] So, in Woman's Prize, act v. scene 1,
■ No more fool.
To took gay babies in your eueSy young Rowland, Jit.
^ WtamL'\ See note 50 on Begg^s' Bush.
CoMf.
Acts. Scene L\
THE WOMAN-HATJBR.
485
Gond, Tis tra^; and if your grace^ that
hsLth the sway
or the whole suite, will suffer tliis lewd sex,
Thebe women, to pursue us to our homes,
l>f ot to be pn»y*U nor tp be rail'd away.
But they will wooe, and dance, and sing,
Aud, in a maimer looser tlmn they are
By nature (which .should seem impossible),
To throw their arms on our uu willing necks-*
Duke, No more ! I c^ see thro* your vi-
sor; dissemble it [art.
No mone ! Do not I know tbou hast tts*d all
To work upon the poor simplicity
Of tills young maid, that yet hath known
none ill, [wooe
Thinks that damnation will fri^^ht those tfiat
From oaths and lies^'? But yet I think her
chaste,
And will from thee, before thou shalt apply
Stronger temptations, bear her liencc with
roe. [new grace;
Gmid, My lord, T speak not this to gain
But howsoever you esteem my words,
My love and duty will not suffer me
To see you favour such a prostitute,
And I stand by dumb ; without rack, torture,
Or straparlo, 1 will unrip myself:
I do confess I was in company
With tliat pleasing piece of frailty,
That we call woman ; I do confess, after
A long and tedious siege, I yielded.
Duke, Forward ! [tlie point,
GondL Faith, my lord, to come quickly to
The woman yoo saw with me is a whore, .
An arrant whore.
Dnke. Was she not count Valore's sister?
Gond. Yes ; that count Valore's sister is
Duke, Thou dar'st not say so. [naught.
Gotid, Not if it be distasting to your lordship;
But give me freedom, and I dare maintain
She has embrac'd this body, and grown to it
As close as the liot youthful vine to the elm.
Duke, Twice have I seen her with thee,
twice my thoughts [strictness
Were prompted by mine eyes to hold thy
False and impostorous:
Is this your mewing up, your strict retirement.
Your bitterness and gall against tliat sex?
Have I not heard th^ say, thou*dst sooner
meet
Tbe basilisk's dead- doing eye, than meet
A woman for an object? liook it be true you
tell me; [off!-*
Or, by our country's saint, your head goes
Oh, Oriana, if thou prove a whore^^,
N<» woman's face shall ever move me more.
[Exeunt, Manet Gond,
Gond. So, so ! 'tjs as^ should be. An
women
Grown so mankind" ? must they be wQoing?
I have a plot bhtidl blow iier up ; she flies.
She mounts! I'll teach her !iulYi»hip to dare
My fury ! I will be tknown, and fear'd, and
More truly iuted of women than an eunuclu
E titer Or tana.
She's here again : good gidl, be patienJt I for
I must dissemble.
Ori. Now, my cold frosty lord.
My Woman-Hater, you tliat have sworn .
Jin everlustiug hate to all our sex !
By my troth, good lord, and as Vm yet a maid,
Methought 'twas excellent sport to hear your
honour [neral.
Swear out an alphabet, chafe nobly like a ge-
Kick like a resty jade, and make dl faces!
Did your good honour think I was in love ?
Where did I first begin to take that heat? *
From those two radiant eyes, tluit piercing
sight?
Oh, they were lovely, if the balls stood right f
And there's a leg made out of a dainty staff.
Where, the gods be thanked, there'is calf
enough! [vertite:
Gond. Pardon him, lady, that is now a con*
Your beauty, like a saint, hath wrought this
wonder.
Ori, Alas, has it been pricked at the heart?
Is the stomach come down ? will't rail no moro
At women, and call 'em devils, she-cats, and
goblins? [ter spend
Gond, He that shall marry thee, had bet*
The poor remainder of his days in a dunfs*
barge.
For two-pence a week, and find himself.
Down again, spleen ! I prithee down again !•«
Shall I find favour, lady? Shall at leneth
My true unfeigned penitence get pardon
For my harsh unseasoned follies ?
I am no more an atheist; no; I do
Acknowledge that dread powerful deity,
And his all-quick'ningheats bum in my breasti
Ob, be not as I was, hard, unrelenting;
But as I am, be partner of my fires !
Ori, Sure we shall have store of larks; thtt
. skies will [soon
Not hold up long: I should have look'd as
For frost in the dog-daysy or another inunda^
tion, [racle.
As hop'd this strange conversion above mi«
Let me look upon your lordship : is your nam^
Gondarino? are you Milan's general, that
Great bugbear Bloody-bones, at whose verj
name
^^ Thinkest that damnation will fright (hme that tcooe
' JVosi 4)aths and Ues,"] This is an odd question to Gondarino, but it seems only a mistake
from adding a letter to the verb. Thinks is surely the true reading and it is the supposed
simplicity of the young maid who thinks th^t the fear of damnation will deter men from
Ijinff and falsely swearing to them. Seward,
3* Iftkouprove^ Sfc.'\ ITie words, OA, Oriana, added by Seward.
3* Are womm grown so mankind ?] Sec note 55 on Monsieur Thomas.
AU
486
THE WOMAN-HATER.
[Acts. SccmS.
All women, from the Iftdy to the laandre«s,
Shake like a cold fit?
Gond. Good patience, help me !
This fever will enrage my blood again.—
Madam, I am that man ; I'm e?cn he
That once did owe unreconciled bate [man ;
To yon, and all that bear the name of wo*
I am tlie man that wrong'd your honour to
the duke ;
I luu the man that said you were unchaste,
Ajid prostitute; yet I am he that dare deny
all this. >
Ori. Your big nobility is very merry.
Gond. Lady, 'tis true that I haVe wron^d
you thus,
And my contrition is as true as that ; [again :
Yet have I found a means to make all good
I do beseech your beauty, not for myself,
(My merits are yet in conception)
But for your honour's safety and my zeal, re^
tire awhile,
Habile I unsa}' myself unto the duke,
And cast out that evil spirit I have possessed
him with !
I have a house conveniently private.
OrL Lord, thou hast wrong'd my innocence;
But thy confession hath gain'd thee faith.
GoruL By the true
Honest service that I owe those eyes.
My meaning is As spotless as my faith.
Ori. The duke doubt mine honour? a* may
judge strangely* [again ?
Twill not be long, before I'll be enlaig'd
Gond. A day or two.
Ori. Mine own servants shall attend me ?
Gond. Your ladyship's command is sood.
Ori. Look you be true ! [Exit.
Gond. Else let me lose the hopes my soul
aspires to I
I will be a scourge to all females in my life.
And, after my death, the name of Gondanno
Shall be terrible to the mighty women of the
earth : [of it
They shall shake at my name, and at the sound
Tlieir knees shall knock together; and they
shall
Run into nunneries, for they and I
Are beyond all hope irreconcilable :
For if I could endure an ear with a hole 'm\
or a plaited lock, . [sign
Or a bareheaded coachman, that sits uke a
Where great ladies are to be sold wiUuo,
Agreement betwixt us were not to be de-
spaired of. [women.
If I could be but brought to endure Co see
I'd have them come all ohoe a-week and kiss
me.
As witches do the devil, in token of homage.
I must not live here; I will to the coort.
And there pursue my plot: when it hath took,
Women snsll stand in awe, bat of my look.
lEgit.
SCENE m.
Enter two Inteliigeneers,
1 Int. There take your standing; be close
And vigilant! here will I set mvself;
And let him look to his language ! a* shall
know
The duke has more ears in court than tvro.
2 Int. ril quote him to a tittle^^: let him
speak wisely, *
Ana plainly, and as hidden as a' can.
Or I shall crush him ; a* shall not scape by
characters^'; [hav«
Tho' a* speak Babel, I shall crush him. Wc(
A fortune by this service hanging over us^
That, within this year or two,
I hope we shall be call'd to be examiners^
Wear politic gowns guarded with copper-laisep
Making great faces full of fear and office;
Our labours may deserve this.
1 Int. I hope it shall :
Why, liave not many men been raised from
This worming trade, first, to gain gooctaooes»
To great men ; then, to have commissions out
For search; and lastly, to be worthily namM
At a great arraignment ? Yes ; and why not
we?
They that endeavour well, deserve their fee.
Close, close! a' comes; mark well, and ali
goes well !
Enter Valorem Lazarillo, and Boy.
Imz. Farewell, my hopes! my anchor now
is broken!
Farewell, my quondam \oj I of wfaicfaDO token
Is now remaining; such is the sad miscbance^
Where lady Fortune leads the sUppefy danont
Yet, at the length, let me this fovour bav^
Give me my wishes, or a wished grare!
'^ til quote him to a tittle;] t. e. HI observe or note him : so, in Hamlet^ act ii.
Polonios says,
* , That hath made him mad :
' I am sorry that with bettei- heed and judgment^
* I had not quoted him.' jR.
3' A* ihall not scape characters.] This is a little difficult: if it is the true readinc the < .^
must be, that he shall not escape having characters drawn of him. But besides the stiffikes
of this interpretation, it does not well suit the contexL I read therefore^
-^~ a shall not scape by characters^
Let him speak Babel, I shall crush him;
By characters must here be understood, using names of one thing for another, as the t
ters of a cypher do ; for from writing the metaphor before is taken.
rU quote him to a tittle. Seward.
Fal
Act 3. Scene 3.]
THE WOMAN-HATER.
4&r
Val. The gods liefend, io bnve and vatiaiit
inaw
Should slip into the never-satiate jaw [know
Of black Despair ! No ; tliou shalt live and
Thy full desires ; hunger, thy ancient foe,
Shall be subdued; those guts that daily tumble,
Thro' air and appetite, shall cease to rumble;
And thou shalt now at length obtain tUj dish,
That noble part, the sweet head of a nsh.
Loz. Then ain I greater than the duke I
2 Int. There, there's
A notable piece of treason ! greater than
The duke; mark tliat!
VaL But how, or where, or when [reach.
This shall be compassed, is- yet out of my
Laz, I am so truly miserable, Uiat might I
Be now knocked o'th* head, with all my heart
I would
Forgive a dog-killer.
Vol, Yet do I see
Thro* this confusedness, some little comfort'^.
Las. The plot, my lord, as e'er you came
of a woman, discover.
'* Yet do Itetthrd this canfusedneu tome little comfort.] This, when restored to its i
sore, is a high burles(][ue parody of all poetic sublimity whatever, and Fletcher, to wlion
alone this play is ascnbeo, in the first edition must have ridiculed himself as well as aN grave
writers, if every quotation from Shakespeare is a sneer upon him, as my assistants,^ Mr.
Theobald and Mr. Sympson, li$ve been apt to imagine, and to have been quite angry with
Fletcher £or it. The lines above very much resemble the following in The Two Noble Kins^-
1 Int, Plot% dao^^emas p)9t« ! I will deserve
by this
Most liberally.
Val, Tis from my liead again.
Laz, Oh, that it would stand me, that I'
might iight.
Or have some venture for it ! that I might
Be turn'd loose, to try my fortune among the
whole
Fry in a colle^, or an inn of court,
Or scram blewiih the prisoners in tlie dungeon!
Nay, were it set down in the outward court.
And all the guard about it in a ring.
With their knives drawn (which were a dii»
mal sight),
And after twenty leisurely were tokl^
I to be let loose only in my shirt,
To try, by valour, how much of the spoil''
I would recover from the enemies' mouths,
I would accept the challenge.
VaL Let it go ! [the coort.
Hast not thou been held to Imve some wit ia
^ And to make fine jests upon* country people
men:
- yet cousin.
Ev'n from the bottom of tliese miseries.
From all that fortune can indict upon us,
I see two comforts rising.
Now would Fletcher sneer himself at a work that be certaiulyhadagreat^if nol the greatest^
sfaace in? I shall here take an opportunity of defending Fletcher for the character of Lazi^
rillo. I find few of my friends quite relish it; they, think the characature too high, too madi
beyond Nature, even so as rather to raise disgust than laughter. To this might be pleaded
the authority of Aristophanes in his characature of Socrates, of Plautus in more than one of
his characters, of Shakespeare in Pistol, and of Jonson and Moliere in the greatest part of
their plays, which are most o( tliem formed not of characters of reid persons, as those in
general of Shakespeare, Fletcher, Terence, &c. are, but of the pustions personated; as tlie
E'on o{ epicurism or nice gluUonj^ is in this play. Few people have seen how extremely
the several passions, as avarice^ pride, lust, epicurismn&cc. have been carried in real
I have heard of a gentleman that died not long since, whose passion for eating came not
fiir abort of LazarilU/s; and poetry is always allowed a little to heighten the features. Then
as to the sublimity of the poetic language used by Lazarillo, it is certainly the very best that
could be chose for high burlesque; as the dignity of the stile is the highest contrast to the
ridiculousness of the sentiments. Gondarino, hke Lazarillo, is a passion personated, and a
very well chrawn character in Ben. Jonson's manner; so tliat upon the whole, [ hope the
maiority of readers will join the laugh at this exceedingly droll play. Seward.
The parallel Seward draws between the passage quoted and tliat in The Noble Kinsmen, is
very much forced. Our authors certainly have often, without remorse, burlesqued Shake-
speare, and particularly his Hamlet.
33 To try the valourp hoto much of the spdl
I would recover from the enemies* mouthsJ] This is scarcely sense ; there a» two ways
of correcting it, as
To try by valour, how much of the spoil
I could recover from the enemies' mc uths !
Or,
To try their valour ! how much of the spoil
Would I recover from the enemies' moutlis?
1 prefer the fimner. The two next lines of the count's speech aie restoted from the old
quarto. Seward.
In
488
Tȣ WOM/VN-HATER.
[Acl 8. Scene 8.
In progr^ss*time? and wilt thou lose this
opinion,
For the cold head of a fish? I say, let it go!
rU help thee to as good a dish ofiueat*
Imz, God, let me not live, if I do not won-
der
Men should talk so prophanely ! But
It is not in tlie power of loose words
Of any vain or misbelieving man.
To make me dare to wrong thy purity.
Shew me -but any lady in the court.
That liath so full an eye, so sweet a breath.
So soft and white a flesh: this doth not He
In almond-gloves, nor ever hath been washed
In artificial baths ; no traveller [hath dar'd,.
That hath brought doctor home with him^^.
With all his waters, powders, fucuses.
To make thy lovely corps sophisticate.
VaL I have it ; 'tis now infus'd; be' com-
- fbrted!
Laz. Can there be that little hope yet left
In Nature? Shall I once more erect up tro-
phies ?
Shall I enjoy the sight of mv dear saint,
And bless my palate with the best of creatures ?
Ah, good my lord, by whom I breathe again,
6MI I receive tliis being ?
Vol. Sir, I have found by certain calculation.
And settled revolution of the stars.
The fish is sent by the lord Gondarino
To his mercer : now it is a growing hope
To know where 'tis.
Laz, Oh, it is far abeve
Th(? good of women; the pathick cannot yield
More pleasing titillation ! [about,
VaL But how to compass it? search, cast
And bang your brains, LazariUo I Thou art
Too dull and heavy to deserve a blessing.
Laz, My lord, I'll not be idle: now,
Think, think, think ! [Lazacillo,
VaL YonderV my informer, [at me :
And his fellow, with table-books ; they nod
Upon my life, they have poor LazariUo
(That beats his brains about no such weighty
matter)
In for treason before this.
Lax. My lord, what do you think.
If I shoulcl &have myself, put on midwife's
apparel,
Come in with a handkerchief, and beg a piece
For A great-bellied woman, or a sick child ?
Fa/. Good, very good!
Laz, Or corrupt the waiting prentice
To betray the reversion.
1 Int. There's another point
In's plot ; corrupt with money to betray :
Sure 'tis some fort a* means. Mark ; have a
care! ^ [with,
1^2. An 'twere the bare vinegar 'tts eaten
It would in some sort satisfy Nature :
But might I once attain the dish itself,
Tho' I cut out my means thro' sword and fire.
Thro* poison, thro' any thing that nmy make
My hopes — [isood
3 Int, Thanks to the gods, and oor
officiousness.
The plot's discover'd ! fire, steel.
And poison ; bum the palace, kill the dokc^
And poison his privy-council.
Val. To tlie mercer's! let me see!
How if, before we can attain the means
To make up our acquaintance, the &ah be
eaten?
Laz, If it be eaten, here a* stands^ that is
The most dejected, most unfortunate.
Miserable, accurs'd, forsaken slave [it;
This province yields! I will not sure oat-live
No, I will die bravely, and like n Roman;
And afler deatii, amidst the Elysiau sliades
I'll meet my love again.
1 lilt. I will die bravely.
Like a Roman : have a care ; mark thst !
When he hath done all, he will kill himself.
Val. Will nothing ease your appetite bat
this? [ness,
Laz, No ; could the sea throw up his va&t-
And offer firee his best inhabitants, [me!
Twere not so much as a bare temptaticm to
Val. If you could be drawn toatfect beef.
Venison, or fowl, it would be far the better.
Laz. 1 do beseech your lonlsbip's patience!
I do confess that, in this hea^ of blood,
I have contemn'd all dull and grosser meats;
But I protest I do honour a c£ne of
Beef^ I do i^ercnce a loiu of veal ;
But, good my lord, give me leave aiittJe
To adore this! But, my good lord, wouM
your lordsiiip.
Under colour of taking np some sliks.
Go to the mercer's, I would in ali hinmiitT
Attend your honour, where we may be iurited^
If Fortune stand propitious.
VaL Sir, you shall
Work me as you please.
Laz. Let it be suddenly,
I do beseech your lordship { Tis now upon
The point of dinner-time.
Val. I am all yours. [Ere. Las. and VmL
1 Int. Come, let's confer: imprtmis, a'saith^
like [duke;
A blasphemous villain, he's greater than the
This peppers &im, an there were nothing else.
2 Int, Then a' was naming plots ; did yoa
not hear? [covery,
1 Ja^ Yes; but a' fell firom tlmt unto dis-
To corrupt bj money, and so attain.
S Int. Ay, ay,
A' meant some fort or citadel the duke hath ;
His very faee betray'd his meaning. Oh, he's
A very subtle and a dangerous knave ;
But if a' deal a God's name, we shall worm
him.
1 Int. But now-comes the stroke, the fatal
blow.
'^ That hath brought doctor home with him;} t. e*
foreign university. Seward.
Has had a doctor's d^rec in some
Fire,
Act 8. 9c«nt 4*]
THE WOMAN-HATER.
Fire, sword, %iid poiioa : ah, cvubal,
' Tbou bloody caaibal!
2 Int. WhMJ^ bad become
Of this poor atate had not we been ?
1 Inf. Faith,
It bad iaiu buried in its own ashes, had not
A greater hand been in'L
2 Int. But note
The rascal's resolution; after tract's done.
Because he would avoid oil fear of torture,
And cozen the law, !be'd kill himself; was
there [age?
Kver the like danger brought to light in this
Sure we shall merit much; we shall be able
To keep two men a-piece, and a two-hand
sword
Between us; we will live in favour of
The state, betray our ten or twelve
Treasons a-week, and the people shall fear us.
Come; to tiie lord Lucio!
The sun shall not go down *till he be hang*d.
^ [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Enter Mercer.
Mercer. Look to my shop ; and if there
come ever a scholar [are shopkeepers
In black, let him spenk with me. We that
In good trade, are so pester'd, tiiat we can
scarce , [tion ;
Pick out an hour for our morning's medita*
And howsoever we're all accounted dull.
And common jesting-stocks for^our gaUants,
There ore some ok' us do not deserve it; for,
for my own part,
I do begin to be given to my book. I love
A scholar with my heart ; fur, questionless.
There are marvellous things to be done by
art: why, sir, [horses,
Some of them will tell you wliat's become of
And silver spoons, and will make wenches
tlance
Ndked to their beds. I'm }ret unmarried.
And because some of our neighbours are said
To he cuckolds, I will never marry
Without the consent of some of these
scholars,
That know what will come of it.
Enter Pandar.
Pandar, Are you busy, sir ?
Mercer. Never to you, sir, nor to any
of your coat.
Sir, is there any thing to be done by art.
Concerning the great heir we talk'd on ?
Pandar. Will she, nill she, she shall
Come running into my house, at the further
comer
In St. Mark's Street, 'twixt three and four.
Mercer. Twixt three and four ?
She's brave in cloaths, is she not ?
Pandar. Ob, rich, rich! — (Where should I
Get cloaths to dress her in ? Help me, in-
vention !) —
Sir, that her running thru' the titreet may be
VOL- in, ^
I^ess noted, my art more shewn.
And your fear to speak with her les8»
She shall come in a white waistcoat, and«-
M&^cer. What ! shaU she ? [bath left
Pandar. And perhaps torn stockings. — She
Her old wont else.
Enter Prentice.
Pren-x Sir, my lord Gondarino
Hath sent you a rare fish-head.
Mercer. It comes ri^ht ; all things
Suit right with me smce I began to love
scholars! [come.
You shall Imve't home with you against she
Carry it to tliis gentleman's liouse.
Pandar. The fair [Mark's Street.
White house, at the further corner of St.
Make Iwste 1 I nmst leave you too, sir ; I
have
Two hours to study. Buy a new Accidence
And ply your book, and you shall want
nothing ^
That all the scholars iirtiie town can do for
you ! [Exit,
Mercer. Heav'n prosper both our studies!
What a dull slave was 1 before
I fell ill love with this learning! not worthy
To tread upon the earth; and what fresh hopes
It hath put into me! I do hope, within this
twelvemontli.
To he able by art to serve the court with silks,
And not unao myself; to trust knights, and
Yet get in my money again ; to kee^
My wife brave, and yet she keep nobody
else so.
Enter Valortand Lazarillo,
Your lordship is most honourably welcome.
In reg'4rd of your nobility; but most
Especially in regard of your scholarsliip.
Did your lordship come openly?
Val. 8ir, this cloak [pect me
Keeps me private ; besides, no man will sus-
To be in the company of this gentleman ;
With whom I will desire you to be acquainted s
lie may prove a good customer to you.
J.uz. For plain silks and velvets.
Mercer. Are you schulastical ?
Imz. Something addicted to the muses.
Val. I hope they will not dispute.
Mercer. You have no skill in the black art i
Enter Prentice.
Pren. Sir, vonder's a gentleman enquires
For count Valore. Qiastily
Vul, For me ? what is he? Ythink.
Pren. One of your followers, my lord, I
Val. Let him come in.
Mercer. Shall I talk with you in private, sir?
Enter Messenger toith a Letter; Valore reads*
Val. « Count, come to fhe court ; ye«T
business calls you thither :*
I will go. Farewell, sirl I'll see your ailks
Some other time. Fan well. lAzariUol
9 li Msrcer.
490
TIIE WOMAK-IL\TER.
Mercer, Will not your lordship take a
"With me? [piece of beef
VaL Sir, T have greater business
Tlian eating ; Fll leave tHis gentleman with
you. [Exeunt Valore and Messenger.
Lag, Now, now, now, now'* ! [ra^>-
Now do I feel that strange struggling within
That I think I could prophesy.
Mercer. The gentleman
Is meditating.
Las. Hunger, valour, love,
" Ambition, are alike pleading, and,
Let our pliilosophers say what they will,
Arc one kind of heat ; onl}- hunger is
The safest : ambition's apt to fall ; love
And vidour nre not free from dangers i only
Hunger, begotten of some old limber cour^^.
In paned hose, and nurs'd by an attorney s
wife.
Is now so thriven, that he need not fear
To be of the Great Turk's guard ; is so free
from all quarrels and dangers.
So full of hopes, joys, andticklings,thatmy life
Is not so dear to me as his acquaintance.
Enter Boy,
Boy» Sir, the fish-head is gone.
Laz. Then be [voice !
Thou henceforth dumb, with thy ill-boding
Farewell, Milan! Farewell, noble duke!
Farewell, my fellow-courtiers all, with v.liom
I have of yore made many a scrambling meal
In comers, behind arrases, on stairs ;
And in the action oftentimes have spoil'd
Our doublets and our hose with liquid stuff!
Farewell, you lusty archers of the guard,
TO/Whom [ now do give the bucklers up,
And never more with any of your coat
Will eat for wagers 1 now you happy lie;
When this shall light upon you,, think on
me!
You sewers, carvers, ushers of the court,
^imamed gentle for your fair demean.
Here I do cake of you my last farev/ell :
May you stand stifly in your proper places,
And execute your offices aright!
Farewtll, you maidens, witli y ourmothers eke.
(Act 4. Scene 1.
Farewell, you courtly chaplains that be there !
All good attend you! may you never more
Marry your patron's lady's waiting-woman,
But may yoo raised be by tliis my fall !
lVI»y I^zarillo suffer for you all !
Mercer. Sir, I was bearkning to you.
i^a. I will hear nothing! I will break my
knife,
The ensign of my former happy state.
Knock out my teeth, have them hung at a
And enter into religion. [barber''s,
B(u/. Why, sir, I think
] know whither it is gone.
luiz. See the nishness [do
Of man in his nature I Whither, whither ^ I
Unsay all that Tve said ! Go on, go on,
boy !
I humble myself, and foUow thee. Farewell,
sir ! [of beef with me.
Mercer, Not so, sir; you shall take a jnecc
laz. I cannot stay.
Mt^cer. By my fav, but you shall, sir!
In regard of your love to learning, and yonr
In the black art. ||skill.
Laz. J do hate lenming, and I liave
No skill in the black art: I would I had!
Mtjcer, Why, your desire is suiBcient to
You shnll stay. [^^i
Laz. TI.e most horrible and
DetesJed curses that can be imagined.
Light iij)o:t all the professors of that art!
May iliey be drunk, and, when they go to
conjure, * ' [raisU
Keel i'th' circle! May the spirits by them
Tear 'tm in pieces,
And bang their quarters on old broken walk
And bteeplc-tops!
Mercer. This speech of yours shews you
To have some skill i' th' science ; whefefoie.
Civility, I may not suffer you [in
To depart empty.
Laz, My stomach is up;
I can*t endure it! [ will fight in this qaarrt*!.
As soon as for my prince. Room ! make
way! [Dnncg his rapier.
Hunger commands; my valour must obt-v!
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Enter Valore and Arrigo,.
VaL TS the duke private?
•■- Arr. He's alone ; but I think
Your lordship may enter. [Exit Vnl,
Enter Gondarinik
Gond. Who is with the duke? [wfli
Arr. The count is new gone in; but the duke
Come forth, before yon can be weary of
waiting. '
• 3^ Aa, 910, nOy no; tioa?.] Former editions. This meditation of LnxarUh*s seems de»
gignedly iluntf in, to shew that a man may run mad witli the passion of hunger as well as thai
of^ love, ambition, 6lc. and this is a key to LaMr///!(/s character. The umbrana's head is
become his mistress, and he is run mad with the thoughts of it. Semard.
Act 4. Scene i.J
THE WOMAN-HATER.
491
Gond. I will attend him here.
Arr. I must wait without the door. [Esit.
Gond, Doth lie hope to clear his sister ?
She will come [sent her
No more to my house, to laugh at nie: I've
To ao hahitutiun, where, when she slmll be
Seen, it will set u gloss upon her niime :
Yet, on my soul, I have bestow'd her amongst
The purestrhearted creatures ot* her sex,
And the freest from dissimulation ; for their
deeds
Are tdl alike, only they dare speak
What tlic rest think. The women of this age,
(If there be any degrees of comparison
Anious^t their sex) arc woi%e than those of
former times;
For I have read of women, of that truth.
Spirit, and constancy, that, were they now
Living, I should endure to see them : but
I fear tlie writers of the time belied them;
For how familiar a thin^ is it with
The poets of onr age, to extol their whores
(Which they call ttiistretiOi) with heav 'nly
praises
! [bniins,
But, I thank their furies, and their crazVi
Beyond belief! Nay, how many that would
fain
Seem serious, liave dedicated grave works
To ladies, tootliltss, bollow-ey'd, their hair
sheddinw^*, [off,
Purple^fac*d, their nails apparently coming
Ana the bridges of their noses broken down,
And have call'd them the choidi handy works
of Nature, [nient
The patterns of perfection, and the wonder-
Of women. Our women begin to swarm .
Like bees in summer : as I came hither,
There was no pair of stairs, no entry, no
lobby,
But was pestered with Uiein : methinks
There might be some course taken to de-
stroy them.
Enter Arrigo, and an old deaf Country Gen-
tlewohariy suitor to the Duke.
\
Arr. I do i^ccept your money : walk here;
and when . [portuniiy
The duke comes out, yon shall have iit op-
To deliver your petition to him.
Gent lew. I thank you heartily.
I pniy you who's he that walks there?
. Arr.* A lord, and a soldier,
One in good favour with the duke : if you
conld get him
To deliver your petition —
Genlirw, What do you say, sir?
Arr. If you could get him to deliver your
petition
Foryou, or to second you, 'twere sure.
Uentlew. I hope
I shall live to requite your kindness.
Arr. You have already. [Exit.
Ccntlew, May it please your lordship—
Gond, No, no.
Ce fit lew. To consider the estate —
Oimd. No. [tiewomnn.
Oe/Uleu\ Of a p0f)r oppressed count i-y gen-
Gond. No, it doth not ple«ise my lordship.
Gentlcw, First and foremost, 1 have had
great injury ; [times.
Then I've been brought up to the town thrc«^
Gond, A pox on him that brought thee to
the town! [heartilv!
Gent lew, I thank your good lordship
Tho' I cannot hearwcll^Iknoxv itgrievesyouj
And here we have been delny*d, and ^nt
down again.
And fetch'd up again, and sent down again,
To my great chaise ; and now at last they've
fetch'd me up,
And live of my daughtert— -
Gond. Enough to damn five worlds!
Gcntleui. Uaudsoiuc young women, tlio' I
say it : they
Are all without; if it please >our lordship,
rU call them in. * [should T
Gond. 1' ive women ! how many of my senses
Have left me then? call in five de\ils first!
No, I will rather walk with thee alone.
And hear thy tedious tale of injury.
And give thee answers; whisper in thine ear,
And make thee understand tiuo' thy IroucU
hood;
And ail this with tame patience !
GnUlew, \)i*ie [without;
Your lordship does believe that they are
And I perceive you are much mov'd at our
injury :
Here'*! a paper will tell you more.
Gond, Away! [me tell it
Gent lew. It may be you had rather hear
Vivd voce, as they say.
Gond. Ohy no, no, no, no ! I have beard
it before. [injury,
Gentlew, Then you have heiurd of enough
For a poor gentlewoman to receive.
Gond. Never, never; but that it troubles
My conscience to wish any good to these
women,
I could aflford them to be valiant and able.
That it might be no disgrace for a soldier
To heat them.
Gentlcw. I hope
Your lordship will deliver my petition
To his grace ; and you may tell hiin withal—
Gond. What?
I will deliver any thing against myself,
To be rid on thee. [o'clock
Gentlew. That yesterday about thre«
I' th' aflernoon, I met my adversary.
Gond, Give me thy paper I he can abide
no long tales. [demanding of Ixim —
Gentlao, Tis very short, my lord : and I
Gond. ril tell him that shall serve thy t«rn*
.^* MoUovc^}/d their hair thedding.] Seward reads,
lioUow-ey'd, /lair-i/iedding, 4c,
sua
Gtntkw,
4n
THE WOMAN-HATER.
Xrentlew, How? [begone!
Gond. ni tell hnn thnt shall serve thy turn :
Man never doth remember how great
Ilis offences are, 'till he do meet with one
Of you, thai plagues him for them. Why
should women only,
Above all other creatures that were created
For the benefit of roan, have the use of speech^
Or why should any deed of theirs,
Done by their fleshly appetites, be disgraceful
To their owners? Nay, why should not an
act done
By any beast I keep, against my consent,
Disiparage me as much as that of tlieiVs ?
uentlasp. Here*s some few angels for your
lordship.
Gond, Again?
Yet more torments ?
GentUw. Indeed you shall have them.
. Gmd. Keep off! ' [ness.
Gentlew, J^ small ji;ratuity for your kind-
Gond. Hold away !
Gentlcw, Wliy then, I thank your lordship!
ni gather them up again; and I'll be sworn
It is the first money that was refus'd
Since I came to the court.
Gond, What can she devise
To say more?
Gentlew. Truly I would have willingly
Parted with them to your lordship.
Gond, I believe it^
I believe it.
Gentlew. But since it is thus —
Gond, More yet?
Gentlew, I ^vill attend without, and ex-
pect an answer. [and have
Gond, Do; begone, and thou shalt expect,
Any thing; thou shalt have thy answer from
him:
And he were best to give thee a good one
At first, for thy deaf importunity
Will conquer him too in the end. ^
Gent loo, God bless your lordship, and all
that fevour
Poor distressed country gentlewomen !
{Exit,
Gond, All the diseases of man
Light upon them that do, and upon me
When I do ! A week of such days would ci-
ther make me
Stark -mad, or tame me. Yonder other womkn.
That IVe sure enough, shall answer for thy
sins. [fear
Dare they incense me still ? Ill make them
As much to be ignorant of me and my moods,'
As men are to be ignorant of the law
They live under. Who's there ? my blood
grew cold ! [duke.
I Mgan to fear my suitor's return. It is the
Enter Duke and VaUre.
Vol, I know faer chaste, tho' she be young
•ad free.
[Act4.9eeftel.
And is not of that forc'd behaviour
Ihat ibany others are ; and that this lurri.
Out of the boundlet« malice to the sex,
Hath thrown this scandal on ber. [wiU,
. Gond, Fortune befriended me against my
With this good old country gentlewomaiiw —
I beseech your grace to view fiivourably
The petition of a wronged gentlewoman.
Dttke. What, Gondarino, are you becoiBe
A petitioner for your enemies?
bond. My lord, they are no enemies
Of mine : I confess, the better to cover
My deeds, which sometimes were loose enough,
I pretended it (as 'tis wisdom to keep
Close our incontinence); but since you have
Diacover'd me, 1 will no more put on
That visard, but will as freely open
All my thoughts to you, as tO my conlcsBor.
Duke. What say you to this ?
Val, He that confesses he did once dis-
semble,
111 never trust his words : can you imagine
A maid, whose beauty could not suffer faer
To live this long untcrapted by the noblest.
Richest, and conning^t masters in that art.
And vet hath ever held a iair repute,
Coulcl in onemorning, and byhim,bebfvngbc
1 o forget all her virtue, and turn whore?
Qand, I would I had sotne other talk in
hand.
Than to accuse a sister to her brother :
M or do I mean it for a public scandal.
Unless by ui^ing me you m^ke it so.
Duke, I will read this at better teisare.
Gondarino, where is the lady?
Val. At his house.
Gond. No;
She is departed thence.
Val. Whither? [cus'd,
Gond, Ui^ it not thus ; or let me be ex*
If what I speak betray her chastity.
And bothencrease my sorrow, and your own.
Vul. Fear me not so: if she deserve the
feme [lishM,
Which she hath gotten, I would liave it pub*
Brand her myself, aud whip her thro' the city !
I wish those of my blood that do ofiend.
Should be more strictly punisli'd than my foes.
Let it be prov'd !
Duke. Gondnrino, thou shalt
Prove it, or suffer worse than she should do.
Gond. Then pardon me, if I betray the
faults
Of one I love more i learly than myself.
Since, opening heft, I shall betray mine own :
But I will bring you where she now intends
N ot to be virtuous. Pride and wantonness.
That are true friends in deed^% tho' not in
show, [bathe.
Have enter'd on her heart; there she doth
And sleek her hair, and practise cnnniiig
looks.
To entertain me with; and hath her tjx>ugbti
^^ Thai are true friends indeed,] Formet'ediwns, Seward.
M
Act 4. Sceta« S.]
THfi WOMAN^HATBft.
^s fuU of lost, us ever jou did tliink
Them full of modesty.
Duke, Gondarino, lead ou; well follow
titee. [ExiL
SCENE 11.
Enter Pandar.
Fandar, Here hope I to meet my citizeD,
and here
Hopes he to meet his scholar *. I am sure
1 4un gmve «noagb to his eyes, and knave
enough
To deceive him : I am believ'd to coaiuite,
Raise stomis and devils, by whose power I
can
Do wonders: let him believe so still; belief
Hurts no man« I have an honest bluck cloak
for
My knavery, and a general pardon For
His foolery, from tins present day, 'till
The day of his bi^eaking. I»'t not a misery,
Aud the greatest of our age, to see a haiid*
some»
Young, fair-enough, and well-mounted wench.
Humble herself in an old staromel petticoat,
Standing possessed of no more fringe than
The street can allow her; her upper parts so
poor
And wanting, that you may seemlier bones
thro* her bodice;
Shoes she would have, if her captain were
come over,
And is content the while to devote herself
To ancient slippers. These premieres well
Consider*d, gentlemen, will move; cheymMke
Me melt, I proiui&e you, they stir me much;
And were it not for my smooth, soft, silken
citizen,
I'd quit this transitory trade, get me
An everlasting robe, sear up my conscience.
but liene lie comet is
And torn sergeant.
mine; ^
As good as price: sir Pandams^bemy speed!
You are most fitly met, sir.
Enter Mercer.
Mercer. And you as well encounter'd.
What of this heir? Have your books beea
propitious f [my hottee:
Fandar. Sir 'tis done! Slices come, slie** ift
Make yourself apt ^r courtship, stroke u^
your stockings, [am sdi«
Ix)se not an inch of your legs* goodness; f
You wear socks.
Mercer. There your books fail you, air;
In truth I wear no socks.
Fandar. I would you bad, sir! foa
It were the sweeter grace tor your legs. Got
Your gloves; are they perfum'd***?
Mercer. A pretty wash,
I will ussure you.
Fandar. 'Twill ser\'e. Your oQers mvA
Be fuU of bounty^'; velvets to fiirmsli a.
gown, silks
For petttooats and foreparts, shag for iining;
Forget not some pretty .jewel, to fasten after
Some little compliment 1^ If she deny this
courtesy.
Double your bounties; be not waatiag ia
abundance :
Fullness ofgi As, linked with a pleasing tongue^
Will win an anchorite. Sir, you are ray friend^
And friend to all that profess good letters;
I must not use this uHice else; it fits not
For a scholar, and agentlemnti. Those stock-
Are of Naples; they are silk? [ings
Mercer. You are again
fieside your text^ sir; they are of tlie best of
wool,
And tliey're clyped jersej'**'.
3* i^oMr gloves; are they perfum*d?] In the Winter's Tale, act iv. scene 3, Autolycus m«n«
tions ' Gloves ns szceet as damask roses;' and Mopsa also sfjeuks of x'teel gtovv9, Mr. War-
ton, in a note, says, ' Stowes Contiuualart Edmund Howes, informs ns, that tlie Euj^iish could
' not ' make any costly wash or perfume, until about the fourteeutli or fiHeenth of tiiequeeue
** [Elizabeth], the right honourable Edward Vere earle of Oxford came frrnu Itulv» and
^ brought with him gloves, sweet baggcs,' a perfumed leatiier jerkiu, and other pieasatit
^ thinges : and that yeare the queene had a payre of perfumed gloves trimmed oulie with
^ foure tufces, or roses, of cullered silke. The queeue took such pleasure iu those gloves^
** that shee was pictured with those gloves upon her hands: aud for many veers after it was
^ called the erle of Oxforde^s pafujoe,^ Tlie same learned gentleman also informs us, in the
Appendix to Shakespeare, that * In the computus of the bursars of Triuity'^cuUege, Oxford,
* for the year 1631, the following article occurs, ' Solut profumigandis chirothecis,* Gloves
* make a constant and considerable article of expeiice in the earlier accompfiobOoks of the
* college here mentioned; and ^ithout doubt in tliose of many other societies, Tliey were
' annually given (a custom still subsisting) to the college-tenants, and often presented to
^ guests of distinction* But it appears (at least, from acoompts of the said college in pre*
* ceding years) that the practice of perfuming gloves for this purpose was iaUea into disuse
< soon after the rekn of Charles the First.' IL
39 Your oj^s must
B^fuil of bounty y ^c] So^hakespeare,. in the Two Gentlemen of Verona;
* Win her with giftSf if she reelect not words;
* Dumhjeaels, often in their silent kind,
' More than ouick words, do move a woman's mind.' JR. "
^ And they clyped Jersey. j Seward reads^ and tliey Vt. cuppbd Jen^. We restore th^
woid
i
494
THE WOMAN-HATER.
[Act 4. ScoieS-
Worthy hands set to *ein for probatioiu
But we forget ourselves.
Fandar. 6ir, eiJter when [toogae I
You please, and ail good language tip your
Mercer. All that love learning, prayibr
my good success ! [£»€•
SCENE m.
Enter Lazarillo and Boy.
Jais. Boy, whereabouts arc we ?
Bou. Sir, by ali tokens, this is the lioutr;
Bawdy, I'm sure, because of the broken win-
dows.
The fish-head is witliin; if you dare Tentiifey
Here you may surprize it.
Laz. The misery of man
May fitly be compared to a didapper.
Who, when she*s under water, past our tight.
And indeed can seem no more to us, rises
again,
Shakes but herself^ and is the same she was;
So is it still with transitory man : [mighty.
This day, oli, but an hour since, and 1 was
Mighty in knowledge, mighty in my faopes^
Mighty in blessed means, and was
So truly happy, that I durst have said,
' Live, Lazarillo, and be satisfied!*
Bat now —
Boy. Sir, you are yet afloat.
And may recover; be not your own wrcdi!
Here lies the harbour ; go in, and ride at ease!
Las. Boy, I'm received to be a gentieman,
A rourtier, and a man of action^
Modest, and wise; and, be it spoken with
Thy revierence**, child, abounding rirtnoos;
And wouldst thou have a man of tlwse choice
iiabits.
Covet the cover of a bawdy bouse ?
Yet, if I go not in, I am bat-
Boy. But what, sir } [unsatisfied,
Laz. Dust, boy, but dust; and my soul.
Shall haunt tiie keepers of my blessed saint.
And ril appear.
Boy. An ass to all men.— Sir,
These are no means to stay your appetite ; ,
You must resolve to enter.
Laz, Were not tlie house
Subject to martial law-
Boy. If that be all, sir, [here
You may enter, for you can know nothing
That the court's ignorant of; only the more
eyes
Shall look upon you, for tliere tliey wink
One at another's faults.
Jmz. If I do not —
Boy. Then you must beat fairly Imck again,
Fall to your physical mess of porridge, and
The twice-sack'd carcase of a capon; Fortune
word clyptd, and understand it to mean called. It is variously spelt in different authon:
Sometimes a y precedes it, to lengthen it a syllable; as in Milton's L'iUlegro;
< But come, thou goddess, fair and free,
* In Heav'n ycleap'd Euphrosyne.' JR.
♦' With thy reverence.^ Seward omits thy, Wc think it should be retained, ijluding to
maxima deljeiur pcipais reverentim.
May
Tandar. Sure they are very clear? [ing!
Mercer. Nine shillings, by my love to learn-
Fandar. Pardon my judgment;
We schoUrs use no other objects but our
books. ' [that grave breast,
Mercer. There is one thmg entomb d ni
That makes me equally admire it with
Your scholarship. « i. i
Pander. Sir, but thatm modesty I m bound
Not to affect mine own commendation,
I would enquire it of you.
Mercer, Sure you are very honest;
And yet you have a kind of modest fear
To shew it: do not deny it; that face of
yours is
A worthy, learned, modest face.
Fandar. Sir, I can blush.
Mercer. Virtue and grace are always pair d
together: , ^ ' . [^?o^
But I will leave to stir your blood, sir ; and
To our business !
Pandnr. Forget not my instructions.
Mercer. I apprehend you, sir ; I will ga-
ther
Myself together with my best phrases, and so
I shall discourse in some sf>rt takingly.
Fandar. This was well worded, sir, and
like a scholar. [tents
Mercer. The muses favour me, as my m-
Are virtuous! Sir, you shall be my tutor;
Tis never too late,sir,tolove learning. When
I can once speak true Latin—
Fandar. What do you intend, sir?
Mercer. Marry, I'll then
Beggarall your bawdy writore, and undertake,
At the peril of my own invention.
All pageants, poesies for chimnies, speeches
For the duke's entertainment, whensoever
And whatsoever; nay, I will build.
At mine own charge, an hospital, to which
shall retire
All diseas'd opinions, all broken poets,
All prose-men that are fallen, from small
sense l^ lawyer,
To mere letters; and it shall be Inwtul for
If he be a civil man, tlio' he have undone
Others and himself by the language, to retire
To this poor life, and learn to be honest.
Fandar. Sir, you are very good, and very
charitable;
Yon are a true pattern for the city, sir !
Mercer. Sir, I do know sufficiently, their
shop-books
€anno| save them ; there is a further end-r-
Fondar. Oh, sir, much may be done by
manuscript.
Mercer. I do confess it, sir, provided still
They be canonical^ and h»ve some
Acti. Scene 3.]
THE woman-hater.
49f
May fiiTOttr yoa so' much, to send the bread
to it;
But it is a mere venture, and money may
Be put out upon it.
£02. I wili go in and live; [myself
Pretend some love to thegentlewomafi, screw
In aftection, and so be satisfied.
Fandar. This ^y
Is caught, is mesh'd already ; I will suck him,
And lay hire by. [means ;
Boy. Mufile yonrself in your cloak, by any
'Tis a receiv*d thing among gallants, to walk
To their lechery ns tlio' they had the rheum.
Twaa well you brought not your horse.
Xmi, Why, boy? [gentry.
Boy. Faith, sir,. it is the fashion of our
To have their horses wait at door like men,
While the beasts their masters are within at
rack
And manger ; 'twould have discover*d much.
Xoz. I will lay by these habits, forms, and
grave
Respeots of wliat I am, and be myself^ :
Oiftly my appetite, my fire, my soul, ^
My being, my dear appetite, shall go
Along with me; ami d with whose strength
1 fearless will attempt the greatest danger
Dare oppose my fury. I am resolv'd,
Wherever that thou art, inost sacred dish,
Hid from nnhaliow'd eyes, to find thee out!
Be'st thou in hell, by rap*t Proserpina*',
To be a rival in black Pluto's love ;
Or mov'st thou in the heav'ns, a form divine,
Joshing the lazy i<phcres; or if thou be'st
Keiuru'd to thy first being, thy mother sea,
Tliere will 1 seek thee forth: earth, air, nor
fire,
Nor the black shades below shall bar my sight.
So daring is my powerful appetite !
Boy. Sir, you may save this long voyage,
and t-ake
A shorter cut : you have forgot yourself;
Hie fisli-head's here{ your own imagiuations
Have made you mad.
Laz. Term it a jealous fury, good m^ boy!
Bify. Faith, sir, term it what you will, you
must use
Other tenns before you can get it.
Laz. The looks oi my sweet love are fair**^
Fresh and feeding as the air i
Boy. Sir, you foi^et yourself.
Laz. Was never seen so rare a head.
Of any fish, alive or dead !'
Boy. Good sir, remember ! this is the house,
sir.
Lag. Cursed be he that dare not venture—
B<ty. Pity yourself, sir, and leave this fury.
Lag. For such a prize ! and so 1 enter.
[Exeunt Laz. and Boy*
Pundar, Dun's i'tlrmire; get out again,
how he can : [more
My honest gallant, T*ll shew you one trick
Tlian e'er the fool your father dream'd of yet.
Madoua Julia!
Kilter Julia.
Julia. What news, my sweet rogue?
My dear sins' broker, what good news?
Pahdar, Tlicre is
A kind of ignorant thing, much like
A courtier, now trone in.
Julia. Isa'gnilunt?
Fandar. lie shines not very gloriously,
Nov does he wear one skin perfimi'd to keep
The other sweet ; his coat is not in or,
Nor does the world yet run on wheels with
him ; [lows him,
He's rich enough, and has a small thing fol-
like to a boat tied to a tall ship's tail.
Give him entertainmeut; be light and fiash^
.ing.
Like a meteor; hug him about the neck,
^^ And grave respectt of what I am, and be 9nysclf»] Sev^ard says, ' How could L^zarillo
' change himself in all outward respects, and yet continue to be himself, and then again
' except his appetite, which should stay with liiiiiP lUie Duke below, when disguised, says,
' We're not ourselves ; but without this confiriuution, 'iwas evident at first sight that a fiegO"
' tive was omitted.' He therefore reads, And be no uohk myself. We apprehend this addi-
tion to be unnecessary, and to pervert the sense. Lasarillo says, * he will lay by outward
' forms, which are no part of himself, and carry with him only his passions, soul, and being,
* which are his very self. In short, I will lay byjthese formx, and be myself.*
^^ Rap't by Proserpina.^ We apprehend every reacfer will see the necessity of the tran^
position here made.
^ TAe looks of my sweet hue are fair.] Mr. Sympson asks what means this stuff? I was
much surprized at the question, as it had always struck me as one of the most laughable
burlesques in the whole play. Litzarillo, as I have often mentioned, being evidently in love
with his umbrana, every where addresses it as his mistress, in a high banter upon all the
warm and poetic flights of lovers, and indeed of all sublime writing in poetry: and as he
fenerally assumes the tragic and epic stile here, like the change of the measure in the strophe
and antistrophe of the Greeks, he breaks out into the lyric, begins it with high rapture, but
ends with such inimitable drollery, that I can scarce write my note forlaughingat it. Seward.
Seward's risibility seems rather extravagant; but he very properly vindicates oiir authors
from the contempt of Sympson: yet he does not seeni to have conceived what we appre*
hend to lie the case, that when Lasarillo * breaks out into the lyric,' he recites, or closely
parodies, some well-known old English ballad, without at ail adverting to * the strophe and
' autittroplie of the Greeks.' t
Give
4M
THE WOMANHATEE.
[Act 4. SceMl
Give him » kiss, arid lisping cry, < Good sir !'
And Ws tbioe own, as fast aa he were tit'd
To tiiine arms by iridenture.
Julia, I dare do more
Than this, if lie be of the true court cut;
111 take liim out a lesson worth the letyuing :
But we are but their apes. What is he worth i
Fandar. Be he rich or poor, if he will take
thee with him, [stables and marshals.
Thou ma/st use thy trade, free froih con*
Who hath been here since I went out?
Julia. There is
A gentlewoman sent hither' by a lord :
She s a piece of dainty stuff, my rogue;
Smooth and soft as new sattin;
She ivas ne'er fi;umm'd yet, boy, nor fretted.
Pandar^ Where lies she ?
Julia. She lies above, towards the street ;
^ot to be spoke with, but by the lord that
sent her, [his servants.
Or some from him, we have in chai|;e from
Enter La zarillo.
Pandar. Peace! he comes out again upon
discovery :
Up with all your canvas, hale him in !
And, when thou Imst done, clap him aboard
My valiant pisinuce ! [bravely,
Julia. Be gone ! I shall do reason with him.
Lax. Are yuu the special beauty of this
house?
Julia. Sir, you have given it a more special
Regard by your good language, than thttse
Black brows can merit.
Xas-. Lady, you are fair. [means
Julia. Fair, sir? I thank you! all the poor
Tve left to be tJiought grateful, is but
A kiss, and you shall liuve it, sir.
Las. You have
A very moving lip.
Julia. Prove it again, sir;
It may be your sense was set too high, and so
0*er-wrought itself.
Lag. Tis still the same. How far
May you hold the time to be spent, lady?
Julia. Four o'clock, sir.
Lax. I liave not eat to-day. [your supper;
JuUa, You will have the better stomach to
Ib the mean time, I'll fec^^ you with deliglkt.
Lax. Tis not so good upon an empty sl!o-
mach:
Tf it might be without the trouble of
Your house, Td eat.
Julia, Sir, we can have
A capon ready.
Lax. The day ?
Julia. Tis Friday, sir.
LqZ' I do eat tittle flesh upon Umm dtpm
Julia. Come^ sweet, yousliall not thiaLoD
meat ;
rn drown it with a better appetite. [eac
Lax. I feel it work more strangeljr; I inest
Julia. Tis now too late to send : J say m
shall
Not think on meat ; if you do, by thtt ki^,
ni be angry,
Imx. I could be far more sprightTul,
Had I eaten, and more lasting. ftbe U,
Julia., What will you have, sir? ^sunebvl
My maid shall bring it, if it may be got.
Las. Methinks your house should not be
so unfurnished.
As nr>t to have some pretty modicum.
Julia, It is so now : but, could yoa s/bsj
till supper —
Lax. Sure I haveoffended highly, and micfa,
And my inflictions make it manifest !
I will retire heacefortli, and keep my ctiamber,
Live privately, and die forgotten.
Julia. Sir, I must crave your pardon ! Fd
forgot myself:
I have a dihh of meat witliin, and *tis fish:
I think this dukedom holds not a daintier;
Tis an umbrana*s head.
Laz. Lady, rhis kiss
Is yours, and this. '
Julia. Ho! within there! cover the bovdr
And set the fish-head on it.
Lax. Now am I
So truly happy, so much above all fate
And fortune, that I should despise that man
Durst say 'llemember, Lazarillo, thou ait
* mortal!*
Enter Intelligencers with a Guard.
2 Int. This is the villain : lay handinn Um !
Imx. Gentlemen,
Why am I thus entreated ? What is the natore
Of my crime ?
2 Int. Sir, tho* you have carried it
A great while privately, and (as you think)
well, - [thee.
Yet we have seen you, sir, and we do know
Lazarillo, foe a traitor !
Lax. The gods
Defend ouc duke.
2 Int, Amen! Sir, sir, this cannot
Save that stiff neck from the halter.
Julia. Gentlemen,
Fm glad you have discovered him : he sboidd
not
Have eaten under my roof, for twenty ponods;
And surely I did not like him when he callld
For fish**.
Lax.
^ Wften jk caWd far fish.] In Ring Lear, one of Rent's aiticles of self-recommendatioa
is, that he eats no jUsh: the following explanation is there given by Warburton. ' lu qacea
* Elizabeth's time the papists were esteemed,' and with good reason, eneuiie^ to the p>wro-
* ment. Hence the proverbial phrase of, he's an honest man, and eats nojish; to signify he's
* a friend to the government and a protestant. The eating fish, on a religious accOont,
' being then esteemed such a badge of popery, that when it was enjoined for a season by act
'of
Vet 4. Scene 3.]
THE WOMAN-TIATEIL
4or
Ijfis. My friends, wlU ye let me have
That little favour —
1 Int. Sir, you shall have law,
^nd nothing else.
Laz. To let me stay the eating of
A bit or two ; for T protest I am yet-fasting.
Julia, ril have no traitor come <v'ithiu my
house.
Imz, Now could I wish myself I had been
Trnitor! I have strength eiiouj;h for to en-
dure it,
Had 1 but patience. Man, thou art Ijut grass,
Thou art a bubble, and thou must perish.
Then lead aiong; I am prepared fur ull :
•Since I have lost ray hopes, welconje my fall !
S Int. Away, sir!
La}:, As thou hast hope of man,
.Stay but this dish this two hours ; I doubt not
Sut I shall be discharjjcd : by this light,
I will marry thee !
Julia, You shall marry me first then.
Jmz. I do contract myself unto thee now,
Before these ^entltMnen.
Julia, I will preserve it
Till you be hung'd or quitted.
Ims, Thanks, thanks! [at the gallows.
2 Int, Away, away ! you sliall thank her
JjOZ. Adieu, adieu!
[Exe, Laz, Int. and Guard.
JiiHa. If he live, [ will have him ;
If he be hang*d, there is no loss in it. [Exit.
Orianu and her }Vaiting'Wotnan, looking out
at a Window,
Ori, Hast thou provided one to bear my
To my brother? [letter
WuU. IVe enquired ;
Bat they of the house will suffer no letter
Nor message to be carried from you, hut such
As the lord Gondariuo shall be acquainted
with :
Truly, madam, I suspect the house to be
No better than it should be.
Ori. What dost thou doubt ?
Wait, Faith, I am loth to tell it, madam.
Ori, Out with it!
^is not true modesty to fear to speak
That thou dost think.
Wait. I think it be one of
These s^me bawdy-houses.
Ori, Tis no matter, wench ;
We arc wann in it ; keep thou thy mind pure,
And, upon my word, that name will do ihce
uo hurt:
I cannot force myself yet to fear any thing.
When I do get out. Til have another en-
counter
With my Woman-Hater. Here will I sit :
I mny get sight of some of my friends ; it
must
Needs be a comfort to them to see me her«.
En^er Duke, Gondarino, Va lore, and Arrigo.
Oond. Are we all suiUciently disguised 2
for this house
Where she attends me, is not to be visited
In our own shapes.
Duke. Wc ate not ourselves. , [yet
Arr, I knotv ihe house to be sinful enongli j
I huve been, heretofore,
And durst now, but fur discovering of youy
iVppear here in my own likeness.
Duke. Where is Lucio ? [monwealth
Arr. My lord, he said tbc affairs of the corn-
Would not sutTer him to att(>nd always.
Duke. Some great ones, questionless, that
he will handle.
Val. Come, let us enter.
Cond. See, how fortune [men!
Strives to revenge my quarrel upon these wo-
Shc*s in the wiqdow; were it not to uudo hcr^
I .should not look upon hor.
Duke. Lead us, Gondarino! [my shame,
Oond. Stay; since you force me to displuy
Look there ! and you, my lord ! know you
Duke. Tis she. [that face ?
Val. It is. [wa»
Gond. 'lis she, whose greatest virtue ever
Dissimulation; she that bcill hath strove
More to sin cunniiigly, tlmn to avoid it;
She that hath ever sought to be accounted
Most virtuous, when bhe did deserve most
scandal ;
Tis she that itches now, 'and, in the height
Of her intemperate thoughts, with greedj^^
eyes
Expects my coming to allay her lust.
Leave her!»forget she is thy sister!
Val. Stay, atay !
Duke. I am
As full of this as thou caijst be; the memory
Of this will easily hercalter stay [woman.
My loose aud wan.iVing thoughts from any
Val. TLis will not down with me; I dar«
This fellosv. [not trust
])ukc. Leave her here! That only^hall be
Her punisluneut, never to be fctch'd froia
hence;-
Rui let her use her traile to get her living.
Val. Stay, gOixl my lord! I do believe all
tills,
As great men as I have had known whores
To their sisters, and ha\'e laugh'd at it. I
would lain hear
' of parliament, for tbe encouragement of the fi^h-towns, it was thought necessary to de»
* clare the reason; hence it Was calleil Cecirs fast. To this disgraceful badge of popery
* Fletcher alludes in his Woman-Hater, who makes the courtezan say, when Lazanllo, in
'search of the umbrana's head, was seized at her house by the inrellii;eacers for a traitor;
** Gentlemen, I am glad you have discovered liim. lie should not have eaten under luy
*' roof for twenty pounds. xAnd sure I did not like him, whtu he colled for JLh" Anil
Mareton's Dutch'Courteian ; * 1 trust I am none of the vvicl^t J lUui uJif^h a FruJay.*
VOL. HL a S How
498
THE WOMAN-HATER.
[Act 5. ScemL
How she talks, since she grew thus light swill
your grace make him
Shew himself to her, as if be were now
Come to satisfy her longing? whilst we.
Unseen of her, oVrhear her wantonness.
Let's make our beat of it now; we shall have
Good mirth.
Duke, Do it, Gondarino.
Gond, I must :
Fortune, assist me but this once!
Val. Here we
Shall stand unseen, and near enough.
Gondn Madam! Oriana!
Ori. Who's that ? Oh! my lord!
Gond. Sliall I come up ? [down ?
Ori, Oh, you are merry; shall I come
Gond. It ii better there.' [made
Ori, What's the confession of the he you
To the duke, which I scarce believe
Yet you had impudence enough to do ?
Did it not gain you so much foith with me.
As that I was willing to be at [covered
Your lordship's bestowing, 'till you had re-
My credit^ and coufes»'d yourself a liar.
As you pretended to do ? I confess
I began to fear you, and deMr'd to be
Out of your house ; but your own foilowen
Forced me hither.
Gond, It is well sospected ; [as!
Dissemble still, for there are some may near
OrL More tricks yet, my lord? What
house
This is I know not ; I only know myself;
Twere a great conquest, if you could fiisleii
A scandal upon me. Faith, my lord, give
To write to my brother ! [me Invt
Duke, Comedown!
Val. Come down !
Arr, If it please your gnice,
There is a back-door.
VaL Come, meet us there then.
Duke, It seems yon are acquainted with
Arr, I have been in it. [the bonsei
Gond. She saw you, and dissembled.
Duke, Sir, we shall know that better.
Gond. Bring me unto her !
If I prove her not to be a strumpet.
Let me be contcma'd of all her sex ! [ ExcumL
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Enter Lucio,
Xttc/o, *VrOW whilst the young duke fol-
■L^ lows his delights,
^e that do mean to practise in the state,
Must pick our times, and set our fn.ces in.
And nod our heads, as it may prove most tit
For the main good of the dear commonwealth.
"Who's within there ?
Enter a ServanU
Sere, My lord?
Lucio, Secretary, ^fetch
The gown I use to read petitions in,
And the standish I answer French letters with;
And call in the gentleman that attends.
[Kvit Serv,
Little know they that do not deal in stAte^
JIow many things there are to be observ'd.
Which seoiu but little; yet, by one of us
(Whose bruins do wind .about the common-
wealth)
Neglected, cracks our credits utterly.
Enter Gentleman and Servunt.
Sir, but that I do presume upon yoor secresy,
X would not have appear'd to you thus ig-
ncirantly
AttirM, vMthont a toothpick in a rii>band,
Or a ring in my bandstnug.
Gent. Your lordship sent for me.
Lucio. I did: sir, your long practice in
the state,
Under a great man, hath led you to mucb
E xperience.
Gent. My lord! .
Lucio. Suft'er not your modesty
To excuse it. In short, and in private,
I desire your direction : I take
My study already to be fumish'd after
A grave and wise method.
Gent, What will this lord do ? [of
Lucio. My book-strings are suitable, and
A teachin!^ colour*'.
Gent. Ilow is this?
Lucio. My standish piangs
Of wood strange and sweet, and my fore-fl.ip
In the rikiht place, and as near Machiavei's,
As am be gather*d by tradition. fthn^g
Gent. Are there surh men hs will &;:v do-
Abroad, and play tlie fcwis in their lo f^iujjs?
This lord must be foUow'd. — Anil hath your
lordship [apcccKes
Some new-made Avords to scatter in your
In publick, to gain note, that the hcarcis
may
Carry them away, and dispute of ibem
At dinner ?
Lucio. I have, sir ; and, besides.
My several gowns and caps agreeable
To my several occasions.
♦' And of a reaching co^ttr.j Rr.aching is the word in all the editions, bi^t as I can «£<
jno huuiuurous idea suitable to the context, I believe teaching tlie true word, an itiitruciiti
•mmd tcltolar like colour is the ;>tile a^' this Machiaveliaa statesman. Seward,
JLet 5. Scene Ij'
THE WOMAN-HATER.
490
G«rf. Tiswell;
And you have leariiM to write a bad hand.
That the readers may Cake pains for it?
Lucuh Yes, sir;
And I give out I have the palsy.
Gent. Good!
Twerc better tho* if you had it. Your lord-
ship haOi [pose
A secretary that can write fair, when you pup-
To be understood ?
Lucia, Faith, sir, I have one ;
There he stands ; he hath been my secretary.*.
These seven years, but*he hath forgotten to
write. [not
Oent, If lie can make a writing face, *tis
Amiss, 80 he keep liis owik counsel. Your
lordship
Hath ho hope of the gout f
Lucio, Uh ! little, sir,
6ince the pain in my right foot left me.
Gent, Twill be some scandal [knows
To your wisdom, tho' I see your lordship
Enoagh in publick business.
JLucio. I am not employed tho'
To iny desert in occasions foreign, nor
Frequented for matters domestical.
Gent. Not frequented ?
What course takes your lordship ?
Lucio. The readiest way;
My door stands wide** ; my secretary knows
I*ra not denied to any.
Gent. In this [wny:
(Give me leave) your lordship's out of the
Alake a back-door to let out intelligencers ;
Seera to be ever busy, and put your door
Under keepers, and you shall have a troop of
clients
Sweating to come at you.
Lucio. I've a back-door already :
I will henceforth be busy. Secretary,
Run and keep the door. [Exit Secretary.
Gent. Thi^ will fetch 'em.
Lucio* I hope so.
Re-enter Secretary.
Seer, My lord, there are some require nc-
About weighty aftairs of state, [cess to you,
Lucio. Already?
Gent. 1 told you so.
Lucio, How weighty is the business?
Seer. Treason, my lord.
Lucio, Sir,
My debts to you for this are great.
Gent, r 11 leave
Your lordship now.
Lucio. Sir, my death must be sudden.
If I requite you not. At the back-door, good
sir. [for once.
Gent, I'll be your lordship's intelligencer
[Exit.
Seer, My lord.
Lucio. Let 'em in, and say I'm at my study.
^ My door stands winde.] Seward alters wmde to uide.
Mw) proves him right,
383
Enter Lazarillo, and two InteUigenccrt, Xu-
cio being at his study,
i Int, Where is your lord?
Seer. At his study; but he will
Have you brought in.
Las. Why, gentlemen, what will you
Charge rac withal f
■2 Jnt, Treason, horrible treason :
I hope to have the leading of thee to prison.
And prick thee on i' th' arse with a halbert;
to have
Ilim hang'd tlrnt salutes tlioe, and call
All those in question that; spit noc upon thee.
L(i2. My thread is spun ;
Yet might I but call for this dish of meat
At the gallows, instead of a p^alm,
It were to be endur'd. The curcuin opens;
Now my cud draws on.
[Secretary drarrs the curtain,
Lucio. Gentlemen, I am not empty
Of weighty occasions at this time. Ipravyou
Your business. ^ [ver'd
1 Int, My lord, I think we have disco-
One of the most bloody traitors that ever
The world Iwld. '
Lucio. Signor Lazarillo, I'm glad
YouVe one of tliis discovery : Give me your
hand !
2 Lit. My lord, that is the traitor.
Lucio. Keep him off! [ed him.
I would not for my whole estate have toucli-
Laz. My lord —
Lucio. Feace, sir ! I know the devil is
At your tongue's end, to furnish you with
speeches.
What are the particulars you chafge him with?
iThey deliver a paper to Lucio, zo/io reads.
>oth Int. Wc have confcrr'd our notes,
and have extracted tliat,
Which we will justify upon our oaths.'
Lucio, ' That he'd be greater than the
duke; that
^ lie had cast plots for this, and meant
* To corrupt somp to betray him; tlmt he
< Would burn the city, kill the duke, and
poisou
< The privy-council; and lastly, kill himself.*
Tho' ihou deservcbt justly^o be hang'd
With silence, yet I allow thee to bpeak: be
short.
Laz. My lord, so may my grcLUest wish
succeed.
So may 1 live, and compass what I seek,
As I had never treason in uiy thtiU^lits,
Nor ever did coubpire the overthrow
Of any creatures, but of brutish beasts.
Fowls, fishes, and such oilier human food.
As is provided for tlie good of man.
If stealing custards, tarts, andilorentines.
By some late statute be created treason,
IIow many fellow-courtiers can I bring,
Tlie first quarto (which he ne\"er
WM)0i«
$0#
THE WOMAN-nAT£It.
[Act 5. Scene ^
Whose long attendance and experience
Hath made them deeper in the plot than I !
Li rio. Teace ! such hath ever been the
clemency [proceedint^s
Of my gracious master the duke, in all his
That i had thought, and thought I had thought
right ly,^ . . [self
That Malice would long ere this have hid her-
In her den, and have turn'd her own stini*
Against her osVn heart ; but I v.ell now per-
ceive,
That so froward is the disp'^sition of
A dcprav*d nature, that it doth not only
Seek revenge, where it hath received injury.
But inan\ times thirst after their destruction
WJjcre it hatii met^vith honetita.
Imz. Kut, ni> irood lord —
2 Tnf. ! cc's gair hin>.
Lucio. Peace ! ag'iin !
* But many times tbirbt after their destruc-
tion ^ [I left.
* Wh' !>• it hath met with benefits;' there
Such, and no better are isje business
Thn; we iia\e now in hand.
1 I it. He's ex- Mlently spoken.
52 lut. He'll vvihl a tn\ii«)r,i warrant him.
Lucio. But surety, methinks,
Setting aside tlie touch of conscience,
And all other inward convulsions —
2 J71L He'll be hang'd,
I know by that word.
Jmz. Your lordship may consider —
Lucio. Hold thy peace !
Thou canst not answer this speech ; no traitor
Can answer it. But, because you cannot
^\nswer this speech, I take it you've confessed
The treason.
1 Int. The count Valore was [it;
The tiist that disco vrr'd him, and can witness
Hut he left the matter to your lordship's
Grave consideration.
Lucio. I thank his lordship !
Carry him away speedily to the duke.
L(a, Now, Lazarillo, thou art tumbled
down
The hill of Fortune, with a violent arm!
All plagues that can be, famine and the
sword.
M^ill light upon thee; black Despair wHI
boil
In thy despairing breast ; no comfort by.
Thy Irieids far off, tliy enemies arc nigh!
Lucio. Away witli him! Til follow yoo.
Look [liiiii.
You pinion him, and take his money from
Lest he swallow a gh'llinff, and kill himself.
2 Int. Get thou on before ! [Exeunt.
SCENR n.
Enter th^ Duke, Vahre, Gondarino^ and
Arriso.
Duke. Now, Gondarino, what can
You put on now that niay aeain deceive ns?
Have you more strange illusions, yet more
jiiists, [ror?
Tliro' which the weak eye may be led toer-
\Vliat can you say that may ijo satislactioQ
Both for licr wroitged honour, and your ill?
Gond. All I can say, or ma\ ,is siiid already :
She is unchaste, or else I have no knowledge,
I do not breathe, nor have the ase of sense.
Duke. Dare you be yet so wilful-igao-
rant*^ [vnuts,
Of your own nakedness? Did not yoor ser-
in mine own hearing, confess they brought
her [force.
To, that house we found her in, almost bj
And with a great distrust of some
Ensuing hazanl ?
Val. He chat hath
(Begun. KO worthily, it fits not with
His resolution to leave offilms, my lord.
I know these are but idle proofs.
\\'hat }?ays your lordship to them ?
Gond' Count, 1 dare yet pronounce
Again, thy sister is not honest.
VaL You are
Yourself, my lord; I like your settledaesSb
Gond. County thou art youug, and unex*
perienc'd in [atRrm
The dark hidden ways of women: thou dam
With confidence, a lady of fifteen
May be a maid.
VaL Sir, if it were not so,
I have a sister would sit near my heart^.
.♦' Yet so zcilfiily ignorant.^ Former editions. The compound word wiiful-ignorant ssems
much f)referable. Seuard.
^ Sir, if it zicre not so, I hare a sister tcould set near my heart ^ Thus all the editions, bvt
inirely the sentiment is not very natural; would the count, who, upon the suppotitioo of hs
lister's bemg guilty, had sairi he would
Brand her himself, whip her about the city,
nnswcT here, that though she were not a maid, she would sit near his heart? The natural
answer is; if I durst not allirm that a lady of fifteen might be a virgin, my sister wouid not
•it so near my heart as she now does. I cannot change the words so as to give this Beoso
without taking rather loo great liberties, aud therefore sludl not insert my conjecture in the
text : 1 ha\f restored the measure, which 1' cannot preserve if I insert a negative, without iIj©
following changes:
■ H'it were not so,-—
My sister would not sit so near my heart. Seward.
Seward did not coubidcr^ thut lu$ sifter might ni near his heart la a paiafui as well at
tQ'octionate sense.
Act 5« Scene 3.)
THE WOMAN-HATER.
aoii
Gond, Let her sit near her shame f it bet-
ter fits her : [nearness*^,
CaH back the blood tliat made your stream iii
And turn the current to a better use:
^is too much mudded ; I do grieve to know it.
Duke. Dar^st thou make up again ? dar*st
to turn face,
Knowing we know thee?
Hast thou not been discovered openly?
Did not our ears hear her deny thy courtings?
Did we not see her blush with modest anger,
To be so overtaken by a trick f
Can you deny this, lord ?
Gond. Had not your grace
And her kind brother been within
Level of her eye, you should have had a hotter
Volley from ber, more full of blood and fire,
fieady to leap the vvindow where she stood;
So truly sensual is her appetite.
Duke, Sir, sir, these are but words and
tricks : give me the proof!
VaL What need a better proof than yoor
lordship? I'm sure
You have lain with her, my lord.
Gond, I liave confess*d it, sir.
Duke. I dare not give thee credit, without
witness. [conds with us,
Gond, Does your grace think we carry se-
To search us, and see fair play? Your grace
Ijath
Been ill-tutor*d in the business! but if
You hope to try her truly, and satisfy
Yourself what frailty is, give her the test :
Do not remember, count, she is your sister;
Nor let my lord tlie duke believe she's fair;
But put her to it, without liope or pity !
Then ye shall see that golden form fly ofl>
That all eyes wonder at for pure and fixVl,
And under it base blushing copper; metal
Kot worth the meanest honour : you shall be-
hold
Her then, my lord, transparent, look thro'
Her heart, and view the spirits how they leap;
,And tell me then I did belie the lady.
Duke, It shall be done! Come,Gondarino,
'Bear us company. We do believe thee: she
Enter Lazarilloy ttco Intelligencers^ and
Guard,
Shall die, and thou shalt see it. — How now,
my friends ?
Who have you guarded hither?
^ hit. So please your grace,
We have discovered a villain and a traitor:
The lord Lucio hath examined him, and sent
To your grace for judgment. [him
' Val, My lord, I dare
Absolve him from all sin of treason : I know |
His most ambition is but a dish of meat.
Which he hath hunted with so true a scent.
That he deserves the collar, not the halter^*',
Duke. Why do they bring him thus bound
up? [meat.
The poor man had more need !>ave some warm
To comfort his cold stouiach. [after,
Val, Your grace shall have the cause hei-e*
When you may laugh more freely. But these
Are called informers; men that live by trea-
As rat-catchers do by poison. [son,
Duke. 'Would there were
No heavier prodigies hung over us, [perils
Tlmn this poor tellow I I durst redeem ail
Heady to pour themselves upon this state.
With a cold custard.
Val. Your grace
Might do it, without danger to your person.
Ims. My lord, if ever I intended treason
Against vour person, or the state, unless
It were by wishing from your table some dish
Of meat, which I must needs confess was not
A subject's part; or coveting by stealth
Sups from those noble bottles, that no mouth,.
Keeping allegiance true,should dare to taste—
I must confess, with more than covetous eye,
I have beheld those dear concealed dishes,
That have been brought in by cunning equi-*
To wait upon your grace's palate : [pa^e,
I do confess, out of this present heat,
I have had stratagems and ambusciuioes ;
But, God be thanked, they have never took!
Duke, Count, [done.
This business is your own: when you have
Repjiir to us. [ExiU
Val. I will attend your grace. Lazarillo,
You are at liberty ; be your own man again s
And, if you can, benntster of your wishes;
I wish it may be so.
Laz. I humbly thank your lordship !
I must be unmannerly : I've some present
business.
Once more, I heartily thank your lordship.
[Exit.
Val, Now even a word or two to you, and
so farewell :
You think you have deserv'd much of this state
By this discovery : yeVe a slavish people,
Grown subject to ^he common curse of all
men''.
How much unhappy were thac noble spirit.
Could work by such base engines'*! What
misery [lingne^
Would not a knowing mafi put on with wil-
Ere he see himself grown fat and full-fed.
By fall of those you rise by ? I do [state
Discharge you my attendance ! Our healthful
Needs no such leeches to suck out her blood.
^ That made our stream.'] Amended by Seward.
'° He deserves the collar, not the halter;] i. e. He deserves the steward^i chain^ rather than
fa be hansed. See note 3 on the Lovers* Progress. 11.
5* To the common course of all men,] Corrected in 1750.
f * C<mld work by suoh baser gains.] Amended by Sympsoii,
1 Int.
S02
THE WOMAN-HATER,
1 Int. I do beseech joar lordship—
2 Int. Good ray lord — [I see
VaL Go, learn to be more honest! When
Toa work toup means firom honest industry,
I will b^ willing to accept your labours;
[Exeunt Int,
7iil then I will keep back my promis*d &-
voure.
Here comes another remnant of folly :
Enter Lucio,
I mast dispatch him too. Now, lord Lacio,
"What business bring you hither?
Lucio. Faithy sir, I'm discovering
What will become of that notable piece of
treason
Intended by that varlet Lazarillo ;
I've sent him to the duke for judgment.
Val. Sir, you liave [man ;
Performed the part of a most careful states-
And, let me say it to yonr face, sir, of
A father to this state: I would wish you
To retire, and insconce yourself in study; for
Such is your daily labour, and our fear,
That your loss of an hour may breed our
overthrow. [judgment :
Lucio, Sir, J will be commanded by your
And tho* I fiud it a trouble
Scant to be waded thro*, by these weak years ;
Yet, for the dear care of the commonwealth,
I will bruise my brains, and confine myself
To much vexation * ' .
VaL Go; and may'st thou
Knock down treason like an ox !
Lucip. Amen! [Exeunt.
Enter Mercer, Pandar, and Francissina.
Mercer, Have I spoke thus much in the
honour of learning, [ences,
Learn'd the names of the seven liberal sci-
3eforc my marriage ; and, since, liave in haste
written
Epistles congratulatory to the nine muses,
And is she prov'd a whore and a Ixjggar ?
Fandar, Tis true. You arc not now to be
tauglit
That no man can be learned of a sudden ;
Let not your first project discourage you :
What you have lost in this, you may
.Get again in aichymy.
Fran. Fear not,
^usband ; I hope to make as good a wife
^s ttie best of your neighbours have, and as
honest. [publish tliis ;
Mercer. I will go home. Good sir, don't
As long as it runs amonu^st ourselves, it is
Good honest mirdi. You'll come home to
supper ;
I mean to have all her friends, and mine^
As ill as it goes.
' Pandar. Do wisely, sir, Und bid
Your own friends; your whole wealth will
ftcarcc feast all hers;
[Act5.8caef
it Sal your credit to mk i
Neither is
streets
With a woman so noted : get yooboilie^i
Her cloaths; let her come an hoiirkwt'
An liand-basket, and shift henelt*,^!!
To sit at the upper end of the table,
To your customers.
Mercer. Art's just, and will
Make me amends.
Pandar. No, doubt, sir.
Mercer. The chief note of
A scholar, you say, is to govern his
Wherefore I do take all patiently: ws^
Of which, ray most dear wil'e, I do kisi "
Make haste
Home after me; I shall be in mystodf
Pandar. Go,avaunt !— My new citj-<
send me \\ hat
You promised rae for consideratiooy
And may'st tliou prove a lady !
Fran. Thou shalt have it;
His silks shall fly for it. [£
Enter Lazarillo and Boy.
Laz. How sweet's a calmaf^r a tcfflpi
What is there
Now that can stand betwixt me and (Mtff^
I've gone thro* all my crosses constaotlv,
Have confounded my enemies, and not
where
To have my longing satisfied; I have
My way before me : there's the door, sb^ I
May freely walk in to my delights, ixedf
Julia [within]. Who's there?
Laz. Madona, my love ! not guiltyi
Not guilty 1 Open the door !
Enter Julia,
Julia. Art thou
Come, sweetheart?
Laz. Yes, to thy soft embraces,
And the rest of my overflowing blisses!
Come, let us in and swim in our delights;
A short grace as we go, and so to meat!
Julia. Nay, my dear love, you must bm
with me in this;
We'll to the church first.
Laz. Shall I be sure of it then !
Julia. By my love, you shall I
Laz. I am content;
For I do now wish to hold off longer, to wkl
My appetite, and do desire to meet
With more troubles, so I might conquer thea
And, as a holy lover that hath spent
The tedious night with many a sigh and tean
Whilst he pursued his wench, and hath ob
serv'd
The smiles, and frowns, not daring to dit
please ;
When he at last hath with his service won
Iler yielding heart, that she begins to dott
Upon him^ and can hold not longer oa^
?' Confine mytelf.] Probably we should rend, consi^n^
»i
Ace 5. Scene S.]
THE WOMAN-HATER,
lOS
But hangs about his neck, and wooes Lini
more
Than ever he desired her love before j
He then begins to flatter his desert '%
Andy growing wanton, needs will cast her off;
Try her, pick quarrels, to breed fresh de-
And to encrease his pleasini; appetite.
Julia. Come, mouse, will you wulk?
Laz. I pray thee let me
Be deliver d of the joy I am so big with !
I do feel that high heat within roe,
That I begin to doubt whether I be mortal ;
How I contemn my fellows in the court,
With whom I did but yesterday converse!
And in a lower, and an humbler key,
Did walk and meditate on grosser meats!
Then; are they still, poor rogues, shaking
their chaps,
And sne^ing after cheeses, and do run
Headlong in chase of every jack of beer
That crosseth tliem, in hope of some repast
That it will bring them to ; whilst I am here,
The happiest wight that ever set his tooth
To a dear novelty ! Approach, my love ;
Come, let us go to knit the true love*s knot,
That never can be broken !
Boy. That is, '
To marry a whore. [the gift
Laz, When that is done, then will we taste
Which fates have sent, my fortuues up to litt.
Boy. When that is done, you will begin
to repent
Upon a full stomach : but I see, 'tis but
A form in destiuy, not to be alterM. [Kceunt.
Enter Arrigo and Oriuna,
Ori. Sir, what may be the current of your
husiness,
That tlius you single out your time and place ?
Arr. Madam, the bubineas now impos'd
Concerns you nearly; [upon me
I wish some woiaer man mi<;ht finibli it.
Ori. Why are you changed so ? are you
not well, sir? [were so!
Arr. Yes, madam, I am well : 'would you
Ori, Wliy, sir, I feel myself in pertect
health.
Arr, And yet you cannot live long, madam .
Ori, Why, good Arrigo?
Arr. Why, you must die.
OrL I know I must;
iBut yet my fate calls' not upon me.
Arr. It does ;
This hand the duke commands sliall give you
death.
Ori, Heav'n, and the pow'ra divine, guard
well the innocent ! [some good,
Arr. Lady, your prayers may do your soul
But sure your body cannot merit by *em :
You must prepare to die.
Ori. What's ray offence ?
What have these years committed,
That may be dangerous to the duke or state?
Have I conspired by poison ? have I given up
My honour to some loose unsettled blood.
That may give action to my plots ? Dear sir,
Let me not die ignorant of my faults!
^rr. You sliall not: [honest:
Then, lady, you must know, you're held un-
The duke, your brother, and your friends in
court, [nie.
With too much grief condemn you ; tlia, t9
The fault deserves not to be paid with death.
OrL Who's my accuser?
Arr, Lord Gondarino.
Ori. Arrigo, take these words, and beat
them to the duke ;
It is the last petition I shall ask thee :
Tell him, the child this present hour brought
forth
To see the world, has not a soul more pure»
More white, more virgin, than I have; tell
him,
Lord Goodarii\o*s plot I suffer for,
And willingly ; tell him, it had been
A greater honour to have sa/d than kilKd;
But I have done: strike! I am arm'd for
Heav'n.
Why stay you ? is there any hope f
Arr. I would not strike.
Ori, Have you the power to save ?
Arr. With hazard of my life, if t should
be known.
Ori, You will not venture that ?
Arr, I will : lady,
There is that means yet to escape your de«tb^
If you can wisely apprcliend it.
Ori, You dare not be so kind ?
Arr, I dare, and will, if you dare but
deserve it. [blame.
Ori. If I should slight my life, I were to
Arr. Then, madam,
This is the means, or else you die : I love you.
Ori. I shall believe it, if you save my life,
Arr, And you must lie with me.
Ori, I dare not buy my lite «o. [mk
Arr. Come, you must resolve ; say yea or
Ori, Theu no/ Nay, look not ruggedly
upon me ;
I am made up too strong to fear such looks:
Come, do your butcher's part! Before
'♦ Then be^^ins ] The relative he being omitted, hurt both sense and measure. Most
of my friends seip to think there is too much of Lazarilio*6 passion for his fish, as well aa
that the passion itself is carried too high. I have before given reasons to justify the extra^
▼agance of the passion, which might possibly have been carried even to madness, by some
person of our author's age, and as to the long continuance of it, the distresses seem ex-
tremely ingenioubly contrived to rise by a just gradation, and his marrying a whore at last la
obtain his delight, is a most inimitably humorous conclusion of bis character. Seward.
But, surely, rather extraragant.
I wouW
«04
mis. WOMAN-HATEll.
[Act 5. Scen« ^
I would wish Iife> with the dear loss of
honour,
I dare find means to free myself.
Arr, Speak, will you yield ? [worst
Ori, Villain, I will not! Murderer, do the
Thy ba!>e unnoble thoughts dare prompt thee
I am above thee, slave! [to!
Arr. Wilt tliou not be drawn
To yield by fair persuasions?
Ori. No ; nor by —
Ai'r. Peace! know your doom then: your
ladysiiip must remember [feast
Tou are not now at home, where you dare
All that come about you ; but you are fiedlen
Under my mercy, which shall be but small,
If you refuse to yield : hear what Fve sworn
Unto myself; I will enjoy thee, tbo' it be
Between the parting of thy soul and body;
Yield yet, and live ! [the other !
Ori, ril guard the one ; let Heaven guard
Arr. Are yon so resolute then ?
JJuke {from above]. Hold, hold, I say!
Ori. What 5', yet more terror to my tra-
gedy?
Arr. Lady, the scene of blood is done ;
YouVe now as free Irom scandal as from
death.
Enter Duke, Valore^ and Gondarino,
Ihike, Thou woman, which wcrt born to
teach men virtue, [thoughts ;
Pair, sweet, and modest maid, rorgive my
My trespass was my love. Seize Gondarino !
Let him wait our dooms.
Gond. I do begin
A little to love this woman ; I could endure her
Already, twelve miles off.
Ffl/. Sister, [so fairly,
I'm glad you have brought your honour off
Without loss ; you've done a work abo%e your
sex;
The duke admires it: give him fair encounter.
Duke. Best of all comforts, may 1 take
this hand, '
And call it mine ?
Ori. I am your grace's handmaid !
Duke. 'Would you had said myself: might
it not be so, lairy ?
Val. Sister, say ay; I know you can afford it.
Ori. My lord, 1 am your subject; you
mny command me.
Provided still your thoughts be fair and good.
Duke. Here; I am yours; and when I
cease to be so.
Let Heav*n forcet me! thus I make it good.
Ori, My lord, I am no more mine own.
Val. So! this barguiu was well diiven.
Gond* Duke,
Tli'hast sold away thyself to all perdition ;
Thou art thisprej^ent liourbecominji cuckold:
Methinkb I see thy sptll grate iliro' thy veins,
j^nd jealousy seize ou thee with her talons.
I know that woman's nose must be cut off;
She cannot 'scape it.
Duke. Sir, we have punishment for you.
Ori. I do beseech your lordship, ibrtho
wrongs [punishment!
This man hath done me, let me pronounce hit
Duke. Lady, I give't to you ; he is your own.
Gond. I do beseech your grace, let me be
banish'd.
With all the speed that may bo.
Val. Stay still ! you shall attenti her sentence.
Ori. Lord Gondarino, you have wroug'd
me highly ;
Yet since it sprung from no peculiar liate
To me, but from a general dislike
Unto all women, you shall thus suffer for it
Arrigo, call in some ladies to assist us.
Will your grace take your state ?
Gond, My lord, I do
Beseech your grace for any punishment.
Saving this woman : let me be sent npon
Discovery of some island ; I do desire
But a small gondola, with ten Holland cheese<f
And I will undertake it.
Ori. Sir, you must be content.
Will you sit down? Nay, do it willingly.
Arrigo, tie his arms close to the chair ;
I dare not trust his patience.
Gqnd. Muyst thou
Be quickly old and painted ! mayst thou dote
Upon some sturdy yeoman of (be wood-yaird.
And he be honest! mayst thou be barred
The lawful lechery of thy couch'*, for waul
Of instruments! and, last, be thy wumb
Unopen'd ! '
Dnk9. This fellow hath a pretty gall.
Val. My lord,
I ho£)c to see him purg'd, ere he part.
Enter Ladies,
Ori. Your ladyships are welcome! I must
desire your helps, [cure upon
Tho' you are no physicians, t9 do a strange
This gentleman.
Ladies, In wliat we can assist you,
Madam, you may command us.
Gond. Now do I
Sit like a conjurer within my circle.
And these the devils that are rais*d about me:
1*11 pray, that they may have no power npon
Ori, Ladies, ThII off in couples ; [me.
Then, with a soft still march, with low de-
-meanors,
Charge this gentleman: I'll he your leader.
Gviid. Lot me
Be quartered, duke, quickly! I can endure it"
These women long for man*s flesh ; let them
have it ! [a passion?
Duke, ("onnt, have you ever seen st) strance
What would this fellow do, if he should find
In bed with a young lady? [himself
Vut. Taitb, my lord^
'5 What I ? yetf 4cl As the I is undoubtedly an interpolation, we hate discarded it.
^* Of thy coach.J So all former cditious.
If
Act $•. Scene «:]
THE VVOMAxV-HATER,
50^
If he could get a knife^ &ure he woold cut her
throat;
Or else he'd do as Hercules did by Lycas,
Swii^ out tier soul : he has the true liate of
A woman in him.
OrL Low with your curtsies, ladies !
Gond. Coine not too uear roe! IVe a
breath will poison ye ;
Mj lungs are rotten, and my stomach raw;
I'm given much to belching : hold otf, as you
love sweet airs! [jure you,
liftdies, by your first night's pleasure I con-
As you would have your husbands proper
men, ['em hate
Strong bflckc, and little legs; as you*d have
Your waiting-^women — [obtained
OrL Sir, we mast court you, 'till we have
Some little favour from those gracious eyes ;
Tis but a kiss a-piece.
Gond, I pronounce
Perdition to ve all ! Ye are a parcel of
That damned crew that fell down with Luci-
fer, [men :
And here ye stay'd on earth to plague poor
Vanish, avaunt f I'm fortified against
Your charms. Ueav*n grant me breath and
patience !
1 Laify, Shall we notkiss, then?
Gimd, No ! sear my lips with [ret's !
Hc»t irons first, or stitch them up, like a fer«
Oh, thai this brmit were over!
2 Lcu/jf. Come, come, [troth
little TOVKf thou art too maidenly ; by my
I think Imastbox thee 'till thou be st bolder;
The more bold, the more welcome: I prithee
kiss me !
Be not afraid. [iS^ tUt on /ui knee,
Gond. If there be any here [them
That yet liave so much of the fool left in
As to love their mothers, let them look on
And loath them too ! [her'^,
9 Lady. What a slovenly little villain
Art thou! why dost thou not stroke up thy
hair?
I think thou never ^omb*8t it; I must have
it lie
In better order : so, so, so ! Let me see
Thy liaods ! arc they wa^h'd ?
Gond, I would they were loose, for thy sake!
Duke. She tortures him admirably.
VuL The best that ever w as. [golls !
2 Lady, Alas, how cold they are. Poor
Why dost thee not get thee a muo? [ woman
Arr, Madam, here's an old country gentle-
At the door, that came nodding up for j astice ;
She was with the lord Gondnriuo to-day.
And would now ngain come to the speech of
She says. [him,
OrU Let her in, for sport's sake, let her in !
Gond. Mercy, oh, duke I I do appeal to
thee :
Plant cannons there, and discharge them
Against my breast rather ! Nay, first
Let this ^he-fur^ sit still where she does.
And wiCh her nimble fingers stroke my hair,
Play with my fingers' ends, or any thing,
Until my panting heart have broke my breast !
Vttkei You must abide her censure.
[The Lady rites from hU knee*
Enter old Gentlewoman,
Gond. I see her come ! ,
Unbutton me, for she will speak.
Genttea, Where is he, sir?
Gond^ Save me! I hear her. [enct.
Arr» There he is in state, to give you audi<«
Oeniiew. How does your go<»d lordship ?
GmM/. Sick of the spleen.
Gentlezc. How?
Gond. Sick.
Gentlew. WiU you chew a nutmeg ?
You shall not refuse it; 'tis very comfortable.
Gond. Nay, now thou art come, I know it is
The devil's jubilee ; hell is broke loose!
My lord, if ever [ have done"you service,
Or have deserv'd a favour of your grace.
Let me be turn'd upon some present action, '
Where I may sooner die than languish thus !
Your grace hath her petition ; grant it her,
And ease me now at last !
Duke. No, sir;
You must endure.
Gentleto. For ray petition,
I hope your lordship hath remeraber'd me.
Ori. 'Faith, I begin to pity him: Arrigo,
Take her off; bear her away; say her petition
Is granted.
. Gent tew. Whither do you draw me, sir?
I know it is not my lord's pleasure I
Should be thus us'd, before my business be
Dispatch'd.
Arr. You shall know more of that without.
Ori. Unbind him, ladies ! But, before he go,
This he shall promise : for the love I bear
To our own sex, I would have them still
Hated by thee; and enjoin thee, as apuiuih-
ment.
Never hereailer willingly to come
'^ Let them on her, and loath them too!\ Sympson would read, ,
^ Set them on her^ and /oo 'em too ;
which Seward justly rejects; but thinks he discovers a meaning in these words, which they
certainljr do not convey ; viz. ' If there be any here that are such fi)ols to retain a love eveA
^ for their mothers, let them be persecuted by this woman, and they will loath them, t. e,
< their mothers also.' — It has heen very ingeniously suggested, that we probably should read.
Let them honour and loath them too;
t. e. ' Let them feel the opposite sensations of honouring and deepising them at the same
* tinie.'«-But the source of the difficulty ha^ we apprehend, been the loss of the word tookf
which being restorsd, the passage cames with it its own exphmatioiu
' VOL.111. ST In
4M
THfi WOKAN^HATER.
[Act 5. Scene t.
In the presence or^»ght of any woman.
Nor never to seekVprongfiiily the public
Di^mce of any.
Gond. Tis thati would have sworn, and do;
When I meddle with them'^, for their "good,
Or their bad^ may time call back this day
again! '
Ana when I come in their companies,
May I catcli the pox by their breathy and have
No other pleasure for it!
DukCs You are
Too merciful.
On. My lord, I shewed my sex
The better.
VaL AU is ovef^blown. Sister,
You^re like to have a iair night of it.
And a prince in your arms.— Let's go, my
loid^*.
Duke, Thus, thro' the doubtfal streams of
joy and grief,
True love dotli wade, and finds nt last relief.
[Exeunt emnes.
'^ When I meditate with them.'] So all editions but the first quarto ; from which invaluable
copy we have made a great number of corrections, some more beneficial to the sense than
tins before us. On many of the errors in the later editions, we had prefmred notes, and
proposed variations; but on collating the text with tlie quarto above-mentioned (which we
should not have been able to do, but for the favour of Mr. Garrick), we have suppressed oor
notes, and silently made the amendments there pointed out: not chusing to adopt the mode
of our predecessors; who, in such cases, commonly inserted very prolix refiifeations of the
lection in the then-last erlition, proposed variations, of which they adopted the best, and
then concluded their notes with, and this is confiriibd bt the oldest editioii3.
^^ Left ^o, my hrd^ Perhaps these words belong to Onana,
It seems not quite clear that the whole of this play was written in verse; bat many
speeches that evidently resolve themselves into measure having been printed as prose, Seward
very properly endeavoured to restore them to their original state. He has, in oor opinioo,
not always been elegant or accurate in his division. We are not entirely satisfied with oor
own ; yet think the text at least runs off more easily in this edition than in any preoeding
one^ less violated by arbitrary additions^ omissions, and transpositions, and the eye and ear
less offended by elisions^ more barbarous than those of Procrustes.
THE
THE NICE VALOUR;
OM,
THE PASSIONATE MADMAW.
A COMEDY^
The Commeodatory Verses by Gardiner ascribe this Play to Fletcher; the Prologue and
Epilogue speak of the Poet singly; Seward (see note 3 on the Commendatory Poems)
supposes it to be Beaunont's* It was first printed in the folio of 1647; and hath never
been altered, that we are able to discover.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Men.
Ddks of Genoa,
Sham ON T, hii Favourite, a supertiitioiu lover
cf Reputation,
A Passionate Lobd, the Dukei distracted
Kinsman.
A SoLDtER, Brother to Shamont,
Lapet, the cowardly Monsieur.
A Gallant of the same temper,
MoJ^X \Troon,uaroc^ Courier,.
Two Brothers to the Lacfy affecting the
Fasiionate Lord,
La Nove, a Courtier,
Pour Courtiers.
Base, Jester to the Passionate Lord.
Galosh 10, a Cloam.
Women.
Lady, Sister to the Dukey Shamonfs hdaoei,
Lapet's Wife.
A Lady, personating Cupidf Mistreu to the
Mad l/jrd.
SCENE, Gemoa.
PROLOGUE AT THE REVIVAL OF THIS PLAY.
It grovrs in fashion of late, in these days.
To come and beg a suffrage to our plays' :
Taitfay gentlemen, our poet ever writ [wit,
Language so good, mix'd with such sprightly
He made the theatre so sovereign
With his rare scenes^ he scorn'd this crouch-
iog vein*
We stabb'd bino with keen daggers, when we
pray'd
Iliiii write a preface to a play well made.
He could not write these toys; 'twas easier iar
To bring a felon to appear at th' bar
So much he hated baseness ; which this day.
His scenes will best convince you of iu's play.
■ A suffrage to our piays,} First folio exhibits sufferance*
3T«
ACT
603 THE NICE VALOUR; OR, THE PASSIONAL MADMAN. [Actl. Scaet
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Enter Dukey Shamont^ and Four Gentlemen,
Duke, CHAMONT, welcome! we have
^ missM thee long,
Tbo' absent ]t>ut two days : I hope your sports
Answer your time nnd wishes.
Skanu Very nobly, sir;
We found game worthy your delight, my lord.
It was so royal.
Duhe, IVe enough to hear oh't;
Prithee bestow't upon me in discourse.
1 Gent, What is this gentienuui, coz? you
are a courtier,
Therefore know all their iiisidcs.
3 Gent, No further than the taffaty goes,
good coz, ^ [part
For the most part, wliich is indeed the l)est
Of the most general inside. Marry, thus far
I can with boldness speak this one mau*s
chanicter.
And upon honour pass it for a true one :
He has that strength of manly merit in hii»,
That it exceeds his sovereign's power of grac-
ing;
He'» iiiiitlifully true to valour, that he hates
The man from Csbnr*s time, or further otl^
That ever took disgrace-unreveng'd ;
And if lie chance to read his ahiect story.
He tears his memory out, and holds it virtuous
Not to let shame have so much life amongst
us;
There is not such a curious piece of courage
Amongst man^s fellowship, or one so jealous
Of Honour's loss, or Reputation's glory :
Tiiere's so much perfect of his growing story !
1 Gent. Twould make one dote on Virtue,
as you tell it. [it, coz.
S Uent, I have told it to much loss, believe
3 Gent, How the duke graces him ! What
is he, brother ?
4 Gent, Don't you yet know him? mvaio-
glorious coxcomb,.
As proud as he that fell for't' !
Set but aside his valour^, no virtue.
Which is indeed uot fit for any courtier^
And we liis fellows are as good as be.
Perhaps as capable of favour too, ^ .
For oue thingor another, if'tvfere look'd intd. '
Give me a man, were I a sfvereign now,
'Has a good stroke at tenni*^ and a stiff one;
Can play at aquinoctium with tbe line,
As even as the thirteenth of September,
When day and night lie in a scale together!
Or, may I thrive as I deserve at biUtards;
No otherwise at cAe», or at primero !
These are the parte requir'd; why not a*-
vanc'd f . peat pleasure ;
Dtf A:e. Trust me, it was no less than exod-
And I'm right glad 'twas thine. — How fares
our kinsman ?
Wha can resolve us best?
1 Gent, I can, my lord. [bounds,
Duke. There, it I had a pity without
It might be ill bestow'd : a man so lost
In the wild ways of passion, that he's sensiblt
Of nought but what torments Mm !
1 Gent, True, my lord;
He runs thro* all the passions of mankind,
A nd shifts Vm strangely too : one while in k»VQ
And that so violent, that, forwant of business^
He'll court the very 'prentice of a laundress^
Tho'she have kib'd heels ; and in's raebn-
choly again, [fiurer
He will not brook an empress, tho' thrict
Than ever Maud was^, or highei^pirited
Than Cleopatra, or your English counttsi.
Then, on a sudden he's so merry again,
.' Am proud at he that fell for' t;"] i. e. As proud as Lucifer, who fell through pride.
Seaeri,
. * Set but unde hit valour no virtue :
Which it indeed not Jit for any courtier.] The ohl folio points thus,
Set but aside his valour, no virtue
Which is indeed, not fit for any courtier.
And we his fellows, ^c.
This latter is better sense, and therefore restored to the text, but us the constraction froa
the position of the words is a little stiff, and the measure not compleat, perhaps the oiiginal
■light hav^ run,
Set but aside his valour, which indeed
No virtue is, not fit for any courtier. Seward.
Seward's reading is as stiff as the other. There seems to be a word or two dropped in the
preceding line, which has more obscured the passage ; the sense of wliich seems to have hitfs
to thise&ct:
As proud as he that fell for^t! he possesses.
Set but aside his valour, no virtue ;
Which (i. e. his valour) is indeed not fit for any courtier, &g*
It fs verv common with our auttuirs to refer to a remote aiitececient.
^ £^Uud,] The empress Muud, daughter of Henry I. and motlier of Henry IL IF.
f Ost*
Act I. Scenel.] TH£ MICE VALOUR; OR, THE PASSIONATE MADMAN. 50»
Ouc-laughs a waiting-womaii before her first
child;
AiKi,tomiiig of a hand, 8o angry —
ITbas almost beat the Northern fellow^
blind, [my lord,
That is for that use only; if timt mood hold,
H'bad need of a fresh man ; Til undertake
lie bhall braise thee a-month.
l^uke, I pity him dearly ;
And let it be yoar cliarge, with his kind bro*
ther.
To see his moods observed : let every passion
Be fed ev*R to a surfeit, which in time
May breed a loathing! let him have enough
Of every object, that his sense is rapt with!
A nd being once glutted, then the taste of folly
Will come into disrelish'. [Exit,
' 1 Gent, I shall see
Your charge, my lord, most faithfully effected.
And bow docs noble Shamont ?
Sham. Never ill, man,
Until I hear uf baseness; then I sicken:
I am the heahhfuirst man i* th* kingdom else.
Enter Lapet,
1 Gent, Be arm'd thea for a fit! here
comes a fellow
Will make you sick at heart, if baseness do't.
Sham. Let me be gone! What is he?
1 Geut. Let me tell you first ;
It cam be but a qualm. Pray stay it out, sir!
Come, youVe borne more than thi^.
.SViain. Borne? never any thing
That was injunons.
1 Gent, Ua ! I am far from that.
SJutt/i. He looks as like a man, as 1 have
seen one: [£ pritliee,
Wliat would you «peak of him? Speak well,
£v*u for humanity s cause.
1 Gent. You'd have it truth tho'?
Sham, What else, sir ? I have no reason to
wrong Ueav'n
To favour Nature; let her bear her own
If she be fiiulty ! [shame
1 Gent, Monstrous fiiulty there, sir.
Shmn, I'm ill at ease already.
1 Gent, Pray bear up, sir.
Sham. I prithee let me take him down with
speed then, [upon.
Like a wild object that I would not look
1 Gent, Then thus; he*s one that will en-
dure as much
As can be laid, upon him.
Shftm. That may be noble?
I'm kept too long from his acqoaintance.
1 Gent. Oh, sir, [fiirward
Take heed of rash repentance^ ! you*re too
To find one virtue where it never settled i
Take theparticidars, first, ofwhat he endures;
Videlicet, bastinadoes by the great.
Sham. How!
1 Gent, Thumps by the dozen, and your
kicks by wholesale.
Sham, No moro of him ! [up,
1 Gent, The twinges by the nostril hesnutt*
And holds it the best remedy for sneezing.
Sham. Away!
1 Gent. H*has been thrice switch'd from
seven o'clock till nine; [fi^^t.
Yet, with a cart-horse stomach, fell to break-
Forgetful of his smart.
S/iam, Nay, the disgmce on't ;
There is no smart but that : base things art
felt [know you not;
More by their sliames than hurts.-*^ir, I
But tliat you live an injury to Nature,
I'm heartily angry with you.
Lapet, Pray give your blow or k«ick, and
begone then;
For rne*er saw you before; and indeed
Have nothing to say to you, for I know you
not.
Skam. Why wouldst thou take a blow I
Lapet, I would not, sir',
UoleM
^ IThoi almoit beat the Northern fellow blindy
That it for that use only.] This is probably an allusion to GustavoB Adolphus, king of
Sweden, the hero of the North, who ascended the throne in 16 11. He was one of the great-
est and most successful princes which Europe hath seen, either before or since his time. R.
^ His relish.] We have no doubt But this is corrupt, and that we ought to ready changing
only one letter, DXsre/tM.
^ Take heed of rash repentance;] i. e. Repentance on account of rashncfli. I should not
Lave thought an explanaUoo necessary, but that Mr. Sympson would have discarded the word^
and read acquaintance for repentance. Seward,
' I would notf sir,
Unkss 'twere offer' d me; and if from an enemy,
Fd be loth to deny it from a stranger.] The conjunctive particle and in the middle line
■eems plainly to denote the loss of some sentence previous to it, and the humour seems
greatly to sufier by that loss. As to the sentiment, it may, I believe, be restored, but at 8e«
veral expressions will give it, it is impossible to guess how near we shall come to the old
reading. I propose,
I would not, sir,
Unless 'twere offeFd me; if from a friend
I*d take*t infriendship^ and if firom an enemy
I would be loth to deny it from a stranger. Senard.
Seward makes this proposed interpolation : but the old text gives very complele sense; and
Ibait is ae saying whm arbitiary variations would end, if insertioBSy omissioajii or sitene
tiOBSi
510 Tim NICE VALOUR; OR, THE PASSIONATE MADMAN, [Actl. Scnel
Unless 'twere offered me; and iffroman enemy,
I would be loath to deny it from a stranger.
Sham, What! a blow? [it?
Endure a blow? and shall he live that ^ves
Ixtpet. Many a fair year : why not, «r ?
Sham, Let nie wonder!
As full a man to see-to, and as perfect!
1 prithee live not long —
Lapet, How!
SJmm, Let me entreat it ! [mankind,
Thou dost not know what wroiig -tliou dost
To walk so long here ; not to die beticnes.
Let me advise thee, while tliou hast to live
here, [more !
£v*n for man's honour sake, take not a blow
Lttpet, You should advise them not to
strike me then, sir ; [given.
For I'll take none, I assure yon, 'less they're
Sham. How fain would I preserve map's
form from shame.
And cannot get it donel However, sir,
I cliarge thee live not long.
Lapet, This is worse than beating. [sir,
Sham. Of what protession art thou, tell me.
Besides a taylor ? for I'll know the truth.
Lapet, A taylor? I'm as good a gentle-
Can shew my arms and all. [mau —
Sham, How black and blue they are :
Is that your manifestation? Upon pain
Of pounding thee to dust, assume not wrong-
fully
The name of gentlemarij because I'm one
That must not let thee live 1
Lapet. I've done, I've done, sir.
If there be any harm, beshrew the herald 1
I'm sure I lia' not been so long a geuUeman,
To make this auger : I have nothing, uo wliere,
But what I dearly pay for.
Sham, Groom, begone! [Exit Lapet.
I never was so heart-sick yet of man.
Enter the Lady, and Lapet* s Wife,
1 Gent, Here comes a cordial, sir, from
th' other sex,
Able to make a dyiug face look chearful.
Sham. Tbe blessedness of ladies!
Lady. You're well met, sir. [frem me,
iSftam. The sight of you has put an evih
Whose breath was able to make virtue sicken.
Lady, I'm glad I came so fortunately.
Wbat was it, sir? [eats after it.
Sham. A thing that ta]Ees a blow, lives and
In very good healtli : you ha' not seen the
like, madam ;
A monster worth yo«r sixpence, lovely worth.
Jjotly, Speak low, sir f by all likelihoods
'tis her husband.
That now bestow'd a visitation . on me.
Farewell, sir! [Exit,
Sham, Husband ? is't possible that be has
a wife ? [match I
Would any creature have him? 'tis some forc'd
If he were not kick'd to tk'dundi o'ttf
wedding day, [^"tte;
I'll never come at court. Can be no other-
Perhaps l>e was rich ; speak, mistress Lapei^
was t not so ?
Wife. Nay, tliat's without all qaestion.
Sham. Oh, ho! be would not want kickeis
enough then.
If you are wise, I much suspect your honesty,
For wisdom ne^-er fastens constantly.
But upon merit : if you incline to fool.
You are alike unfit for his society;
Nay, if it were not boldness in the man
That honours you, to advise you, troth^ bb
company
Shoula not be frequent with jou.
Wife, Tis good counsel, sir.
Sham. Ob, Fm so careful where I reverence.
So just to goodness, and her precious purist
I am as equally jealous, and as fearful.
That any undeserved stain might fall
Upon her sanctified whiteness, as of the sin
That comes by wilfulness.
Wife. Sir, I love your thoughts.
And * honour yon for your counsel and yoor
Sham. We arc your servants. [care.^
Wife, He's but a ^ntleman
O' thxluunber ; he nught have kiss'd me, ftith!
Where shall one find less courtesy than at
court?
Say, I have an umicserver to my husband.
That's ne*er the .worse for him : well^strange-
lip'd man,
Tis but a kiss lost; therell more come
again. [Eiit.
Enter the Pastionate Lord; he maka «
congee or two to nothing.
1 Gent. Look, who comes here^ sir! his
love-fit's upon him :
I know it, by Uiat set smile, and those congses.
How courteous he's to nothing ? which indeed
Is the next kin to woman, only shadow,
•Tiie elder Mster of tbe twain, because 'tis
seen too.
See bow it kisses tbe fore^finger still !
Which is the last edition, and, being come
So near the thumb, every cobler has got iL
Sham. What a ridiculous piece humanity
Here makes itself I
1 Gent. Nay, good, give leave a little^ fir;
You're so precise a manhood-—
Sham, It aiflicts me
When I behold unseemliness in an i
•So near the godhead ! Tis an injury
To glorious eteniity.
1 Gent, Pray use padenoe, sir!
Pas. 1 do confess it freely, precious lady;
And love's suit is' so, the longer it liangs
The worse it is : better cut off, sweet madan.
Oh, that same diiiwing-in yoor nether hp
there.
tions were made, whenever the critid^ thinks it might improve the
deration. An editoc should give the author's text, not his owq«
under his oonsi-
Foreahew
Adl. Scene 1.] THE NICE VALOUB; OR, THE PASSIONATE MADMAN. 611
Foreshews no goodness, lady; make you
question on't?
Slnune on me, but I love yon !
1 Gent. WhoiB\8ir,
You are nt all this pains for? may I know her?
F4U. For tbee, thou faiiest, yet tlie falsest
wcnnan,
That ever broke man's heart-strings.
1 Gent* Uow? how's this, sir? [apparel?
Pas. What, the old trick of ladies? man*s
Will't ne'er be left amongst you ? Steal from
court in't !
1 Gent. 1 see the fit grows stronger.
Pas, Pray let's talk a little.
Sham. I can enduro no more !
1 Gent, Good, let's alone a little!
You are so exact a work ! love light things
somewhat, sir*.
Skanu They're all but shames.
1 Gent. What is't yoo*d say to fne, sirf
Pas, Can you be so forgetful to enquire
1 Gent. Yes, truly, sir. [it, lady ?
Pas. The more I admire your ilintiness !
What cause have I given you, illustrious
madam.
To play this strange part with roe?
1 Gent. Cause enough :
Do but look back. Sir, mto your memory,
Your love to other women. Oh, lewd man,
!T has almost kill'd my heart ; you see Tm
chang*d with it; [on't!
I ha' lost the fashion of my sex witli grief
When I have seen you courtmg of a dowdy
(Compared with me), and kissing yoar fore-
finger [iH)t this
To one o'th'black-guard^s mistresses; would
Crack a poor lady's heart, that believed love.
And waited for the comfort ? But 'twas said, sir,
A lady of my hair cannot want pitying ;
The country's coming up : farewell to you.
Pus. Whither intend you, sir? [sir!
1 Gent. A long Journey, sir:
The truth is, I'm with-child, and go to travel.
JPas. With-child ? I never got it.
1 Gent. I heard you were busy
At the same time, sir; and was loth to
trouble you. [cellent madam ?
JPas. Wny, are hot you a whore then, ex-
1 Gent. Oh, by no means; 'twas done, sir,
in tlie state
Of my belief in you, and that quits me;
It lies upon your falshood.
Pas. Does it so ? — [contract.
You shall not carry her tho', sir; she's my
Sham. 1 prithee, thou four elements il^
brued.
Torment none but thyself! Away, I &ay,
Thou beast of passion, as the drankard is
The beast of wine ! Dishonour to thy making,
Thou man in fragments !
Pus, Hear me, precious madam ?
Skftm. Kneel for thy wits to Heav'u.
Pas. Lady, I'll father it,
Whoe'er begot it : 'tis the course of greatness, '
Sham. How virtue groans at this!
Pas. I'll raise the court, but I will stay
your flight.
Sham. How wretched is that piece ?
[Exit Pas.
t.Gent. He's the duke's kinsman, sir.
Sham. That cannot take' a passion away,,
sir,
Nor cut a fit but one poor hour shorter;
He must endure as much as the poorest
beggar, [equality
That cannot change his money ; there's the
In our impartial essence. What's the news
now?
Enter a Servant.
Sere. Your worthy brother, sir, has left
And come to see you. [his charge.
Enter the Soldier.
Sham. Oh, the noblest welcome
That ever came from man, meet tliy de-
servings ! [now,
Methinks, I've all joy's treasure in mine anus
Sold. You are so fortunate in < prevention,
brother,
You always leave the answerer barren, sir,
Ypu comprehend in few words so much worth.
Sftam. 'lis all too little tor thee : come,
thou'rt welcome ! [p^^^yt.
So I include ail. Take especial knowledge,
Of this dear gentleman, my absolute friend.
That loves a soldier far above a mistress^ !
Thou excellently faithful to 'cm both !
But love to manhood owns the purer troth.
[Exeunt,
ACT
You are so exact a work : love light things somewhat, nr.l It seems probable that worth
k the true word instead of work, as Shamont calls the lady before — looeli/ worth, and one
of tbe gentlemen in the first page of the play«ays oi' Shamont,
There is not such a curious piece of courage.
K^otwithstanding this, work being good sense may still be the true reading. The advice to
Skamont to love light things a little, is to laugh and divert himself at the absurdities and
pbrensies of men. Mr. Sympson thought it obscure, and that it wanted explanation. Seward.
Semad seems mistaken in supposing Shamont csAh the lady lovely ^ORia: he tells her tlia.
sig)ft is lovefy [i. e. well] worth sixpence :
You ha' not seen the like, madam ;
A monster worth your sixpence, lovely worth.
' J%at kves a soldier far above a mistress.
Thou excellentlyfaithfiil to *em both.] The emendation here of-thou to Mo' (although the
old
919 THE NICE VALOUR; OR, THE PASSIONATE MADMAN. [Acts. SocwL
ACT II.
In the return, as many men have done, nr.
I dare not jastify wkat is to come of me.
Because [ know it not; tfao' I hope ▼iitaooslj:
Marry, what's past, or present^l darst pot
Inio a uood man's bana ; which if be take
Upon my word for good, it shall not coiea
Sold. No, nor hereafter. [him.
Ladfif* It may hap io too, sir;
A woman's goodness, when sha is a wife.
Lies much upon a man's desert, believe it, sir;
If there be fault in her, Fli pawn my life oa%
Tis first in him, if she were ever good'* :
That makes me, knowing not a husband yet,
Or what he may lie, promise no moreTiitoei
Than I may well perform; Jbr that weie co-
senage. [all fean!
Sold. Happy were he that had yoo, witk
That's my opmion, lady.
Enter Shmnont and a Servant^ Ustauag.
Sert. What say you now, sir?
Dare you give conhdem% to your own eyes?
Sham, Not yet I dare not.
Serv. No?
Sham, Scarce yet, or yet,
Altbo' I see 'tis he. Why, can a thing.
That's but myself divided, be so &lse?
Serv, Nay, do but mark how the
plays bis part too ;
liow amorously 'tis hent.
Sham. Hell take thy bad thovgbts!
For ihey are strange ones. Never take detigM
To make a torment worse. Look on 'eoiy
Heav*n !
For that's a brother, send me a fiur eoemy.
And take him ! for a fouler fiend there breatbes
not.
I will not sin to think there's ill in her.
But what's of bis producing;
Yet goodness, wliose inclosure is but flesfa^
Holds out oft-times but sorrily. Bat as black,
sir.
As ever kindred was, I bate mine own blood.
Because it is so near thine. Live wicboat
honesty;
old reading was not absolute nonsense, supposing the points altered) is so easy, that Icaimot
fear the reader's concurrence. Seaard,
We ready think the old reading most spirited and best, only making a foil point after
misiresx.
■^ Which well employs the softnen qfy<mr sea:.] What is it that employs the softneas oiT
the sex, weariness, or the fear of it? lis scarcely sense in either light, and Mr. Synpsoa
seems to have^it off the true reading, implies, Seward,
" With all bis envy.] Corrected by Seward.
'* *TisJir$t in hiniy if she were ever good^
That makes one; knowing not a hushimdyetf
Or what he may be : 1 promise no mere virtveSy
Than I will well perform,'] The punctuation amended by Seward; who alto ditcarM
the pronoun J. We have* altered one x<a me: ^be error of the press is probable, and the mok
requires it.
SCENE L
Enter th^ Sotdier, and the Lady,
Xa<fy. INHERE should be iu this gallery^-*
■■■ Oh, they're here.
Pray sit down : behf ve nie, sir, I'm weary.
Sold, It well becomes a lady to complain
a little [madam;
Of what she never feels : your walk was short,
You can be but afraid of weariness.
Which well implies the softnessof your sex *^:
As for the thing itself, vou never came to't.
Lady. You're wondrously well read in
ladies, sir. [madam.
Sold, Shall I think such a creature as you,
Was ever born to feel pain, but in travel?
There's your full portion.
Besides a little tooth-ache in the breeding.
Which a kind husband too takes from you,
madam. [kind husbands ?
Lady, But where do ladies, sir, find such
Perhaps you have heai-d [now.
The rheumatic story of some loving chandler
Or some such melting fellow, that you talk
So prodigal of men's kindness : I confess, sir.
Many of those wires are happy, their ambition
Doe& reach no higher than to. love and ig-
norance, [fond one :
Which makes an excellent husband, and a
Now, sir, your great ones aim at heigU and
cunning, [it ;
And so are oft deceiv'd, yet they must venture
For 'tis a lady's contumely, sir,
To have a lord an ignorant; then the world's
voice [on't :
Will deem her for a wanton, ere she tafte
But to deceive a wise man, to whose circuaw
spection
The world resigns itself with all its envy",
Tis less dishonour to us than to fall ;
Because bis believ'd wisdom keeps out all.
Sold. 'Would I were the man, lady, tliat
should venture
His wisdom to your goodness !
Jji^y* You might fail
Acta. Scdkel,] THE NICE VALOUR; OR, THE PASSIOJTATE MADMAN. 513
Enter First Gentleman,
Sold. Now he dies, [him!
Were all succeeding hopes stor'd up withiu
1 Gent, Oh, fyl i'th* court, sir?
Sold. I most dearly thank you, si'-.
1 Gerit. 'Tis rage ill spent upon a Passion-
ate Madman. [sir.
Sold. That shall not privilege him for vw r,
A Madman call you him ? I've found too
much reason
Sound in his injjjry to me, to believe him so.
1 Gent. If ever truth from man's lips may
be held
In reputation with you'^,t5ive this confidence!
And this his love-fit, which we observe still
By's flattering; and his fineness, at some
other time
He'll go as slovenly as heart can wish.
The love and pity that his highness shcivs to
him,
Makes every man the more respectful of him:
H' has never a passion, but is well provided
for,
As this of love ; he is full fed in all [tience,
His swinge, as I may term it : have but pa-
And you shall witness somewhat !
SM. Still he mocks me :
Look you ! in action, in behaviour, sir.
Hold still the chair, with a grand mischief to
you ! [sir—
Or I'll set so much strength upon your heart.
Pas. I feel some power ha* restrain'd me,
lady :
If it be sent from Love, say, I obey it,
An^ ever keep a voice to welcome it.
SOx\G.
Thou deity, swift-winged Love,
Sometimes below, sometimes above,
Little in shape, but great in power;
Thou that mak*st a heart thy tower.
And thy loop-holes ladies* eyes,
From whence thou strik*st the fond and wise'^;
Did all the shafts in thy fair quiver
Stick fast ill my ambitious liver,
*3 O my sister.] First folio. Subsequent editions. Oh, my sister. The text by Seward,
'♦ Pl4iy without tassel gently.] Probably we should read ^owr for our.
»s rcooeyou in n skirmish;
DWmemifmind to you.] Djwiwe so entirely loses the metaphor and consequently the
humour, that it is most "probable a conniption. We should not very \viilinsrly strike out a
-word when we hav'n't one to supply its phice somewhat near the trace of the letters; but as
'pre know that words are sometinves totally changed by the inattention of the irunscriber or
printer, so when the context not only points out but demands a word very unlike what has
been hitherto in the text, we ought to submit. This I take to be the present case, and 1
therefore readi . . ^ *
wooe you in a skirmish ;
Discharge my mind to you. Seteard.
'^ In reputation mth you, give this confidence !
And this his love-fit, which tee observe still,
And mayst thou die with an unmoisten*d eye.
And no tear follow thee ! /
[Exeunt Sham, and Serv.
Lady. You're wondrous merry, sir;
I would your brother heard you !
Sold. Or my sister' ^ ; * [lady,
T vronld not, out o' th* way, let fall my words,
^or the preciscst humour.
Enter Passionate Lord.
P<7«, Yea, so close ? [can report of 'em ;
Sold. Tliey're merry, that's the worst you
They're neither dang-erous, nor immodest.
I'af. So, sir!
^ball I believe you, think you?
Sold. Who's this, lady?
Jjady. Oh, the duke's cousin; he came late
from travel, sir.
Sold, Respect belongs to him.
Pas. For, as I said, lady, [port of 'em ;
• They're merry, that's the worst you can re-
' They're neitlier dangerous, nor immodest.'
Sold. How's this?
J*«s. And tliere I think I lefl.
Sold. Abuses me ! [I lov'd you ;
Pas. Now to proceed, lady : perhaps I swore
a yon believe me not, you're much the wiser —
Sold. He speaks stiU in ray person, and
* derides me !
Pas. For I can cog with you —
Lady. You can all do so ;
We make no question of men's promptness
tliAl way.
Pas. And smile, and wave a chair with
comely grace too, [things.
Play with our tassel gently'*, and do fine
That catch a lady sooner than a virtue.
. Sold. I never us'd to let man live so long,
That wrong'd me !
Pas. Talk of battalion^ wooe you in a skir-
mish'^ ;
Discharge my mind to you, lady; and, being
sbarp-s^t, [weapon.
Can court you at half-pike; or name your
We cannot fair you, lady.
By's flattering and his fineness ; at some other time, Sfc] Here seems something wanting.
*' From whence thou strik\t the fond and wise;] i. e. not only those who are foolishly fond,
but the wise also : 93 it will bear tliis sense, I let it stand without putting a more obvious
antithesis to ajiM,^&. Seward.
Fond is used in the sense ot/ools. according to the usasje of our old authors.
VOL.111. 3V
Yet
(St4 "na mCE VALQUE; or, tab PJISSIONATE U ABMAK. [Act SL Se«De li
Yet tby power would I adore.
And call upon thee to aboot aaantt
Shoot norey ihoot more 1
Snter^e liken Cupid, offering io ikoot ttt
him,
J^at, I prithee bold tbo', sweet celrstial
X*m nut requited yet with love enough
For the iiri^t arrow that I have within me;
And if thou be an equal archer, Cupid,
Shoot this lady, and twenty more for me.
Ladj/. Me, sir f Jnot, lady !
1 Gent. Tin nothing but device ; fear it
Yoo may be ae good a maid uiter tljat bhaft,
madam,
As e er your mother was at twelve and a half:
lis like the boy that draws it, 't has no sting
yet. . [that draws it,
Qupd [<uu/e].'Ti8 like the miserable maid
That ^ees no comfort yet, seeiug him so pas-
sionaie.
Tas, Strike me the duchess of Valois in
love with me, [women 1
With all the spee<l thou canst, and two of her
Cufjid. You i»hHU have more. Exit.
[ Iras, leii *em, 1 tarry for 'em.
1 Genu Who ifiould be angry with tbat
wn'kiiig trouble now,
jfhat hiiriB none but itself?
Sold. 1 am better quieted. [time for me
Fas. 1*11 have alt woman-kind struck in
After thirteen once.
I see this Cupid will not let me want;
And let him spend bis forty shafts an hour,
They shall be all found from the duke's ex-
He*s come- already. [chequer.
ILnter again the same Cupid, Two Brothers,
' Six Women. Musguers, Cupid's bow itent
alt the way towards them, thejvrst Woman
9inging and playing, and a Friest.
SONG.
Oh, turn thy bow !
Thy power we feel and know,
Faii* Cupid, turn away tby bow!
I'hey be those golden arrows.
Bring ladies all their sorrows;
And *tiU there be more troth in men.
Never shoot at maid again !
*» What a felicity o^ whores are heref] Mr. Syropson thinks feUeity stands as a desigiied
mistake for tHuUiplicitTf, But he does not observe the commpn conciseness of poetiy, which
Instead of baying What a felicity it is U» imve such a number of whores here? expresses it by
two Vfov^%,Je^iaty of whores. The vefy nerves and almost the essence of poetry consists ia
this conciseness. Seward.
Still the expression is rathef hard, and very possibly corrupt.
«s^ His growing thme.'\ Growing shame plainly means the sister's being with cbiM; tbe
change tlierefore of Ail to your, unless we chance si^er, and make them speak to tiie Fridf,
IRrhich would be rather more iiatural at it would b^ in the two lines above> and the whftit
BQfght perhaps have run thus.
Yes, sister, this is the young gentleman [mpaning thp Madman.\
Make you no Question of our faithfubiess.
^ Brr, Her |MWiag ahamei lar, provokes all our car^. ' fiewari.
iGat.
Pas. What a felicity of whores are here'*!
And all my concubines struck bleeding new! |
A man can in bis life-time make bat one
woman.
But he may make his £ftj queans a month.
Cupid. Have yoitf remember'd a priest,
honest brothers ? [gentlemas;
1 Bro, Yes, sister, and this is the young
Make you no question of our faithfulness.
2 Bro. Your growing shame*^, sister, pro*
vokes our care.
Friest. He must be taken in this fit of lov^
gentlemen ?
1 Bro. What else, nr? lie shall do*t.
8 Bro. Enough.
1 Bro. Be chearful, wench !
[A dance, Cupid leading.
Fas. Now, by the stroke of pleasure, (a
deep oath) [bear too !
Nimbly hopt, ladies all! What height they
A story higher than your common statures; '
A little man must go up stairs to kiss 'em :
What a great space there is
Betwixt Love's dining-chamber and his gsr*
ret ! [ipethi&s
I'll try the utmost height. The garret stoop^
The rooms are made all bending, I see tu^
And not so high as a man takes 'em fbr.
Cvpid. Now, if you'll follow me, sir, Fve
that power
To make *em follow you.
Fas. Are they all shot ?
Cupid. All, all, sir; every motiier'is daugh-
ter of 'em. [they be
Fas, Then there's no fear of following: tf
Once shot, they\i follow a man to th' d«iL
As for you, sii^—
[Exit with the Lady and the Masquers,
Sold: Me, sir?
1 Gent. Nay, sweet sir!
Sold. A noise, a threatning! did yon sot
hear it, sir? [hear you.
1 Gent. Without regard, sir ; so would I
Sold. This must come to something; never
talk of that, sir!
You never saw it otherwise.
1 Gent. Nay, dear Merit—
Sold. Me, above iill men ?
1 Qent. Troth, you wrong your anger.
Sold. I will be arm'd, my hoBounmle le-
cher—
"Act*. Sc^nel.] THE KICE VALOUR; Oft, tllE l»A88IONAtE MADMAN. Sl«
1 Gent. Oby fy^ sweet sir! [lumjWy
SolcL That devours women's honesties bjr
And never cbew'st thy pleasure.
1 Gtnt, What do you mean, sir ?
iSo/cf. What does he mean^ t' engross «U to
himself? [sir.
There's others love a whore as well as he,
1 Gent. Oh, an that be part o' th' fury, we
bave a city
Is very well provicled for that case :
X«ct him alone with her, sir ! we have women
Are very charitable to proper men.
And to a soldier that has all his limbs:
Marry, the sick and lame gets not a penny ;
Hight women's charity! and the husbands
toliow't too.
Here comes his bighness, sir.
Enter Duke and Lordt.
[Exit.
Sold, ril walk to cool myselC
JDuke. Who's tliat?
1 Gent. The brother ofShamont.
Ihike^ He's brother then [cretely.
To all the court's love, they that love dis-
And place their friendliness upon desert :
As £of the rest, that with a double face
Ix>ok upon Merit much like Fortune's visage^^,
Tliat looks two ways, both to life's calms and
* storms,
HI so provide for him, chiefly for him,
He shall not wish their loves, nor dread tlteir
envies.
And here comes my SiuunonU
Enter Shamont,
Sham. That lady*!! virtues are my only joys;
And he to offer to lay siege to them' !
Duke. Shamont! [discourses,
Sham. Her goodness is my pride : in all
As often as I hear rash-tongn d gallants
Speak rudely of a woman, presently
r give in but her name, and they are all silent,
Ob, who would lose tliis benefit?
Duke. Come hither, sir. Fviner:
Sham. Tis like the gift of healing, but di**
For that but cures diseases in tlie body,
This works a cure on fame, on reputation ;
The noblest piece of surgery upon earth I
Duke. Sliamont ! — IJe minds me not.
Sham. A brother do't?
Duke. Shamont, I say!
(Civei him a toueh aith his twitch.
a!
If he be mortal, by tliis hand be perishes !
J 'Draws.
lesfor't!
Duke. Why, how now, sir? 'twas I.
Sham. The more*s my misery.
' Duke: M^hy, what's the matter, prithee?
Sham. Can vou ask it, sir? [him.
No man ^se should : stood forty lives before
By this I would have op'd my way to him*
It could not h^ yod, sir; excuse him not,
Whate er he be, as you are dear to ItonoO^
That I may find my peace again !
Duke. Forbear, I say !
Upon my love to truths 'twas none hut L
Sham. Still misei^ble !
DttAe« Come, come ; what ails you, sir?
Sham. Never sat shame cooling so long
upon me,
Without a satisfiiction in revenge;
And Heav'n has made it here a sm to wishiti
Dv/ctf. Hark you, sir!
Sham. Oh, you've undone me !
Duke. How?
Sham. Cruelly undone rae;
I've lost my peace and reputation by yon!
Sir, pardon me; I can ne*er love you more.
[Exit^
Duke. What language call yon this, sirs?
1 Gent. Truth, my lord,
I've seldom lieard a stranger.
3 Gent. He is a man of ft most curious fa*
loor, [tue.
Wondrous precise, and punc^tunt in that vir«
Duke. But why* to me so punctual? mj
last thought
Was most entirely iix'd on his advancement^
Why, I canse now to nut him in possession
Of his fair fortunes, (what a mis-coiiceiver
'tis!)
And/from a^ntlemnn of our chamber merelyi
Make liim vice-admiral; I was settled in't:
I love ium next to health. Cfdl him, gentle*
men ! [mudit
Why, would not you, or you, ha' taken as
And never murmur'd? [Evit First Gent*
9 Gent. Troth, I think we should, my lord;
And there's a fellow walks about the court
Would take a hundred of 'em.
Duke. I hate yuu all for it;
And rather praise his high-pitch'd fortitude,
Tho' in extremes for niceness: now 1 think
on't, [is he?
I would Fd never done't ! — ^Now, sir^ wher»
Enter First Gentleman*
1 Gent. His suit is only, sir, to be excu^'d.
Duke. Hethallnotbeexcus'd; I love hum
dearlier: . [us.
Say, we entreat him; go! he must not leave
[£ceunt Two Gentlemen,
So Virtue bless me, I ne'er knew him paraU
lel'd !
Why, he'smore precious to me now than ever.
Enter Tufo Gentlemen and Shamont,
8 Gent. Witli much iair language we hoim
bcought him.
DuAe. Tlianks!
Where is he?
^ Fort|ue\ visage.] Fortune, like Janus, being double-visag'd, the one face looking on thp
calms, thtf other on the storms of life, is a picture, I believe, quite new, but equel^ if*not so-
pcri^r. t«|thc aatieut dassical portraitures of (his fiokle deity. Sewardt
1 dU« tCW.
516 raE NICE VALOUR; OR, THE PASSIONATfi MADAIAN. [AdtS. Scew4
5 Gent, Yonder, sir.
Duke- Come ibrv% ard, man.
Sham. Pray pardou me; I'm asbam'd to be
seen, sir. [of?
Duke, Was ever such a touchy man lieard
Piilhee, come nearer.
Shum. M<^rc into tlie light?
Put not such cruelty into your requests, my
' lord: [»«e
rirst to dij^race me publicly, and then draw
Into men's eye-sight, with tlie shame yet hot
Upon my reputation.
Duke. What disgrace, sir?
Sham. What?
Such as there can be no forgiveness for,
That I can tind in honour.
Uuko, That's most strange, sir.
Sham. Yet I have searth'd my bosom to
find one,
And wrestled with my inclination ; ^ [sir !
But 'twill not be: 'would you had kill'd mc.
With what an ease had I torgiven you then !
But to endure a stroke from any hand,
Under a punishing angel's, which is jubdoe.
Honour disclaim that man! for my part
chieHy,
Had it been yet the malice of your sword,
Tho' it had cleft me, it had been noble tome;
You should luive found, my tlianks paid in a
smile.
If I had fell unworded: but to shame roe
With the correction that your horse should
have.
Were you ten thousand times my royi^l lord,
I cannot love you, never, nor desire
To serve you mor^
If your drum call me, I am ▼ow'd to Takmr^
But peace shall never know me yonrs agaiBi
Because Tve lost mine own. I speak to die,
sir: [offahaose,
'Would you were gracious that way to Cake
With the same swiftness as you pour it ob !
And since it is not in tiie power of monarcfas
To make a gentleman, which is a substance
Only begot of merit, they stiould be carefiil
Not to destroy the worth of one so mre,
Which neither they can make, nor, lost, le*
pair. l^^^
Duke, You've set a fair light, sir, before
my judgment.
Which burns \.ith wond'rous clearness ; I ac-
knowledge It, [love.
And your worth with it: but then, sir, my
My love — W^hat, gone again?
1 Gent, And full of scorn, my lord.
Duke, That language will undo Che man
that keeps it.
Who knows no difiTrence 'twixt conteo&pt
and manhood.
Upon your love to goodness, gendemefi.
Let me not lose him long ?-^lIow now f
Enter a Huntsman,
Hunts, The game's at height, my lord.
Duke, Confound both thee and it ! Uencc^
break it oH"!
He hates me brings me news of any pleasure^
I telt not such a conflict, since I could
Distinguish betwixt wortliincss and blood.
[Exeunt.
ACT^ III.
SCENE I.
Enter the Tzco Brothers, First Gentlemany
with those that were the Masquers, and the
Cupid,
1 Gcnt.T HEARTILY commend your pro-
•*■ ject, gentlemen ;
1'was wise and virtuous.
1 Bro. It was for the safety
Of precious honour, su", which near blood
binds us ro: ^ [riage;
He prbmis'd the poor easy fool there mar-
There was a good maidenhcati lost i' th* belief
Beslirew her hasty confidence ! [oa't,
1 Oc/i^ Oh, no more, sir ! —
You make her weep again : alas, poor Cupid!—
SIkjH she not shift herself? -
1 Bro. Oh, by no means, sir ;
We dale not have her seen yet : all the while
aiie'kScpb this shape, it is but thought device,
And she may follow him so without suspi-
To see if she can dmw all his wild passions
To one point only, and that's love, the maia
point :
So far his liighness grants, and gave at first
L^rge approbation to the quick conceit;
Which then was quick indeed.
1 Gent, You make her blush, in sooth.
1 Bro, I fear *tis more the fiai; of shame
than grace, sir. [colour, sir.
1 Gent. They both give but one kind of
If it be bashfuhicss in that kind taken.
It is the same with grace; and there, she weeps
a^ain. (J>itter, sir;
In truth you are too hard, much, jDOch too
Unless you mean to have her weepher eyes
To play a Cupid truly. [out,
1 Bro. Come, ha' done then ?
We should all fear to sin first ; for 'tii certafli,
When 'tis once lodgM, tho' entefaia*d in
mirth, I
It must be wept out, if it e'er comdafcrtb.
1 Gent. Now 'tis so well, I'll leaffcy^
£roL
ll,rillea*!^
Aoft 3. Some 1.] TB£ mC£ VALOUR; OR, THE PASSIONATE MADMAN. Sir
1 Bra, FuthfUlywclcome^Ssir!
Go, Cupid, to your charge; he*s your own now;
If he want iove, none will be blam'd but you.
(JupiiL Tbe strangest uiaraage, and unfor-
tuoat'st bride
That ever human memory contain'd !
I cannot be myielf for't. [Esfit
Enter the Clown.
CUamn. Oh, gentlemen !
1 Bro. How now, «ir? wliat's the matter?
Clown. His melancholy passion is half spent
aixeady^
Then comes his angry fit at the very tail on*t i
Then comes in my pain, gentlemen; h'has
beat me [tul,
£*en to a cuUis : I am nothing, risht worship-
But very paf> and jelly; Fvc no bones,
My body's all one brewis^^! they talk of ribs
And chmee most freely abroad i' th' world;
why, I
Have no such thing; whoever lives to see me
Dead, gentlemen, shall find me all mummy,
Good to fill gallipots, and long 4lildo glasses ;
I shall not have a bone to throw .nt a dog.
Omna. Alas, poor vassal, how he goes !
Clown. Oh, gentlemen,
J am unjointed; do but think o* that ! [eat
My breast is beat into my maw, that what I
I'm fiun to take't in all at mouth with spoons ;
A lamentable hearing! and 'tis welt known,
My belly's driven into my back. I earn'd
Four crawDsa month most deariy, gentlemen:
And one be must have, when the fit's upon
him; . . . •
The privy^purse allows it, and 'tis thrifttness;
He would break else some forty pounds in
casements.
And in five hundred years undo the kingdom :
I've cast it up to a quarrel.
1 Bto. Tliere's a fellow [brotlier,
Kick'd about court, I would he had his place.
Bat for one fit of his indignation !
3 Bro. And suddenly I've thought upon a
means for't.
1 jBro. I prithee how?
9 JBro. 'Tis but prefisrring, brother.
This stock fish to his service, with a letter
Of commendations, the same way he wishes it.
And tlien you win bis heart; for, o' my know-
ledge.
He has laid wait this half^yei^r for a fellow
That will be beaten; and with a safe consci»
ence [in't.
We may commend the carriage of tliis man
Now servants he has kept*', lusty tali feeders.
But they have beat him, and turn dthemselvea
away:
Now one that would endure, is like' to stay.
And get good wages of him ; and the service
too fit else;
Is ten times milder, brother ; I would not wish
I see the fellow has a sore crush'd body,
And the more need he has to be kick'd at
Clown. Ay, sweet gentlemen, akick of ease!
Send me to such a master.
2 Bro. No more, I say !
We have one for thoe, a soft-footed master;
One that wears wool in's toes**.
Clown. Oh, gentlemen.
Soft garments may ye wear, soft skins may
ye wed, [red*!
But as plump as pillows, both for white and
And now will I reveal a secret to you.
Since you provide for my poor flesh so ten-
derly: [window,
H' has hir*d mere rogues, out of his ciimnber-
To beat the Soldier, monsieur Shamont's bro-
ther—
1 Bro, That nothing concerns us, sir.
Clown. For no cause, gentlemen.
Unless it be for wearing shoulder-points.
With longer taggs than iiis.
2 Bro. Is not that somewhat?
By'rlakin, sir, the difference of long taggs
Has cost many a man's life, and advanc*4
other some.
Come, follow me !
CL(nc7i. See what a gull am I !
*» Faithfully welcothe, sir.] Sympson, (Mr. Seward says, * very justly') div'idesfaUhfullj/ inta
two words. ^Faithfully wcicofne.
** Jllj/ body's all one business.] I can't fix any idea to business here tliat does not make it a
mere expletive. I am not so satisfied wich my conjecture bruise, as not to wisli to see a bet-
ter,, tho' as it seems preferable to the old reading, it must take its place 'till it lias sulticieut
xeabou for resigiiiug it a;;ain. Since this was wrote I received Mr. Sympson s cuujecture,
ail o'er bruises.
Bot one bruise is more poetical as well as more comic. Seward*
A »tiil more comic expression, and applied to the same occasion, occurs more than once
in our authors; t, e. brewis. Either that or hruise will do heri*.
*' Novv servants he has kept.] The word now seems to liavc been printed here by mistake:
it stands in its right place two lines lower.
*♦ We have one for thee a sof't-footed
One that wears wool in^s toes.
Clown. Oh gentlemeny
&ift garments may you wear, mastsr,
Soft hkins mayy* wed, •
But plump, 4<.] Thus, in defiance of measure, sense, and even rkimCj, has this passnge
been >exhibiled. ^
Oh,
il8 THE NICE VAXjOUE; OE, THE PASSIONATE MADMAN. [Acts. Scdie f«
Ohy every man in his proleauon !
I know a thump now as judicioaaly [none ;
As tbe proudest be that walks, I'll except
Come to a tagg, how short i fiUi! Fm gone.
Enter Lapet.
Ijopet. I have been ruminatine with myself,
^hat honour a man loses by a kick. •
'Whjy what's a kick I the fury of a foot.
Whose indignation commonly is stamp'd
Upon tbe hmder quarter of a man,
Which is a place very unfit for hononr.
The wojsld will confess so much:
llien what disgrace, I pray, does that part
suffer, [that.
"Where honour never comes ^ I'd fain know
This being well forc'd, and urg'd, may have
the pow'r
To move most gallants to take kicks in time,
And spurn out the duellos outo*th' kingdom:
For they that stand upon their honour most,
When they conceive there is no honour lost,
(As, by a table that I have invented
For that purpose aloue, shall appear plainly,
Which shews the vanity cf all blows at large,
And with what ease tliey may be took of all
sides,'
Numbering but twice o'er the letters patience.
From P.X to C.E.) I doubt not but in
small time
To see a dissolution of all blood-shed.
If the refunn'd kkk^o but once g^ up :
For what a lamentable folly 'tis.
If we obscrve't, for every little justle.
Which is but the ninth part of a soond
thump.
In our meek computation, we must fight
forsooth; yesj
If I kill, I'm hang'd ; if I be kill'd myself,
I die for't also : is not this trim wisdom?
Now for the con. a man may be well beaten,
Yet pass away his fourscore years smooth
after:
I had a father did it ; and, to my power,
I will not be behind him. '
Enter Shamont.
SHam. Oh, well met! fduly.
Lapet, Nowa fine /)i/7icA or two! Hoot for't
Sham. I've been to seek you.
Lapet, Let me know your lodging, sir :
ni come to you once a day, and use your
pleasure, sir. [society !
Shanu Vm made the fittest man for thy
111 live and die with thee: come, shew me a
chamber!
There is no house but thine, but only thine.
That's fit to cover me: I've took ablow,surrah.
Lb^. I would yon had indeed f Why, ftsm
may see, sir, [out.
You'll all come to't in time, when my book*»
Sham. Since I did see thee hst, Fve took
a blow. fforty since.
Lapet, Pho, sir, that's nothingl I ba^toofc
Sham. What^ and I chare'd thee tboo
Lapet, Ay, sur, [shouldst not?
You might chaise yoor pleasnre ; bat tbey
would give't me,
Wlietbnr I would or no.
Sham. Oh, I walk
Without my peace ; 'Fve no companion now !
Prithee resolve me, (for I cannot ask
A man more beaten to experience,
Than thou art in this kind) what numoer
of blow
Is held the most disgraceful, or distastefbi?
For thou dost only censure 'em by tbe hint^
Not by the shame, they do thee : yet, bavinf
felt «
Abuses of all kinds, thou mayst deliver,
Though't be by chance, the niost inj urious one.
Lapei, You put me to't, sir; but, to tell
you truth,
Thev're all as one with me, little exceptian.
Sham, That little may do much ; let's have
it from you ! [and foremost,
Lapet, with all the speed I may: first then,
I hold so reverently of the hasUnado^ sir.
That if it were the dearest friend i*th^ worid^*
I'd put it into his hand.
Sham, Go to! I'll pass that then.
Lapet, IfouVe the more happy, sir; Vouhl
I were past ij too : ^ [cairied.
But being accustoift'd to't, it is tbe betier
Sham, Will you forward ?
Lapet. Then there's your muae, yum
wherit^ and your domtty [?^%
Tugt on the hair, your hob o'th' lips, a whelp
I ne'er could find much difference. Now
your thumpf
A thing dcrird first from yourbemp-beaters.
Takes a man's wind away most spitefully^ ;
There's nothing that destroys a cbolick like it.
Fort leaves no wind i'th* body.
Sham, On, sir, on ! [with thinking oal^
Lapet, Pray ^i ve me leave; Fm outofbmds
Sh(m. This is far off yet.
Lapet. For the twinge by th'nose,
^Tis certainly unsightly, so my table says.
But helps against the bead-ache, woiidroas
Sham, Is't possible P [strangely*
Lapet. Oh, your erusli^d nostrils sbkes
your opilation, [some sneeaes.
And makes your pent pow'rs flush to wljole-
Sham, I never thought there had beea
In a wrung nose before. [half that virtue
Lapet. Oh, plenitude, sif^
*^ Takes a man's wi»d away most spitrfuUy :
Therffs nothing that destroys a choltck Ukeit,] The particle hut between these sentencfi
is so necessary to the humour of the paikStige, and to distinguish properly the good effects ol
tbe thump from the bad ones, that I look on it only as an acctdentai omiasion of Uie
preis. Seward.
Now
Aet 3. Scene 1.] THE NICE VALOUR; OR, THE PASSIONATE MADMAN. 51#
Now oome we lower, to our modem kick,
'Wbich has been migndly in use of late,
SiDce oar young men drank coltsfoot; and I
grant you [plays it:
Tin a most scornful wrong, 'cause the foot
Bot mark ae^ain, Iiow we that take't requite it
With the like scorn, for we receive it back-
ward;
And can there be a worse disgrace retorted?
Sham. And is this all?
ZapeU All but & lug by tV ear,
Or such a trifle.
Sham. Happy sufferer !
All this is nouung to the wrong I bear :
I see the worst, disgrace, thou never felt'st yet :
It is so far from thee thou canst not think
on't;
Nor dare I let thee know it, 'tis so abject.
Lapet. I would you would tho', that I
might prepare fort!
For I shall ha*t at one time or another.
irt be a thwack^ I make account of that;
There's no new-fiishiou'd swap tliat e'er
came up yet.
But I've the first on 'em, I thank 'em for't.
Enter the Lady and Servants.
Lady. Hast then enquired ?
1 Serv. But can liear nothing, madam.
Sham. If tliere^^ be but so much sub-
stance in thee
To make a shelter for a man dismc'd.
Hide my departure from that glorious wo-
man.
That comet with all perfection about her.
So noble that I dare not be seen of her.
Since shame took iu>ld of me : upon tlw life,
No mention of me ! [Exit.
Lapet. ni cut out my tongue first, fto't.
Before Til lose my life; there's more belongs
, Zady. See, there's a gentleman; enquire
of hun. '
S Serv. For monsieur Shamont, madam?
Jbady. For whom else, sir?
a Sero. Why, this fellow dares not see him.
. Ijady. flow I
1 Strv. Shamont, madam ?
Biff very name's worse than a fever to him ;
And when he cries, there's nothing stills him
sooner : [him ;
Madam, your page of thirteen is too haird for
Twa» tried i' th' wood-^ard.
Idtdy. Alas, poor gneved merit!
What IS become of lum ? If he once fail.
Virtue shall find small friendship! farewell,
then.
To ladies^ worths, for any hope in men!
He Ibv'd for goodness, not for wealth or lust.
After the world's foul dotage; he ne'er courted
The body, bat the beauty of the mind,
A thing which conmion courtship never
thinks on :
All his affections were so sweet and fair.
There is no hope for fame, if lie despair.
\Exeunt Lady and Servants,
«. Enter the Clown; he kicks Lapet.
Lapet. Good morrow to you again most
heartily, sir! [what busy.
Cry vou mercy, I heard you not; 1 was some*
blown. He takes it as familiarly as an ave^
Or precious salutation : I was sick
Till I had one^^j because I am so us'd to't.
Lapet. However you deserve, your friends
and mine here
Give you large commendations i'this letter;
They say you will endure well.
Cloipn. I'd be loath
To prove 'em liars : I've endur*d as macb
As mortal pen and ink can set me down fbr«
Lapel. Say you me so?
Clium. I know and feel it so, sir ;
I have it under black and white already;
I need no pen to paint me out.
Lapet. He fits me.
And nits my wishes pat, pat: I was never
In possibility to be better mann'd;
For he's half lame'd already ; I aee't plain, .
But take no notice on't, for fear I make
The rascal proud, and dear, t' advance big
wages.
First, let me grow into particulars with tou!
What have you endur d of worth? let me hear*
Clown. Marry, sir,
I am almost beaten blind.
Lapet. That's pretty well
For a beginning ; but many a mill-horse
Has endur'd as much.
Clown. Shame o'th'miller^s heart
For his unkindness then !
Lapet. Well, sir, what then ?
Clown, I have been twice thrown down
stairs, just before supper.
Ixipet. Plio! so have I; that's nothing.
Clown. Ay, but, sir,
Was yours, pray, before supper ? '
Lapet, Tnere thou posest me.
Clown. Ay, marry, that's it; 't had beeft
less grief to me,
Had I but fiird my belly, and then tumbled;
But to be flung down fasting, there's the dolor I
Lapet, It would have griev*d me, that
-indeed. Proceed, sir!
Clown. I have been plucked and tugg'd bj
th' hair o'th' head
About a (gallery, half an acre long.
Lapet. Yes, that's a good one, I must
needs confess;
^ If there be hut so much substance in thee.'] The verse here wanting a syllable, and a note
of exclamation at Shanumfs surprise and shame to see his mistress, seeming necessary, it if
•opposed an omission, and restor'd. Seward.
Seward reads. Ha ! if thercj ifC,
^ 1 was sick, ^c] Perhaps Lapefi speech ibould begin heie.
ApriiH
020 THE NICE VALOUR; OR, THE PASSIONATE MADMAN. [Act3* Scenci.
A principal good one tha^ an absolute good
one!
I have been trod upon, and spurn'd about,
But never tugg'd by ^h* hair, I thank nay
fates.
down. Oh, 'tis a spiteful pain.
Lupet. Peace ; never speak on't,
Por putting men in mind on't!
clown. To conclude,
Pro bursten, sir ; my belly will hold no meat.
Lapct. No ? that makes amends for all.
• C/oa;n. Unless 'the puddings, [roe;
Or such fiist food ; any loose thing beguiles
I'm ne'er tlie better for't.
Lapet, Sheep's heads will stay witli thee ?
Clown, Yes, sir, or chawdrons**.
Lapet. Very well, sir; [feits.
Your bursten Vello^vs must take head of sur-
Strange things, it seems,' you have endur*d.
Cham. 1 oo true, sir. [will endure
• Lapet, But now the question is, what you
Hereafter in my service?
Clown. Any thing
That shall be reason^ sir, for Pm but froth ;
Much like a thing new calv*d ; or, come
more nearer, sir,
YouVe seen a cluster of frog-spawns in Apfil;
£v*n such a starch am I, as weak and tender
As a green woman yet.
Lapet, Now I know this,
I will be very gently angry with thee,
And kick thee carefully.
Clown, Oh, ay, sweet sir!
. Lapet. Peace, when thou'rt ofFer'd well!
lest I begin now. [your truth
Your friends and mine have writ here, for
They'll pass their words tliemselves i and I
most meet 'em. [Exit,
Clown, Then have you all :
As for my honesty, there's no fear of that**,
For I have never a whole bone about me.
[Esii.
Musick. Enter the Pastbmite lardy ruddy
and carelculy apparelled^ unbraced^ OMi
untrussed; Cupid JbUomng.
Cupid. Think upon love, which naahcs aH
creatures handsome.
Seemly for eye-sight! go not so diffuaedly'^:
There are great ladies purpose, sir, to visit yon.
Pas. Grand plagues! Shut in my case-
ments, that the breaths
Of their coach-mares reek not into my nostrils!
Those beasts are but a kind of bawdy fore-
runners, [speak ill of fair ladies.
Cupid. It is not well with you, when yoa
Pas. Fair mischiefs! give me a nest uf
owls, and take 'em !
Happy is he, say I, whose window opens
To a brown baker's chimney"! he shall be
sure there
To hear the bird sometimes ailer twilight ''.
What a fine thing 'tis, methinks^ to have our
garments
Sit loose upon us thus, thus carelessly !
It is more manly and more mortifying ;
For we're so much the readier for onrshroods:
For how ridiculous were*t to have death
come.
And take a fellow pinn'd up like a mistress!
About his neck a ruff', like a pinch*d lantlioni.
Which school-boys make in winter; and fab
doublet .
So close and pent, as if he fear'd one prison
Would not be strong enough to keep his
But's tailor Snakes another ; [soul io»
And trust me, (^for I know't when I loVd,
Cupid)
^^ Chaldrons.'] The orthography is ckawdrons. We meet with the expression in Macbeth:
Mr. Steevens says it means entrails; and. that it was * a word formerly in common use in
* the books of cookery, in one of which, printed in 1597, is a receipt to make a puddine of a
* calf's chaldron: R. ^
*^ As for m}f honesty, there is no fear of that.
For I have never a whole bone about me.] Mr. Sympson observes, that this is a Tety un-
accountable reason for a man's being honest. It certainly is'so in general, but not in this
place. The Clown means by honesty her^, his veracity in the account he had given of tam^
self, and all his bones being broke was a pretty strong testimony of it. Savard.
3° Diffusedly;] i. e. disorderly, or negligently: as in Henry V. '
* —swearing and stem looks, diffused attire,* JR.
'» To « brown bdker^s chimney.] We have the same atlusion in Shakespeare*s Kunlet,
irhere Ophelia, in her distraction, says, ' The owl was a baker's daughter.' jR.
3* To hear the bird sometimes ttfto' twilight.] The deficiency of the measure first gave a
suspicion of* some Joss in this line: in the next phice sometimes seems a degrading expletive,
which has, I believe, excluded a noble poetical image. It must be observed that the melan-
choly fit, which ends in one of the finest songs that evek* was penned, is now amiRg last
upon him, tliereforc images of solemnity and horror, tliough yet mixed with some d^rec of
oddity, begin to seize him ; and the reader will see what a small change of letters, to«^ethcr
with the restoring the monosyllable which seems to have "been accidentally dropt, vr3l iio-
prove this into a very fine one :
)ie shall be sure there
To hear the night-bird^s summons after twilight, Seward.
The text being sense, an improvement unwarranted ought not to supeisede it— The bir^
refers to the owl mentioned two lines above.
He
Act 5. Scene 1] THE NIC£ VALOUR; OR, THE PASSIONATE MADIVUN. 5S1
He does endure much pain, for the poor
Of a neat-sitting suit. [praise
Cupid, One may be handsome, sir,
And yet not pain'd, nor proud.
Fas. There you lie, Cupid, [ness.
As bad as Mercury : there is no handsome-
But has a wash of pride and luxury.
And you go there too, Cupid, away, dissem-
bler! [all :
Thou tak*st the deed's part, which befools us
Tlijr arrow heads shoot out sinners^ ^ : hence
away!
And after thee FH send a powerful charm.
Shall banish thee for ever.
Cupid, Never, never !
I am too sure thine own. [Exit,
Pas, [sin^s.l Hence, all you vain delights,
As short as are the nights
Wherein you spend your folly !
There's nought in this life sweet,
If man were wise to see*t,
But only melancholy;
Oh, sweetest melancholy !
Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes,
A sigh th^t piercing mortides,
A look that's fastenM to the ground,
A tongue chained up, without a sound I
Fountain lieads and pathless groves.
Places which pale passion loves !
Moonlight walks, when all the fowls
Are warmly hous'd, save bats and owls !
A midnight bell, a parting groan !
These are the sounds we feed upon;
Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy
▼alley: ^
Nothing's so dainty sweet'^ as lovely^
melancholy. [Exit,
Enter at another door Lapety the Cupid's
Brothers watching his coming,
1 Bro, So, so I the woodcock's ginn*d -
keep this door fast^ brother.
33
3 Bro, rU warrant this.
1 Bro, I'll go incense him instantly;
I know the way to't.
2 Bro, Will't not be too soon.
Think you, and make two fits break into one?
1 Bro. Pho ! no, no; the tail of bis me-
lancholy
Is always the head of his anger, and follows
As close as the report ibllows the powder.
Lapet, This is the appointed place, aod^
the hour's struck.
If I can get security for's truth,
I'll never mind bis honesty: poor worm!
I durst lay him by my wife, which is a be-
nefit [maid
Which many masters ha' not : I shall ha' no
Now got with child, hut what I get myself,
And that's no small felicity ; in most places
They're got by th' men, and put upon the
masters :
Nor shall I be resisted when I stnke.
For he can hardly stand ; these are great
blessings ! [a varlct !
Pas, [within.]^ I want my food; deliver me
Lapet, How now ! from whence comes that?
Pas, I ain allow 'd a carcase to insult on ;
Where b the villaui?
Lapet. He means not me, I hope.
Pas. Mj maintenance, rascals ! my bulk^%
my exhibitioni
Lapet, Bless us all I
What names are these ? '^Yould I were gone
ag^n!
The Passionate Lord enters in fury vith m
truncheon.
Pas. [sings.] A curse upon thee, for a slave!
Art thou here, and heardst me rave?
Fly nf>t sparkles from mine eye.
To shew ray indignation nigh^^ ?
Am I not all foam and fire,
With voice as hoarse as a town-crier?
Thy arrow heads shoot out sinners,"] I believe every reader will assent to the change of
imt to at ; but I have ventured at a greater change, and to read.
Thy arrows shoot a^ sinners; —
Expunging heads as spurious, it injuring both sense and measure, tho' it does not absolutely
destroy either. The way 1 suppose it to have crept into the text is this : 'Tis well known
tliat the most common error of transcribers is their taking a word into a line that belongs to
• the next above or below. I suppose therefore the prompter's copy to have accidentally in*
serted deeds (which had no apostrophe in any former edition) into this line, which making
absolute nonsense, the editors of the first edition gave heads as an emendation. I find that
Mr. aympson thinks the deed's part unintelligible as well as the line I have amended. I am
surprised chat a married man should be at a loss to know wiiat deed Cupid incited to. Seward,
We are not satisfied with Seward's alteration, particularly his obliteration of heads : Thy
arrow heads shoot out sinners, might mean to continue the iilea of Cupid^s taking the dee^$
psrt, and say that his darts shot forth sin,
^^ Not hinges so dainty-'] Milton certainly took many of his sentiments in his 11 Penseroso
* Venter^ hinc Hisp. Buche, Ventriculus animalis, Belg. Buicke, Thorax.'
^^ To shew my indignation nigh f] t. e. The effects of indignation in beating the first ho
eoold meet with. Mr. Sympsoa thinks we should read high, whi9h is indeed fpod^ sense, bat
not necessary. Scuari^
VQL.UL 3X Hoir
5at THE NICE VALOUR; OR, THE PASSIONATE MADMAN. [Act 4. Soeul
How my back opes fud shots together
With fury, as old ni^u's with w enther !
Couldst thou not hear my teeth gnash
hither? [been u squirrel
Lapet, No, truly, sir ; I thought it had
Shaviog a hazel-nut.
Fas, Death, hell, fiends, and darkness !
I will thrash thy mangy carcase.
Lapet, Oh, sweet sir !
Fas, There cannot be too many tortures
' Spent upon those lousy quarters.
Lftpet, Hold ! — oh ! [Falls down for dead.
Fas. Thy bones shall rue, thy bones shall
rue!
Thou nasty, scurvy, mungrcl toad,
Mischief on thee!
Li^ht upon thee
All the plagues
That cim confound thee,
Or did ever reign abroad ! '
Better a thousand live6 it cost.
Than have brave anger spilt or lost.
[Exit.
Lapet, May I open mine eyes yet, and
safely peep ? {gone.
I'll try a groan first : Oh ! — Nay then, he's
l^iere was no other policy but to die; [sore f
He would ha' made me else. Ribs, are you
1 was ne er beaten to a tune before.
Enter the Tvo Brothers.
1 J5ro. Lapet !
Lapet, Again? [Falls agaU,
1 hro. Look, look ! he's flat agaio.
And stretch'd out like a corse; a haDrlfol
longer [Lapet!—
Than he walks, trust rae, brotlier. — Wbj,
I hold my life we shall not get him speak
now. —
Monsieur Lapet! — It must be apriiry token,
If any tiling fetch him, he*s so far gooe.—
We come to pass our words for your roao'i
truth.
Lapet, Oh, gentlemen, ye're virclcome ! IVe
been thrash'd, i' faith.
2 Bro. How, thrash'd, sir?
Lapet, Never was Shrove-Taesday bird
So cudgeird, gentlemen.
1 Bro. Pray how ? by whom, sir ?
Lapet. Nay, that I know not.
1 Bfo, Not who did tliis wrong? [soi^.
Lapet. Only a tiling came like a waiiike
1 Bro. What, beaten with a song?
Lapet, Never more tightly, gentlemen : ^
Such crotchets happen now and then ; me>
thinks,
He that endures well, of xdl waters drinks.
ACT IV,
, SCENE I.
Enter Soldier and First Gcntlanan.
Sold. XTES, yes ; this was a madman, sin
•*• with you,
A Passionate Madman.
1 Gent. Who would ha' look'd for this, sir?
Sold. And must be privileg'd; a pox pri-
vilege him !
i was never so dry-beaten since I was born,
And by a litter of rogues, mere rogues ; the
whole twenty [too ;
Had. not above nine elbows ^mougst 'em all
And the vaoat part of those left-handed rascals,
The very vomit, sir, of hospitals.
Bridewells, and spital-houses ; such nasty
smellers, • [cheons,
That if they'd been unfurnish'd of club-trun-
They might have cudgell'd me with their very
stink.
It was so strong and sturdy: and shall this,
This filthy injury, be set off with madness f
1 Gent. Nay, take your own blood's coun-
sel, sir, hereafter;
I'll deal no further in't : if you remember.
It was not come to blows, whenladvisM you.
Sold. No ; but I ever said 'twould come to
something;
And 'tis upon me, thank him ! Were hekiJi
To all the mighty emperors upon earth.
He has not now in life three hours to i«ckoii!
I watch but a free time.
Enter Shamont,
1 Gent. Your noble brother, sir. Ill leave
you now. [f :,,•/.
.Sham. Soldier, I would I could penoade
my thoughts
Fiom tlmikiog thee a brother, as I can
My toncue from naming on't ! Thou hast no
friend here, ^ [them!
But Fortune and thy own strength ; trust to
Sold, How ! what's the incitement, sir^'?
Sham, Treacheiy to Virtue,
Thy treachery, t^ly faithless circumvention.
Has Honour so few daughters, (never flower!)
A nd must thou aim thy treachery at the best f
The very front of Virtue? that bless'd lady.
The duke's sister ?
Created more tor Admiration's cause.
Than for Love's ends; whosa excellency
sparkles
V Sold. Horn! vhufs, 4c.] This line is restored from the first foUob
Mm
Act 4. Scent 1.] THE NICE VALOUR; OR, THE PASSIONATt M-VDMAN. 53S
More in divinity, than mortal beanty ;
And.as much difference 'twixt her mind and
bodfy
As 'twiKt this earth's poor centre and the sun :
And couldst thou be so injurious to fair
goodness,
Once to attempt to court her down to frailty ?
Or pot her butmmind that there is weakness,
.Sin, and desire, which she should never hear
of? [lege,
Wretch, th* hast committed worse than sacri-
In the attempting on't, and oughf sttodie for't!
Sold. I rather ought to do my best to live,
»ir.
provoke me not! for Fve a wrong sits on me,
That makes me apt for mischief: I shall lose
Ail respects suddenly of friendship, brotlier-
bood,
Or any sound that way !
Sham. But 'ware me most;
For I come with a two-edg'd injury,
Both ray disgrace, and thy apparent falshood !
Which must be dangerous.
Sold, I courted her, sir : [it not !
Love starve mc with delays, when I confess
Sham. There's nothing then but death
Can be a penance fit for that confession.
Sold. But far from any vicious taint.
Sham. Oh, sir,
Vice is a migl^ty stranger grown to courtship.
Sold. Nay, tthen, the fury of my wrong
light on thee !
Enter First Gentleman, and others.
1 Gent. Forbear! the Duke's at hand;
Here, hard at liand, upon my reputation !
Sold. I must do something now. [Exit.
Sham, I'll follow ydu close, sir.
1 Gent, We must entreat you must not;
for the Duke
Desires some conference with yoa.
Sham. Let roe go.
As ye are gentlemen !
U Gent. Faith, we dare not, sir. [dare not
S/tatn. Dare ye be false to lionour, and yet
Do a man justice? Give me leave !
1 Gent. Good sweet sir!
H' lias sent twice Jsr you.
Sham. Is this brave, or manly ?
1 Gent. I prithee, be conformed !
Sham, Death—
Enter Duke.
3 Gent. Peace ! he's come, in troth.
Sham. Oh, have you betray'd me to my
How am I bound to loath you I [shame afresh?
Duke. Sliamont, welcome I
I sent twice.
2 Gent. But, mylord, he never heard on't.
Sbatn. Pray pardon him for his fi&lseness !
I did, sir, , [faithless.
Both times : Fd rather be found rude, than
Duke. I love that bluntness dearly ; h' has
no vice !
But is more manly than some other's virtue,
That lets it out only for show or profit.
Sham. Wiirt please you quit me, sir ? Fve
urgent business ! [for you
Duke, Come, you're so hasty now ! I sent
To a better end.
Shatn. And if it be an end.
Better or worse, I thank your goodness for't.
Duke. I've ever kept tliat bounty in con-
dition, [comes
And thankfulness in blood, which well be-
Both prince and subject, that where any wrong
Bears my impression, or the hasty figure
Of my repented anger, I*m a law
Ev'h to myself, and doom myself most strictly
To justice, and a noble satisfaction i
So that what you, in tendeniess of honour.
Conceive to be loss to you, which is nothing
But curious opinion, I'll restore a^rain,
y\ltho' I give you the best part of Genoa,
And take no boot but thanks for your amends.
Sham. Oh, miserable satisfaction! [self!
Ten times more wretched than the wrong it>
Never was ill better made tood with worse
Shall it be said, that my posterity
Shall live the sole heirs of their father's shame?
And raise their wealth and glory from my
stripes?
You have provided nobly, bounteous sir.
For my disgrace, to make it live for ever,
Ontrlasting brass or marble 1
This is my fear's construction, and a deep one.
Which neither ai^ument nor time can alter :
Yet, I dare swear, I ^rong your goodness in't,
sir, [rence
And the most fmr intent on't; which 1 reve-
With adniinition, that in you, a prince,
.Should be so sweet and temperate a condition.
To offer to restore where you may ruin,
And do'c with justice ; and in me, a servant.
So harsh a disposition, that I cannot
Forgive where I should lionour, and am
bound to't.
But I have ever had that curiosity^'
'» But I have ever had that curiosity .] Curiositi/ has both in these authors apd Shakespeart
been so often put where courtesy has seemed to the editors of both the better word, that I
b^in to doubt whether we have not all been wrong in making the change, as in Lear,
< __- permit
* The curiosity of nations to deprive me.*
1 cannot now recollect where it has been altered in this edition. There is certainly a tole^
xnble idea to be affixed to it, particularly in the passage above, so that Fll change it no more*
Seward.
As curiosity has not only ^ a tolerable idea affixed to it,* but is particularly expressive
]2Crc^ we cannot think Mr. $eward has displayed any courtesy in not altering ic^
3X2 la
$U THE NICE VALOUR; OR, THE PiVSSIONATE MADMAN. [Act4. Sotrnt
In blood, and tenderness of reputation,
Such an antipathy against a blow — [me !
I cannot speak the rest! good sir, discharge
It is not fit that I should serve you more,
^or come so near you : I'm made now for
privacy.
And a retir*d condition ; that's my suit.
To part from court for ever, my last suit ;
And, as you profess bounty, grant me that,
sir!
Duke. I would deny thee nothing.
•SAam. Health reward you, sir! [Exit.
Duke, He's gone again already, and takes
hold
Of any opportunity : not riches
Can purchase him, nor honours, peaceably,
And force were brutish. What a great
worth's gone with him !
And but a geptletnan p Well, for his sake,
ni ne*er o&'end more * those I cannot make;'
They were bis words, and shall be dear to
memory.
Say, I desire to see him once again.
Yet stay ! he's so well forward of his peace,
'Twere pity to disturb him: he would groan
' Like a soul fetched again, and that were injury;
' And I've wrong'd his degree too much already.
Call forth the gentlemen of our chamber ^
iostantly !
1 Serv. [within,'] I shall, my lord.
Duke. I may forget again,
And therefore will prevent: the strain of this
Troubles me so, one would not hazard more.
Enter First Gentleman and divers others.
1 Gent. Your will, my lord ?
Duke. Yes, I discharge you all !
2 Gent. My lord— [pos'd of.
Duke. Your places shadl be otherwise dis-
4 Gent: Why, sir ?
Duke. Reply not! I dismiss you all :
YouVe gentlemen; yourwortlis will find you
. fortunes ;
Nor shall your Jewell tax me of ingratitude.
Ill give you all noble remembrances,
As testimonies 'gainst reproach and malice,
That vou departed lov'd.
^ Uent. This is most strange, sir.
1 Gent. But how is your grace fumish'd,
. these dismis&'d ?
Duke. Seek me out grooms,
Men more insensible.of reputation.
Less curious and precise in terms of honour;
That, if my anger chance let fall a stroke.
As we're all suhject to impetuous passions,
Yet it may pass unmurmur'd, undisputed.
And not with hraver fury prQsecutea. [Exit.
1 Gent. It shall be done, my lord.
5 Gent. Know you the cause, sir?
1 Gent. Not I, kind gentlemen, but by
conjectures ;
And so much shallT)e yours when you please.
4 Gent. Thanks^ sir!
3 Gent. We«ball i'th' mean time think our-
selves guilty
Of some foul fuult, thro' ignorance com-
mitted. .
1 Gent. No, 'tis not that, nor that way.
4 Gent. For my part,
I shall be disinherited, I know so mocli.
1 Geiit. Why, sir? for what?
4 Gent. My sire's of a strange humonr;
He*ll form faults for me, and then swear 'cm
mine;
And commonly the first begins witJi lechery;
He knows bis own youth's trespass.
1 Gent. Before you go, [sirs.
I'll come and take my leave, and tell you all,
5 Gent. Thou wert ever just and kind.
lExesaU.
1 Gent. That's my poor virtue, sir ;
And parcel valiant^'; but it's hard to be
perfect: [me.
The chu&ing of these fellows now will pozde
Horribly puzzle me; and there's no judgment
Goes true upon man's outside, there's the
mischief. [dross;
He must be touch'd, and tried, foi f^^ld or
There is no other way for't, and that's dan-
gerous too :
But since I'm put in trust, I will attempt it;
The Duke shall keep one daring man about
him.
Enter a Gallant.
Sof^! who comes here? A pretty brareiy
this!
Every one goes so like a gentleman,
Tis hard to find a difiference, but by the
touch.
I'll try your metal sure. [Strikes km.
Gal. Why, what do you mean, sir?
1 Gent. Nay, an you understand it not^ I
do not.
Gal. Yes ; 'would you should well know!
I understand it for a box o'th'ear, sir.
1 Gent. And, o'my troth, that's all I gave
Gal. Twere best it be so! [it for.
1 Gent. This is a brave' coward,
A jolly threat'ning coward; beshall be captain.
Sir, let me meet you an hour hence i'th' loUiy.
Gal. Meet you ? the world might laugh at
me then, i* faith. [scurY'y qualities)
' 1 Gent. Lay by your scorn and pride (tbey*ie
And meet me ; or I'll box you while I hate
you.
And carry yougambril'd thither like amuttoa.
Gal. Nay, an you be in earnest, here^smy
I will not fail you. [hand;
1 Gent. 'Tis for your own eood—-
GaL Awajr ! [a pox on you!
1 Gent. loo much for your own good, sir.
Gal. I prithee curse me all day long so.
1 Gent. Hang you !
Gal. I'll make him mad; he'sleth to cone
too much to me.
39
And parcel laliant;'} t. e. la part, or pardy valiant. Seward.
I»dccd
,A«I4. Scwiel.] THE NICE VAIXXTR; OR, THE PASSIONATE MADMAN. 596
Indeed I never ^et took box o'tb' ear.
But it redounded, I most needs say so—
1 Gent, Will you be gone ?
GaL Carse, curse, and then I go. —
Look bow be grins! I've angerM him to tli'
kidnies. ^ [Exit,
1 Gent, Was ever such a prigging cox-
comb seen ?
" One might have beat him dumb now in this
humour.
Enter u Plain Fellow,
And he'd lia'grin'd it out still. Oh, here's one
Made to my hand, methinks looks like a
craven^: [justle.
Less pains will serve his trial ; some slight
FeL How! Take you that,. sir ; and it* that
content you not —
iGent, Yes, very well, sir; I desire no more.
Fel, I think you need not ; for you have
not lost by't. [Exit.
iGent. Who would ha' thought this would
have proved a gentleman ?
ril never trust long chins and little legs again;
J*ll know 'em sure for gentlemen hereafter:
A gristle but in show, but gave his cuff
"With such a fetch, and reach, of gentry,
As if h' had had his arms before the flood.
IVe took a villainous hard task ypon me.
Now I begin to have a feeling on't.
JEttter Lapetf and Clown Jm Servant^ and so
habited.
Oh, here comes a tried piece : now the re-
form'd kick !
The millions of punches, spurns and nips
That he has endur'd! His buttock's all black
lead ; [Spaniard
He's half a Negro backward ; he was past a
In eighty-eight, and more .Egyptian like :
His table and his book come both out shortly,
And all the cowards in the town expect it.
So, if I foil of my full number now,
I idiall be sure to find 'em at church corners,
Where dives and the suffring ballads hang*'.
Lapet. Well, since thou'rt of so mild a
temper, of
So meek a spirit, thou mayst lii^e with me,
•Till better times do smile on thy deserts^ —
Ym glad I am got home again.
Clown. I'm happy [hospital.
In your service, sir ; you'll keep me from the
Lapet. So! bring me the last proof; this is
crorrected.
Clomn. Ay, you're too full of your cor-
rection, sir.
Lapet, Look I have perfect books within
Cloum* Yes, iftir. [this half-hour!
Lapet. Bid him put all the thumps • in
Pica Roman, [should be.
And with great Ts, you vermin, as thumps
Cham, Then in what letter will you have
your kicks ?
Lapel. All in Italica; yoar backward blowi
All in ItaUca, you hermaphrodite!
When shall I teach you wit ?
Clown. Oh, let it alone,
'Till you have -some yourself, sir!
Lapet. Yoa mumble?
Clown, The victuals ore lock'd up; Fm
kept from mumbling. [Eait,
Lapet. He prints my blows upon pot-paper
too, the rogue! [pamphlet.
Which had been proper for some drunken
1 Gent. Monsieur Lapet! How tlie world
rings of you, sir!
Your name sounds for and near.
Lapet, A good report it bears.
For an endurincr name.
1 Gent. What luck have you, sir?
Lapet. Why^ what's the matter ?
1 Uetit. I'm but thinking on*t !
I've heard you wish this fivo year for a place ;
Now there's one fall'n, and freely without
money too ;
And empty yet, and yet you cannot bave't.
Lapet. No? what's tlie reason? I'll give
money for't.
Rather than go without, sir.
1 Gent. That's not it, sir :
The troth is, there's aogenl lemon must have it.
Either for love or money ; 'tis decreed so :
I was heartily sorry when I thought upon you;
Had you not been a gentleman, I had fitted
you. [none, sir.
Lapet, Who? I a gentleman? a pox, I'm
1 Gent. How! [wast
Lapet, How ! why, did you ever think I
1 Gent. What! not a gentleman ?
Lapet. I would thou'dstput it upon me«
i'faith!
Did not my gran'] father cry cony-«kins ?
My father aqua* vi tap ? a hot gentleman ! [too;
All this I speak on, i' your time and memory
Only a rich uncle died, and left me chattels :
You know all this so well too !
1 Gent. Pray excuse me, sir !
Ha' not you arms ? •
♦** Craven ;"] i. e. A coward. So, in Philaster, voL i,
Thov^rt a craven, 1 warrant.
Again, in Henry V, act iv. sc. 7 :
' Is it fit this soldier keep his oath ?
' He is a craven and a villain else.' H,
♦' The storing ballads;] i.e. We suppose, gallows poetry.,
SOf in Rowley's Noble Spanish Souldier, 16;>4,
'^ The king! should X be bitter 'gainst the Vio^
* I shall have scurvy ballads mwle of me,^
<Sung; to the han^i^g tt^n^^ jR,
lapels
920 THE NICE VALOUR; OR, THE PASSIONATE MADMAN. [Act 4. Sctne U
Lapet. Yes; a poor couple here,
That serve to thrust in wild-fowl.
1 Gent. Herald's arms.
png;
Symbols of gentry, sir ; you know my meai>-
Tiiey have been shewn and seen.
Laptu Tliey have ?
1 Gent, Ay, fex, have they.
Lapet, Why, I confess, at my wife's insti-
gation once, [turaily)
(As women love these herald's kickshaws na-
I bought 'em ; bat what are thev, think you ?
puffs. [being LapUy
1 Gent. Why, thatfs proper to your name.
Which is Lafarty after the English letter.
Lapet. The herald, sir, had much ado to
find it.
1 Gent. And can you blame him?
Why, 'tis the only thing that jpuzzlesthe devil.
Jjipet. At last, he look'cf upon my name
again;
And having well compared it, this he gave me;
The two cholics playing upon a wind-instru-
ment, [prwy i^^l ™e,
1 Gent. An excellent proper one I But I
How does he express the cholics? they're hard
things. [their bellies ;
Lapet. The cholics? with liot trenchers at
There's nothing better, sir, to blaie a choiic.
1 Gent. A.nd are not yon a gentleman by
this, sir ?
Lapet • No ; I disclaim't !
No belly-ache upon earth shall make me one;
Ue shall not think to put his gripes upon me.
And wring out gentry so, and ten pound first.
]f the wind instrument will make my wife one,
Let her enjoy't, for she was a harper's grand-
child!
But, sir, for my particular, I renounce it.
1 Gent. Or to be call'd so ?
Lapet. Ay, sir, or imagin'd.
1 Gent. ^Jo^e fitter for the place : give
roe thy hand ! [a bribe, sir !
Lapet. A hundred thousand thanks, beside
1 Gent. You must take heed of thinking
toward a gentleman now.
Lapet. PisiH I am not mad, I warrant you !
Nay, more, sir;
If one should twit me i' th* teeth that I am a
gentleman, [Lammas ;
Twit me their worst, I am but one since
That I can prove, if they would see my heart
out. [evidence.
f 1 Gent. Marry, in any case, keep me that
Enter Clown.
Lapet. Here comes my servant: sir, Galo-
fciiio [upon.
lias not his name for nought; he will be trod
What says my printer now ?
Clown. Here's your last proof, sir; [ling.
You shall have perfect books now in a twink-
Lapet. These marks are ugly.
Clown. He says, sir, Ujey're proper ;
Blows should have marks, or else they're no-
thing worth.
Lapet, But why a peel-crow here?
Ciown, I told 'em so, sir:
A scare-crow had been better.
Lapet. How, slave! — Look you, sir!
Did not I say, this wherit and this hob.
Should be both Pica Roman i
Chwn. So said I, sir;
Both picked KonxriM, and he has mada >oi
Welsh iiills.
Indeed, I know not what to make on 'em.
Lapel. Heyday! a iwtey Italicaf
Clown. Yes, that may hold, sir:
Souse is a bona roba ; so \% flops too. [here?
Lapet. But why stands oosft'niidb so tar off
Chwn. Alas, you must allow him room to
lay about him, sir.
Lapet. Why Ues this ^urn lower than that
spurn^ sir? . [stain, «r,
CloTcn. Marry; this signi6esene sick down
The other in a gallery; I ask'd him all these
questions. [mind me f
1 Gent, Your book's name ? prithee, Lapet,
You never told me yet.
Lapet, Marry, but slmll, sir:
*Tis call'd The Uprising of the Kick ;
And The Downfal of the Duello.
1. Gent. Bring that to pass, youll pioTe a
hapny member, [bloods
And do yoijr country service : your young
Will thank you then, when they see fourscore.
Lapet i I hope
To save my hundred gentlemen a- month by't;
Which will be very good for the private house.
Clown. Look you ! your tables finish'd,sir,
al ready. [See, see, sir ;
Lapet. Why then, behold my master-piece !
Here 8 all your blows, and blow*men whatso-
ever,
Set in their lively colours, givers and taken.
1 Gent. Troth, wondrous fine, sir!
Lapet. Nay, but mark the postures!
The standing' of the takers I admire more
than the givers : [I like not them.
They stand scornfully, most contumelionsly;
Oh, here's one cast into a comely figure.
Clown. IMy master means him there that's
cast down headlone. [his dowsi !
Lapet. How sweetly does this fellow take
Stoops like a camel, that heroic beast»
At a gieat load of nutmegs : and how meekly
This other fellow here receives his wktrit.
Clown. Oh, master, here's a fellow stands
most gallantly, [in^
Taking iiis kick in private behind the hang-
And raising up his hips to't. But, oh, sir,
How daintily this man lies trampled on !
'Would I were in thy place, whate'er thou art!
How lovely he endures it !
1 Gent. But will not
These things, sir, be hard to practise, think
you? [dance.
Lapet. Oh, easy, sir ; PU teach 'em in a
1 Uent, How i in a dance ?
Lapet. V\\ lose my new place else,
What^Vr it be; I know not what 'ds yet
Act 5. Scene 1.] THE NICE VALOUR; OR, THE PASSIONATE MADMAN. W
1 Gent. And now you pa( me in mind, I
could employ it welJ, (sin
For your gnice, speciftlly: forthe JaWscoU-
Is by this time in s violent fit of mirth ;
And A device must be sought out for suddenly,
To ovti^cloy thft passion.
Lapet, Say no more, sir!
Ill fit you with my scholars, new practition-
Endorers of the time. [ere,
Clown, Whereof I am one, sir.
1 Gent, You carry it away smooth: give
me thy hand, sir. [JExeun^
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Snter the Tm Brothtrs,
J'ox [withinJi TJAjhajha!
-■■•■■ 2 Bro. Hark, hark! how
loud his fit's grown !
Fas. Ha, ha, ha! [ply it
1 Bro, Now let our sister lose no time, but
With all the power she has !
2 Bro, Her shame grows big, brother ;
The Cupid s shape will hardly hold it longer ;
Twould take up half an ell of cheyney da-
mask more,
And all too little; it struts perlously;
There is no tamp'riog with these Cupids
longer: [strong.
The mere conceit with woman-kind works
Fas. Ha, ha, ha!
3 Bro. The laugh comes nearer npw ;
Twere good we were not seen yet.
[Exeunt Brothers,
Enter Passionate Lord and Base,
Fas, Ha, ha, ha !
Andwashebastinado'dtothelife? ha, ha, ha!
I prithee say, lord general, how did the rascals
£ntrench themselves ?
Base, Most deeply, politicly, all in ditches.
,Fas, Ha, ha, ha!
Base. 'Tis thought he'll ne'er bear arms
i'th' field again :
H' has much ado to lift 'em to his head, sir.
Fas, 1 would he had !
Base. On eitlier side round truncheons
play'd so thick, [to th' quick.
That shoulders, chines, nay, flanlA), were paid
Fas. Well said, lord general ! ha, ha, ha !
Base, But pray how grew the di£f'rcnce
first betwixt you.?
Fas, There was never any, sir ; there lies
the jest, man! '
Only because he was taller than his brother,
There's all my quarrel to him ; and methought
He should be beaten for't, my mind so gave
me, sir,
X could not sleep for't: ha, ha, ha, ha!
Another good jest cjuickly, while 'tis hot now ;
Let me not laugh in vain ! ply me, oh, ply me,
A9 you will answer't to my cousin Duite !
Ash. Alas^ who has a good jest?
[ho, ho!
r ob, oh.
Pas. I fall, I dwindle in*t
Base. Ten crowns for a good jest! — Ha'yoa
agood jest, sir?
Enter Servant:
Serv. A pretty moral one.
Base, Let's ha't, whate*er it be !
Serv. There comes a Cupid
Drawn by six foob.
Bftse. That's nothing.
Fas, Help it, help it then !
Base. I lia' known six hundred fools dravm
by a Cupid.
Fas, Ay, that, that, that's the iftnarter moral:
ha, ha, ha !
Now I begin to be song-ripe methinks.
Base, I'll sing yon a pleasant air, sir, be<>
fore you ebb.
SONG.
Pas. Ohy how my longs do tickle ! ha, ha,
ha!
Base. Oh, how my lungs do tickle !
Fas, Set a sharp jest
Against my breast,
Then how my lungs do tickle ! ^ *
As nightingales.
And Uiini^s in camhrick rails.
Sing best agamst a prickle.
Ha, ha, ha, 1m !
Base. Ho, ho, ho, ho, ha !
Fas. Laugh !
Base. Laugh!
Fas. Laugh!
Base, Langh!
Fas. Wide!.
Base. loud!.
* Pas. And vary!
Base, A smile is for a simpering novice,
' Fas. One that ne'er tastecl caveare,
Ba!i€, jSTor knows the smack of d/ear an-
Fas. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha ! [chov\es.
Base. Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho I
Fas. A giggling waitinf^-^wench for me,
That shews her teeth how white they
be!
Base, A thing not fit $bx gravity.
For theirs are {bul and hai'dly three.
Fas, Ha, ha, haf
Base, Ho^ho;bot
Pcu. How brave lives he (hat keeps a fool,
Altbo' the rate be deeper!
Bate, But he that is his owu fool, sir.
Does live a great deal cheaper.
Fas. Sure I shall burst, burst, quite break,
Thou art so witty.
JBosc 'Tis rare to break at court,
For that belongs to th' city.
Fes. Ha, Iia ! my spleen is almost worn
To the last laughter.
Base, Oh, keep a corner for a friend ; •
A jest may come hereafter.
Enter Lapet and Clmen^ and four others,
like Fools, dancing, the Cupid leading, and
bearing his table, and holding it up to
Lapet at every strain, and acting the
postures,
Lapet. Twinge all now! twinge, I say!
. Q Strain.
Souse upon Souse.
Douces single.
Justle sides.
Knee belly-
Kick see Buttock.
3 Strain.
4 Strain.
6 Strain.
0 Strain.
7 Strain.
Lapet. Downderry!
Enter the Soldier, his sword drawn.
Sold. Not angry law, nor doors of brass,
shall keep me
From my wrong's expiation ! To thy bowels
I return my disgrace; and after turn
My face to any death tlmt can be sentenc*d.
[Exit.
Base. Murder! oh, murder! stop the mur-
derer there !
Lapet. ] ^n glad he's gone ! h'has almost trod
my guts out :
S» THE NICE VALOUR; OR, THE PASSIONATE MADMAN. [Ad 5. SoeMit
Pas. Democritus, thou ancient fieerer.
How I miss thy laugh, and ha-
sense**!
Base. There younam'd the famous jeerer,
That e'er jeer'd in Rome or Athens.
Pas. Ua, ha, ha!
Base. Ho, ho, ho!
Follow him wbo list for me! Ill ha' no 1
in*t. [squelch'd, i
Clown. Oh, 'twas your luck and mine to be
H*bas stamp*d my very puddings into pan-
cakes, [help, oh, help I
Cupid. Oh, brothers, oh, I fear 'tis mortal !
Tm made the wretchedVt woman by this ac-
Thiit ever love beguil'd ! [ckieot,
Enter Two Brothers.
2 Bro. We are undone, brother;
Our shames sou too apparent. Awajy r^
ccptacle
Of luxury and dishonour! roost unfortunate^
To make thyself but lackey to thy spoil*'.
After thy sex'a manner V-Lifb him up,
brother : [wasted
He breathes not to our comfort; he*s too
Ever to chear us more. A surgeon spee<Uy!
Hence, the unhappiest that e*er stept aside!
Shell be a mother, 'fore she's known a bride.
Cupid. Thou hadst a most unfortunate
conception.
Whatever thou prov'st to be ! In midst of mirth
Comes ruin for a welcome to thv birth.
lEjoatt.
SCENE II.
Enter Shanumt.
Sham. This is a beautiful life now ! Privacy,
The sweetness and the benefit of essence.
I see there is no man bat may make faii
Pai-adisc ;
And it is nothing but his love, and dotage
Upon the world's foul joys, that keeps him
out on't:
For he that lives retir'd in mind and spirit.
Is still in Paradise, and has his innocence
Partly allow'd for his companion too.
As mux:h as stands with justice. Here no
eyes
Shoot their sharp-pointed scorns npon my
shame :
Tliey know no terms of reputation here.
No punctual limits, or precise dimensions:
Plain down-right honesty is all the beauty .
And elegancy of life found amongst shep-
herds ;
For knowing nothing nicely, or aesiriug it.
Quits many a vexation from the mind,
*^ How I miss thy lavgh, and ha' since.] After some vain endeavours to make out a
meaning here, I am i'orcea to substitute ha-sense, instead of ha* since, which I own a very odd
expression, yet [ think not unsuitable to the comic humour of the song. Ha is the uote of
laughter, and therefore ha-scnse will .signify the laughing sense, or the sense Uiat was con-
tained in Democritus's laughter. Democritus, like Epicurus, taught tlmt the world —
made by chance, and that souls dy'd with the bodies, and used to laugh at the follies of i
in buntmg fame and wealth with so much toil and trouble, both wliich they must so r
inevitably part with. Sezcard.
*^ tnost unfortunate.
To make ihyseif hut lucky to thy spoiLI If there is a sense in tliis expression, it haf
escaped me; nor can I hit on any emendation very satisfactory. If we read lackey for HtcJy
it may become sense, viz. To make thyself b, lackey, servant or minister of thy awn wdl, M
thing which wanton women frequently do. I*m forced to substitute tliis, in the room, wistck/^
tho* not without wishing tu have hit on something more clear. Seward.
Wah
Acts. Scene 3 J THE NICE VALOUR; 0R^4|HE PASSIONATE MADMAN. M9
With vrbidi our qaainter knowMge doth
abuse us.
TBe name of envy is a stranger here, •
Tlmt dries'inen's bloods abroad, rob« health
. and rest: [falshood,
WJ:y, here's no such fury thought on; no, ftor
Tliat brotherly disease, fellow-like devil.
That plays within our bosom, and betrays
Enter First Gentlemdn.
i Gent. Oh, are you here ?
Sh^rn, La Nove ! *tis strange to see thee*
1 Gent: I ha' rid one horse to death, to
£nd you out, sir.
Sham. I am not to be found of any roan
That saw my shame, nor seen long.
1 Gent. 6ood, your attention ! [sir,
Tou ought to be seen now, and found out.
If ever you desire, before your ending,
To perform one good office, nay, a dear one ;
Man's tone can hardly match it.
Sham Be't as precious "
As reputation, if it come from court,
I will not hear on't.
1 Gent. You must hear of this, sir.
S/iam. Must?
1 Gent. You shall hear it.
Sham. 1 love tliee, that tboult die.
1 Gent. 'Twere nobler in me, than in you
Jmng ; you
Will live a murderer, if you deny
This office.
Sham. Wen to death, sir.
1 Gent. Why, then, you
Will kill your brother.
Sham, How?
1 Gent. Your brother, sir. [brother,
Bear witness, Heav'n, this man destroys his
When he may save him; hi& least breath
moy save him!
Cau tliere be wilfuller destruction ?
He was forc'd Xo take a most unmanly wrong.
Above the sirif'ring virtue of a soldier;
H'has kilJ'd his iiijurer, a work of honour!
For which, unless you save him, he dies
speedily.
3VJy conscience is discharg*d : I'm but a friend;
A brother should go tbrwurd where I end.
[Exit.
Sham. Dies?
Say he be naught ! that's nothing to my
goodness,
Which ought to shine thro' use, or else it
loses
The glorious name 'tis known by. He's my
brodjer;
Yet peace is above blood : let him go ! Ay,
But Where's the nobleness of ftfFectiou then ?
That must be car'd for too, or I'm imperfect.
The same blood that ^tood up in wrath against
him^
Now, in his misery, runs all to pity :
I'd rather die than speak one syllable
To save myself; but, living as I am.
There's no avoiding on't; the world's hu^^
manity
Expects it hourly from me. Curse of for«
tune!
I took my leave so well too—Let him die !
Tis but a brother lost-^'So pleasingly
And swiftly I came ofi> 'twere more than
irksomeness.
To tnnid that path again ; and I shall never
Depart so handsomely. But then w here's
posterity ?
The consammation of our house and name F
I'm torn in pieces betwixt love and shame.
[Exit.
SCENE III-
Enter Lapet, Clown, Poltret, Moulbazonp
and otherSy the new Court'officen.
Lapeti Good morrow^ fellow Poltrot**,
and MoQlbazon ;
Good morrow, fellows all!
Polt. Monsieur Lapet!
Lapet. Look, I've remember'd you ; here's
books apiece for you !
Moul. Oh, sir, we dearly thank you%
Lapet. So you may;
There's two impressions gone already, sirs.
Polt. What! no? in so short a time ?
Lapet. Tis as I I ell you, sir.
My Kick sells gallantly, I thank my stars*
Clown, So does your Table; yoa may
thank the moon too. '
Lapet. 'Tis the book sells the tabje.
Claam. But 'tis the bookseller
That has the money for 'era, I'm sure o' tbat«
Lapet. Twill much enrich the company
of stationers;
Tis thought 'twill prove a lasting benefit.
Like the Wise Masters ♦^j and the almanacks^
The Hundred Novels^, and the Book of
Cookery :
For they begin already to engross it,
And make it a stock-book, thinking indeed
Twill prove too great a benefit and help
For one that's new set up : they know their
way,
And make him warden e'er his beard be grey.
Moul. Is't possible such virtue should he
hid,
/Vnd in so little paper ?
Lfipet. How! why, there was the Can*
penter,
An unknown thing; an odoriferous pamphlet,
Yet no more paper, by all computation.
Than Ajax Telamon would use at once ;
^ Poltrot.'] Perhaps it should be Poltron.
♦^ The Wise Masters.] The Wise Masters of Rome, a book which hath frequently since
been reprinted, and to tliis day much admired by the lower class of readers. JR.
^ The Hundred Noveh.} Boccace's Decameron. R,
VOL.in. 8Y Your
SSO THE NICE VAIOUU; OR, t^ FASSIONATE MADMAN. [A«t$.
Scenes*
Your Herring prov'd the like*^, Me to buy
Another Fisher's Folly, and your Pasquil*^
Went not below the Mad-Caps of that time;
And shall inv elaborate Kick come behind,
think you? [Uaiica too,
Chum. Yes, it must come behind ; 'tis in
According to your humour.
Lapet, Not in sale, varlet?
Clown. In sale, sir? it shall sail beyond
*em all, I tro.
Lapet. What have you there now ? oh,
^i^re the twenty-first.
Clown. That page is come to his years;
be should be a serviug-man. [ihere*^ !
Lt^et. Mark how I »nap up -the Duello
One would not use a dog so,
I must needs say ; hut's for the common good.
Clown. Nay, sir, your commons seldom
fight at sharp.
But buffet in a warehouse.
Jjupet. This will save • [ing, sir»:
Many a gentleman of good blood from bleed-
I have a corse from nuiiiy a barber-surgeon ;
They'd give but too much money tocaU'tin.
Turn to page forty-five; see what you find
there.
CloTcn. Oh, out upon him ! ^
Page forty-five I that's an old thief indeed !
Enter Duke, theLadi^, and First Gentleman.
Lapet. The Duke! clap down your books !
Away, Galoshio!
Clmn. Indeed I am too foul tobei'th'
presence !
They use to shake me off at the chamber-door
still. [JS^*^-
Ladi/. Good my lord, grant my suit! let
me not rise
Without the comfort on*t ! I have not often
Been tedious in this kind.
Duke. Sister, you wrong yourself,
And those great virtues that your fame is
made of,
To waste so much breatli for a murderer s life.
Lady. You caiiuot hate th' offence more
than I do, sir,
Nor the offender ; the respect I owe
Unto his absent brother makes mc a suitor,
A most importunate sister: make me worthy
But of this one request !
Duke. I am deaf
To any importunacy, and sorry
For your forgetfulness : you never injur'd
Your worth so much; you ought to be re-
bok'dfor't!
Pursue good ways; end as jon did begin !
^Tis half the guilt to speak for such a sin.
Xac^. This is Love's beggary right; that
now is ours,
Wbeo ladies lofe, and cumei shew tbdr
powers. [Exiim
Duke. LaNove!
1 Gent. My lord. '
Duke. Are these our new aHendanIs?
Lapet. We are, my lord; aad will ^idiire
as i|iuch
As better men, my lord ; end more, I trosti
Dulce. What's he?
1 Gent. My lord, • dec^*d gentleni«D,
That will do any service.
Duke. A decay'd one?
1 Gent. A reuouoc'd one, indeed, far this
51aqe only. [charge him instandy t
)uke. We renounce him then: go, di^
He tlint disclaims his gentry for mere gains.
That man's too base to make a vassal on.
Lapet. What says the duke?
1 Gent. Faith, little to your comfort, sir;
You must be a gentleman again.
Lapet. Ilow!
1 Gtnt. There's no retnedy.
Lapet. Many, the fates fotefendi ne'er
while I breathe, sir. [no resisting:
1 Gent. The Duke will have it so; there's
He spied it i' your forehead.
Lapet. My wife's doing f [ten now,
She thought she should be put below herbet-
And sued to ha' me a gentleman again.
1 Gent. And very likely, sir. [done.
Marry, I'll give you this comfort ; wliea all's
Youll never pass but for a scurvy oae;
That's all the help you have. Come, shew
your pace ! [lost place :
Lctpet. The heaviest gentleman that e'er
. Bear witness, I am forc'd to't, [JSxif.
Duke. Tho' you've a coarser title yet upon
you [blame,
Than those that left your places, without
'Tis in your power to make yourselves the
same.
I canuot ntake you gentlemen ; Umt's a %roik
Ilais'd from your own deservings: merit,
m:uiners, [n«a
Ami m-born virtue does it: let your own good-
Make you so great, my power shall make yos
greater;
♦7 Your Herrhig.] Probably either * Naslie's Lenten Stuff; containing the description and
ringi
1598. J^' ^ ^ '
^ FasquiL] FasquWs Mad-Cap, a pamphlet written by Nicholas Breton, an author who is
mentioned before by our auUiors ; see note 50 on Wit Without Money. He wrote a second
part of this pamphlet, with the additional title of the ' Fool's Cap, with Pasquil's Passioo;
* be^run by himself, and finished by his friend Morphorius ;' «|uarto, 1600. J^
^^^The Duello ;] A pamphlet by the famous Mjr. Selden, entitled, * The Duello, or Single
< Combat,' &c. first printed in quarto, laiO; reprinted iu his Woiks. JR.
Afid,
inc. >
UNIVERSITY I
or
ActU. Scene 3.] THE NICE VALOUSTuKriflL PASSIONATE MADMAN. Ml
.Andy more t* encourage yoa, tliiaf add again,
Tbere*s many grooms now exact gentlemen.
Enter Shamont.
Sham. Methinks 'tis strange to me to enter
bare !
I» there in Nature such an awful power,
To force me to this place? and make lue do this?
Is man's affection stronger than his will ?
His resolution ? was I not resolvM
Kever to see this place more? do I bear
Within my breast one blood that confounds
the other? [est^
The blood of love, and will, and the last weak-
Had I ten millions, I woiild give it all now,
i were but past it, or 'twonid never come !
For I shall never do't, or not do't well,
But spoil it utterly betwixt two passions. —
Yonder s the Duke himself : I will notdt)*tnow,
Had twenty lives Uieir several softeriugs in
him. ^ [Exit
Duke. Who's that went out now?
I*ott. I saw none, my lord.
Duke, Nor you?
Moul, I saw the glimpse of one, my lord.
Duke. Whatever it was, methouglit itpleus'd
me strangely,
And suddenly my joy was ready for't.
FiUt. and MauL Troth, my lord, we ^f e
no great heed to*t.
Enter Shafnont,
' Sham. Twill not be answer'dl [ther :
It brings me hither still, by main force, hi-
Bither I m0st give over to profess humanity,
Or I must speak for him.
Duke. Tis here again :
No marvel 'twas so pleasing ! 'tis delight
Aad worth itself. Now it appears unclouded.
Skam. My lord —
He turns away from me! by tliis hand,
I am ill-us'd of all sides ! *tis a fault
That Fortune ever Xad, t* abuse a goodness.
Duke, Methought you were saying some-
Sh(tm, Mark the language 1 [what.
As coy as Fate ! I see 'twill ne'er be granted.
Duke, We little looked in troth to see you
here yet. [death, I think.
Sham. Not till tlie day after my brother^s
Duke. Sure some great business drew you.
Sham. No, in sooth, sir;
Only to come to see a brother die, sir,
That I may learn to go too ; and, if be de-
ceive me not,
I think he will do well in'tbf a soldier,
Manly, and honestly; and if he weep then,
I shall not think the worse on's manhood for't.
Because he's leaving of that part that has it.
Duke. H'has slain a noble gentleman;
think on\ sir !
Sham, I would I could not, sir.
Duke* Our kinsman too.
Sham. All this is but worse, sir.
Duke. When 'tis at worst-
Yet seeing thee, he lives !
Shmu. My lord —
Duke, Helix'es!
Believe it as thy bliss; he dies not for't:
Will this make satisfaction for things past?
S/tu?n. Oh, my lord —
Duke. Will it? speak!
Sham. With greater shame to my unwor-
thiness. [found it harder
Duke. Rise, then! we're even. I never
To keep just with a man : my great work's
ended ! [sir,
I knew your brother's pardon was your suit.
However your nice modesty held it back.
Sham, ,1 take a joy now to confess it^ sir.
Enter Fir$t Gentleman.
1 Gent. My lord — [news be :
Duke Hear me first, sir, whatever your
Set i'refi the boldier instantly.
1 Gent. Tis done, my lord.
Duke. How !
1 Gent, In effect, 'twas part of my news
too ; [sir.
There's fair hope of your nobie kinsman's life,
Duke. What say 'sr thou?
1 Gent. And the most admired change
That li\ing flesh e'er had ! he's not the man^
my lord : , [sir.
Death cannot be more free from passions ^''',
Tliaa he is at this instant; he's so meek now,
He makes tho«« seem passionate were never
thuugi)t off Ly^^f ^^^9
And for he fears his moods have oft disturb'd
He's only hasty now for his forgiveness:
And here, behold him, sir !
Enter the Passionate Lord, the Cupid, and
two Brothers.
Duke. Let me give thanks first!
Our worthy cousin-
Pas. Your unworthy trouble, sir !
For which, with all acknowledg'd reverence^
I ask your pardon*; and for injury
More known and wilful : I have chosea vvife,
Without your counsel, or consent, my lord.
Duke. A wife? where is she, sir?
Pas, This noble gentlewoman —
Duke. How!
Pas. Whose honour my forgetful timet
much wrong'd.
Duke. He*s madder than he was.
1 Gent, I would ha' sworn for him I
Duke. The Cupid, cousin?
Pas. Yes, this worthy lady, sir.
Duke, Still worse and worse !
so.
Ife's not the man, my lord.
Death cannot, ^c] Here seems a line lost here, the sense to this effect:
— — - He's not the man, my lord, •
He was defobe the Soldi eb wounded uik.
3 Y'i
1 Bro.
5S2 THE NICE VALOUR; OR, THlf PASSION ATE MADMAN. [Acts. Scenes.
n\ save that virtue still; 'tis bnt inj jnins:
It sliall be so. mime,
[He joins Shamonfs hand and his Suta's,
Shnm, This gift does but set forth my po^
verty. ,. f -
Lady. Sir, that which you complain of is
my riches. ' •
Enter t/ie Soldier,
Duke. Soldier, now every noise sounds
peace, thou'rt welcome ! [)avoar,
^Sold. Sir, my repentance suesfor your blest
Which once obtain*d, no injury shaU lose it;
III suffer mightier wrongs. * '
Duke, Rise, Mv'd and pardon'd I
For where Hope faii'd, nay, Art itsdf resign'd,
ThMiast wrought that cure which skifl could
• never find : '
Nor did there cease, but to our peace extend :
Never could wrongs boaat of a uobjer end ! '
lExeunt.
1 Bro, Our sister, under pardon, my lord.
Duke. What! [assume.
52 Bro, Which shape Xx)ve taught her lo
Duke. Is*t truth then ^
1 Gent. It appears plainly now^ below the
waist, my lord.
Duke. Shamont, didst ever read of a She-
Cupid?
Sham. Never in fiction yet ; but it might
hold, sir; ; '
For Desire ;s of both genders.
Enter the Lady.
Duke. Make that good here j
I tfike thee at thy word, sir. '
Sham, Oh, my lord, {™*»
Love would appear too bold and rude from
Honour and admiration are her rights;
Her goodness is my saint, my lord.
Duke. I see
You're both too modest to bestow yourselves:
EPILOGUE.
Our poet bid us say, for his own part, He^ stand no shoc^ of censure. The pla>*s
He cannot lay too much forth of nis art; good".
But fears our over-acting passions may, lie says he knows it (if well understood):
As not adorn, deface his laboured play: But w« (blind god) beg, if th6u art divine.
Yet still he's i^esolutc, for what is writ Thou*lt shoot thy arrows round ; this plaj
Of Nicer Valour, aiid assumes the wit; was tlfine.
But for the love-scenes, which he ever meant
Cupid in's petticoat should represent, '
^' Theplay*8 good.^ In man^jr respecto the plaif*s good, and written in the true spirit of out
authors ; much true poetry, original fancy/ uncommon pleasantry, and every thing— *but con-
sistency, and iiature, . v .
THE
THE
HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE,
A TRAGI-COMEDY.
jQardiner, in bis Commendatory Verses, ascribes tbis Play to Fletcher i4one. It w^ ^rst
printed in the folio of 1647. No alteration hatb ever been made of it; W batU it beea
acted, as we believe, within the memory of any person now living.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
Duke ^ Qrleaks, a spk^ul detracting
Lord.
Eari. ^Amiens, Brotker4nrlaw to OrUanSy
: a noble aecompluKd Gentleman, Servant
to Lamira.
Montague, the Honest Man.
LoNQUEviLLE, > two faithful followers of
DiBOis, } Montague.
VftiAirouRS the lading and loyal Fage of
Montague,
Laverdine^ a knavish Courtier.
La-Poop, a cowardly Sea-Captain*
Malicorn, a sharking Citizen^
Two Lawyers.
Ikoo Creditors.
Officers.
Servants.
WoMEir.
Duchess
o/* Orleans, a virtuous Latfy, and
' chaste (but suspected) Wife to the JDuke.
Lam IRA, a modest Virgin^ rich and noUe,
C*iaARLOTT£» Lamira^s Womtus.
SCENE, France.
ACT I,
Ami, Would the circumstances of
Your brotherhood had never otTer'd <
To make our conversation less familiar!
I meet you like a hindrance in your way!
Your great law-suit is now upon the tongue^
And ready for a judgment
Orl. Came you from
The hall now/
SCENE I.
Enter Orleans and Amiens, at several ^rs.
Ami. Itf ORROW, my lord of Orleans!
IvX Qf.1^ You sal ute me like a stranger' ;
Brother Orleans were, to me, a title more
Belonging whom yon call the husband of
Foor sister.
■ Voramer.] So this name has been generally wrote in all the editions, only in one scene
It is spelt Veramor, and in another Veramour; the one being a Latin, the other a French
M>mponnd-word signifying true Une. One of these theremre was undonbtedly the true
name, which so well expresses the character. I have preferred the former. Seward,
Being a French story, the latter seems to He preferable.
^ You salute me like a stra$iger,'\ This scene was most part printed as prose, and where
the lines were ranged like verse every one of them was wrong, so that the whole is now
Ranged anew. Seward.
Mr. Seward*s arrangements only extend to the entrance of Montague, 4*0.
AmU
53i
THE HONEST MAVS FORTUNE.
[Act 1.
Ami. Without stay. The court is full ;
And such a press of people does attend
The issue, as if sonic great man were brought
To his arraignmeut.
Orf. Every mother s sou
Of all that multitude of hearers, frent
To be a witness of the misery
Your sister's fortunes must have come to, if
My advei'sary, who did love her first,
Had been h^r husband.
jitnt» The success may draw
A testimony from them, to confirm
The same opinion; but they went prepar'd
With no such hope or purpose.
Orl, And did you
Entreat the number of them that are come,
* With no sucli hope or purpose?*
^wi. Tush! your own
Experience of my heart can answer you.
OrL This doubtful makes me clearly un-
Your disposition. [derstand
Ami. if your cause be just,
I wish you a conclusion like your cause.
OrL I can have^ any common charity
To such a prayer: from a friend I would
Expect a love to prosper in, without
XxceptionsT such a love as might make all
My undertaking's thankful to't: precisely just
Is seldom faithful in our wishes to
Another man's desires. Farewell! [Exit.
Enter Montagiie, Duhois, Longueville, and
Vtrumour.
Dubois, Here comes your adversary's
brother-iii-law%
Long. The lord of Amiens.
Dubois. From the hall, I think ?
Ami. I did so. Save your lordship !
Mont. That's a wish,
My lord, as courteous to my present state.
As ever honest mind was thankful for ;
For now my safety must expose itself
To question : yet to look for any free
Or hearty salutation, sir, from you.
Would be unreasonable in me.
Ami. Why?
Mont. Your sister is my adversary's wife;
That nearness needs must consequently draw
Your inclination to him.
AmL I will grant
Him all the nearness bis allknce claims;
And yet be notliing less impartial.
My lord of Montague.
'Mont, Lord of Montague yet;
But, sir, how long the dignity or state
Belonging to it v/ill continue, stands
Upon the daagerous passage of this hour ;
^ I am have, ^-c] This speech ,is obscure, and has been still further obscured by the W
pointing. The sense is fehis : Amiens having wished Orleans success if his cause be JBSC,
Orleans replies, * that such a wish might proceed from any common acquaiiitaace, bat a
' friend would wish a friend success in ail his undertakings; for he, wbo'€»nfiBe8 lusgoo4
* wishes to precise justice, is sd<lom sincere in them.'
^ Tlien my tlianks^ 4'cO "1 his is also rather obscure, but signifies, ' If yon wish well to tte
* just cause, you deserve my thanks, for mine is the rightful side/
Is
Either for evermore to be confirm'd.
Or, like the time wherein 'twas pleaded,
gone ;
Gone with it, never to be calFd again!
Amk Justice direct your process to t^
end!
To both your persons my respect shall stiU
Be equal ; but the riglueous cause is that
Which bears my wishes to tlie aide it holds:
Where-ever, may it prosper! [£itf.
Mont. Then my thanks^
Are proper to you : if a man may raise
A confidence upon a lawful ground^
I have no reason to be once perplex'd
With any doubtful motion. LongneviUe,
That lord of Amiens (didst obeerv^ hmi }) hti
A worthy nature in him.
Long. Either 'tis
His nature, or his cunnings
Mont. That's the vizard
Of most men\ actions, whose dissemUedbis
Do carry only the similitude
Of goodness on 'em ; but for hina.
Honest behaviour makes a true report
What disposition does iuhabit him.
Essential virtue.
Long. Then '^is pity that
Injurious Orleans is his brotlier.
Dubois. He'^B but his brotlicr-in-Iaw.
Long. Law ? that's as bad. [wA
Dubois. How is your law ns b«d ? I rather
The hanpiian thy executor, than that
Equivocation should be ominous.
Enter Two Lawyers^ and Two Crediicru
Long. Some of your lawyers!
1 Law. What is ominous?
2 Law. Lei no distrust trouble your lord-
ship's thought! [land
1 Law. Tlie evidences of your quesdon'd
Ha' not so much as any literal
Advantage in *em to be made against
Your title.
2 Larc. And your counsel understands
The business fully.
1 Law. They are industrious, just —
2 Law. And very confident.
1 Law. Your state endures
A voluntary trial ; like a man
Whose honours arc maliciously accus*d.
2 Law. The accusation serves to dear kii
cause —
1 Law. And to approve his truth oiore.
2 Law. So shall all
Your adversary's pleadings strengthen yom
Possession. -•
1 Law. And be set upon record^
Act 1. Scene 1.]
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE,
535
To witness the hereditary right
Of you and yours.
S Law. Courage ! you have the law.
Long, And youy the profits.
Mont, if discouragement
Could work upOQ roe, your assurances
Would put me strongly into heart again:
But I was never fearful; and let fate
Deceive my expectation, yet I am
Prepar'd against dejection !
1 Cred. So are we. [hope
2 Cred. We have received a comfortable
That all will speed well.
lAing. What is he, Dabois?
Duiins. A creditor.
Long. I thought so; for he speaks
As if he were a partner in his state.
3£onL Sir, I am lai^ely indebted to your
• loves —
JLong. More to their purses.
Mont. Which you shall not lose.
t Cred. Your lordship —
JDuboU. That's anotljer Creditor.
1 Crtd. Has interest in me.
Jjong, You have more of him.
^ Cred. And I have had so many promises
From these and all your learned counsellors,
How certainly your cause will prosper, that— •
Ijong. You brought no Serjeants with you —
jDufjois. To attend
His iU success?
Mont. Good sir, I will not be
Unthankful eithei: to their industries,
Or your affections. ,
1 Law. All your land, my lord,
Js at the bar now ; give me but ten crowns^
I'll save you harmless.
Long. Take him at his word !
If he does lose, you're sav'd by miracle :
YoT I ne'er knew a lawyer yet undone.
1 Law. Then now you shall, sir, if this
prospers not. [voice
jLong. Sir, I beseech you do not force your
To sIkA a loudness, but be thrifty now !
Preserve it till you come to plead at bar;
It will be much more profitable in
The satisfaction, than the promise.
1 Law. Is
^ot this a satisfaction to engage
Myself for this assurance, if be —
Mont. No, sir; my ruin never shall import
Another's loss, if not by acci<lent,
^nd that my piJrpose is not guilty of:
You are engaged m nothing but your care.
[Exeunt Law.
Attend the procurator^to the court;
Observe ho w things incline, and bring me word !
Long. I dare not, sir; if I betaken there,
Jiftine ears will be in danger.
Mont. Why? hast thou
C^ommitted something that deserves thine
ears? [will be
Long. N o, but T fear the noise ! my hearmg
3*eri&h*d by th* noise ; it is as good to want
Jl menaber, as to lose the use—
Mont. The ornament is excepted.
Lfftg. Well, my lord,
ril put 'em to the hazard. [Exitr
1 Cred. Your desires
Be prosperous to you !
2 Cred. Our best prayers wait
Upon your fortune. [Exeunt Creditors,
Dubois. For yourselves, not him.
Mont. Thou canst not blame 'em ; I am ii^
their debts. [whereof
Ver. But Imd your large expence (a part
Yoil owe 'em) for unprofitable silks
And laces, been bestow'd among the poor,
That would have pray'd the right way, for yod^
Not upon you —
Mont. For unprofitable silks
And laces ? Now, believe rac, honest boy,
Tir hast hit upon a reprehension that
Belongs unto me.
Ver. By my soul, my lord,
I had not so unmannerly a thought,
To reprehend you !
Mont. Why, I love thee for't; [words:
Mine own acknowledgment confiims thy
For once, I do remember, comity from
The mercer's, where my purse had spent itself
On those unprofitable toys thou speak'st o^
A man half naked with his poverty
Did meet me, and requested my relief:
I wanted whence to give it ; yet his eyes
Spoke for him ; those I could have satisfied
With some unfruitful sorrow (if my tears
Would not have added rather to his grief.
Than eas*d it), but the true compassion that
I should have given I had not : tnis began
To make mc think how many such men's wants
The vain superfluous cost i wore upon
My outside would have cloath'd, and left mj'
self
A habit as becoming. To encrease
This new consideration, there came one
Clad in a garment plain and thrifty, yet
As decent as these fair dear follies, made
As if it were of purpose to despise
The vanity of show; his purse had still
The power to do a charitable deed.
And did it.
Dubois. Yet your inclination, sir,
Dei>erv*d no less to be commended than
His action.
Alont. Prithee, do not flatter me !
lie that intends well, yet deprives himself
Of means to put his good thoughts into deed^
Deceives his purpose of the due reward
That goodness merits. Oh, antiquity,
I Thy great examples of nobility
f Are out of imitation ; or at least
« So lamely followed, that thou art as much
I Before this age in virtue, as in time I
I Dubois. Sir, it must needs be lamely fol-
I low'd, when
! The ciiiefest men who love to follow it
iAre for the most part crpples.
Mont. Who are they?
Dubois. Soldiers, my lord, soldiers.
Mont,
53d
THE HONEST MAITO FORTUNE.
{Actl. Scenf t
MatU, *Ti8 triie» Dabois :
But if the law disables me no mofe
For uoble actions than good purposes^
I'll practise how to exercise the worth
Commended to us by our ancestors :
The poor neglected soldier shall coininalid
Me from a lady's courtship, and the form
I'll study shall do more be taught me by
The tailor, but the scholar; diat expence
Which hitherto has been to entertam
Th' intemperate pride and pleasure of the
taste,
Shall fill my table mor^ao satisfy.
And less to surfeit. What an honest work
It would be, when we find a virgin in
Her poverty and youth inclining to [and
Be tempted, to employ as much persuasion
As much expence to keep her uunght, as
Men use to do upon her falling:
Dtibois. Tis charity
That many maids will be unthankful for;
And some will rather take it for a wrong,
To buy 'em out of their inheritance^
The tmng that they were born to.
Enter hmgueoiUe.
Mont, LongueviUe,
Thou bring'st a chcarful promise in thy face;
There stands no pale rew)rt upon thv cheek,
To give me fear or knowledge of my loss;
Tis red and lively. How proceeds my suit?
Long, Tliat's, with leave, sir,
A labour, that to those of Hercules
Ma;^ add another ; or, at least, be called
An imitation of his buniing shirt :
For 'twas a pain of that unmerciful
Pcfrplexity, to shoulder thro' the throng
Of people that attended your success.
M^ sweaty linen fix'd upon my skin.
Still as they puird me took that with it; 'twas
A fear I should have leflmy fiesh among 'em :
Yet I was patient, for raethought, the toil
Might be an emhlem of the difficult
And weary passage to get out of law.
And to make up the dear similitude.
When I was forth seeking my handkerchief
To wipe my sweat off, I did find a cause
To make me sweat more; for my purse was
Among their fingers. [lost
Dubois. There ^twas rather found*
Long. By them.
Dubois. I mean so.
Mont. Well, I will restore
Thy ilamage to thee. How proceeds my suit?
Long. Like one at broker's ; I think, for-
Your promising counsel at the first [feited.
Put strongly forward with a laboured speed.
And such a violence of pleading, that
His fee in sugar-cand^ scarce will make
His throat a satisfaction for the hurt
He did it; and he carried the whole cause
Before iiim, witli so clear a pallage, that
The people in the favour of vour side [him
Cried Montague, Montague f in the spite of
That cried out nlence, and began to laugh
Your adversary's advocate to scorn;
Wbo, like a cunning footman, set me Ibrtb
With such a temperate easy kind of course.
To put him into exercise of strengtli.
And folio w'd his advantages so close,
Tliat when your hot-month'd pleader chouglilt
h'had won.
Before he reach'd it he was outofbreatl^
And then the other stript him.
Mont. So, all's lost ?
Long. But how I know not; for, methooglht,
. I stood
Confounded vnth the clamour of the coun.
Like one embark'd upon a storm at sea.
Where the tempestuous hoise of thunder,
mix'd
With roaring of the billows, and the thick
Imperfect language of the seamen, takes
His understanding and his safety both
Together from him.
3Iont. Thou dost bring ill news !
Long. Of what I was unwilling to have
The first reporter. [beeik
Mont. Didst observe no more ?
Ldng, At least no better.
Mont. Then thou'rt not infomi*d
So well as I am t I can tell thee that
Will please thee ; for when nil else left my
My very adversaries took my pari, [cause.
Long. Whosoever told you that,
Abus'd you.
^ Mont. Credit me, he took my part
When all forsook mc.
Long. Took it from you ?
Mont. Yes;
I mean so : and I think he had just cause
To take it, when the verdict gave it him.
Dubois. His spirit would lut* sunk him, at
he could
Have carried an ill fortune of this weight
So lightly.
Mont. Nothing is a misery^
Unless our weakness apprehend it so;
We cannot be more faithful to ourselve*
In any thing that's manly, than to make
III fortune as contemptible to us
As it makes us to others.
Enter Lawyers,
Long. Here come ihey.
Whose very countenances will teH jou kovr
Contemptible it is to others.
Mont. Sirt [}»ah
Long, The Sir of knighthood may be givcft
Ere they hear you now.
Mont. Good sir, but a word! [any man
Dubois. How soon the loss of wealth loakes
Grow out of knowledge!
Long. Let me sec : I pray, sir.
Never stood you upon the pillory?
1 Lato. The pillory ?
Lotig. Oh, now I know you did not;
You've ears, I thought ye had lost "em: pm
observe; [eyes!
Here's one that once was gracious in your
Act 1. Scene f.]
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
537
Mont. So far as my ability vvill go.
You shall have satisfaction. Longueville!
Long. And leave yourself negk'Cted? Every
roan [honest.
Is first a debtor to bis own demands^ being
Mont. As I take it, sir,
I did not entertain you for my counsellor.
Long, Counsel's the office of a servant,
when
The raafiter falls upon a danger, as
Defence is : never threaten with your eyes !
They are no cockatrices. Do you hear ?
Talk with the girdlcr, or the millener;
He can inform you of a kind of meii
That iirst undid the profit of those trades,
By bringing up the form of carrying
Their morglays' in their hands; with some
of those
A man n^ay make himself a privilege
To ask a question at the prison-gates,
Without your good permission.
2 Cred. By your leave! [the time
Mont. Stay, sir ! what one example, since
That first you put your hat off to me, have
You noted in mc, to encourage you
To this presumption ? By tiie justice now
Of thine own rule,. I should begin witli thee;
I should turn thee away ungratified
For all thy former kindnesses, forget
Thou ever didst me any service. — ^Tis not
fear
Of being arrested, makes me thus incline
To satisfy you ; for you see by him,
I lost not all defences with my state :
The curses of a man, to whom I am
Beholding, terrify me more than all
The violence he can pursue me with. —
Dubois, I did prepare me for the worst;
These two small cabinets do comprehend
The sum of all tbeweiUth that it hath pleas*d
Adversity to leave me ; one as rich
As th' other, both in jewels: take thou this.
And as the order put within it shall
Direct thee, distribute it half between
Those credittirs, and th' other half among
My servants; — for, sir, they're my creditors
As well as you are ; they have trusted lue
With their advancement. If the value fail
To please you all, my first encrease of means
Shall oifer you a fuller payment. Be content
To leave me something ; and imagine that
Ye put a new beginner into credit.
* Ohy my lord, have an eye upon him.l What can this mean ? was the Lawi/er advising
Montague to have an eye upon his servant LoiiguerilleY It seems an omi<iston, for two
sj^llabies are wanting to the verse; and the oh being repeated, which will well suit the solemn
contempt of the lawyer's countenance giving one, the other is absolutely required by the
sense. I read therefore
Oh, oh / my lord — I have an eye upon him. Sacard.
Perhaps this is spoken to some of the Larvyer^H followers: tlie same words are repeated by
a Creditor in the next page.
^ ^you will reverse.] Seward reads, reserve,
^ Morglays.'] Morglay was the sword of Bevis of Southampton ; and from thence a sword,
in antieut writers, is frequently called by that name. See Every Man iu his IXumouT; act iii.
scene 1. IL
VOL.111. SZ Cred.
1 Law. Oh, oh ! my lord * J — I have an eye
apon him.
Long. But ha' you ne'er a counsel to redeem
His land yet from the judgment?
2 Law. None but this;
A writ of error to remove the cause.
Long. No more of error! we have been in
Too much already. [that
U Law, If you will reverse^
The judgment, you must trust to that delay —
, Long. Delay ? indeed, he's like to trust to
With you has any dealing. [ttiat,
Q Law, Ere the law
Proceeds to an liabere focias pqssessionetn,
Mont. That is a language, sir, I under-
stand not.
Long, Thou art a very strange unthankful
fellow,
To have taken fees of such a liheral measure.
And then to give a man hard words for*s
money !
1 Law. If men will hazard their salvations,
What should I say? Tve other business!
Mont, You are i'lh' right; that's it you
should say, now
I'rosperity has lefl me.
Enter Two Creditors^
1 Cred, Have an eye upon him ! if
NVe lose him now, he s gone for ever : stay,
And dog him ! Til go fetch the officers.
Long. Dog him, you blood-hound ? by this
point, thou shalt
More safely dog un angry lion, than
Attempt him.
Mont. What's the matter ?
Long. Do but stir
To fetch a serjeant, and, besides your loss
Of labour, I will have you beaten till
Those casements in your faces be false lights!
Zhibois. Falser than those you sell by !
Mont. Who gave you
Commission to abuse my friends thus?
Lung. Sir,
Are those your friends that would betray you?
Mont. Tis
To save themselves, rather than betray me.
1 Cred. Your lordship makes a just con-
struction of it.
Q Cred. All our desire is but to get our own.
Jjong. Your wives' desires and yours do
di0er then.
598
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
[Act 1. Scene 1
Cred. So prosper our owa blessiog^y ns we
YoQ to yoar merit ! [wish
Mtmt. Are YOur silences
Of discontent* or of sorrow ?
Dubois. Sir,
We would not leaveTOU.
Long. Do but siriSer ns
To follow ^ou, and what our present means
Or industries hereafter can provide^
Shall serre 70u.
Mont. On, desire me not to live
To such a bcoeness, as to be maintain'd
By those that sen'e me! Pray begone; I will
Defend your honesties to any man,
That shall report you have forsaken me :
I pray, begone! — Why dost thou weep, my
boy ? [Exeunt Servants and Cr^taru
Because I do not bid thee go too?
Ver. No;
I weep, my lord, because I would not go;
I fear you will command me.
Mont. No, my child,
I will not; that would discommend th' intent
Of all my other actions : thou art yet
Unable to advise thyself a course,
Should I put thee to seek it ; after tbat^,
I must excuse, or at the least forgive,
Any uncharitable deed than can
Be done against myself.
Ver. Every day,
My lord, I tarry with you, 111 account
A day of blessing to me ; for I shall
Have so much less time left roe of my life
When I am from you; and if misery
Befal yon (which I hope so eood a man
Was never bom to) I will take my part,
And make my willingness eocrease my
strength
To bear it. In the winter I will spare
Mine own cloaths from myself to cover you;
And in the summer carry some of yours,
To ease you : I'll do any thing I can !
Mont. Why, thou art able to make misery
Asham'd of hurting, when thy weakness can
Both bear it, and despise it. Come, my boy !
I will provide some better way for thee
Than this thoa speak'st of. lis the com-
fort, that
III fortune has undone me into th' fiishion ;
For now, in this age, most men do begin
To keep but one boy, ^t kept many men.
[Ejpeunt.
Mnter OrUans, Servant^ and Duchess fol-
OrL Where is she? call her!
DttcA. I attend vou, sir.
Orl. Your friend, sweet madam —
Buck. What friend, good my lord?
Orl. Your Montague, madam, he will
shortly want
Those courtly graces Uiat you love him for:
The means wherewith he purchas'd Uus^ ami
this.
And all his own provisions, to the least
Proportion of his feeding, or his cloatfas.
Came out of that inheritance of land
Which he unjustly livM on; but the law
Has given me right in't, and possession : unm
Thou shalt perceive his bravery vanish, as
This jewel does from thee now, and these pearls
To him that owes 'em.
Duck. You*re tlie owner, sir.
Of every thing that does belong to me.
Orl. No, not of him, sweet lady.
Duck. Oh, good Heaven ! [and bs
Orl, But in a while your mind will change^
As ready to disclaim hiro, when his wants
And miseries have perish'd liis good faxx.
And taken off the sweetness that has made
Him pleasing in a woman^s understanding.
Dvck. Oh, Hcav*n, how gracious bad
creation been
To women, who are bom without defence.
If to our hearts there had been doors, thro'
which
Our husbands might have look'd into oar
thoughts.
And made themselves undoubtful !
Orl, Made 'em mad !
Ihich. With honest women ?
Orl. Thou dost still pretend
A title to that virtue : prithee let
Thy honesty speak freely to me now!
Thou knowSt that Montague, of whose land
I am the master, did affect thee first.
And should have had thee, if the strength d
friends
Had not'prevaird above thine own consent i
I have undone him! tell me, bow thou dost
Consider his ill fortune and my good ?
Dueh. I'll tell you justly : his undoing is
An argument for pity and* for tears,
In all their dispositions that have known
The honour and tlie goodness of his Wfc,
Yet that addition of prosperity .
Which you have got by't, no indifferent maa
Will malice or repine at, if the law
Be not abus'd in't. Howsoever, since
' You have the upper fortune of him, 'twill
Be some dishonour to you to bear yourself
With any pride or glory over him.
Orl. This may be truly spoken; but in diet
It is not honest.
Duck. Yes ; so honest, that
I care not if the chaste Penelope
Were now alive to bear me.
Enter Amieiu.
I OrL Who comes there f
Dueh. My brother.
Ami. Save you!
"^ CV* discontent] Perhaps the original was, discoatentuzvr.
^ After that.J Tnis expression n rather obscure; but signifies, ' Should I dismiss ja%
* Mfter that cruelty, I should have no right to complain of any injury ddbe to myself/
sX 1. Scenfe 1.]
TH£ HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
€}rL Now, sir! you have heard
H prosperous Montague \
And. No, sir; I have heard
^f Montague, but of your prosperity.
OrL Is he distracted ?
AxnL He does bear his loss
Vith such a noble strength of patiencei that
lad Fortune eyes to see him, she would
weep
Tor having hurt him, and, (>retending that
•he did it but for trial of his worth,
Eereafter ever love him.
OrL I perceive
Too love him ; and, because I must confess
le 4oc!s deserve that, (tfao*, for some respects,
have not given him that acknowledgment)
Tet in mine honour I did still conclude
7o use him nobly.
Amk, Sir, that will become
Tour reputation, and make me gn>w proud
)fyour alliance.
OrL I did reserve
[lie doing of this friendship 'till I had
lis fortunes at my mercy, that the world
Iftav tell him *tis a willing courtesy.
Ihtch, This change will make me happy !
OrL 'Tis a change ;
Pbou shalt behold it : then observe me ! When
fiiat Montague had possession of my land,
\ was his rival, and at last obtain*d
This lady, who, by promise of her own
Iffection^to him, should have been his wife:
had her^ and with-held iier like a pawn,
rill now my land is render'd to me again ;
Ind since it is so, you shall see I have
rhv conscience not to keep her: give him
her! \prm>%,
p'or, by the faithful temper of my sword,
>be shall not tarry with me.
And, Give me way! — \pr(VM,
Thou most unworthy man! — God! — Give
me way *° !
>ry by the wrong he does the innocent,
11 end thy misery and his wickedness
Tueether!
Thich. Stay, and let me justify
5S9
;*d his
K^ husband in tha^! I have
bed"— X^**^
Nevei^— all shames that can amict me, figdl
Upon me, if I ever wrone'd yon!
OrL Didst
Thou not confess itf
DacA. Twas to save your blood [edge.
From shedding: that has tum'd my brother's
He that beholds our thoughts as plainly as
Our faces, knows it, I'did never hurt
My honesty, but by accusing it.
OrL Women's consents are sooner credited
Tlian their denials ; and 111 never trust
Her bodv, that prefers any defence
Before the safe^ of her honour.— Here!
JElUer Servant.
Shew forth that stranger.— Give oe not a
word!
Thpu seest a danger ready to be tempted.
i)ttch. Cast that upon me, rather than mj
shame;
And, as I am now dying, I will vow
That I am honest!
OrL Put her out of doors I
But that I fear my land may go aoun
To Montague, I would kill thee ! I am loth
To make a beggar of him that way'^; or
else —
Go! now you have the liberty of flesh;
And vou may put it to a double use.
One for your pleasure, tli' other to maintaiq
Your well-beloved ; he will want :
[Exit Duch.
In such a charitable exercise
The virtue will excuse you for the vice.
[Exit.
Enter Andem dramn^ Montague and Ver<t»
maur meetittg.
Mont. What means your lordship ?
Ver, For the love of Heav'n —
Ami Thou but advantage of me; cast away
This buckler!
Mont. So he is, sir", for he lives
With one that is imdone.— Avoid us^ boy!
Ver.
■^ Uum most unworthy man^give me voy.] So former editions.
■' J have wronged his bed,
[Exeunt iVmiens and Orleans*
Enter Orleans in amazement, the servants following him.
Never^all shames, ^c,"} These stage-directions are not only wrong^ but ridiculous,
^e believe that Amiens departs, shocked at the sel^accusation of the ThLckess, and that
}rleanSf with his drawn sword, prepares to kill her, which occasions her inmiediate re-
•antation. What he says afterwards strongly tends to confirm tliis interpretation ;
Thou seest a dancer ready to be tempted.
ler answer conveys the same idea;
Cast tha^ &c. ' . . .
"* To make a beggar of /dm that waif;] t. e. By forfeiting iny life and estate to the kine,
^ve Montague an opportuni^ of be^^ing it from him. If this is not the poet's meaning, it
I dark to me. Seward.
It seems .to be ironical.
»» 2TWs buckler.
Mont. So he is, itr.] At first light, we imagined that some words relative to Veramour^
rtn wanting after the word buckl£& ; but^ on further cwisideratioii of Mantagut^s f^flT*
d Z 2 So
540
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
[Actl. Scene 1.
Ver. ril first aToid my safety:
Yorir rapier bbnll be button'd ^* with my head,
Before it touch my m;\sler.
Anti Montague!
Mont. Sir?
AmL You know my sister —
Mont. Yes, sir.
AmL For a w hore. [dare
Mont, You lie ! and shall lie lower if you
Abuse her honour.
Enter Duchess,
Duch. I am honest.
AmL Honest?
Duch. Upon my faith, I am.
JtnL \V hat did then
rej>uaLle thee to condemn thyself?
Duck. Your safety,
Ann. I had ratiicr be expos*d
To danger, than dishonour : th* hast betrayed
The reputation of my family
]\lore basely, by the I'alsencss of that word,
Than if thou hadst delivered me asleep
Into the hand of a base enemy. Uelief
Will never make thee sensible of thy
Disgraces: let tliy wants compel thee to it!
Duch. Ob, Tm a miserable woman !
, [Exit AmL
Mont. Why, madam?
Are you utterly without means to relieve you?
Duch. I've nothing, sir, unless by changing
. of [worst
These cloaths for worse^ and then at last the
For nakedness.
Mont. Stand off, boy ! — Nsikedness
Would be a change to please us, madam, to
Delight us both.
Duch. Whtit nakedness, sir?
Mont. Why, the nakedness
Of body, madam ; we were lovers once.
Duch. Never dishonest lovers.
Mont. Honesty
Has no allo\%ance now to give ourselves.
Duch, Nor you allowance against honesty.
Alont. Y\\ send my boy hence: opportunity
S\m\l be our servant. Come, and meet me
first
With kisses like a stranger at the door.
And then invite me nearer, to receive
A more familiar inward welcome ; where,
Instead of tapers made of virgin-wax,
Th* encreasing flames uf our desires shall
light
Us to a banquet ; and, before the taste
Be dull with satisfaction, I'll prepare
A nourishment conipos'd of every tiling
That bears a natural friendship to the blood,
And that shall set another edge upou*t;
Or else, between the courses of the icast
We'll dally out an exercise of time.
That ever as one appetite expires
Another may succred it. ,
Duch. Oh, my lord.
How has your nature lost her worthiness ?
When our affections had their liberty.
Our kisses met as temperately as
The hands of sisters or of brothers, that
Our bloods were then as moving'^; then
you were
So noble, that I durst have trusted yoor
Embraces in :m opportunity
Silent enough to serve a ravisher.
And yet come from you undish<inour'd : bow
You think me alter'd, that you promise yoar
Attempt success, I know not; but were ail
The sweet temptations that deceive us set
On thisside,nnd on that side all the torturca'^.
These ncitlu^r should persuade me, nor those
force.
Mont, Then misery mav waste your body.
Duck. Yes;
But iust shall never.
Mont. I ha\e found you still
As uncorrnpted as 1 lelt you first.
Continue so, and I \%ill serve you with
As much devotion as my word, ray hand.
Or purse can shew you! And, to justify
That promise, here is half the wealth I hare !
So he is, it appeared to convey one of the numerous contemptible puns which disgrace this
comedy, particularly that interesting character, and alluding to Veramour^ being the buckler
ef a man that is undone, i. e. uk buckled. A few lines lower he says. You lie, and ikeil
LiL lower; and on hearing the decision of the law-suit, he says, My adversary took my fmrt;
meaning punningly, My adversary took my estate from me; with various others.
'^ Button^d.^ Alludintr to the button on a foil.
that
Our bloods were then as moving.'] This seems very dark. To fling light upon it, I be-
lieve we should read tfw* for tluit, and interpret, Tho* our bloods were then, from our being
in youth and prosperity, more stirring than tliey ought to be now. Seurard.
The words will scarce bear this construction of Seward ; at least, without changing as to
more: < Thcf our bloods were then more moving.' We think that the old text may signify,
' That our bloods, like our kisses, were ho more moving, sensual, or intemperate, than iho^
* of brothers and sisters.'
'^ Hie tweet temptations that deceive us set
On this sidCj and on that side all the waiterff.1 What is waiters in contrast to tempta-
tions? it cannot mean merely servants to help him to force her; that is too poor an ex-
pression to be admitted. Tis most probably corrupt, ttio' I cannot find a wora near the
trace of the letters to supply its place. Several words occur^ as tortures, terrors, racks,
OK all that /right us, I prefer the first. Seward,
Take
^ct S. Scene 1.]
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
541
Take it ! you owe me nothing, 'till you fall
From virtue ; which the better to protect,
I have bethought me of a present means. —
Give me the letter! — ^This commends my boy
Into the service of a lady, whose
Free goodness you have been acquainted with^
Lamira.
Duck. Sir, I know her.
Mont, Then believe
Her entertainment will be noble to you.
IVly boy shall bring you thither, and relate
Your manner of misfortune, if yonr own
Report needs any witness : so, I kiss
Your band, good lady !
Duch. Sir, I know not how
To promise; but I cannot be unthankful.
Mont. All that yoti can implore in thank«
fulness
Be yours, to make you the more prosperous I
Farewell, my boy !— I am not yet oppressed.
Having the powV to help one that's dis*
tress'd. [ExeutU*
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Enter Longueville and Dubois,
Long. Ty UAT shall we do now ? swords
' ^ are out of use,
And words are out of credit.
Dubois, We must serve. [spend
Long. The means to get a service will first
Our purses ; and, except we can allow
Ourselves au entertainment, service will
Neglect us : now, 'tis grown into a doubt
Whether the master ur the servant gives
The countenance.
Dubois, Then fall in with mistresses!
JA)ng. They keep more servants now,
indeed, than men :
But yet Uio age is grown so populous
O^ those attendants, that the women are
Grown full too.
Dubois. What shall we propound ourselves?
Long. rU think on*t.
Dubois, Do. Old occupations have
Too many setters-up to prosper ; some
Uncommon trade would thrive now.
Long, We will ev'n
Make up some lialf a dozen proper men ;
And should not we get more than all
Your female sinners ?
Dubois, If the house be seated,
As it should be, privately.
Long. Ay ; but that would make
A multitude of witches.
• Dubois, Witches? how, pritliee ?
Long, Thus ; the bawds would all
Turn witches to revenge themselves upon us;
And the women thatcouie to us, for disguises
IVIust wear beards; and that is, they say,
A token of a witch.
Dubois. What shall we then do?
Long, We must study on't with more con-
sideration.
Stay, Dubois! are not the lord of Orleans
And the lord of Amiens enemies?
Dubois. Yes; what of that?
Long, Methinks the factions of two such
great men
Should give a promise of advancement now.
To us that want it.
Dubois, Let the plot be thine.
And in the enterjmzc 111 second thee.
Long. J have it! We will first set down
ourselves
The method of a quarrel, and make choice
Of some frequented tavern, or such a place
Of common notice, to perform it in.
By way of undertaking, to maintain
The several honours of those enemies :
Thou for the lord of Orleans ; I for Amiens*
Dubois, I like the project; and I think
^twill take
The better, since tlieir difference first did rise
From his occasion whom we followed once.
Long. We cannot hope less, after the re-
Than entertainment or gratuity : [port^
Yet those are ends I do not aim at most.
Great spirits that are needy, and will thrive.
Must labour while such troubles are alive.
[Exeunt%
Enter Laverdine and La-Poop,
La-P. Slander is sliarper than the sword!
I've fed these three days upon leaf-tobacco^
For want of other victuals.
Lav. You have liv'd [jected!
The honcster, captain. But be not so de-
But hold up thy head, and meat will sooner
In thy mouth. [fidi
La'P. I care not so much for meat.
So I had but good liquor, for which my gats
Croak like so many frog9 for rain.
Xar. It seems [tain;
You are troubled with the wind-cholic, cap-
Swallow a bullet; it is present remedy,
I will assure you.
La-P. A bullet? Til tell you, sir*^!
My paunch is nothing but a pile of ballets t
When I was in any service, I stood between
My general and the shot, like a mu4-wall :
*' A bulhl f If you be captain,
JM^ paunchy <5c.] So first folio.
I am
64t
THE HONEST MAITO FORTUNE.
[Acts.
1 am all lead ; From th' crown of the head to
the
Soal of the foot, not a sound bone nbout me.
Jjjm, It seems you've been in terrible hot
Captain. [service,
1/i-P. It has ever been
The fate of the Low-Country wars to spoil
Many a man ; I ha' not been the firsts
Nor shall not be the last. But, Til tell you,
' sir,
(Hunger has brought it into mind) I serv'd
Once at the siege of Brest, ('tis memorable
To tliis day) where we were in great distress
For victuals; whole troops fainted more for
want
Of food than for blood, and died ; yet we were
Resolved to stand it out. I myself was
But then gentleman of a company, and had
As much need as any man : and indeed
I'd perish'd, bad not a miraculous Providence
Preserved me.
JLav. As bow, good captain \
LchF. Marry, sir,
E'en as I was tainting and falling down
For want of sustenance, the enemy
Made a shot at me, and struck me full
In the paunch with a penny-loaf.
Lav. Instead of a bullet?
IjEt-P, Instead of a bullet
Imv. That was miraculous indeed!
And that loaf sustain*d you ?
' jLfl-P. Nouribh*d me,
Or I had iamish'd wi* the rest.
Lav. You have done [shall
Worthy acts, being a soldier. And now vou
Give me leave to requite your tale, and to
' acquaint you
With the most notorious deeds that Fve done.
Being a courtier : I protest, captain,
I'll lie no more than you have done.
La-F. I can
Endiire no lies.
Lan. I know you cannot, captain.
Therefore I will only tell you of strange things:
I did once a deed of charity, for itself;
I assisted a poor widow in a suit,
And obtain'd it ; yet, I protest, I took not
A penny for my labour.
jLo-Jr. It is no
Such strange thing.
Lav, By Man, captain, but it is.
And a very strange thing too, in a conrtier;
It may take the uppei^hand of your peony*
For a miracle. I could have told yon
How many ladies have lanj^uisb'd for my love^
And how I was once solicited by (oat tk
The mother, the daughter, and grandmother;
The least of wliich I might have digg'd myself
A fortune; they were all great kdies, for
two of them
Were so big I could harcHy embrace them;
But I was sluggish in my nsing courses.
And therefore let them pass. What meaos
I liad.
Is spent upon such as had the wit to cheat me;
That wealth being. gone, I've only bought
experience
With it, with a strong hope to cheat otfaov.—
But see, liere comes the much-declined Mon-
tague, [body
Who*d all the manor-houses, which wei« the
Of his estate, o'erthrown by a great wind!
Enter Montague and MaUieonu
La'P. How ! by a great wind ?
Was he not overthrown by law ?
Lav. Yes, marry was he;
But there was terrible puffing and blowing
Before he was o'erthrown, if you observM;
And believe it, captain, there is no wind so
dangerous
To a building as a lawyer's breath.
Xa-P. What's he with him ? [coni:
Lav, An eminent citizen, nkonsieurMalli"
Let's stand aside, and listen their desig;n !
Mai. Sir, profit is the crown of labour; *ti|
The life, the soul of the industrious merchant:
In it he makes his Parailise, and foi^t n^ects
Wife, children, friends, peurents, nay, all the
world, [storms,
And delivers up himself to th'violeooe of
And to be tossed into unknown aira.
As there's no faculty so perilous.
So there is none so worthy profitable'*.
Mont. Sir, I am very weU possest of it"^;
And what of my poor rortunes remains,
I would gladly hazard upon the sea; it cannot
Deal worse with me than the land^ tbcM^'t
sink
" So there is none to worthy profitable;'] t. e. Profit is the most wordiily profitable of any
facnlty. This is little more than to say, profit it prdii- But the absurdity is not chai^geabb
upon the original. Almost the whole act has been hitherto printed as prose, and where the
measore is not easily restored, there the sense too is frequently deficient; and where both
fail together, there is the fullest proof of a corruption. Both in this place are very evs&f
amended, by adding or rather restoring two paoticles :
As there's no faculty so perilous.
So there is none so worthy at the profitable. Seward,
Seward's addition, in our opinion, injures both measure and sense. The two lines signify,
* As there is no profession incurs so much danger as the mercliant, so there is noike so r0»'
* putably lucrative.' Mentague^% answer jfroves this.
*' Fottett ^it.] That is, acquaifUed with, or informed of it,* So, in Every Man ha his
Humour, act i. sc 5, Bobadii says, * Fosteu no gentlemaik of our acquaintance with notice
' of my lodging/ IL
Or
ilct «. Scene 1.]
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
51S
Or throw it in tlie bands of pirates. I have
yet
Five hundred pounds left, and your honest
And worthy acquaintance may make me a
young merchant:
The on^lnoiety of what I have Fd gladly
Adventure.
'MaL How! adventure? you shall hazard
Nothing; you shall only join with me in cer-
tain
Commodities that are safe arrived unto
The quay: yon shall neither be in doubt of
danger
Nor damage; but, so much money disbur&'d,
So much receive. Sir, I would have you con«
ceive
I pursue it not for any good your money will
Do me, but merely out of mine own freeness
And courtesy to pleasure you.
Moni. T can
Believe no less; and you express
A noble nature, seeking to build up
A man so ruin*d as myself.
Lav, Captain, here^s subject
For us to work upon, if we have wit:
You hear tliat there is money yet letl,and 'tis
Going to be laid out in rattles, bells,
Hubby-horses, brown paper, or some such-
like sale [purses.
Commodities; now it would do better in our
Upon our backs in good gold-lace and scarlet ;
And then we might pursue our projects, and
Devices towards my lad^ Annnbella. [our
Go to! there is a conceit newly landed:
Hark ! I stand in good reputation with him.
And therefore may the better cheat him:
captain,
Take a few instructions from me.
Mont, What money
I have*s at your disposing; and upon twelve,
J'll meet you at the palace with it.
Mai. ril there
Sxpect you ; and so I take my leave.
Lav. You apprehend me? fExit Mai.
La-P. Why, d'ye think Vm a dunce?
JjOV. Not a dunce, captain;
But you micbt give me leave to misdoubt that
Pregnancy m a soldier, which is proper and
Hereditary to a courtier: but prosecute it;
I will both second and give credit to it. —
Good monsieur Montague! I would your
whole
Revenues lay within the circuit of
Mine arms, that I might as easily bestow,
Or restore it unto you as my courtesy !
La'P. My sealous wishes, sir, do accom-
pany his
For your good fortunes.
' Imv. Eielieve it, sir, our
Afiection towards you is a strong bond of
friendship. [But, believe me,
Mont, To which I shall most willingly seal.
Gentlemen, in a broken estate the bond
Of friendsliip oft is forfeited; but that
It is yoar free and ingenuous nature to renew it.
Lm. Sir, I will amply extend myself to
your use.
And am very zealously afflicted, as not
One of your least friends, for your crooked
fate: ;
But let it not seize you with any dejection ;
You have, as I hear, a sufficient
Competency left, which, well disposed,
May erect you as high in the world*s
Account as ever.
Mont, I can't live to hope it,
Much less enjoy it: nor is it any part
Of my endeavour ; my study is to render
£v*ry man his own, and to contain myself
Within tlie limits of a gentleman. [by
Lav. I have the grant of an office given me
Some noble favourites of mine in court;
Tliere stands but a small matter between me
And it : if your ability be such
To lay down the present sum, out of the love
I bear you, before any other man,
It shall be confirm*d yours.
Mont. I've lieard you often speak of sucb
a thing ;
If 't be nssur*d to you. III gladly deal in it :
That portion I have I would not hazard
Upon one course, for I see the most certsun
Is uncertain.
Lit'P, Having money, sir,
You could not light upon men that could giv^
Better direction. There's at this time a fhend
Of mine upon the seas (to be plain with yoo^
He is a pirate) that hath wrote to me
To work his freedom; and by this gentleman's
Means, whose acquaintance is not small at
court, [there b
We have the word of a worthy man for't : only
Some money to be suddenly disbursed ;
And if your happiness be such to make icup^
You shall receive treble pain by't,
And good assurance for it.
MonU Gentlemen,
Out of the weakness of my estate you seem
To have some knowledge of my breast, that
would, [tunes^
If it were possible, advance my decliiTd fur-
To satisfy all men of whom I have
Had credit; and I know no way better
Than these which you propose : I have som#
money
Heady under mv command; some part of it is
Already prombM, but the remaindev is
Yours to such uses as are propounded.
Lav. Appoint some certain place of meet*
For these affairs require expedition. [iug;
Mont, ril make't my present business*
At twelve I am [luce,
To meet Mallicorn, the merchant, at the pa-
(You know him, sir) about sOme pegociatu>n
Of the same nature; there I will be ready
To tender you that money, upon such
Conditions as we shall conclude of.
Lav, The care
Of it be yours, so much as the afiair
Concerns you !
Mont,
544
THE HONEST MAITO FORTUNE.
[Act*i. Scene I.
Tho' vau were' greater than your name dotb
make you ;
I'm one, and the o]3poser : if your swoln rage
Have aught in raaiice to enforce, express iu
Ami. I seek thee not ; nor shalt tliou ever
gain [give tliee.
That credit, which a hlow from me -would
By my sottl, I more detest that fellow
Which took my part than thee, that be durst
offer
To take my honour in his feeble arms.
And spend it in a drinking-room. Which way
went be P [after!
Lav, That way, sir. — I would you wonld
For I do fear we shall have some more scoA
fling. [take lum.
Ami, ni follow him ; and, if my speed o*er-
1 shall ill thank him for hb forwardness.
Lav, I'm glad he's gone; for I don t love
to see [looks
A sword drawn in the hand of a man that
So furious; there's no jesting with edge ttx^s
How say vou, captain ?
La-P, 1 say, 'tis better jesting
Than to be in earnest with them.
Enter Orleans.
Orl. How now?
What is the difference ? They say there hate
been [know
Swords dniwn, and in my quarrel: let me
That man, whose love is so smcere to spend
His blood for my sake ! I will 'bounteously
Requite him.
Lav. We were ail of your side ;
But there he stands begun it.
Orl, What's tiiy name?
Dubois, Dubois.
OrL Give me thy hand! Tboa hast le-
ceiv'd no hurt?
Dubois, Not any ; nor were this body
Stuck full of wounds, I should not couH
them liurts,
Being taken in so honourable a cause
As the defence of my most worthy lord.
OrL The dedication of thy love to me
Requires my ample bounty : tboa art mine;
For I do find thee made unto my purposes.
Monsieur Laverdine, pardon my neglect!
I not observed you. And how runs rumour?
Lav. Why,
It runs, my lord, Uke a footman without a
cloak, rt>«hid»^.
To shew that what's once rumourM it can*t
OrL And what say the rabble ?
Am not I the subject of their talk?
^^ 7*0 shew that what*s once rumoured it cannot he hid,'\ Several pages together here have
been hitherto printed as prose; even Longuevill^s speech at his exit^ which ends in rhymes
Here the reader will sec tlrnt what contributed to spoil the measure, hurt the sense also, and
both are restored together,
To shew that what's once rumour*d can*t be hid. Seward.
Neither the sense or measure would be injured by the old text: the nominative absolute ■
aommon in our old writers. A few lines lower we nod, Thi womtn thst riasL
La,
Mont. Your caution is iaeffiectual ; and till
then
I tJike my leave. [Ejrt^.
Lav, Good Mr. Montague ! [pons;
[Within a clamour y Down with tlieir wea-
^nter Longueville and Dubois, their Swords
drawn ; Servants and others between them,
Ser. Nay, gentlemen, what mean you?
Pray be quiet!
Have some respect unto the house.
Long. A treacherous slave !
Dubois. Thou dost revile thyself, base Lon-
gueville ! [rupt one.
Long. I say thou art a villain, and a cor-
That hast some seven years fed on thy mas-
ter's trencher, [for if thou hadst,
Yet ne'er bred*st good blood towards him ;
Thou*dst have a sounder heart.
Dubms. So, sir ! you can [sword.
Use your toague something nimbler than your
Long. 'W^ould you could use your tongue
well of your master, friend ! [sword.
You might have better employment for your
Dubois. 1 say
Again, and I will speak it loud and often.
That Orleans is a noble gentleman.
With whom Amiens is too light to poise the
scale. [praise
Long, He is the weaker, for taking of a
Out of thy mouth.
Dubms. This hand shall seal his merit
At thy heart.
Lav. Part them, my masters, part them !
Serv. Part them, sir ?
Why do you not part them ? you stand by
W your sword in your hand, and cry ,pi(r^ *em /
Lav. Why,
You must know, my friend, my deaths are
better than yours ; [any body.
And, in a good suit, 1 do nc*er use to part
Xi-P. And it is discretion.
Lav, Ay, marry is it, captaiti.
Long. Dubois, tho' this place
Privilege thee, know, where next we meet.
The blood, which at thy heart flows, drops at
thy feet!
IJiubois. I would not spend it better
[Exit Long.
Than in this quarrel, and on such a hazard.
Enter Amiens in haste ; his Sword drawn.
Ami. What uproar is this ? Must my name
here be questioned
In tavern-brawls, and by affected ruffians ?
Lav. Not we indeed, sir. [of your fury,
Dubois. Fear cannot make me shrink out
Acts. Scene 1.]
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE,
546
Orl. He shall not sleep «notherttighC: Fil
have
His blood, tho*t be required nt my liiinds again !
Lav. Your lordsliip may, «ud without iia-
zarding [whose looks
Your own person: here*s a gentleman in
I see a resolution to perform it.
Dubois. Let his lordship
Give me bur his honourable word for my life,
1*11 kill him as he walks.
Lav, Or pistol Jiim
As he sus at meat —
Jm-P. Or at game-*- ^ '
Lav, Or as he's drinking— > ,
Dubois. Any way.
Orl Won't thou?
Cull what, is mine thine own ! Thjr repnts-
tion shall nut [hie;
Be brought m question for't, much less thj
It shall, ho natn'd a deed of valour in thee.
Not murder: litrewell! [Exit,
Duboi9. I need no more •encouragement;;
It is a work I will persuade tuyseii
That I wa'^ born to.
Lav. And vou may persuade
Yourself too diat you shiUl he sav'd by it.
Being tiuil it is for his honourable lordship.
Dubois. But you must* yield me means^
how, when, and wher^. •
Lav, That shall be our tasks; oay, more,
we will [him.
Be agents wfth thee : this hour we are to nneel
On the receipt of ceruiin monies, which
Indeed we purpose honestly to cheat him of«
And that's the main caube I would have him
slain :
Who works with safety makes a double gaia.
Enter Longueville, Amiens JbUowing him.
Ami. Stay, sir ! I've took some pains l»
overtake you.
YoCir name is Longueville?
Lang. I have the word
Of many honest men for*t- — I "crave your
lordship's pardon !
Ybur sudden apprehension on my steps
Made me to frame an answer unwitting, and
Unworthy your respect.
Ami. D'you ktiow me?
lang. Yes, my lord.
Ami. I know not you ; nor am I well pleas*d
to make [tiou
This time, as the affair now stands, die indue-
Of your acquaintance. You're a fighting fellow?
Long. How, my lord ?
Ami. I think I too much grace you ;
Rather you are a fellow dares not fight,
** RampalUons,'] The meaning of this word is pretty obvious. ItisusedbySir JohnFalsta^
speaking to the Hostess, in the Second Part of Henry IV. act ii. scene 1. R.
** White Powder*] White Pozpc/erwos generally imagined to occasion no sound when used
in discharging a pistol. Some of the conspirators in Queen Elisabeth's time, confessed, that
xheir intention was to have murdered the queen with fire-arras chained iu this laaaner. H.
*^ Dec find his means;] t. €, Been the-cauiie of their decienwoi],
VOL. HI. 4 A But
Lav. Troth, my lord,
The common mouth speaks foul words.
Orl. Of me,
For turning away my wife, do they not?
Lav. Fjuth,
Tiie men do a little murmur at it, and say,
Tis an ill precedent in so great a man.
Marry, the women, they ruil outright.
OrL Out upon them, rampallions^' [I will
keep
Myself safe enough out of their fingers.
But what say my pretty jolly compos'd gal-
lants.
That censure every tiling more desperate
Tlian it ib dangerous ? what say they ?
Lav. Marry, [die;
TheyVe laying wagers what death you shall
One oifers to lay five liund red pounds (and yet
H'had but a groat about him, and that
was iu
Two two-pence^ too) to any man that would
Make*t up a shilling, that you were killed with
a pistol
Charged with white powder^*; another oifec'd
To pawn his soul for five shillings, (and yet
^Nobody would take him J that you were stabbed
to death,
And should die with more woundslhan Cssar.
OrL And who should be the butchers that
should do it?
Montague, and his associates ?-
Lav. So
It is conjectured.
La-F. And, believe it, sweet prince,
It is to be fear'd, and tlierefore prevented.
Orl. By turning [way?
His^jurpose on himself? were not that the
Lav. The most direct path for your sal'ety :
For where doth danger sit more furious
Than in a desperate man ?
Lu'F. And being' you nave
Declined his means ^^, you have encreas'd his
malice.
Lav. Besides the general report that steams
In every man's breath, and stains you all o'er
A^ith infamy, that time, ilie devourer of all
things,
Cannot eat out. .
Im'P. Ay, for that former familiarity
Which be had with your lady.
Lav. Men speak't as boldly as words of
compliment;
Oood vtarroWf good evetiy or God save you^ sir.
Are not more usual: if the word cuckold had
been [letters,
Written upon your forehead in great capital
It could not have been dilated with more
confidence.
$46
THE HONEST MAITS FORTUNE.
[Act fi. Scene 1.
But spit and paff «nd make a noise, wlulst
Your trembling hand draws out your sword,
to lay it
Upon andirons, stools, or tables, rather
Than on a man. [y?*>
long. Your honour may best speak this;
With little safety, if I thought it serious.
AmL Come, you're a tery braggart;
And you have given me cause to tell you so :
What weakness have you ever seen in me
To prompt yourself, that I could need your
help? . ,
Or what other reasons could induce you to it r
You ne'er yet bad a meal's meat from my
table,
Nor, as I remember, from my wardrobe
Any cast suit.
Long. Tis true.
I ne'er durst yet have such a servile spirit
To be the minion of a fiili-swoln lord.
But always did detest such slavery :
A meal's meat? or a cast suit? I'd first eat
the stones, ,
And from such rags the dunghills do afiord
Pick me a garment.
Af/ti, IVe mistook the man !
His resolute spirit proclaims him generous;
He has a noble heart, as free to utter
Good deeds as to act them ; for had be not
been right, [currd.
And of one piece, he would have crumpled,
And struck himself out of the shape of man
Into a shadow.— But, prithee tell me.
If no such fawning hope did lead thee on
To hazard life for my sake, [speak it,
What was it that incited thee? tell me;
Without the imputation of a sycophant !
Long. Your own desert; and with it was
Th'^ unfeigned friendship that I judgdyou
Held unto my former lord.
Amu The noble Montague?
Long. Yes;
The noble and much-injur'd Montague.
Ami, To such a man as thou art, my heart
shall be
A casket: I will lock thee up there, and
Esteem thee as a faithful friend.
The richest jewel that a man enjoys:
And, bdng thou didst follow once my friend.
And in thy heart still dost, not with his for-
tunes
Casting him oflT, thou shalt go hand in hand
With me, and share as well in my
Ability to love : 'tis not my end
To gam men for my use, but a true friend.
Enter Dubois.
DidfOiS. There's no such thriving way to
live in grace.
As to have no sense of it; his back nor belly
Shall not want wanning tliat can practise me
mischief:
I walk now with a fell purse, grow high and
wanton.
Prune and brisk myself in the bright sliine
Of his good lordship's feveurs; ami for wfaal
virtue ?
For fesbionating myself a murderer.
Oh, noble Montague, to whom I owe
My heart, with ali my best thoughts, the' my
tongue [destiny^
Have promis'd t' exceed the malice of thy
Never in time of all my service knew I
Such a sin tempt thy bounty 1 those that did
feed
Upon thy charge, had merit or else need.
Enter Laverdine andLa^Poopy with disguiseu
Lav. Dubois ! most prosperously met.
Dubois. How now ?
Will he come this way?
Lav. This way, immediately;
Therefore, thy assistance, dear Dubois !
Dubois. What, have you cheated him of
the money you spoke of? [wench
Lav. Fough ! as easily as a silly countiy
Of her maidenhead; we had it in a twinkling.
Dubois, 1'is well. Captain, let me help
you ; YOU must be
Our leader in this action.
Xfl-P. Tut! fear not;
I'll warrant you, if my sword hold, well make
No sweating sickness of it^^.
Dubois. Why, that's well said.
But let's retire a little, that we may come
On the more bravely. This way, this %vay.
[Exeunt.
»♦ No sweating sickness <f it.] The Sweating Sickness, called Sudor Anglious, and FeMs
Ephemera BrUannica, is by some supposed to have been a disorder peculiarly incident »
the English nation. It first appeared in the year 1485, and afterwards in 1506, 1517, 15«,
and 1551 and each time made a prodieious liavock m the human species. Dr. Mead sup-
noses it originally to have been imported by the French troops, brought wer by Henry Vfl.
who caught the infection from others, about that time i-eturned from the siege of Rhodes.
The violence of the disease eluded every effort made by the physicians to stop the progresi
of it. Those vho were attacked by it seldom lived more than twenty-four hours, and maor
were carried off in half the time. The most singuUr circumstance attending it was this, which
is related by several writers, that the natives of every other country but England esca^ied ii,
and that those natives who fled into foreien cUmates were pursued by it, and fell victims to
its malignity. Dr. Mead supposes it to have been a species of the pestilence.— A veiy po-
etical and accurate account of its symptoms and eflfccts may be read in Dr. Aimstrong's Ait
of Preserving Health, book iii. line 533, &c. B. ^
Acte. Scene 1.]
THE HONEST MASPS FORTUNE.
wr
Unter Montague, in the hands of Three Of-
JUerif and Three Creditors,
1 Cred. Officers^ look to him; aodbesnre
you take
Good securit^r before he part from yoa !
Mont, Wliy, but, my mends.
You take a strange course with me! the
sums I owe you
Are rather foi^ettuiness, (they are so alight)
Than want of will or honesty to pay you.
1 Cred. Ay, sir, it may be so; but we must
be paid,
And we will be paid before you 'scape : -
We've wife and children, and a chaise; and
you
Are going down the wind, as aman may say;
And therefore it behoves us to look to t
In time.
2 Cred. Your cloak here would satisfy me;
Mine is not above a three-pound matter.
Besides th* arrest.
3 Cred, 'faith, and mine is much
About that matter too; your girdle and
hanger, [it.
And your beaver, shall be sufficient bail tor
1 Cred, If you have ever a plain black suit
at home, [ters,
This silken one, with ^ur silk stockings, gar-
And roses, shaU j>aciiy me too; for I
Take no delight, if I've a sufficient pawn,
To cast any gentleman in prison; therefore
Tis but an untrussing matter, and you are
We are no unreasonable creatures, you seej
For mine own part, [ protest I'm loth to put
To any trouble for security. [you
Mont. Is there
No more of you? he would next demand my
skin.
1 Cred, No, sir ;
Here are no more of us, nor do any of us
Demand your skin ; we know not what to do
with it :
But it may be, if you ow'd your glover
Any money, be knew what use to make of it.
idont. Yo dregs of baseness, vultures
amongst men, ["^'^
That tire^^ upon the hearts of generous spi-
1 Cred, You do us wrong, sir; we tire no
generous spirits;
We tire nothing but our hacknies.
Enter MaUicom,
Mont, But here comes one made of ano-
ther piece!
A man well meriting that free-born name
Of Citizen. Welcome, ray deliverer !
I am fallen into the hands of blood-hounds^
that
For a sum lesser than their honestieS|
Which is nothing, would temr me out of my
skin.
MaL Why, sir, what is the matter?
1 Cred. Why, sir.
The matter is, tliat we must have our money;
Which if we can't have, we'llsatisfy ourselves
With his carcase, and be paid that ways.
You had as good, !>ir, not have been so pe*
remptory.
Officer, holdfast!
1 Cfffker. The strenuous fist
Of vengeance now is ciutch'd ; therefore fear
nothmg !
Mai, Whatmay be the debt in gross?
Mont. Some forty crowns ;
Nay, rather not so much: 'tis quickly cast.
' Mai. Tis strange to me, that your estate
should have
So low an ebb, to stidL at such slight sums.
Why, my friends, you are too strict in your
accounts.
And call too sudden on this gentleman;
He has hopes left yet to pay you all.
1 Crerf. Hopes?
Ay, marry ! bid him pay his firiends with hopet^
And pay us with current coin ! I knew
A gfJlant once that fed his creditors
Still with hopes, and bid *em they should fear
Nothing, for he had 'em tied in a string;
And trust me, so he had indeed, for at last
He and ail his hopes hopt in a halter.
Mont. Good sir.
With what speed you may, free me
Out of the company of these slaves, that have
Nothing but their names to shew 'em men.
Mai. What would
You wish me do, sir? I'protest I ha' not
The present sum (small as it is) to lay down
for you;
And for giving my word, my friends no later
Than yesternight, made me take bread and
eat It, [ingi'th- world:
That I should not do it for any man breath-
Therefore I pray hold me excus'd !
Mont. You do not speak
This seriously ?
Mai, As e*er I said my prayers^
I protest to you.
Moni, What may I think of this?
Mai. Troth, sir, thought's free for any man;
we abuse
Our betters in it; I have done it myself.
Mont. Trust me, this speech of yours doth
much amaze me !
Pray leave this lanniage; and out of that
Same sum you lately did receive of me,
Lay dowu as much as may discharge me.
MaL You're [your
A merry man, sir; and C am ^ad you take
Crosses so temperately* Fare you well, sir!
And yet I have something ibok to say to yoa;
^ That tire upon, j-c] So, in Decker's Match Me in London, 1681,
< ■ the vulture tire$
* Upon the eagle's heart.' IL
4A2
A word
54S
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
[Act 3. Scene 1.
A word in your ear, I pray! To be plain
wiib you,
I did lay this plot to arrest you, to enjoy
Thismoiieylhaveof yours with tliemorcKiirety.
I'm a tool to tell you this now ; but, in good
faith,
I couM not keep it in ; and the money would
Ha' done me little good eUe. An honest
citizen
Cannot wholly enjoy his own wife for you ;
They grow old before they have true use of
them.
Which is ft lamentable thing, and truly
Mucli hardens tiie hearts of us citizeiis
Against you. I can say no more, but am
Heartily iorry for youu heaviness;
An(^ so [ take my leave. [Exit.
1 Cred. Ofticers, [corn
Take hold on him again! for monsieur Malli-
Will do nothing for him, 1 perceive.
Enter Dubois, IM-Poop, and Laverdine.
Dubois. Nay, come.
My uuibterSjleave dancing oflhe oldmeasurcs,
And let*s assault hiui bravely!
Lav, By no means;
For it goes attain st my stomach to kill a man
lu an unjust quarrel.
La-F, It must needs I''*^.^'
Be a clog to a man's conscience all his life-
Zflr. it must indeed, captain: besides, do
you not [him,
See he has gotten a guard of friends about
As if be had some know ledge of our purpose ?
Dubois, llad lie a guard of devils^ as I
think 'em
Little better, my sword should do tlie messi^
that
It came for.
Lav. If you will be so aesperate.
The blood lie upon your own neck, for well
J^ot meddle in't!
. Dubois. I am your friend and servant;
Struggle with me, and take my sword. —
^Dubois runs upon jiiontague, and
St niggling yields hitn his Surord; the
OjHcers draw ; Ijjverdine and LorPoop
in the scuffling retire; Montague
chase/ h than off the Stage, hi/use^
tvounded.
Noble sir, make ycur way! You've slain an
ollicer. • [quited ir.e;
Mont. Some one of them has certainly re-
Fur I do lose mncb hl«iod.
1 Officer. Udsprcciuus!
WeVe loht a brother: pnrsue the stentleman!
"2 Officer. I'll not nic-ddle with him: joa
Scc what comes on't;
Besides, J know he'll l»e hang'd,ere he iie taken.
1 Officer. I teil thee, yeoman, he must be
taken
Ere he be hang'd.-*Iie is hurt in the guts;
Itun afore therefore, and know how bis wite
Will rate liis sausages a-pouod.
3 Officer. Stay, brother!
I may liv e ; fur surely [ iind I am but hart
In the log, a dangerous kick on the shin-
bone. l^Exesatt.
ACT IIL
SCENE T.
Enter Lamira, Duchess, and Veramour,
Lam, 'yj'OV see, lady,
-■- What harmless sports our country
life afibrds;
And tho' you meet not here with city dainties,
Or courtly entertainment, what you have
la free and liearty.
Duch, Madam, I find here
What is a stranger to the court, content;
And receive courtesies done for themselves,
Without an expectation of return.
Which binds me to your service.
Ijtm. Oh, your love!
' My homely noose, built more for use than
show,
Obserres the golden mean, equally distant
From glittering pomp, and sordid avarice :
For masques, nve will observe the works of
nature;
And in the place of visitation, read;
Our physic shall be wholesome walks; onr
viands
Nourishing, not provoking ; for I find
Pleasures are tortures that leave stings be-
hind.
Duck. You have a great estate.
Lam- A competency
Sufficient to maintain mc and my rank ;
Nor am I, I thank Hcav'n, so courtly bred
As to employ the utmost oi' my rents
In psvying tadors for fantastic robes;
Or, rather than be second in tlie tkshion.
Eat out my otticers and my revenues
With grating usury; my back sliaJl not be
The base on which your soothing citizen
Erects his summer-houses ; nor, on th* other
side.
Will I be so penuriously wise,
As to make money, that's my slave, my idol;
Which yet to wrong, merits as much reproof
As to abuse our servant.
Dttck. Yet, witii your pardon,
I tliink you want the crown of all cootent*
ment.
Lttm, In what, good madam ?
Duck, In a worthy husband.
Lm.
Act 3. Scene 1.]
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
549
Xam, God*'! it is strange the galley-slave
sliouki praise [shipwreck
His oar, or strokes ; or you, that have made
Of all dehi;htupoii this rock cal I'd Marriage,
Slioald siuf; encomiums on it.
JDuch. Aiadiim, tho* [you
One fall from's horse and break his neck, will
CuQclade from that, it is unfit to ride ?
Or must it follow, because Orleans,
My lord, is pieas'd to make his passionate
"trial
Of my suspected patience, that my br(Hher
(Were he not so, I mii;ljt say worthy Amiens)
Will imitate his ills, tlijit cannot fancy ^^
What's truly noble in him ?
Lifnn. I must grant [for
There's as much worth in him as can be look'd
From a young lord ; but not enough to make
Me ciiange my golden liberty, and consent
To be a servant to it, as wives are
To the imperious humours of tbeir lords.
Mettiinks, Vin well: I rise and go to bed.
When I tliink fit ;*eat what njy appetite
Desires, witbowt control; my ser\ants* study
Is my contentment, and to make me merry
Their furthest aims; my sleeps are enquir'd
after.
My rising-up saluted wit4i respect:
Conuuaad and liberty now wait upon ' [all.
My virgin state; what would I more? change
And for a husband? no! these freedoms die,
In which they live, with my virginity:
Tis in their choice, that's rich, to be a wife.
But notjbeingyoak'd, to chuse the single life.—
Veraraour^^T
Vcr. Madam.
Lam. How like you the country? '
Ver. I like the air of it well, madam; and
the rather,
Because, as on Irish limber your spider will
Nc;t make his web, so, for aught I see yet,-
Your cheater, pandar, and in^rmer, bemg in
Their dispositions t<JO foggy for [rather
This piercing climate, shun it, and chuse
To walk in mists i'lh*city.
Lam, Who did you
Serve first, boy ?
Ver, A rich merchant's widow ; and was
By her preferred to a young court-lady,
Duch. And what
Difference found you in their service ?
Ver. V^ery much ;
For look, how much my old city madam gave
To her young visitants, so much my lady
Receiv'd from her hoary court^^ervants.
Lam. And what
Made you to leave her?
Ver, My father, madam, had [thence.
A desire to have me a tall-mnn, took me from
Lam, Well, I perceive you inherit the
wag, from your father.
Vev, Doves beget doves, and eagles eagles,
madam :
A citizen here, tbo' left ne'er so rich,
Seldom at the best proves a gentleman ;
The son, of an advocate, tho* dubb'd, like's
W^ill siiew a relish [father.
Of his descent, and the father's thriving
practice ;
As l*ve heard, she that of a chambermaid
Is metamorphosed into a madam,
Will yet remember how oft her daughter
By her mother ventured to lie upon the rushes.
Before she could get in that which makes
many ladies. [master?
Duch, But what think you of your late
Ver, Ob, madam! [Sight.
Lam, Why do you sigh ? you're sorry Siat
you left him ;
He made a wanton of you.
Ver, Not for that ;
Orif hedid, for that my youth must love him."
Oh, pardon me, if I say liberty
Is bondage, if compared with his kind service;
And but to have power now to speak hik
worth
To its desert, I should be well content
To be an old man when his praise were
ended :
And yet, if at tnis instant you were pleas'd
I should begin, the livery of age
Would take his lodging upon this head
Ere I should bring it to a period.
In brief, he is a nan (for Heav'n forbid
That 1 should ever live to say he was)
Of such a shape as would make one belov'd
I'hat never had good thought; and to iiis
body
He hath a mind of such a constant temper,
In which .all virtues throng to have a.room;
Yet 'g^nst this noble gentleman, this Moa*
tague,
(For in that name I comprehend all goodness)
Wrong, and the wrested law, false witnesses,
as . jf ig stvange the galley-slave should praise.] This verse wants a syllable, which the
reader must supply by some note of exclamation at the beginning. It being common in all
the editions of our authors to leave dashes for exchUnatory particles, and for every species
of lesser oaths. Seward.
We have supplied the deficiency; and, we do not doubt, with the author's own word.
*^ That cannot fancy.'] SeWard silently reads,
That yau canH fancy, &c.
*^ JBtt^ not being yoalcd to chuse the single life.
Ver. Madam,] By this reading Veramour should first speak to the lady, which from
the propriety of the thing, from the sense of the context, and from the measure, it is plain
be did not ; bot that his name should be inserted in r he end of ihe lady's speech, and she
first call to liim. Seward, ' ,
And
550
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
[Act S. Scene 1.
And envy sent from hell, liave rose in arms.
And, tho' not pierc'd, batter'd his honoar*d
shield.
What shall I say ? I hope you will forgive me^
That if you xvere but nleas'd to love,
I know no Juno wortny such a Jove*'.
Enter Chariot Uy with a Letter.
Lam. It is well yet that IVe the second
place
In your affection. From whence?
CharL From the lord Amiens, madam.
Lam, *Tis welcome, iho* it bear bis usual
language. [health.
I thought so much ; his love-suit speaks bis
What's he tliat brought it ?
CharL A gentleman of good rank, it seems.
Lam. Where is he ? [bouse.
Chart. Receiving entertainment in your
Sorting with his degree.
Lam. 'Tis well.
CharL He waits
Your ladyship's pleasure.
Lam. He shall not wait long. —
III leave you- for a while. — Nay, stay you, boy;
Attend the lady. [Exeunt Lam. and CharL
Ver. 'Would I might live once
To wait on my poor master!
Duch. That's a good boy !
This thankfulness lookslovely on thy forehead ;
And in it, a& a book, methinks I read
Instructions for myself, that am his debtor.
And would do much that I might be so
happy
To repair that which to our grief is ruin'd.
Ver. It were a work a king might glory in,
If he saw with my eyes. If yoa please,
madam,
(For sure to me you seem unapt to walk)
To sit, ahho' the churlish birds deny
To give us music in this grove, where they
Are prodigal to others, 1 11 strain my voice
For a sad song; the place is safe and private.
Duch. Twas my desire: begin, good
Veramoar!
Music, a Song; at the end of it, enter ilfoii*
tague/aintifig, hii Sa>ord drawn.
Duch. What's he, Veramour?
Ver. A goodly personage.
Mont. AmIvetsafe?orismyflightadrefliii?
My wounds ancl hunger tell me tiiat I wake :
Whither have my fears borne me ? No matter
where ;
Who hath no place to go to, cannot err!
What shall I do ? Cunning calamity.
That others' gross wits uses to refine.
When I most need it, dulls die edge of mine.
DmcA.^Is not tliis Montague's voice?
Ver, My master's ? fy !
Mont. What sound was that? Pish!
Fear makes the wretch think every leaf o'lh'
jury. [done it,
What course to live? beg? better men have
But ill another kind : steal ? AlezaQder,
Tho' stil'd a conqueror, was a proud thief^
Tho' he robb'd with an army. Fy, how idle
These meditations are! tho' thou art worse
Than sorrow's tongue can speak thee, dioa
art still.
Or sliouldst be, honest Montagoe.
Duch, Tis too true.
Fcr. 1'ishe! [flesh
What villain's hands did this ? Oh, that my
Were balm! in faith, sir, I would pluck it off
As readily as this! Pray you accept
My will to do you service : I have beard
The mouse once sav'd the lion in his need.
As the poor scarab** spoil'd the eagle's seed**.
' Duch. How do you ?
Mont. As a fonAken man.
Duch. Do not say so ! take comfort ;
For your misfortunes have been kind in t]u%
To cast YOU on a hospitable shore.
Where dwells a lady—
Ver. She to whom, good master.
You preferr'd me.
Duch. In whose house, whatsoe'er
Your dangers are, I'll undertake yonr safety.
Mont. I fear thatFm parsued; and donbl
that I,
In my defence, have kill'd an oQcer.
Ver. Is that all? There's no law under the
sun
But will, I hope, confess, one drop of Uood
Shed from this arm is recompense enoo^
Tho' you had cut the throats of ail the
catchpoles
In France, n^y, in the workL
Mont. I woiild be loth
*7 That if you were but pleaid to hnty
J know no Juno worthy such a JoveA Both the sense and measure of the first line are
so lame that there can, I think, be no doubt of a corruption. That which is most nateni
for Veramour to say as a proper compliment to Lamiray and a proper wish for restoring his
beloved master to wealth and prosperity; this, I say, will exacdy fill np the meosaie; and
tho' it departs more than I could wish from the trace of the letters, vet a few blots in the
original copy might easily cause such a diflferenoe ; I hope that I shall only restore that
original in reading.
That unless you yourself yrere pleas'd to love.
Lamira*6 answer evidently requires some reading to this purport. Seward.
The sense of the first line is clear, and the text should not be violated. Lamis^s answer
refers to Veramour's affection, not to Mwttague^a.
** Scarab,] See note 40 on the Elder Brother.
*^ Spil'd the eagles seed,] Former editions. SemanL
To
Act S. Scene 1.]
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
551
To be a burden^ or feed like a drooe
On tbe indoBtrious labour of a bee ;
And baser far I hold it to owe for
The bread I eat, what's not ia me to pay:
Then, since my full fortunes are declin'd^^,
To their low ebb. Til fasiiiou my high mind.
It was DO shame to Hecuba, to serve
When Troy was fir'd : ift be in your power
To be a means to make her entertain me^'y
(And far from that I was; but to supply
My want with habit fit for him that serves)
I shall owe much to you.
Duch,. Leave that care to mc.
Fer. Good sir, lean on my shoulder.
Help, good madam !
Oh, that I were a horse for half an hour,
That I might carry you home on my back!
I hope you'll love me still ?
Mont. Thou dost deserve it, boy.
That I should live to be thus troublesome !
Duck. Good sir, 'tis none. [chang'd
Ver, Trouble ? Most willingly I would be
Like Apuleius, wear his ass's ear'%
Provided I might still this burden bear.
Duck, nris a kind boy!
Mont. I find true proof of it. \ExeunU
JEnter Jmiem and LonguevilUy with a Faper.
Ami. You'll carry it ?
Lon^. As I live, altho' my packet
Were like Bellerophon's. What have you seen
In me or my behaviour, since your ravours
So plentifully shower'd upon my wants,
That may beget distrust of my performance?
Ami, Nay, be not angry ! if X entertain'd
But the least scruple of your love, or courage,
I would make choice of one which my estate
Should do me riglit in this'^: nor can you
blame me,
If in a matter of such consequence
I am so importunate.
3® Then since my full, 4c.] Seward, for the sake of measure, reads,
Then since my okce/u// fortunes are declin'd.
3> To be a meant to nutke'her entertainment.! Tliis m»take of the substantive entertain/-
ment for entertain me, has run through the former editions. It has been objected to this
passages-How could Montague be personally unknown, or want a recommendation to
Lamira^ when he had expressly recommeudcd to her both the persons he speaks to? Had
the poets foreseen the objection, an additional line might have taken it clearly off. Since
it is very common, for persons of remarkable goodness living at great distances, and per-
sonally, unknown to each other, 'to contract great friendships merely from character and the
intarcourse of mntoal friends ; or perhaps what is still a greater band of friendship, their
concurrence in the same works of charity and benevolence. Seward.
Surely the absurdity is too gross to be so easily removed.
^^ Like Apuleius, 4*c.] See Apuleiut's Golden Aise, translated into English b? William
Adlineton, 1571. JK.
^3 J would make choice of one which my estate
Should do me right in this.] Thus the former editions, but I believe without a possi-
bility of any rational intei-pretation : I read,
■ with ray estate,
i. e. I would have a second in this duel, that should deliver my challenge and join in the fight
with boldness and intrepidity, though it cost me my whole estate to procure one. Longue*
vilU^s answer to this has infinite beauty and eneigy. Seward.,
Seward's reading is very bald, and will bcarce convey the sense he annexes to it, at least
not in the stile of our authors* The old reading would better bear it.
Laurel^
Long. Good my lord,
Let me prevent your further conjurations
To raise my suirit! I know this is a challenge
To be deliver d unto Orleans' hand;
And that my undertaking ends not there.
But I must be your second, and in that
Not alone search your enemy, measure
weapons,
But stand in all your hazards, as our bloods
Ran in the self<-same veins ; in which if I
Better not your opinion, as a limb
That's putrified and useless, cut me off,
And underneath the gallows bury it!
Ami. At full you understand me, and in this
Binj;! ine, and what is mine, to you and yours s
I will not so much wrong you as to add
One syllable more ; let it suffice I leave
My honour to your guard, and in that prove
You hold the first place in my heart and
love! [Exit.
Long. The first place in a lord's affection?
very good ! [clianging
And now long doth that last? perhaps the
Of some three shirts i'tli' tennis-court. Well,
it were
Very necessary that an order were taken
(If 'twere possible) that younger brothers
Might have more wit, or more money; for
now,
Howe'er the fool hath long been put upon him
That inherits, his revenue hath bought him
A spunge, and wiped off the imputation :
And for the, understanding of the younger,
Let him get as much rhetorick as he can,
To grace his language, they will see he shall
Enter Dubois.
Have gloss little enough to set out his bark.
Stand, Dubois! Look about! is all safe?
Dubois. Approach not near me but witk
reverence.
553
THE HONEST MAN'S FOllTUNE.
[Act 3. Sjcenel.
Laurel, and adorations ! I have done
More than deserves a hundred thanks.
Long, How now ?
What's the matter? [brain,
Dubois. With this hand, only aided by this
Without an Orpheus' harp, redeera'd from
Three- headed porter, our Euridice. [lielJ's
Long. Nay, prithee, speak sense ! this is
Braggart in a play. [like tiie stale
Vubois. Then, in plain pro^e, thus, and
with as little al^tion as thou canst desire; the
three-headed porter were three inexonible
catchpoles, out of whose jaws, without tlie
help of Orpheus* harp, bait or bribe (for tl)o«>e
two strings make the musick that mollifies
those flinty furies), I rescued our Euridice; I
mean my ol\l master Montague.
Long. And is this all ?
A poor rescue ! I thought thou hadst reversed
The judgment of his overthrow in hib suit;
Or wrought upon his adversary Orleans,
Taken the shape of a ghost, frighted his mind
Into distraction, and, for the appeasing of
His conscience, forc*d him to make restitution
Of Montague's lands, or such like. Kes-
cued'*? 'Slight, I would
Have hired a chrocheteur'* for two cardecues.
To have done so much with his wliip !
Dubois. You would. Sir? [cloths durst do
And yet 'tis more than three on their foot-
Eor a sworn brother, in a coach.
Long. Besides, [may be
What proofs of it ? for aught J. know, this
A trick; I had rather have him a prisoner.
Where I might visit him, and do him service,
Than not at all, or I know not where.
Dubois. Well, sir, the end will shew it.
What's that ? a challenge ? [in jest,
Long. Yes; where is Orleans? tho'wc fight
He must meet with Amiens in earnest. — Fall
off!
We are discovered ! My horse, garson, ha I
Dubout. Were it not m a house, aud in his
presence
To whom I owe all duty —
Long* What would it do ?
Prate, as it docs ; but be as far from striking,
As he that owes it, Orleans.
Dubois. How ?
Lo7ig. I think thou art his porter.
Set hereto answer creditors, that his lordship
Is not within, or takes the diet. I am sent,
And will grow here until I have an answer.
Not to demand a debt of money, but
To call him to a strict account for wrong
Done to the honours of a gentleman, [oC
Which nothing but his henrt-blood afaali wash
Dubois. Shall I hear this ?
Long. And more ; and if I may Dot
Have access to him, I will fix this here.
To his disgrace and thine —
Dubois. Aud thy life with it. [posts,
Long. Then have the copies of it pasted on
JJke pamphlet-titles, that sue to be M>ld ;
Have his disgrace tiUk for tobacco-shops,
His picture baffled —
Dubois. All respect away!
Werc*t in a church — ^ [Draw boih.
Long. This is the book I pray witii.
Enter Orleans.
OrL Forbear, upon your lives !
Long. What, are you rous'd ? [not
I hope your lordship can read (tlio* he stain
His birth with scholarship). — Doth it not
please you now ?
If you're a right monsieur, muster up
The rest of your attendance, which is a page,
A coOk, a pander, coachman, and a footman^
{In these days, a great lord's train) pretend-
ing I am [of aikswerinv it.
Unworthy to bring you a challenge; instead
Have me kick'd.
Dubois. If he does, thou deserv'st ic.
Long. I dare you all to touch me ! Til net
What answer yoa ? [stand sdlL
OrL That thou hnst done to Amiens
The office of a faithful friend, which I
Would cherish in thee, were he not my foe.
However, since on iionourablc terras
He calls me forth, say I will meet wtt^ l>im;
And by Dubois,ere sun-set, make him know
The time and place, my sword's leugth, aud
whatever
Scruple of circumstance he can expect.
Long. This answer comes unlooked-for.
Fare you well !
Finding your temper thus, 'would I had said
less. [RiU.
Orl. Now comes thy love to the test.
Dubois. My lord, 'twill hold.
And in ail dangers prove itself true eold.
Enter Laverdine, La-Poop, MaUkorn, miU
Servant,
S^rv. I will acquaint my lady with joor
Please you repose yourself here. [cuming.
Mul. There's a tester;
Nay, now I am a wooer, I must be bountifoL
3+ ■ Or such like rescue.] The old folio reads,
or such like rescmed.
The late editions have made it tolerable sense, though I believe it a wrong conjecture, the
more natural and more spirited reading may be given without dmnging a letter, only by diK-
ferent points— 1 read,
— — or such like; rescued 9 Slight
I would have hired, Ike. Seward.
'^ Have hired acrocheture.] The true word here not being understood, is printed wrong
in all the editions, it should be a chrocheteur, i. e. a porter. Sevard,
Sorv.
Aas. ScMie 1.]
THE HONEST MAITO FORTUNE.
553
Which we thought prodigal in your report'^^
Before we saw you.
Lam, Tush, sir I this courtship's old.
La^P, lU fight for thee^ sweet wench;
This is my tongue, and wooes for me.
Lum. Good man of war, Tsiege*
Hands off! If you take me, it must be by
Not by an onset : and for your valour, I
Think I have deserved few enemies.
And therefore need it not.
Mai. Thou need'st nothing, sweet lady.
But an obsequious husband ; and where wilt
thou find him,
tf noti* th'city? We are true Muscovites
To our wives, and are ne'er better pleased
than when [have me !
They use us as slaves, bridle and saddle us :
Thou slwlt command all my wealth as tliine
own ; [and
Thou sbalt sit like a queen in my warehouse;
My factors, at the retom with my ships, shall
pay thee
Tribute of all the rarities of the earth;
Thou sbalt wear gold, feed on delicates; the
first rshall—
Peascods, strawberries, grapes, cherries,
Lam. Be mine: I apprehend what you
would say. Mbr,
Those dainties, which the city pays se dear
The country yields for nothing, and as early ;
And, credit me, your ftup-fet'^ viands please
not
My appetite better than those that are n^
hand. [Mon
Then, for your promised service and sobjeo-
To all my liumours when I am your wife,
i Which, as it seems, is frequent in the city)
cannot find what pleasure they receive
In using their fond husbands like their maids:
But, of this, more hereafter! I accept
Your profier kindly, and yours: my house
stands open
To entertam you; take your pleasure in it.
And ease after your jourueyl
Duch. Do you note
The boldness of the fellows?
Lam. Alas, madam !
A virgin must in this be like a lawyer ;
And as he takes all fees^ she must hear all
suitors ;
The one for gain, the other for her mirth :
Stay with tlie gentlemen ! we'll to the orchards.
\^£xe. Lamiroy Duchtny Ver. and CharlotU.
Lo'P. Zounds! what art thou ?
Almt, An honest man, tbo' poor:
And look they like to monsters ? are they so
Lav, Kose from' the dead ? [rare i
MaL Do you hear, monsieur Serviteur ?
36 Which v€ thought prodigal in our r^ort.l Former editions. Mr. Sympson concurred
JB the correction. Seward,
' *' Fitr-fet] Seward alters fst to fetcKd ; hxxtfet is right ; it was the language of tl^
times. So, in Roger Ascham's Works, p. 13, * And therefore, agaynst a desperate evil! be-
* gan to seeke for a desperate remedie ; which was fet from Rome, a shop always open tof
^ any mischiei^ as you shsU perceive in th<»c few leaves, if you marke them weU. B,.
VOL*UI. ^ 4B Didst
Sero, If yon would have two three-pences
&r it, sir.
To give some of your kindred as you ride,
I'll see if I can get them ; we use not
(Tbo' servants) to take bribes. [Exit,
Lav, Then thou'rt unfit
To be in office, either in court or city.
Xe-P. Indeed cormptiou is a tree whose
branches [every where,
Are of an unmeasurable length ; they spread
And the dew that drops firom thence hath in-
Some chairs and stooU of authority, [fected
Mai, Ah, captain,
Lay not all the fault upon officers ; [action.
You know you can sharks tho' you be out of
Witness Monta^ *
Lav, Hang bim ! lie*8 safe enough :
Too bad a hand in't too, and have gain'd by
But I wonder you citizens, that keep [him.
So many books, and take such strict accounts
Fof every farthing due to you from others,
Reserve not so much as a memorandum
For the courtesies you receive.
Mai. Would YOU have
A citizen book those f Thankfulness is
A thing we are not sworn to in our indentures;
You may as well urge conscience.
Xov. Talk
No more of such vanities ! Montague
Is irrecoverably sunk: I would [snake
We had twenty more to send afler him. The
That would lie a dragon, and have wings,
must eat;
And what implieth that, bnt this, that in
This cannibal age, he that would have
The suit of we^th, must not care whom he
feeds on ?
And, as I've heard, no flesh battens l)etter
Than that of a professed friend : and he
That would mount to honour, must not make
dainty [father.
To use the head of his mother, back of his
Or neck of. his broths, for ladders to his pr^
ferment : [most part.
For but observe, and yon shall mid for th'
Cunning Villainy sit at a feast as principal
guest, [servant
And innocent Honesty wait as a contemn'd
With a trencher.
La-P. The ladies.
JEn/er Montague^ LaamrOj DscAot, Char*
latte, and Veramour,
Mont, Do you smcU nothing?
CharL Not I, sir. [in my nostrils.
Mont, The carrion ofknaves is very strong
Xcfv. We came to admire ; and find Fame
was Or niggard,
£5*
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
[Act 3. Scene t
Didst thou never liear of one Montague,
A prodigal goU, that liveth about Paris f
Mont, So, sir ! [estate
Lav. One tliat, after the loss of his main
In a law-suit, bought an office in tlie court ?
Xa»P. And should have letters of mart, to
have [dies ?
The Spanish treasure as it came from the [n-
Were not thou and he twins i Put off thy hat ;
JLet me see thy forehead.
Mont. Though you take privilege
To use your tongues, I pray you hold your
fingers !
rTtras your base coz*nage made me as I am ;
And, were you somewhere else. I would take
off
This proud film from your eyes, that will not
Know I am Montague. [let you
Enter Lamira behind the arrMi,
Lam. ni obser^'e this better.
Lav. And art thou he? Til do thee grace;
give me [course:
Thy liand ! Vva glad thou hast ta'en so good a
Serve God, and please thy mistress; if I
prove
To be thy master, as I'm very likely,
I will do for tliee.
Mai. Faith, the fellow [doubt
Is well made for a servingman, and w ill no
Carry a chine of beef with a good grace.
Xo-P. Prithee be careiiil of me in my
chamber:
I will remember thee at my departure.
Mont. All this I can endure under this
roof;
And so much owe I her, whose now t am.
That no wrong shall incense mc to molest
Her quiet house. While you continue here,
I will not be asham*d to do you service
More than to her, because such is her plea-
sure.
But you that have broke thrice, and fourteen
times
Compounded for two shillings in the pound.
Know I dare kick yuu in your shop ! Do yon
If ever 1 see Paris, iho' an army [hear?
Of musty murrions^^, rusty brown bills and
clubs, [tricks.
Stand for your guard — I have lienrd of your
And you that smell of amber at my cnarge,
And triumph in your cheat — well,! may live
To meet thee ! be it among a troop of such
That are upon the fair fiice of the court
like running ulcers, and before thy whore^
Trample upon thee !
Lct'P. This a language for
A livery? Take heed ; 1 am a captain.
Moat. A coxcomb, are you not ? That
tliou and I, [now
To give pn)of which of< us dares most, wert
In midst of a rough sea, upon a piece
Of a split ship, where only one might ride,
I woukl [plajer.
But foolish anger makes me talk like a
[Lamira Jrom the arras.
Lam. Indeed you act a part doth ill be-
come youj
My servant'*; is this your duty?
Mont. I crave your pardon,
And will hereafter be more circumspect
Lav. Oh, the power of a woman's tongue!
It hath done [undertake ;
More than we three with ^;>ar swords dont
Put a madman to silence.
Lam. Why, sirrah, tliese
Are none of your comrades, to drink with ia
the cellar ;
One of them, for aught you know, may livt
To be your master.
Xa-P. There is some comfort yet.
Lam. Here's choice of three : a wealth/
Mai, Uem ! [merchant—
She*s taken ; she hath spied my good calf,
And many ladies cliuse their husbands by
that.
Lam. A courtier tliat^s in grace; a valiant
captain ; [gone !
And aie these mates for you? Away, be-
Mont, 1 humbly pray you will be pleas*4
to pardon !
And, to give satisfaction to you, madam,
(Altlio* I break my lieart) I will confess
That I have wrong*d them too, and makt
submission.
Lam. No; I'll spare that. Go, bid the
cook haste supper. [Exit Mont,
La^P. Oh, brave lady, thou rt worthy IQ
have servants, |oaw
To be commandressof a fiimily, thatknow'st
To use and govern it.
Lav. You shall have many mistresses
That will so mistake as to take
Their horse-keepers and footmen instead of
Thou art none of those. [their husbands;
Ma/. But she that can make [gaUanta,
Distinction of men, and knows when she bilk
And fellows of rank and quality in herhouse—
Lam. Gallants indeed, ift be the gaUsotk'
fashion
To triumph in the miseries of a man,
Of which they are the cause ! one that tnos-
cends [done)
(In spite of all tliat fortune hath, or can be,
A miUiuu of soch things as you !— My UooO
Stand open to receive all such as wear
'^ Qf musty murrions, &c.] So in Philaster, vol. i.
We are thy mynnidons, thy guard, thy roarers !
And when thy noble body is in durance,
Thus do we clap our mw(ty murrians on.
And trace the streets in terror. R.
^* DwA ill bicome you, mjf ttrwint.] Seward expunges you.
n*
•AetS. Scene i.]
THE HONEST MAN« PORTONE.
S5h
The shape of gentlemen; and mygentlier
nature
(I might say weaker) weighs not the expence
Of entertainment : think you FlI forget yet
"What'sdue unto myself ? do not I know,
That you have dealt wi'poorM ontague^but like
Keedy commanders, cheating citizens.
And perjur*d courtiers ? I am much mov'd,
else use not
To say so much : if you will bear yourselves
Ab fits such you would make me think you are,
«Yoa may stay; if not^ the way lies before
you. JJBorit.
MaL What think you of this, captain ?
- La-P. That this is
A bawdy-house, with pinnacles and turrets,
In which this disguis'd Montague goes to rut
gratii ;
And that this is a landed pandress, and makes
lier bouse a brothel for charity.
MaL Come, that's no miracle;
But from whence derive you the supposition?
Lao. Observe but th' circumstance^^! You
all know,
- That in the height of Montague's prosperity,
-He did affect, and had his love returned by
This lady Orleans : since her divorcement.
And his decay of estate***, 'tis known they've
met;
Kot so much as his boy but is wanting ; and
that this
Can be any thing else than a mere plot for
Their night-work, is above my imagination
To conceive,
MaL Nay, it carries probability:
Let's observe it better; but yet wi' such
caution.
As our prying be not discovered! here's all
• things
To be had without cost, and therefore
Good staying here.
£ff*P. Nay, that is true ; I would
We might wooe her twenty years, like Pene-
lope's sttitofv.
C ome, Laverdine ! [Neurit Mai, and La*P.
Lav^ I follow instantly.-*
Yonder he is. The thought of this boy
Enter Veramaur,
Hath much cool'd my afTecUon to his lady ;
And by all conjectures this is a disguis*d
whore:
I'll try if [ can search this mine. — ^Page !
Ven Your pleasure, sir ?
Lav. Thou art a pretty boy.
Ver, And you a brave man :
Now I am out of your debt.
Lav, Nay, prithee stay !
Ver, I am in haste, sir.
Lav, JBy the faith of a courtier-^
Ver, Take heed what ye say! you've taket
a strange oath. [pleas'd me better :
Lav. I liave not seen a youth tliat hath
I would thou couldst like me, so far as to leave
Thy lady and wait on me ! I would maintain
I'th' bravest cloatlis [thee
Ver. Tho' you took them up
On trust, or bought 'em at the broker's?
Lav. Or any way. [cleanly -•
Then thy employments should be so neat and
Thou sbouldst not touch a jiair of pantabies
In a month; and thy lodging —
Ver. Should be in a brothel.
Lav. No ; but in mine arms.
Ver. That may be
The circle of a bawdy-house, or worse.
.Lav, I mean thou shouldst lie with me.
Ver, Lie with you? [never
I had rather lie with my lady's monkey ! 'twas
A good worid, since our French lords leam'd
Of the Neapolitans, to make theirpages
Their bedfellows ; it doth more hurt to th'
suburb ladies, [time, sir.
Than twenty dead vacations. 'Tis supi^eiv
Lav. I thought so !
I know by that 'tis a woman ; for because
Perad venture she hath made trial of the mon-
key.
She prefers him before me, as one unknown :
well,
These are strange creatures^', and have
strange desires;
And men must use strange means to quench
strange fires. [Exit,
ACT
'^ T%e circumstance.] Seward reads, the drcumstances.
•* ^^ It is known they have met, not so much as his bay hut is toanting^] Here again the text,
as hitherto printed, would by no means run into anysort of measure, and the sense is almost
as much injured. Striking out hut will do but little, for there want some words to connect
the two sentences ; the first evidently relating to the meeting of lady Orleans and Man •
$ague in Paris; and the second to their being at Xamira's country-seat. The words tliat
first occurred, as absolutely necessary to tlte sense, perfectly suited the measure, and made
the whole speech ran very easily into it. I read, therefore,
■ 'tis known they've met :
And here they are together, not so much at
His boy is wanting. Seward.
We think tlie old text may very probably and aptly signify, * 'Jh known thej/ve met, met
'' alone, his very-bmf^ absent : and this must be a plot ibr their intrigue.' The old text also is
}iere as reducible to measure, as many other parts of the play.
*^ These are standing creatures, and have strange desires ;
And men must use strange means to quench strange fires.] The old folio had printed this
•9 prose; the late tdlt^n found oot that these two hues rhymed^ nod therefore should be
4 B ^ printed
55d
THE AOMEST 1CAN*6 fOETUMlL
[Ael4*.8ccM4%
ACT IV,
SCENE I.
Enter Montague alone, in mean habit.
Mont. "VfOW, Montague! who discerns
•*'^ th^ spirit now, [cloud
Thy breeding, or thy blood? Imre^s a poor
£< lipseth all thy splendor : who can read
In thy pale face, dead e^e, or lenten suit.
The liberty thv ever-giTiDg hand
Hath touglit n>r others, manacling itself
In gyves of parchment indissolu hie ? [means,
The greatest-hearted roan, supplied with
Nobilirv of birth, and gentlest paitu,
Ay*^, tbo' the right-hand of hissQvereigny
If Virtue quit her seat in his high soul.
Glitters hut like a ()alace set on fire,
Whose dory whilst it shines but rains him ;
And his bright show, each liour to ashes
tending,
Shall at the last be rak*d up like a snarkle,
Unless men*B lives and fortunes feed tne flame.
Not for my own wants tho', blame I my stars^
But su6fering others to cast love on roe,
V^hen I can neither take, nor thankful be :
My iad/s uoman,fair and virtuous,
Yoimg as the present month, solicits me
For love and marriage; now, b^iog nothing
worth—
Enter Veramour.
Ver. Ohi, master ! I have sought yon a long
hour :
Good faith, I never jo/d out of your sight!
For Heav'n's sake, sir, be merry, or else bear
The butfets of your fortunes with more scorn !
Do but begin to rail ; teach me the way,
And I'll sit down, and he)p your anger forth.
IVe known you wear a suit lull worUi a lord*
•hip;
Give to a man, whose need ne'er frighted
you [crowns,
From calling of btm JrUnd, ^ve nuudred
Ere sleep had left your senses to consider
Your own important present uses : yet,
Since, I have seen you with a trencher wait.
Void of all scorn ; therefore I*U wait on you.
Mont. 'Would Heav'n tliou wert less ho-
Ver. 'Would to Heav*n [nest !
You were less worthy ! I am ev'n wi' ye, sir.
Mont. Is not thy master strangely fallen,
wlieu thou
Serv'st for no wages, but for cliarity ?
printed as verse, but they did not observe, that there was a corrupt word io the irsi liw,
equally injurious both to sense and measure, for what is itan^ting €r€tUUra 9 W« MSt ift-
01 putably read,
ttrange creatures ■ SewMrdm
*" I tkoughy ^f .] folios. Sewurd, Yba tliougb.
^^ i mUfulUmi 4^. 1 here is great resemblance in tlus pcest to Fhikster and BdhM
Thou dost surcbaise ma with tfiy filciiteoas
love;
The goodness of thy virtue shewn to ne^
More opens still my disability
To quit thv pains: credit me, loving boy,
A free and honest nature may be oppme*d,
Tir*d with courtesies from a liberal ^irit^
When they exceed his means of gratitude.
Ffr. But 'tis a due in him that^to that end,
Earends his love of duty.
Mont. little worid
Of virtue, whv dost love and follow me?
Ver. I will follow yon thro' all coontnesi*';
ni run (fast as 1 can) by your liorseHsidc^
I'll bold your stirrup when you do aliglity
And without grudging wait 'till you returo :
I will quit offer'd means, and expose myself
To cold and hunger, still to be with you ;
Fearless FU travel through a wildemese;
And when you're weary, I wiU lay me down,
That in my bosom yon may rest your head ;
Where, whilst you sleep, 111 watcb, that no
wild beast
3hall hurt or trouble you; and thns well breed
A story to make every hearer weep, [loves.
When thcv discourse our fortunes and oar
Mont. Oh, what a scoff might men of wo*
men make.
If they did know this boy !— But my desire
)s, that thou wouldst not (as thou uscst siil^
When, like a servant, I 'mong servants sh)
Wait on mv trencher, fill mycupa with wint:
Why shouklst thou do this» Doy ? prkhee,
I am not what I was. [coasidci;
Ver. Curs'd be the day
When I fofget that Montague was my lord.
Or not remember him my master still !
Mont. Rather curse me, wick whom thy
youtli hath spent
So many hours, and yet untaught to live
By any worldly quabty*
Ver. Indeed,
Yon never taught me bow Co handle can^
To cheat and coxenmen with oaths and bo;
Those are the worldly qualities to live :
Some of our scarlet gallants teach their beys
These worldly qualities. ft
Since stumblmg Fortune then leaves Vii
Let me leave Fortune, ere be viciioas !
Mont. Oh, lad, thy love wfli kill me I
Ver. In truth,
I Uiink in conseienoe I shall die for yon.
A«t4.SeriietJ
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
5»r
Good maateri weep not! rfo you want augbt,
mi
Will YOtt hmve any money? here's some nher^
And here's a litde fpld ; 'twill aerre to play,
Aud put more troublesome thoughts out of
your mind :
I pray, sir, take it ! Ill get more with tiBgiag,
And then FU brin^ it you: my lady gpi't me;
And, by my soul, it was not covetoasness^
But I forgot to tell you sooner on't.
Mwi. Alas, hoy, thoo*rt not bound to
ceil it me.
And less tosiveit; boy thee scar6 and garters !
And when IVe money, I will gire thee a sword:
Nature made thee a beauteous cabinet.
To lock up all the goodness of the eaith.
Enier Charlotte.
Ver. Tve lost my Toice with the resy
sight of
This gentlewoman ! Good sir, steal away ! you
"Were wont to be a curious avoider
Of women's company.
Mmt. Why, boy, thou dar^st trott me
Any where, dai^st thou not ?
Per. Fd rather trust you by
A roaring lion, than a rarening woman.
Jlml. Why, boy? [flesh.
Ver. Why, truly, she derours more man's
JMcml. Ay, but she roars not, boy?
Ver. No, sir? why she
Is neter silent but when her mouth is fulL
CharL Monsieur Montaeue!
MoiU. My sweet fellow ! since
You please to call me so.
Ver. Ah, my conscience, she
Would be pleated well enough to call you
bed-fellow.
Ob, master, do not hold her by the hand so!.
A woman is a limc^bush^ that catcheth ail
She toucheth.
CkarL I do most dangerously suspect
This boy to be a wench: art thou not one?
Come hither, let me feel thee.
Ver. With all my heart.
Chert. Why dost thou pull off thy g|ove 7
Ver. Why, to feel whether
Too be a boy, or no.
CkarL Fy, boy! goto!
Ill not look your h^, nor comb joor locks
Any more, if you talk thus.
Vet. Why, FU sing to you
No more then.
CharL Fy upon't, how sad yon are!
A young gentleman that was the very son of
JlMt But Fm [Fi
la the eclipse now.
Chart. Snfier himself to he o*er-niil with
A lethargy of melancholy and discontent!
Rouxe up thy spirit, man> and shake it offi
A noble soul is likeja ship at sea.
That sleeps at anc^r when the ocean's cahn;
But when she mge^ and4he wind blows hig|i^
He cuts bis way with skill and osajesty.
I would turn a fool, or poet, or any thing,
Or marry, to make you merry : prithee feA
walk.'-—
Good Veramour, leave thy master and me;
Fve earnest business with him.
> Ver. Pray do yon leave
Mv master and me! we were veiy merrf
before you came.
He does not covet women's company :
What have yon to do with him ? Come, mi^
will you go ?
And ['11 sing to you again. Fiaith, his mind
Is stronger than to credit womenis vows.
And too pure to be capable of their loves.
Chart. The hoy is jealous. Sweet U^
leave us ! my lady [there k
Call'd for vou, I swear: that's a ()ood child!
A piece of gold for thee; go, buy a feather!
Ver. There's two pieces for you; do yo»
go and buy one.
Or what yon will, or nothing, so y<»u go!-^
Nay then, I see youM have me go,, sir! why»
Ffaith I will, now I perceive you Love her
Better than you do me: but, Heaven bless yon!
Wliatever you do, or intend, I knciw you are
A very Honest Man! [Exitm
CharL Still shall I wooe thee, tvhibt thy
ears reply
I camtal, or I will not marry thee \ ?
Whv hast thou drawn the blood out of my
cheeks,
And given a quicker motion to mj heart?
Oh» thou hast bred a fever in my -^leins,
Call'd Love, which no physician c an cure!
Have merc^ on a maid, whose sim| »!e youth-^
Mont. How your example, iairc st, teacheth
me
A ceremomons idolatry! [Kneelim
By all the joys of love, I love tbee better
Than I or any man can tell audther!
And will express^' the mere;/ ^luch thoii
'craVst;
I will forbear to marry thee. Consider,
Thou'rt Nature's heir in foa'ture, and thy
parentis
In fair inheritances: rise withi these thoughtSi
And look on me ; but with $i woman's eye :
A decay'd fellow, void of njeans and spirits
CharL Of spirit?
ifimi. Yet; owld I eUe tamely live^.
^^ And will tspresi.] Seward reads^ And In e^fprtu.
** Of spirit f
Fes, emld I temefy tmeA The syllahle wanking htlis to the
Ivgfous to the sense. I theretore read.
Yes, eould I etae tamely live, &c
TW seBtimenta of tlie next speeeh deserve to hufve heeo phi^ t» f$
mcpti ibaa a lady^s wpaiUMt Sew0fdt
is equally advan*
oQDSpicQOiis cha*
foiget
5i8
THE HONEST MAITS FORTUNE.
[Act 4. Scarael.
Fori^t my (ather*8 blood, wait, aod mtike legs,
Stain my best breeches with the servile drops
That fall from others' draughts?
C^iarl. This vizard wherewith thou wouldst
hide thy spirit
Is L erspective, to shew it plainlier :
Ti.is undervalue of thy life, is but [speaks
Because I should not buy thee. What more
.Greatness of man than valiant patience,
That shrinks not under his fate's strongest
strokes }
"these Roman deaths, as falling on a sword,
Opening of veins^ with poison quenching
thirst.
Which we erroneously do stile the deeds
Of the heroic and magnanimous man,
Was dead-ey*d Cowardice, and white-cheek'd
Fear;
.Who doubting tyranny, and fainting under
Fortune's false lottery, desperately run
To death, for dread of death; that soul's
mo§t stout.
That, bearing all mischance, dares last it out.
Will yuu pe^orm your word, and marry me.
When I sbaU call you to't?
Enter .Longuevilley with a Rtding-Rod.
Mont. Tfaith, I will.
Chart, Who's this ali|hts here?
Long. With leave, fair creature.
Are you the lady-mistress of the house?
( harl. Her servant, sir.
Long. I pray then favour me,
To infomv your lady, and duke Orleans' wife,
A business of import awaits 'em here.
And craves for speedy answer.
CharL Are you in post, sir?
Long. No; Fra in sattin, lady;
I would you would be in post.
CharL I will return, sweet. [Exit.
Long. Honest friend, do you belong to
the house? — I pray
Be cover'd-
Mont. Yes, sir, I do.
Zjong. H.1 ! dream^st thou, Loneueville ?
Sure it is nut he! — Sir, 1 should Know you.
Mont. So should I you, but that I am
asham*d : [vilie.
But, tho' thoU know*st me, prithee, Longue-
Mock not my poverty! Pray remember
yburself:
Shews it not strangely for thy cloaths to stand
Without a hat to mine? Mock me no more.
' Long. The pox embroider me bU over, sir,
Ifever I began to mock you yet.
The plague upon me, why should I wear velvet
And silver lace ? 'Sheath, I wilj tear it off.
Mont. Why, madman ?
Long. Put on my bat? Ves, [head.
When Fm hang'd I will ! I could break my
^r holding eyes that }f,new not you at first!
Bat, time and fortune, ran your coitnes wnA
hixn ; [mcnt hate^' f
He'll laugh and scorn you, when yon shew
Enter Lemira^ Duchett, LmerdinA, Lo-Ppif,
MaUkorny Veramour, and Charlotte.
Lam. You're a fair monsietir.
Long. Do you mock me, lady ?
Lam. Your business, sir, I mean.
Duch. Regard yourself.
Good monsieur Longueville!
Lam. You are
Too negligent of yourself and plaee; cover
Your head, sweet monsieur!
Lomg. Mistake me not, ^r ladies ;
Tis not to you, nor you, that I stand baiv.
Lav. Nay, sweet dear monsieur, ]ct it not
be to us then !
. £<i-.P. A pox of compliment!
Mai And pox of manners! [dnYt
Pray hide your head ; your gallants use M
Long. And you your foreheads! W[^
you needful accessary rascals.
That cannot live without your motntl
knaveries.
More than a bawd, a pandar, or a ivhore,
From one another, how dare you suspect
That I stand bare to you ? What make jo«
here?
Shift your house, lady, of 'em ; for I know *eiB;
They come to steal your napkins, and yoor
spoons :
Look to your silver bodkin, gentlewoman,
'Tis a dead utensil ; and, page, beware your
pockets !
My reverence is unto this man, my master;
Whom yoQ, with protestations and oaths,
As high as Heav'n^ as deep as heU, whk]|
would
Deceive the wisest man of honest nature.
Have cozen'd and abused : but, I may meet
And beat you one with th' other! [yoa»
Mont. Peace I no more !
Long. Not a word, sir.
Lav. I'm something thick of hearing ;
What said he?
Xo-P. I hear him, but regard him not.
MaL Nor I ; Fm never angry fasting.
Long. My love
Keeps back my duty. Noblest lady, if
Husband or brother merit love from you,
Prevent their dangers! this hour brings to trial
Their hereto-sleeping hates: by this time«
each
Within a yard is of the other's heart ;
And met to prove theircauses and their mriis
With their impartial swords* points; hasta
and save,
Or n^ver meet them inore, but at the grave!
Duch. Oh, my distracted heart ! tjfad, mj
wreck*d honour
^' H^U laugh and storm you.^ How easily tcom was altered to ttorm by a mistake of
the printer ; but how much a properer word storn is in the place^ every reader will seSi
ibo' $torm has l^th^to run thro' all* th« former editioQ8« Sewar4^
8iiQuH
Act 4. ^oelie 1.]
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNi
559
Should for a brother's, or a hasband*s life^
Thro' thy ondoiDg, die !
Xom. Amiens eiigag*d ?
If be miscarry, all my hopes and joys,
X now confess it loudly, are undone :
Caroch, and haste! one minute may betray
▲ life more worth tiian all time can repay.
[Exeunt Ladies and Mont.
MaL Humph! monsieur Laverdine pur-
sues this boy
jfixtremely. Uaptain, what will you do ?
Xo-P. Any thing [captain,
But follow to this land-service : Fm a sea-
You know, and to offer to part 'em, without
We could do't like watermen with long staves,
▲ quarter of a mile oflP, might l>e dangerous.
Mai, Why then^ let us retire and pray
for 'em!
I am resolv'd to stop here ; your inteut^^ ?
Abub'd more than we have been we can't be,
Without they fall to flat beatino; on's.
[Exeunt MaL and LorP,
Lav, And that were
Unkiadly done, i'faith.
Ver, Curse me, but you're
The troublesomest ass that e'er I met with !
Retire! you smell like a woman's chamber,
That's newly up, before she've pinch'd her
In with her cloaths. [vapours
Lvo, I will haunt thee like
Thy grandame's ghost; thou shalt ne'er rest
tor me ! [secret from you :
Fer. Well, I perceive 'tis vain to oonceal a
Believe it, sir, indeed I am a woman.
Lav. Why, la! I knew it; this prophetical
tongue.
Of mine never fail'd nfie : my mother
Was half a witch ; pe'er any thing that she
Forespake but came to pass. A woman ! how
happy
Am I ! Now we may lawfully come together,
Witliout fear of hanging! Sweet wench, be
gracious !
In honourable sort I wooe, no otherwise.
Ver. Faith, the truth is, I've lov'd you long—
Lav, See, see !
Ver. But durst not open it.
. Xcr. By Heaven, I think so*^! [test,
Ver, But, briefly, when you bring it to the
If there be not one gentleman in this house
Will challenge more int'rest in me thanyou can,
I am at your disposure. [Exit.
Ijov. Oh, Fortunatus,
I envy thee not for cap, or pooch ! this day
111 prove my fortune,
In which your lady doth elect her husband,
Wlio will be Amiens; 'twill save my wedding*
dinner.
Tauvre La-Poop and Mallicorn! If all fail,
I will turn citizen : a beauteous wife
If the horn-book to the richest tradesman's
Hfe. [Exeunt.
Enter Dubois^ Orleans^ LoHgutoiHe^ Amiena,
two Lacguiet, a Page with tooo Pistols.
Dubois, Here's a good even piece of
Will you fix here ? [ground, my lords :
Orl, Yes; any where. — Lacquey,
Take off my snurs!— Upon a bridge, a rail
But my sword s breadth, upon a battlementp
I'll fight this quarrel!
Ihibois. O* the ropes, my lord?
OrL Upon a line.
Dubois. So all our country duels
Are carried, like a firework on a thread.
Orl. Go, now; stay with the horses! Aad^ '
do you hear?
Upon your lives, till some of us come to you.
Dare not to look this way !
Dubois, Except you see
Strangers or others, that by chance or purpose
Are hke to interrupt us.
Orl. Tlien give warning. [is so small.
Long, Who takes a sword ? The advantage
Ashe that doubts hath the free leave to chuse.
OrL Come, give me any^ and search me i
'tis not [make
The ground, weapon, or seconds, that cao
Odds in those &tal trials, but the cause.
Ami. Most true ; and, but it is no time to
wish
When men are come to do, I would desire
The cause 'twixt us were other than it is;
But where the right is, there prevail ouc
swonis!
And if my sister have out-liv'd her honour,
I do uot pray I may out-live her shame. *^
OrL Your sister, Amiens, is a whore, at
once! [before.
Ami. You oh have spoke that sense to me
But never in this language, Orleans ; [you
And when you spoke it fair, and first, I told
That it was possible you might be abus*d : ,
But now since you forget your manners, yoti
shall find.
If I transgress my custom, you do lie!
And are a villain ! which I had rather yet
My sword had prov'd, tlmn I been forc'd to
speak. — [haughtily
Nay, give us leave ! — And since you stand so
Aud highly on your cause, let you and I,
Without engagmg these two gentlemen,
Singly determine it!
Long, My lord, you'll pardon us (
Dubois. 1 trust your lordships
Mayn't do^us that affront.
Ami. Ai how?
Dubois. We kiss . [hert
Your lordship's hand, and come to serve you
With swords.
Long. My lord, we understand our-
selves.
Dubois. We've had the honour to be calKd
UQtO
^ 1 am resolved to stop your intent.] Amended by Seward.
^^ J think so,} Seward reads^ I thought so.
The
THE HONEST MAITO lOBTUNE.
The bastnesB^ aad we must not quit it
Od terms.
Ami. Not terms of reason ?
. long. No;
tio rt'ason for the quitting of oar cmlling.
Dubois. True;
If I be caird to't» I must ask no reason.
Lang. Nor hear none neither, which is less :
It is a favour, if my throat be cut,
Your lordship does me; which I never can,
fA tioise within, crying^ Down with your
swords !
Nor roust have hope how to requite.— What
• noise?
What cry is that? My lord, upon your guard !
Some treachery is afoot.
Enter Dueheu, LandrOf and Mcntague.
Duck. Oh, here they are !
My lord — Dear lady, help me ! help me all !
I have so woeful interest in both,
J, know not which to fear for most; and yet
I must prefer my lord. Dear brother,
Tou are too understanding, and too noble.
To beoflfcnded when I know my duty,
Tho' scarce my tears will let me see to do it.
OrL Out, loathed strumpet !
Duck. Oh, my dearest lord.
If words could on me cast the name of whore,
I then were wortliy to be loathed : but.
Know your unkindness cannot make me
widied ; [me.
And therefore should less use that power upon
OrL Was this your art, to have these ac-
tors come, [man !
4b make this interlude? Witlidraw, cold
And, if thy spirit be not frozen up.
Give me one stroke yet at tfiee tor my ven-
geance!
Ami. Thou shalt have strokes, and strokes^
thou glorious man^'.
Till thou brcath*st thinner ur tlian that thou
talk*st.
Lam. My Lord ! count Amiens !
Duck. Princely husband !
OrL Whore ! [that I had
Lum. You wrong her, impudent lord ! Oh,
The bulk of those dull men ! look how they
stand.
And no man will re%'enge an innocent lady 1
Asni, You hinder it, madam.
Lam. I would hinder you;
Is there none else to kill him ?
Duck. Kill liim, madam ? [P^nt,
Have yoii leam*d that bad language? Ob, re-
And be the motive rather both kiU me^.
OrL Then die, my infamy !
Sont. Hold, bloody man!
•L Art thou there, basilisk ?
[Act4.Sonel.
(haai.
Mont. To strike theedead,
But that thy fate deserves
Dubois. Sweet my lord I
OrL Oh,her»*saplotl [b
You bring your champions with you ! \hm adni-
With the adulterer ! Out, bowling —
Dubm. Good my lord ! [lady,
OrL Are you her grace's coantenanoer,
The receiver to the poor vicious couple ?
Dubois. Sweet my lord ! [fiidae felkm,
OrL Sweet rascal, didst thoa not tell we.
This Montague here was murder*d I
Dubois. I did so;
But he was iaUer, and a worthless lord.
Like thy foul self, that wonld liave had it ssi
Long. Orleans, 'tis true ; and shall be piov'd
upon thee. [wicked nature,
ilibn^. Thy malice, duke, and this thy
Are all as visible as thou; but I,
Bom to contemn thy injuries, do know.
That tho* thy greatness may corrupt m jury.
And make a judge afraid, and carry out
A worid of evils Aivith thy title, yet
Thou art not quiet at home; tboo bcai'st
about thee [thee too.
That that doth chaige thee, and ooodena
The thing tliat grieves me more, and doth in-
deed [iie»
Displease me, is, to think that so much base-
Stands here to have encountered so mach
honour. [^^^^
Pardon me, my lorc^ what late mj passkm
When you provoked my innocence !
OrL Yes, do !
Oh, flatterv becomes htm better than
The suit he wears; give him a new ooe,
Ami Orleans, [Amiens!
'Tis here no time nor place to jest or rail
Poorly with you ; but I wiU find a time to
Whisper you forth to this, or some fit pbcc^
As shall not hold a second interruption.
Mont. I hope your lordship's honour and
your life
Are destined unto higher hasaids ; this
Is of a meaner arm.
Dubois. Yes, faith, or none. [swoid:
Long. He is not fit to hi! by an honest
A prince, and lie?
Dubois. And slander? and hire men
To publish the Mse rumours lie bath made?
Long. And stick 'em on his fncsnds and
innocents? [their fiuncs?
Dubois. And practise 'gainst theiirlivesafier
Long. In men that are the matter of att
lewdness, [stroos!
Bawds, thieves, and cheaters, it were moo-
Dubois. But in a man of blood how mom
AmL Can this be? [coaspicooos!
Duck. They do slander him.
♦^ Qlorious ;] i. e. Vain, proud,.m the sense of tlie French glorieux.
^ And be tke motive, rather botk kill me;] t. e. And rather persuade them both to kiUme.
Tba expression, for want of tkat being inserted, is so obscure, that the former editors did
aat ttndecstand it, and therefore addud a comma; which utterly deprived it of all meaning.
Sacarl
OrL
Act 4. Scene 1.]
TIIE HONEST MAN'S TORTUNE.
561
Orl. Ilangthero^apair of railing hangbics!
Long. How! Stand, Orleans ! stay! Give
nie my pistols, boy !
Hinder mc not ! by Heavens, I will kill him !
JDuch,. Oh, stay bis Fury!
Ami. Loiigneville, mv friend ! [kind,
Long. Not for myself, my lord, but for man-
And all that have an interest to virtue.
Or title unto innocence.
Ami. Why, liear me !
Ijmg. For Jtistfce* sake —
Ami. That cannot be.
Long. To punish
His wife's, your honour's, and my lord^i
wrongs here,
Whom I must ever call so : for your loves,
I swear, HI sacrifice—
Ami. Longoevilie,
I did not think you a murderer before.
Long. I care not what yott thought me !
Ami. By Heaven, if thou attempt
His life, thy own is forfeit !
Mont. Foolish frantick man,
The murder will be of us, not him.
Duch, Oh, Heav'n ! [would not take
Mont, Wc could have kilrd him, but we
The justice out of Fate's — Singe but
A hair of him, tliou diest !
Long. No matter. [Shoots.
Ami. Villain !
Dubois. My lord, your sister's slain.
Ami. Biancha!
Mo7it. Oh, hapless and most wretched
chance !
Lam. Stand'st thou
Looking upon the mischief thou liast made?
Thou godless man, feeding thy bloodshot-eyes
Witii the red spectacle, and art not turn'ci
To stone with norror ? Hence, and take the
Of thy black infamy, to carry thee [wings
Beyond the shout of looks, or sound of curses.
Which will pursue thee*' till thou hast out-
All but thy guilt. [fled
Orl. Oil, wish it ofl' again ; fori am crack'd
Under the burden, and my heart will break.
How heavy guilt is, when men come to feci I
If you could know the mountain I sustain
With horror'^, you would each take off your
part,
tVnd more, to ease me. Ican*t stand ! forgive
Where 1 have wrong'd, I pray !
Ami. Look to him, Muntxigue. [well.
Long. My lords and gentlemen, the lady's
But for fear; unless that have shot her:
I have tlie worst of it, that needs would ven-
ture
Upon a trick had like to ha* cost my guts.
Look to her ! she*! I be well : it was but powder
I chartrM with, thinking that a guilty man
VVuulct have been frighted sooner ; but I'm glad
He's come at last.
Lam. How is Biancha? Well?
Ami, Lives she? See! Sister! Doth slie
breathe"? [breatlie,^
Duch. Oh, gentlemen, think you I cau
That am restored co the hateful sense
Of feeling in me my dear husband's death?
Oh, no, I live not : life was that I left,
And what you have call'd me to is death
indeed :
I cannot weep so fast as be doth bleed ! -
Dubois. Pardmi me, madam ; he is welL
Duch. Ha! roy husband? j^shame
Orl. I cannot speak whether my joy or
Be greater; but I thank'tlieHeav'ns forbodi.
Oh, look not black upon me, all my friends I
To whom I will be reconcil'd, or grow
Unto this earth, till I have wept a trench
That shall be great enough to be my grave;
.And I will think them too most maulytears.
It* they do move your pities. It is true,
Man should r!o nothing that he should rept^C;
But if he have, and say that he is sorry,
It is a worse fault if he be not truly.
Tyim. My lord, such sorrow cannot be sus-
pected : [handfr.
Here, take your honoured wife, and join your
She hath married you again !
And, gentlemen, I do invite you all
This night to take my house ; where, on the
morrow,
To heighten more the reconciling feast,
III make myself a husband and a guest.
lExamt,
^ Which mil purme thee still :
Thou hast outflf^d, SfC.^ Amended by Seward.
50 2%c mountain A sustain
With horror, you rcould each, 4'C'] Seward reads,
The mountain I sustain
Of horror, &c.
^' Lam. How is Bianclui 9 toellf
Ami. Lives she f See sister, doth the breathe f] Seward reads.
Lam. How is Biancha? well
Lives slie ? See —
Ami* Sister — slie doth breathe.
VOL. IIL
4C
ACT
5M
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE-
[Act 5. Scene !•
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Enter Montague and Charlotte,
Ckarl, Wr^LL, now, Vm sure you're mine.
^^ Mont. Fm sure I'm glad
I Ve one to ow^ then : you will find me honesty
As these days go, enough; poor without
question,
Which beggars hold a virtue; give me meat.
And I shall do my work, else knock ipy shoes
And turn me out again. [off,
CharL You are a merry fellow.
Mont, I have no great cause. «
CharL Yes, thy love to me. .
MoHt, That's as we make our game.
CharL Why, you repent tlien ? [be ;
Mont, Faith, no; worse than I ami cannot
Much better I expect not: I shall love you,
And, when yoa bid me go to bed, obey,
Lie still or move, as you shall minister ;
Keep a four-nobles nag, and a Jack-Merlin^',
Learn to love ale, and play at two-hand Irish ;
And there's then all I aim at.
CharL Nay, sweet fellow,
I'll make it something better.
Mont. If you to,
You'll make me worte :
Now 1 am poor, and willing to do well,
liold me m that course! of all the king's
creatures, [me !
I hate his coin : keep me from that, and save
For if you chance, out of your housewifery,
To save a hundred pound or two^*, bestow it
In plumb-broth ere I know it; else I take it.
Seek oota hundred men that want this money.
Share it among 'em, they'll cry noble Monr
And so I stand again* at livery ! [tague /
CharL You've pretty fancies, sir ; but, mar-
ried once.
This charity will fall home to yourself.
Mont, I would it would ! I am afraid my
looseness [work on
Is yet scarce stopt, tho' it have nought to
But the mere air of what 1 have had.
CharL Pretty ! [marry me ;
Mont. I wonder, sweetheart, wh}r you'll
I can see nothing in myself deserves it,
Unless the handsome wearing of a band.
For that's my stock now, or a pair of garters,
Necessity will not let me lose.
CharL I see, sir, [band,
A great deal more; a handsome inan^ a hu9«
To make a right good woman truly happy.
Mont. Lord, where are my eyes ? Either
you are foolish,
As wenches once a year are, or hr Worse,
Extremely virtuous: can you love a poor man
That relies on cold meat, and cast stoddogs,
One only suit to his back, which now is
mewing, [Tristram ?
But what will be the next coat will pose
If I should levy from my friends a fortune,
I could not raise ten groats to pay the priest
now. [money
CharL ni do that duty: 'tis not means nor
Mukes me pursue your love; were your mind
I would ne er love you. [bankrupt.
Enter Lamira,
Mont. Peace, wench ! here's my ladj.
Lam, Nay, never.shrink i'th' wetting, for
my presence !
D've find her willing, Montague ?
ifort^ Willing, madam? [f know
Lam, How dainty you make of it ! Do not
You two love one another ?
Mont. Certain, madam,
I think ve've revelations of these matters :
Your ladyship cannot tell me when I kissM ber.
Lum. But she can^ sir.
Mont, But she will not, madam ;
For when they talk once, 'tis like fairy-monej.
They get no more close kisses.
Lam, Thou art wanton.
Mont. Heav'n knows I need not; jet I
would be lusty;
But,bymysoul,inv provenderscarce pricks me.
Lam, Itshall be mended, Montague: I'm
You're grown so merry. [^ad
Mont, So am I too, madam.
Lam, You two will make a pretty handsome
consort.
Mont, Yes, madam, if my fiddle fail me not.
Lam. Your fiddle! why your fiddle? I
warrant, thou mean'st madly. [love !
Mont. Can you blame me ? Alaa,I mm in
CharL 'TIS very well, sir !
Lam. How long have you been thus ?
Mont, How?, thus in love?
Lmt. You're very quick, sir! No;
I mean thus pleasant.
Mont, E'er since I was poor. [dien }
Lam. A little wealth would change yon,
Mont, Yes, lady.
Into another suit, but never more
I Into another man ; 111 bar that nuunly.
'* Keep afour-nobles nag, and a Jack
Meriing ;] i. e. Turn lalk'ner, a Merlin, being a species of4»wk.
confus'd in die former editions. Seward.
The first folio reads, black Meriing.
^^ To leave a hundred pound.} So foimcr editions.
The measuie was aS
ne
Act 5. Scene 1.]
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
563
The wealth I get henceforward shall be
charmed
For ever hurting me ; I'll spend it fasting.
As I live, noble lady, tliere is nothing,
I've foand, directly cares the melancholy,
But want and wedlock : when I had store of
money, [wise,
I siniper'd sometime, and spoke wondrous
Bat never laughed out-right; now I am empty.
My heart sounds like a bell, and strikes at
both sides.
Lam, YouVe finely tempered, Montague.
Mont, Pardon, lady.
If any way my free mirth have offended !
Twas meant to please yoo ; if it prove too
saucy,
Give it a frown, and I am ever silenced.
lam* I like it passing well ; pray follow it !
This is my day or choice, and shall be your^s
too;
rTwere pity to delay yon. Call to the steward,
And tell him *tismyp1easureheshottldgive you
Five hundred crowns; make yourself hand-
some, Montague ; ^ [dit :
Let none wear iSstter cloatbs; 'tis for my cre-
But pray be merry still !
Mont. Iflbenot,
And make a fool of twice as many hundreds,
Clap me in canvas, lady ! [Exeunt.
Enter LoF-Poop, Laverdine,and MalUcom,
Ltn>, I'm strangely glad I've foiihd the
mystery
Of this disguis'd boy out; I ever trusted
It was a woman, and how happily
I've found it so ! and for Myself, Vm sure.
One that would offer me a thousand pound
now
(And that's a pretty sum to make one stagger)
111 ready gold for this concealment, could not
Buy my hope of her. She's a dainty wench.
And such a one I find I want extremely,
To bring me into credit: beauty does it.
MaL Say we should all meach here^3,and
stay the least now, [knaves ;
What can the worst be ? We have play'd the
That's without <)uestion.
Xo-P. True ; and, as I take it, [and
Tliia is the first truth we told these ten years.
For any thing I know, may be the last :
But, grant we're knaves, both base and beast-
MaL Say so then. [ly knaves —
Lea}, Well.
Xo-P. And likewise
Let it be consider'd, we have wronged.
And most maliciously, this gentlewoman
We cast to stay with, what must wc expect
now ? [pect good eating.
( Mai. Ay, there*s tlie point; we would ex*
Xo-P. 1 know we would, but we may find
good heating. [soul,
Leto. You say true, gentlemen ; and by my
Tho' I love meat as well as any man,
I care not what he be, if a beat a God's
name'*, [palate.
Such crab-sauce to my meat will turn my
MaL There's all the nazard; for the frozen
Monta^/ue [him.
Has now got spring again and warmth in
And, without doubt, dares beat us terribly.
For, not to mince the matter, we are cowards.
And have, and shall be beaten, when men
To call us into cudgeling. [please
Lu^F. I feel ^
We're very prone that way.
Lav. The sons of Adam. [question ;
La-P, Now, here then rests the state o'th'
Whether we yield our bodies for a din net
To a sound (log-whip (for, I promise ye,
(f men be given to correction,
We c^n expect no less), or quietly
Take a hara egg or two, and ten mile hence
Bait in a ditch ? tliis we may do securely;
For, to stay hereabout will be all one.
If once our moral nuschiefscome in memory.
Mai. But, pray ye hear me : is not this
the day
The virgin lady doth elect her husband f
Lav, The dinner is to that end.
Mai. Very well then; [whipping.
Say we all stay, and say we all Wpe this
And be well entertaia'd, and one of us
-Carry the lady ! ^
LorP. 'TIS a seemly say^,
I must confess; but if we stay, how fitly
We may apply it to ourselves ^i'th' end)
Will ask a Christian fear: I cannot see.
If I say true, what speci:U ornaments
Of art or nature (lay aside our lying,
Whoring and driuking, which are no great
virtues)
We are endued witlial, to win this -lady,
MaL Yet women go not by tlie best parts
That I have found directly. [ever; '
Lav, Why should we fear then I
They chuse men as they feed : sometimes
they settle ^ [gallant,
Upon a white-broth*d face, a sweet smooth
And him they make an end of in a night;
Soi netimes a goose ; sometimes a grosser meat,
A rump of beef, will serve 'em at somesearion.
And fill their bellies too, tho* without doubt
They're great devourers ; stock-fish is a dish.
If it be well dress'd, for the toughness* sake
Will make the proudest of 'em long and leap
for't; [starve.
They'll run mad for a pudding, ere theyll •
JxE-P. Foi my own part, I care not, como
what can come ;
If I be whipt, why so be it ! if eudgell'd,
I hope I shall out-live it: I am sure [so,
'Tis not the hundredth time I have been serv*d
And yet, I thank Heav'n, I'm here.
MaL Here's resolution I
'3 Meach.'\ See note 55 on tlie Scornful Lady. The word is variously spelt.
'^ If a eat a God\ nam^l The sense requires us to read, JjTa beat a Qod*t name.
4 C iJ
X«-P.
564
THE HONEST jMAN'8 FORJIWE.
[Act 5. Scene !»
Lor-F. A little patience^ ^d a jo^eti
apple, [sir?
Cures twenty worse diseases: wh^it say you,
Lav, Marry^ I say^ sir, if I bad been ac-
quainted [been,
With laxnming'^ in my youth, as you have
With wl)ipping, and such benefits of nature^
I shodd ilo better; as I um, I'll venture :
And if it. he my luck to have the lady,
I'll U6e my fortune modestly ; if beaten,
Yao aball not hear a word/ one I am sure of,
And if the worse lall, she shall be myphysick.
Let's go then, and a merry wind be wiUi us !
MuL Captain, your shoes are old; pray
pat e'm otl*, '
And let one fling 'em after us. Be bold, sirs ;
And iiowfioe'er our fortune falls, let's bear
An equal burden ! if there be an odd iash,
We'll part it afterwards.
JJi-F. Vm arm'd nt all points. \jLxtunt.
Enter four Servants^ with a Banquet,
1 Serv. Tlien my lady, .w^l baye a bedfel-
low to-night ^ [ami-fuli
2 Serv, So she says : Ileav'n, what a dainty
Shall he enjoy, that lias theliwichingof her !
What a fight slie will make !
;3 Serv. Ay, marry, boys, [gn^ppling !
Xiere will be sjwrt indee,d! there will be
She has a murderer tie:> in her prow,
lam afraid will fright his main-mast, J^obiiu
4 Serv. Who dost tho;i think shall have
l^er, of thy conscience)
Thou ^rjt; a .wi^e ma^i. y
'6 J^rv, If ijie go the old way,
Tiie way of lot, tlie longest cue sweeps aU
Withouc question.
1 Sere, She has lost a friend of me else.
What think ye of the courtier?
2 ^er97. Haog him, hedge-hog ! [pbue;s^^,
H'has n^>tbipg in him bi^t a piece of £u-
A;id twenty dozep of twelvepenny ribband,
all
About him; j;^ js bjut oi\e pedlar's shop
Of gloves and garters, pick-teeth .ajiid po-
ikiander. •
^^3 Serp, The courtlerj ;narry, Qod Ji>less
her, Steven, she is not
Mad yet; she knows tluit triudle-tail too well;
Jie's 'crest-fallen, and pin-battocM'di !with
leaping laundresses^ •
^^ Lammng i\\, IS, Beafivg.
4 Serv, The merchant? sure she win not
To have him. [be so hose
.1 Serv. I hope so ; Robin, he*ii sell us aU
To th'Moors to make mummy. I^or the cap-
tain ?
4 Serv, Who? potgun? that's a sweet
Will he stay, think ye? [youth, indeed!
3 Serv. Yes, without question,
And have half din'd too.ere the grace be done.
He's good fornothingin^the world but ciitibD^
Lying and sleeping;; wbai other men devour
In drink he takes in pottage : they say h'lMU
been
At sea; a herriugrfishing, fpr without doubt
lie dai es not hail an eei-boati/tli' way of war.
2 Serv'. 1 think so ; they would beat him
off witli butter.
3 Serv, When lie brings in a prize, unles
it be ' ■
Cockles, or Calais saud to scour with,
I'll renounce my five mark a-year.
And alt the hidden art I have in carving.
To teach young birds to whistle Walsin^
ham^'* : ' ' ' '
I^Ve li^m Jp tl^ lime^boatsj Now, what
Of the brave Amiens ? \£think \oa
1 Serv. Thai's a thought indeed. [teed
^ Serv, Ay, marry f there's a person ht to
Upon a disli so dainty; and he'll do't,
I warrant him, i'tli'mck, boys; h'has a body
World without end.
.4 Slerv, And suc;h ^ one jny iady
Will make no little of. But is not Moniagoe
Married to-<lay/
3 Serv. Yes, fuith, honest Montage
Muait jiave his bout too.
2 Serv. lie's as good a lad
As ever turn'd a trencher : must we leav«
him?
3^rv. JIe's.to.ogo9d.fpr.us,JSievcn. Ill
give niui liealth - c .
To his good luck to-night iW oid beaker.
And it shall be^ck too. -
4 Serv. I mu^have a garter;
And, boys, I have bespoke a; posset ; some^
bpdy
Shall give me thanks for't ! 't has a lew toys
i^i't
Will raise commotions in a bed, lad.
1 ^erv. Away ! my lady*
[Exfifmt.
fc
^^ Apiece o/'Euphues.] Euphues, or tlie Anatomy of Wit, was the tide of a romance wrote
Jby Lilly, autiior of several plays in queen Elizabeth's reign. Uis stile was stitf, pedantic
^nd ^ifected, bjut wajt in such vogue that Mr. Blount, who published six of his plays, says^
that Lilly's Euohues and his England taught the co;irt a new language, and the lady ^hp
could not parte Euphuism was as little regarded as she that now there speaks not French.
Here is a banter upon the court for this practice ; but it would much have improved it if
jMverdine had frequently made use of this aiiectcd stile, apd Euphuitm had made part of
his character ijhrough the whole play. The account of Lilly is taken A'om Mr. DQidsleVs
Preface to his Collection of Old Plays, and Mr. Sympson quotes it also from Lfingbain^
Semtrd,
^^ To whistle Wtdsingham.] Walsinghom^ in Norfolk, a place formerly famous for the pil*
grirpagcs (o lixe rood, or cros:^, of Our L^i\y there. ji.
Enttr
Act $. gcfue 1.]
THE HONEST MA>PS KUTTUNE.
565
Enter Orleans and DuchesSy arm in arm,
Amiens f Lamiray Charlotte tike a hride,
Montague brave ^ Laverdine^ Longueville,
Dubois^ MalUcorn, and LorFoop,
Lam. Seat youraelves, noble lordis and
gendemeii ;
-You know your places. Many royal welcomes
1 give your gracei How Jovely shews this
change !
My house is honour'd in this recoacilemept.
OrL Tlios, madaoiy must you do ;
IVly lady now shall see you made a woraao,
^ud give you some short lessons for your
voyage.
T^ke her instructions, lady; she knows much.
Lam. Tiiis becomes you, sir.
Duck. Mv lord roust have his will.
Or/. Tis Jill I can c|o now, sweetheart.
Fair lady,
This to your hajppy choice !— Brother Amiens,
Vou are the man I mfsan it to.
Ami. 1^1 pledge you.
OrL And with my heart.
Ami With all mv love I take it.
Iaun. Noble lorcfs,
I^m proud yeVe done ^xis day so much coqtent^
Ana me such estimation, that this hour
(In this poor house) shall be a league for ever;
xr*or so I know ye mean it.
Ami. I (io, lady.
Orl. And I, my lord.
Omnes. YouVe done a work of honour.
Ami. Give me the cup ! Where this health
stops, let tliat man
§D either very sick or very simple ;
r I am very angry. Sir, to you! .
Madam, metbinks this gentleman migbtsit too;
lie would become the best on's,
OrL Pray sit down, sir :
I know the lady of the feast expects not
This day so much old custom.
Lam. Sit down, Montague!
Nay, never blush for th* matter.
Slont. Noble madam,
J have two reasons 'gainst it, and I dare not:
Puty to you first, as you are my lady,
And I your poorest servant; next, the custom
Of this day's ceremony.
^^ Such o plefsing wet tceather washes.] I believe an extreme genteel answer of Lamim^t
fcas been turned into absolute nonsense in all the editions, by the odd connection of the
printer's or transcriber's ideas between wet nreather and waslung. Instead of receiving
jimiens^s compliment in the sense he meant it, of the man being blest who should come near^
t, t. marry and enjoy Lamira; she answers, a traveller caught in a shower of rain might
indeed wish such a blebsing, i. e. of coming near me, as I have a warm house to receive bun,
'I'is the great excellency of poetry to express this so conciseW by personating wet weather,
and making that instead of the traveller be the wisher of this blessing. But this being pro-
bably above the transcriber's reach, he altered it into the nonsensical reading of the late
text. Much the greatest part of this scene, as well as the greatest part of the play in gene-
Tul, was either printed as prose, or when tl)e measure was attempted, and the lines ranged
as verse, most of them were wrong. Seward.
^° Herds to n^self, and Montaeue have a care."] Tliis whole line lias been hitherto given
to Montague, not sure with much propriety. It is much more so to make Lamira check
huxif and this is a reason for his immediately quitting his selt-recommendation. Seward.
Lam.
Lam. As you are my servaiit,
I may command you tlien ?
Mont. To my life, lady.
Lam, Sit down, anjd here! I'll have it so.
Ami. Sit down, man ;
Never reft^se so fair a lady's offer.
Mont. It is your pleasure, madam, not
my pride.
And I obey. Til pledge you now, my lord.
Monsieur Longuevilie!
Long. I th&nk you, sir.
Mont. Thb to my lady,
And her fair choice to-day, and happiness!
Long. *T\s a tnir health ; I'll pledge you,
tiio' I sink for't. [fu add
iMm. Montague, yon are too modest: come,
A little more wine t'you; Itwill make yoa
This to the good I wish you ! [mer.ry«
Mont. Honour'd lady, ^
I shall forget myself .with thisereat bounty.
Lam. You shall not, sir. &ve him some
AmL By Heav'n, [wine*
You are a worthy woman ; and that man
Is blest can come near such a lady.
Lam. Such a blessing
Wet weather wishes*^.
Mont. At all! I'll not go
A lip less, my lord.
OrL Tis w;ell cast, sir.
Mai. If Montague
Qet more wine, we are like to hear of it
Lav. I do not like that sitting there.
Mai. JHor 1 ;
Methinks he lopks like a judge.
La^P. Now have I
A kind of grudging of a beating on mej
I fear my hot fit. '
MaL Drink apace ; there's nothing
Allays a cudgel like it.
' lAim. Montague, now
I'll put my choice to you : who do you bold.
In all this honour'd company, a husband
Fit to epjoy thy lady? speak directly.
Mo^i. Shall I speak, madam?
Lam. Montague, you shall.
Mqnt. Then, as I have a soul, 111 speak my'
conscience.
Give me more wine! in vino Veritas:
Here's to myself*^, and—
566
TIffi HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
[Act 5. Scene U
Lam. Montague, have a care!
Speak to the cause.
Mani, Yes, madam.'
First, I'll begin to thee!
Lav, Have at us !
La-F, Now for a psalm of mercy!
Mont. Vou, good monsieur,
You that belie the noble name of courtier^
And think vour claim good here, hold up
your hana !
Your worship is indicted here for a
Vainglorious fool —
Lav. Good! oh, sir!
Mont. For one whose wit
Lies io a ten-pound waistcoat, yet not warm.
YouVe traveird like a fidier co make faces.
And brought home nothing but a case of
toothpicks.
You would be married, and no less than ladies,
And of the best sort, can serve you ! Thou
silk-worm.
What hast thou in thee to deserve this woman?
Name but the poorest piece of man, good
manners, [hast none ;
There's nothing sound about thee ; faith, th'
It lies pawn'd at thy silk-man's, for so much
lace
Thy credit with his wife cannot redeem it*';
Thy cloaths are all the soul thou hast, for so
Thou sav'st them handsome for the next
great tilting, [christen'd
Let who will take the other ; thou wert ne'er
(Upon my conscience) but in barber's water;
Tltou art ne'er out o' th' bason, thou art rotten.
And, if thou dar'st tell truth, thou wilt con*
^-Thy skin ffess it ;
Looks of a chesnut colour, greazM with
. amber ;
All women that on earth do dwell thou lov'st.
Yet none that understand love thee again.
But those that love the spital. Get thee
home.
Poor painted butterfly ! thy summer's past.
Go, ^weat, and eat dry mutton ; thou may'st
live
To do so well yet, a hruis'd chambermaid
May fall upon thee, and advance thy follies.
You have your sentence ! — Now it follows,
I treat of you. [captain,
LarF. Pray Heav'n I may deserve it!
Orl. Beshrew my heart, he speaks plain.
AmL That's plain dealing.
Mont. You are a rascal, captain !
La-F. A fine calling.
Mont. A water-coward !
Ami. He would make a pretty stuff.
Mont. May I speak freely, madam ?
Jjam. Here's none ties you.
Mmt. Why shouldst thou dare come
hither with a thought
To find a wife here fit for thee \ are all
Thy single-money whores, that fed on carrots,
And fiird the high grass with familiars,
Fall'n off to footmen ? Prithee tell me tnily,
(For now I know thou dar'st not lie) cooMst
thou not
Wish thyself beaten well with all thy heart now,
And out of pain ? say that I broke a rib.
Or cut thy nose off, were't not merciful
For this ambition?
io-P. Do your pleasure, sir ;
B^gars must not be chusers.
Url. He longs for beating.
Mont. But that I have nobler thoughts
possess my soul, [iisli,
Than such brown biscuit, such a piece of do^
Such a most mangy mackrel-eater as thoo art.
That dares do nothing that belongs to th'sea
But spew and catch rats, and fear men of war,
Tho' thou hast nothing in the world to lose
Aboard thee, but one piece of beef, one
musquet [barrel—
Without a cock for peace-sake, ana a pitcb-
I'U tell thee, if my time were not more
precious
Than thus to lose it, I would rattle thee.
It may be beat thee, and th^ pure fellow.
The merchant there of catskms, till my wordi^
Or blows, or both, made ye two branded
wretches [too
To all the world hereafter! You would Jain
Venture your bills of lading for this lady:
What would you give now for ber? Some ^nt.
frail [sir?
Of rotten figs, good Godson, would you boC»
Or a parrot that speaks High-Dutch? Can
' all thou ever saw st ^
Of thine own fraughts from sea, or cozenage
(At which thou art as expert as the devil),
Nay, sell thy soul for wealth too, as tbcw
wilt do,
Forfeit thy friends, and raise a mint of money,
Make thee dream all these double (^uld pro-
cure
A kiss from this ^ood lady ? Canst tboa hope
She would lie with such a nook of lieU u
thou art, [dc^ljotts!
And hatch young merchant-furies? Oh, ye
That fear no hell but Dunkirk, I shall see
you
Serve in a lousy lime-boat, ere I die.
For mouldy cheese, and butter BilUng^gafee
Would not endure, or bring in rotten pippias
To cure blue eyes, and swear thejr came
from China.
Lam. Vex 'era no more ; alas, they shake!
Mont. Down quickly
Upon your marrow-bones, and thank tbislady;
I would not leave you thus else! there are
blankets, [stili!
And such delights for such knaves : but fear
'Twill be revenge enough to keep yoa waking
-Ye have no mind of marria^, ha' ye ?
LorF. Surely no great mwd now.
^' Tky tredit with his wife cannot, Sfc^ First folio- exhibits, TA^ credit which
cannot f SfC,
Momi.
Act 5. Scene 1.]
THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
56?
Mont Nor you?**
Mai. Nor I, r take it.
Mont, Two eager suitors!
Lav, Troth, 'tis wondrous hot;
Heaf*D bless us from him !
Lam, You've told me, Montague,
Who are not fit to have me ; let me know
The man you would point out for me.
Mont. There he sits;
My lord of Amiens, madam, is my choice :
He's noble every way, and worthy a wife
With all the dowries of—
Ami. Do you sneak, sir.
Oat of your friendship to me ?
Mont. Yes, ray lord,
And out of truth ; for I could never flatter.
Atni, I would not say how much I owe
you for it, [you,
For that were but a promise ; but Fll thank
As now I find yon, in despite of fortune,
A fair and noble gentleman.
Lam. My lords,
I must confess the choice this man hath made
Is every way a great one, if not too great.
And no way to be slighted : yet, because
We love to have our own eyes sometimes.
Give me a little liberty to see * [now
How I could fit myself, if I were put to*t.
Ami. Madam, we must.
Lam. Are ye all agreed?
Omnes. We be. [here !
Lam, Then, as I am a maid, I shall chuse
Montague, I must have thee. [more
Mont. Why, madam, I have Icarn'd tp suffer
Than you can (out of pity) mock me with,
This way especially.
Lam, Thou thinVst I jest now ;
Bo t, by the love I bear thee, I will have thee !
Mont. If you could be so weak to love a
fall'n man.
He must deserve more than I ever can,
Or ever shall! Dear lady, look but this way
Upon tlmt lord, and you will tell me then
Your eyes are no true chusers of good men.
Ami, Do you love him truly ?
Lam. Yes, my lord :
I will obey him truly, for III marry him;
And justly think he that has so well serv'd
me
With his obedience, being born to greatness,
Must use me nobly of necessity,
When I shall serve him.
Ami. ^were a deep sin to cross you. Noble
Montague,
I wish ye all content, and am as happy
io my mend's good as it were merely mine !
Mont, Your lordship does ill to give up
your right!
I am not capable of this great goodness :
There sits my wife, that holds my troth.
Churl, ril end all ; [my title.
I wooe*d you for my lady, and now give up
Alas, poor wench, my aims are lower far.
Mont. How's this, sweetheart ?
iMm. Sweetheart, 'tis so; the drift was
mine, to hide
My purpose till it struck home.
Omnes. Give you joj ! [Fll have thee!
Lam, Prithee leave wondrhig ! by this kiss,
Mont. Tlien, by this kiss, andf this, Fll
ever serve you ! [hope
Lmg, This gentleman and I, sir, must needs
Once more to folio W you.
Mont. As friends and fellows ;
Never as servants more.
Long, Dnb, You make us happy!
Orl. Friend Montague, you've taught me
so much honour,
Fve found a fault i* myself; but thus 111 purge
My conscience of it : the late land I took
By false play from you, with as much con^
trition**
As with entireness of affection
To this most happy day, again I render:
Be master of your own ; forget my malice,
And make me worthy of your love, lord
Motllague ! [your name.
M(mt. You have won me and honour to
Mai, Since [follow.
Your lordship has begun good deeds, we'll
Good sir, forgive us! We are now those men
Fear you for goodness' sake : those sums of
money
Unjustly we detain from you, on your pardoti
Shall be restored again, and we your servants.
La-P, You're very forward, sir! it seems
you ve money : [you.
I pray you layout; 111 pay you, or pray for
As the sea works.
Lav. Their penance, sir, Fll undertake, so
please you
To grant "ine one concealment^^.
Lifng, A right courtier.
Still a-begging.
Mont, What is it, sir?
Lav, A gentlewoman.
Mont. In my gift.'
Lav, Yes, sir, .in yours.
Mont. Why, bring her forth, and take
her. [Exit Lav.
Lam. What wench would he have i
Mont, Any wench, I think.
•* With at muck contrition, and entireness^
J^jfisction to this most happy day again, 1 render.'] This being all printed as prose, ran
readily into its true measure, except in the part — and entireness of affectum ; and here the
reader will observe, that there is certainly one mistake, for without changing and to as, the
conpsrative as in the first part wants its responsive -as in the second, to make out the com-
parison. The repetition ot with too (which is all that is wanting to complete the measure)
» an rndditMrnal beauty .to the language, whether in verse or prose. Seward,
^' Cmieeaim$nt*] See note 14 on the Hamoroos Lieutenant*
Enter
568
THE HONEST MAITO FORTUNE.
[Act 5. Scene 1.
Enter Laver^ney and Veramour like a
Omnes, Ha, ha, ha ! [woaldst thou <
La'P. Oh, thou fresh-water gudgeon,
To point of marriage with an i^aoramos ?
Thou shouldst have had her urine to the doc-
tor's ; [plain
The foolishest physician could have uiade
The liquid Epicoene*' ; a blind aiax> by the
hand [stone.—
Could have discover'd the ring from tbr
Boy, come to sea with me ; Til teach thee
to climb,
And come down by the rope, nay, to eat rats.
Ver, I shall devour my master before the
prison then**;
Sir, I've began my trade.
MaL Trade! to the city, child ;
A flap cap will become thee.
Mont, Gentlemen,
I beseech you molest yourselves no fiuther
For his prefennent; 'us determined.
Lav. I'm much ashamed ; and if my cheek
Giveth not satisfaction, break my head.
Mont. Your shame is enough, sir.
Ami. Montague*^,
Much )oy attend thy marria^-bcd ! By thy
Example of true goodness, Envy is exjVd;
And to all honest men that truth intend,
I wish good luck ! fair Fate be still thy friend!
[Exeunt i
Jmv. This is the gentlewoman.
Mont. 'Tis my page, sir.
Ver, No, sir;> I am a poor disguised lady.
That like a page liave follow'd you full long
For love, God wot.
Omnei, A lady !
JjTO. Yes, yes ; 'ds a lady, [getber,
Mont. It may be so; and yet we've lain to-
But, by my troth, I never found lier lady.
Duch. Why wore you hoys* ck>aths ?
Ver. I will tell you, madam ; [metliought
I took example by two or three plays, that
Concem'd me.
Mont. Why made you not me acquainted
With it?
Ver. Indeed, sir, I knew it not myself.
Until this gentleman opcn'd my dull eyes,
And b^ persuasion maae me see it.
Anu. Could
Bis power in words make such a change }
Ver. Yes;
As truly woman as yourself, my lord . [man }
La!0. Why, but hark you? are not you a wo-
Ver. Ifliandsand face make it not evident,
You shall see more.
Mat. Breeches, breeches, Laverdine !
Im'P. Tis not enough; women may wear
Search further, courtier. [those cases ;
^3 The liquid Epicoene.] There is great humour in this, which will escape those who ace
not acquainted with the technical words in gramnaar : the Eplatns gender is the doubtful,
or where the sex is not distinguished. The adjective and substantive are therefore jocosely
inverted, and the liquid Epiceme, is the same as the dubious liquid. Seward.
We do not remember meeting witli a stranger observation, than is contained in the above
note.
** I shall devour my master before the prison then.] This is a passage that has punled
Mr. Sympson and myself. He proposes to read poison for prison^ but he owns himself not
satisfied with the change; nor, indeed, do I see, what advance towards sense we can make
by it. I am very far from being satisfied with what I am going to propose. It is veryclear»
tfiat Veramour designs to call I^-Poop a rat, and his natural answer should be, '^^I shah
" then devour my master the lirst of all his crew.'' I read, therefore,
before his prisoners then.
The rats of the ship may be called such. Seward.
^^ Montague, much joy attend thy marriage bed;
By thy example rftrue goodness. Envy is exiled.
And to all honest men that truth intend,
I wish good luck, fur Fate be still thyfriendJ] The reader will here see another io-
stance, how much corrupted the measure was in those parts of the play which were rang'd as
verse ; which generally arose from the printers making the beginning of most speeches the
beginning of averse, when they are often a conclusion of some foregoing verse, as in this in*
stance. Hence tliey were forced to curUiil tbe next lines, to bring two lines and a half ioto
two ; and I hope, that the original is only restored in stretchint; them again into due diuieo-
sions. In the last line, I believe, for thy friend, we should read their friendy e\at ^n
should make a fuller point than a comma before it. The former seems most natuiiO.
iieward reads,
Montague, much joy
Attend thy marriage bed; by M* example
Of thy true goodness. Envy i» exil'd.
And, &c.
Scarcely any of Mn Seward's divisions, which he so ofbeo mentions, are sdopled in the
present edition.
THK
THE MASQUE
OF
THE INNER. TEMPLE AND GRAY S INN^
GRATS INN AND THE INNER-TEMPLE ;
Presented before His Majesty^ the Queen's Majesty, the Prince, Count Palatine an4
the Lady Elizabeth their Highnesses, ui the Banqueting-House at Whitehall^
ou Saturday the 20tli day of February^ l6l2.
This Masque was undoabtedly the production of Beaumont aione. There is 9, quart<>
edition of it without a date; and it is also printed in the folio of 164T*
DEDICATION.
To th^ Worthy Sir Francis Bacorij His Majesties Solicitor^GeMrtU ; and the Gra^e and
Learned Bench of the anciently^llied Houses of Gray's Inn and the Inner^Temple, tht
Inner-Temple and Gray's Inn*
YOU that spared no time nor travel, in the setting forth, ordering, and furnishing of
thifi Masque, (being the first fruits of honour, in this kmd, which these two Societies have
offered to bis majesty), witl not tliink much now to look back upon the cfiects of your own
care and work : for that whereof the success was then doubtful, is now happily performed
and graciously accepted ; and that which you were then to think of in straits of time, you
may now peruse at leisure : and you. Sir Francis Bacon, especially, as you did then by your
countenance and loving affection advance it, so let your good word grace it and defend it^
which is able U add vidue to the greatest and least matters.
VOL.111. 4D INTRO^
INTRODUCTION.
^ THIS Masque ^as appointed to have been presented the Shrovc-Tuesday before*, at
which time the masquers with their attendants, and divers other gallant young gentlemen of
both hoooes, as their convoy, set forth from Winchester-house (which was the rendezvous)
towards the court, about seven of the clock at night.
This voyage hy water was performed iu great triumph ; the ^ntlemen masquers beii^
placed by themselves in the king's royal barge, with the rich furniture of state, and adorned
with a great number of lights placed \n such order as might make best sliow.
They were attended with a number of barges and gallies, with all variety of loud masick,
nnd several peals of ordnance, and led by two admirals.
Of this show his majesty w as graciously pleased to take a view, with the prince, the cooBt
Palatine, an(i the Indy Elizabeth their highnesses, at the windows of his privy gallery, upon
the water, till their landing, which was at the privy stairs; where they were most honounihly
received by the lord chamberlain, and so conducted to the vestry.
The hall was by that time filled with company of very good fashion, but yet so as a veiy
great number of principal ladies, and other noble persons, were not vet come in, whereby it
was foreseen that the room would be so scanted as might have T!een inconvenient; and
thereupon his majestv was most graciously pleased, witli the consent of the gentlemen
masquers, to put off tlie night until Saturday following, with this special favour and privi-
lege, that there should be no let, as to the outward ceremony of magnificejace until that time.
At the day that it was presented, there was a choice room reserved for the gentlemen of
both their houses, who, coming in troop about seven of the clock, received that special ho-
nour and noble favour, as to be brought to their places by the right honourable the eail of
Northampton, lord-privy-seai.
' Th'u Maique was appointed, Sfc] The marriage of tlie count Palatine of the Rhine with
the lady Elizabeth, daughter to James I., was celebrated on Valentine's Day, in the year
16 IS. Ihe Masque then exhibited by tjie gentlemen of Gray's Inn and the luner-Temple
was perf rmed with much splendor and magnificence, and at a great expence to both those
societies. In DugdaleV Origines Juridiciales, 1671, p
luner-Temple
to both those
p. 286, we find the Ibllowing accouna
of the charges attending this j-epreseiitation, extracted from the records of each society.*^
^ Gray's Inn. In the 10th of King James, the gentlenten cf this house were (togetlier with
' those of the other inns of court) actors in that great Masque at Whitehall, at the raarriase
' of tlie king's tldest daughter unto Frederick Count Palatine of the Ithine; the charge in
* apparel for the actors in which Masque, was supported by the society: the readers being
* each man assessed at 4/.; tlie ancients, and such as at that time were to be called an-
* cients, at 2/. 10s. apiece; the barristers at 2/. a man; and the students at 20s.; out of
* which so much wtts to be taken as the Inner-Temple did tlien allow.
* Which being performed, there was an order made, 18 Maii then next following^ that tht
* gentlemen who were actors in that Masque should bring in all their masqueing appaiel, so
* provided at the charge of the house:*
Ibid. p. 346. * Lincoln s Inn. The third upon a Masque in 11 Jac presented by this
< society before the king, at the marriage of the lady Elizabeth his daughter, to tlie prioot
* factor Palatine of the Rhine, which cost no less than mlxxxvi/. Qs. lid** JC,
THE
THE MASQUE
or
THE INNER-TEMPLE AND GRAY'S INN,
GRAY'S INN AND THE INNER-TEMPLE.
THR DEVISE OR ARGUMENT.
JUPITER and Juno, willing to do honour to tlie marriage of the two famous riverii
Thaiuesis and Rhine, employ their messengers severally, Mercury and Iris, for that purpo^.
They meet and contend : then Mercury^ for his part, brings forth an anti-masque all of spirits
or divine natures ; bob yet not of one kind 9r livery (because that had been so much in use
heretofore) but, as it were, in consort, like to broken mu&ic : and preserving the pro. rietj
of the devise ; for that rivers in nature are maintained either by springs from beneath, or
showers from above, ho raiseth four of the Naiades out of the fountains, and briugeth dowo
five of the Hyades out of the clouds, to dance. Hereupon, Iris scoflfs at Mercury, for that
he had deviseil a dance but of one sex, which could have no life : but Mercury, who was
provided for that exception, and in token that the match should be blessed both w th love
and riches, calleth forth out of tiic groves four Cupids, and brings down from Jupiter*s ultar
four statues of ^old and silver to dance with the nymphs and stars: hi whicii dunce, the
Cupids being blind, and the statues having but half liie put into them, and retaining still
somewhat of their old nature, giveth fit occasion to new and stratige varieties both in the
music and paces. This was the first anti-masque.
Then Iris, for her part, in scorn of this higli-flying devise, and in token that the matcli
shall likewise be blessed with the love of the common people, calls to Flora, her confederate
(for that the months of flowers are likewise the months or sweet showers and rainbows; to
bring in a May dance, or rural dance, consisting likewise not of any suited persons, but of a
confusion or commixture of nil such persons as are natural and proper for country sports*
This is the second anti-masque.
Then Mercury and Iris, after this vieing one upon the other, seem to leave their conten-
tion ; and Mercury, by the consent of Iris, brings down the Olympian knights, intimating,
tliat Japiter having, after a long discontinuance, revived the Olympian games, and sum-
moned thereunto from all parts the liveliest^ and activest persons that were, had enjoined
them, before they fell to their games, to do honour to these nuptials. The Olympian games
portend to the match celebrity, victory, ana felicity. Thb was the main mfsque.
The fabric was a mountain with two descents, and severed with two traverses.
At the entrance of the king, the first traverse was drawn, and the lower descent of the
momstaiu discovered, which was the pendant of a hill to life, with divers bosc ages and
grovets upon the steep or hanging grounds thereof; and at the foot of the hill, four delicate
fountains running with water, and bordered with sedges and water flowers.
Iris tirst appeared ; and presently after Mercury , striving to overtake her.
Iris appareled in a robe of discoloured taffeta, figured in variable colours, like the rain-
bow, a cloudy wreath on her head, and tresses.
Mercury in doublet and hose of white taffeta, a white hat, wings on bis shoulders and
feet, his caduceus in his liund, speaking to Iris as fblloweth :
llercury. OTAY, stayl
^ Stay, lightrfoot Iris! for thou
striv'st in vain ;
MAy wings are nimbler than thy feet.
Iris. Away,
Dissembling Mercury! my messi^es
Ask honest haste; not like those wanton ones
Your thundring father sends.
Merc. Stay, foolish maid !
Or I will take my rise upon a hill,
When I perceive thee seated in a cloud,
In all the painted glory that thou hast.
And never cease to clap ray willing v«ingS|
'Till I catch hold of thy discoloured bow,
And shiver it, bejrond the angry power
Of your curst ^ mistress to make up again.
Cur$t;} i. e. Cross, p€cvi$h. The word occurs in Pliiiaster, and several other pbces.
4D3 Iriu
572
A MASQUE.
Iris, HenneSy forbemr! Juno will cliule
and strike.
Is great Jove jealous that I am employed
On ber love-errands ? She did never yet
Clasp weak mortality in her white amis.
As he hath oflen done : 1 only come
To celebrate the lon^wisb^d nuptials
Here in Qlyiapia, which are now performed
' Betwixt two goodly rivers, which have mix'd
Their gentle-rising waves, and are to grow
Jnto a thousand streams, great as tliemselves.
I need not name them, for the sound is loud
In Heav*n and earth; and I am sent from lier,
The queen ofmarriage, that was present here,
A nd smird to see them join, and liatb not chid
Since it was done. Good Hermes, let me go !
Merc. Nay, you must stay; Jove's mes-
' sage is the same, [thunder,
Whose eyes are lightning, and whose voice is
\Vhose breath is any wind he will; who knows
How to be first on earth, as well as Heav'ii.
Iris. But what liath he to do with nuptial
rites?
Let him keep state upon his starry throne,
And fright poor mortals with his thunderbolts,
(saving to us the mutual darts of eyes !
Alerc. Alas, when everoffer'd he t* abridge
Your lady's power, but only now, in these.
Whose match concerns his general govern-
ment?
Hath not each god a part in these high joys?
And shall not he, the king of gods, presmue
Without proud Juno*s licence? Let her know,
Xhat %vnen enamour'd Jove first gave her
power
'To link soft hearts in undissolving bands.
He then foresaw, and to himself reserved,
The honour of this marriage. Thou shalt
stand
Still as a rock, while I, to bless this feast,
Will summon up, with my all-charming rod.
The nymphs of ibun^ins, from whose watry
locks
(Hung witb thed^w of blcs^ng and increase)
'f\\e greedy rivers take their nourishment.
Ye nymphs, who bathing in^our loved springs,
Beheld these rivers in their infancy,
And Joy'd so see them, when tlieir circled
heads
Refresh'd the air, and spread the ground with
.flowers; [feet
Uise from your wells, and with your nimble
Perform that office to this happy pair.
Which in thiese plains you To Alplieus did,
When passing hence, thro* many seas un-
mix'd.
He gain'd the favour of his Arethuse !
Immediately upon whichspeech, four Naiades
arise gently out of their several tbantains,
aiul present themselves upou the stage, at-
tired in long habits of soa<grcen totfeta.
with bubbles of crystal intermixt with
powdering of silver resembliue drops of
water, blewish tresses on their heads, gap-
lands of water-lilies. They fall into ameap'
sure, dance a little, then make a stand.
Iris. Is Hermes grown a lover? Bj what
power,
Unknown to us, calls he the Naiades?
AJerc. Presumptuous Iris, I could make
tliee daace,
Till thou forgot'st thy lady's messages.
And ran*st back crying to her ! Thou shalt
know
My power is more ; only my breath, and tiits^
Shalt move fix'd stars, and force the firtaamem
To yield the Hyades, who govern showers,
And dewy clouds, in whose dispersed drops
Thou fonn*st the shape of thy dec^eitful bow.
Ye maids, who yearly at appointed lines
Advance with kindly tears the gentle floods
Descend, and pour your blessing on thest
streams,
Which, rolling down from UaaVn-ftspirii^
hills.
And BOW united in the fniitful valefl»
Bear all before them, ravish'd with their joy.
And swell in glory, till ihey know no bounds!
Five Hyades descend softly in a clood from
the firmament, to tlic middle part of tb^
hill, appareled in sky-coloured tafleta
robes, spangled like the heavens, golden
tresses, and each a fair star on their head;
from thence descend to tlie stage, at nhose
sight the Naiudc» seeming to rcyoice, meet
and join in a dance.
Iris. Great wit and power hafh Menncs,
to contrive
A lifeless dance, which of one sex consists f
j\:crc. A bis, poor Iris! Venus hath m.
store
A secret nmbusli of her winged hoys;
Who lurking long within tliese plrawBl
groves.
First struck these lovers with their equal dans;
Those Cupids shall come fortii, and join witk
these
To honour tliat which they thenmelves began.
Enter four Cupids from each side of tlie bos-
cage, attired in flame-coloured taffeta clo5«
to iheir body, like naked boys, with boas,
arrows, and win^s of gold; chaplets of
flowers on their licads, hoodwinked with
tiflany scarfs, who join with the nympbs
and the Hyades' in another dance. Thar
ended, Mercur}' speaks.
Merc. Behold the statues which wi«eViiti
can plac'd'
Under the altar of Ol^TOpian Joy,
And gave to them an aruficial iitc^
' Iris. Beholdy 4*c.] The argument, as well as what follows, proves beyond contr^ctioa
that this speech belongs to Mercury^ though hithsrto enooeouBly aUotttia to Zri$^
A MASQUI.
in
Shall dance forjoy of these great nuptial^^.
See how they move, drawn by this heav'nly
like the wild trees, which followed Oq>heus'
harp I
The Statues eoter, supposed to he before de-
scended from Jove's altar, and to have
been prepared in the covert with the Cu-
. pids, attending their call.
These Statues were attired in cases of gold
. and silver close to their bodies, foces,
bands, and feet, nothing seen but gold and
•ilver, as if they had been solid images of
metal, tresses of hair as they had been of
metal embossed, girdles and small aprons
of oaken leaves, as if they likewise had
been carved or moulded out of the metal :
at their coming, the musick changed from
violins to hautboys, cornets, &c., and the
air of the musick was utterly turned into
a soft time, with drawing notes, excel-
lently expressing their natures, and the
measure likewise was fitted unto the same,
and the Statues placed in such several
postures, sometimes all together in the
centre of the danee, and sometimes in the
four utmost angles, as was very graceful,
besides the novelty. And so concluded
the first anti-masque.
Merc. And what will Juno'slris do forlier?
Iris. Just match tliis show, or my inven-
tion fails:
Had It been wortliicr, I would have invok'd
The blazing comets, clouds and falling stars,
And all my kindred meteors of the air.
To have excell'd it ; but I now must strive
To imitate confusion : therefore thou,
Delightful Flora, if tliou ever fclt'st [plants
Encrease of sweetness in those blooming
On which tlie horns of my fair bow decUne,
Send hither all the rural company
Which deck the May-games with theircoun-
Juno will have it so. [try sports !
Tlie second anti- masque rush in, dance their
measure, and as rudely depart ; consisting
of, a Pedant, May Lord, May Lady ; Ser-
vingman,Chambemiaid; a Country Clown,
or Shepherd, Country Wench; an Host,
Hostess; a He-Baboon, She-Baboon; a
He-Fool, She-Fool, ushering them in.
AH these persons,- apj>areled to the life, the
men issuing out of one side of the bos-
cage, and the women from the other.
The musick was extremely well fitted,
having sucli a spirit of country jollity as
can hardly be imagined; but the perpe-
tual laughter and applause was above the
musick.
The dance likewise was of the same strain;
and the dancers, or rather actors, ex«
pressed every one their part so naturally
and aptly, as when a man s eye was caught
with the one, and then past on to the
other, he could not satisfy lumself which
did best. It pleased his majesty to call
for it again at the end, as he did hkewise
for the first anti-masque ; but one of tlie
Statues by that time was undressed.
Merc. Iris, we strive,
Like winds at liberty, who should do worst'
Ere we return. If Juno be the queen
Of marriages, let her give happy way
To what is done, ui honour of the stat«
She governs I
Iris. Hennes, so it may be done
Merely in honour of the state, and these
That now liave prov'd it; not to satisfy
The lust of Jupiter, in having thauks
More than his Juno; if thy snaky rod
Have power to search the Ileav*us, or sound
tlie sea,
Or call together all the ends of earth.
To bring in any thing that may do grace
To us, and these; do it, we shall be pleasM.
Merc. Then know, that from the mouth
of Jove himself, [boxne.
Whose words have wings, and need not to be
I took a message, and f bare it thro*
A thousand yielding clouds, and never stay'd
'Till his hig£ will was done : the Olympian
games,
Which long have slept, at these wished nupti'ils
He pleas'd to have renewed, and all his knights
Are gathered hither, who within their tents
Rest on this lull; upon whose rising head
Behold Jove's altar, and his blessed priest^
Mo\'in^ about it! Come, you holy inen,
And withyour voices draw these youths along,
I'liat'iill Jove*s music call them to theirgames.
Their active sports may give a blest content
1 o those, for whom they are again hegnnr
The main Masque.—The second traverse is
drawn, and the higher ascent to the moun-
tain is discovered ; wherein, upon a level,
after a great rise of the hill, were placed
two pavillions: open in the front otthem,
the pavillions were to sight as of cloth of
gold, and they were trimmed on the inside
with rich armour and military furniture,
hanged up as upon the walls; and behind
the tents tliere were represented, in pro-
spective, the tops of divers other tents, m
if it had been a camp. In these pavillions
were placed fifteen Olympian knights,
upon seats a httle emhowed near the fonn
ot a crescent, and the knights appeared
. ♦ Shall dance for joy afthsse great nuptials :
And gave to than an artificial life.l The transposition of these lines seems indispenttblj
necessary. r
* Who should do worst.] The sense seems to require us to resAmott for worst; \xn\ess it
iBean» which should worst the other.
£ntg
•71
A MASQUE.
first, as consecrated persons, all in veils,
' like to copes, of silver tiffany, gathered,
Mid failing a large compass about them,
and over their heads high mitres, with
long pendants behind falling firom them ;
the mitres were so high, tliat they received
their hats and feathers, that nothing was
seen but veil. In the midst between both
the tents, upon the very cop of the hill,
being a higher level than that of the tents,
was placed Jupiter's altar gilt, with tliree
great tapers upon golden candlesticks
Durnini; upon it ; and the four statues, two
of gold, and two of silver, as supporters,
and Jupiter*s priests in white robes about
iL Upon ' the sight of the king, the
veils of the knights did fall easily from
them, and they appeared in their own
babiu
The Knights* attire. — Arming doublets of
carnation sat tin, embroidered witli blaz.ing
stars of silver plate, with powderin^s of
omailer stars betwixt; gorgets of sdver
mail; long hose of the same, with the
doublets laid with silver lace spangled,
and enriched with embroidery between
the lace; carnation silk stockincy em-
broidered all over; garters ana roses
suitable ; pumps of carnation sattin em-
broidered, as the doublets; hats of the
same stuff, and embroidery cut like a
helmet before, the hinder part cut into
scallops, answering tJie skirts of their
doublets ; tlie bands of the hats w<;re
wreaths of silver in form of garlands of
wild olives, white feathers, with one fall of
carnation ; belts of the same stuff and
embroidered with the doublet; silver
swords; little Italian bands and cuffs
embroidered with silver ; fair long tresses
of hair.
The Priests* habits. — Long robes of white
taffeta ; long white heads of hair ; the high-
priest a cap of white silk shag close to his
head, with two labels at the ears, the
midst rising iu form of a pyramis, in the
top thereof a branch of silver; every,
pncsc playing upon a lute; twelve iu
number.
The Priests descend and sing this song fol-
lowing; after whom the Knights likewise
descend, first laying aside their veils, belts,
and swords.
Shake off your beavy trance.
And leap into a dance.
Such as no mortals use to tread.
Fit only for Apollo
To play to, for the moon to lead.
And all the stars to follow!
The Knights by this time are all descended
and fallen into their place, and then dance
their first measure.
On, blessed youths! for Jove doth pause.
Laying aside his graver laws
For this device:
And at the wedding such a pair.
Each dance is taken for a pray*r^
Each ]|ong a sacrifice.
The Knights dance their second measare.
[Si;^.] More pleasing were these sweet der
lights.
If ladies mov'd as well as knights;
Run every one of you, and catch
A nymph, in honour of this match;
And whisper boldly in ber ear,
Jove will but laugh, if you forswear!
[Chorus.'] And this day's sins, he dotb resoivft
That we his priests should all absolve.
The Kntghts take their ladies to dance with
them galliards, durets, coraatos, &c. and
lead them to their places; then loud mnsirk
sounds, supposed to call tbem to their
Olympian games.
Ye should stay longer if we durst :
Away! Aias, that he that first
Gave time wild wings to fly away.
Hath now no power to make him stay!
But tho' these ^ames must needs be piay'd,
I would this pair, when they are laid.
And not a creature nigh 'em.
Could catch his scythe as he dotb pass.
And cut his wings, and break his glass,
And keep him ever by 'cm.
The Knights dance their parting measure,
and ascend, put on their swords and belts;
during which time, the Priests sing the
fifth and last song.
Peace and silence be the guide
To the man, and to the bride !
If there be a joy jret new
In marriage, let it fall on you.
That all the world may wonder!
If we should stay, we should do worse.
And turn our blessing to a curse.
By keeping you asunder.
This Masque is here printed from the quarto edition. All the other copies of it ue
•Ktremely erroneous and imperfect: none of the descriptive parts are inserted in them; and
to point out the bfunders aad other omissions, would require almost as many notes as tbt
Masque coutaios lines.
FOUR
FOUR PLAYS,
OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS,
IN ONE.
This Drama was first printed in the folio edition. No circumstances appear to oscrilie il in
particular to either Author; it was probably a joint production.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
EwANUELy King qf Portugal and Castile.
Isabella, hu Queen. Ispectaton of the Plaj^ at the CeUbrution tf the
K;:L, a Courier. ( ^V.^^-^-
RiNALDO, hU Acquatntance.
THE TRIUMPH OF HONOUR.
Martius, a Roman GeneraL
Valerius, his Brother.
Sophocles, Duke of Athens.
NicoDEMUS, a cowardly Corporal,
Cornelius, a WittolSutler,
Captain.
Diana.
Dorigen, Sophocles*$ Wife^ the example of
chastity.
Florence, Wife to Cornelius.
THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE.
Cupid.
KiNALDO, Duke of Milan.
Angelina, Wifk toBenvoglio.
V^iolante, herDaughteTf Uerrard'sMistreu
DoROTBEA, Vioiante*s Attendant.
Cornelia, the obscured Duchess*
THE TRIUMPH OF DEAllI.
DcKE OP Anjou.
Lavall, his lustful Heir.
Gen TILL E, a Courtier, Father to Perolot,
Perolot, contracted to Gabriella,
Two Gentlemen.
A Spirit.
Shalloon E, Servant to Lavall.
Gabriella, the despised Wife ffLamllf
IIellena, his second Wife.
Casta, Daughter to Gentillc.
Maria, a Servant attending on Gabriella^
Jupiter.
JVIercury.
PLUTUS.
Time.
Atropos.
l>£bI&E.
THE TRIUMPH OF TIME.
Vain-Delioht.
Bounty.
Poverty.
Honesty.
Simplicity.
Fame.
inter
57a
FOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE.
Enter Frigoso^ [Noise within.']
Trl A WAY with those bald-pated nisoiils
/^ there!
Their wits are bound up in Tellum ; they are
Not current here, Down with tliose city
gentlemen ! &c. [their wives
Out with those cuckolds, I say, and in wiih
At the back duor ! Worship and place, I an
weary of ye ;
Ye lie on my shoulders like a load of gold
On an ass's back. A man in authority
Is but as a candle in the wind, sooner wasted
Or blown out, than ooder a bushel. — How
now !
What's tlie matter? who are you, sir?
Enter Rinaldo,
JUn. Who am I, sir?
Why, do you not know me ?
Fri. No, by my faith, do I not.
Hin. I am sure we diu'd together to-day.
Fri. That's aU one : [paid
As I diii'd with you in the city, aad as you
For my dinner there, I do know you, and am
Beholding to you: but as my mii^ is since
Transmigrated into my office, and as you oomc
To court to have me pay you again, and be
Beholding to me, I know you not,
1 know you not !
Jlin. Way, but look you, sir!
Fri, Pardon me! (years.
If you had been my bedfellow these seven
And lent me money to buy my place, I must
Not transgress principles : this very talking
With you is an ill example.
Rin. Pibh !
You are too punctual a courtier, sir !
Why, I'm a courtier too ; yet never understood
The place or name to be so infectious
To humanity and manners, as to cast
A ninn into a burning pride and arrogance.
For which there is no cure. I am a courtier,
And yet I will know my friends, I tell you.
Fri. And I tell you.
You will thrive accordingly, t warrant you.
Rin. But, hark you, signor Frigoso ! you
shall first understand,
2 have no friends with me to trouble yoa.
Fri. Humh ! that's a good modre.
Rin. Nor to borrow qaoney of you.
Fri. That's an excellent motive.
Jim. No, my sweet don,
Kor to ask what you owe me.
Fri. Why, that
Is the very motive of motives why I ought
' Prologues are had huishers before the wise.l If prologues are bad hutsliers, bow doei
the consequence follow, that therefore an huisher or usher should prolognise ? I believe M
a corruption, and that we should read but, which renders the whole easy and intelligtble.
Serard.
The present text is from 'the first edition. Bare seems used in the sense of butf or mere.
It is a(60 sense^ iu the ucception o(uncQveredf ia this place.
Here'i
And will know thee : and if I had not woirod
tlice [thee
Up to this promise, I would not have known
These fifteen years, no tnore than the arrantcst
Or most fouuder'd Castilian that
Followed our new queen's carriages a-foot.
/'HiraT Nor for any thing, dear don, hut that
I you would [oight.
k^lace me conveniently to see the play to*
1E9I. That shall I, signor Uinaldo.
But would you had come sooner: yea see
How full the scafiblds are ! there is scant room
For a lover's thought here.—- Gentlewomen,
Sit close, for shame I Has none of ye
A little corner for this gentleman ?
I'll place you, fear not. And how didourbcavfl
king
Of Portugal, Emanuel, bear himself to-day ?
You saw the solemnity of the marriage.
Rin. Why, like a fit husband forso|^cioia
And excellent a princess, as his worthy
Mate Isabella, tlie kmg of Castile s daug^etj
Doth, in her very external lioeanBcnfe^
Mixture of colours, and joining dove-like be<
haviour.
Assure herself to be. And I protest.
My dear don, seriously,! can sing
Proplieticnlly nothing but blessed hymni^
Ana happy occasions to this sacred union
Of Portugal and Castile, which have so wisely
And mutually conjoined two such virtuous
And beautitul princes as these are; and ia
all opinion,
Like to multiply to their very last minute.
jFVi. The king is entering : signor, bovei
hereabout ;
And as soon as the train is set, clap into me;
We'll stand near the state. If you have
Any creditora here, they shall renew [toucl)
Bonds a ttf^t^eiBonth on such a sight : butta
The pomel of the king's chair, in the sight
Of a citizen, is better security
For a thousand double-ducats, thask three
Of the best merchants in Lisbon. Beskici,
aigaor, Cp^J[ ^'^i
We will censure, not only the king in dx
That reigns his-two hours, but the king himself
That is to rule his life-time. Take mj coufr
sell— [bly,
I have one word to say to this noble assem*
And I am for you.
Rin. Your method shall govern me«
Fri, Prologues are huishersbare before tbi
wise/;
Why may not then a huisher prologntse?
POUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE.^ $77
Here*s a fair sight ; and were ye oftner seen
Thus gathered here, 'twould please our king
and queen.
Upon my cooscience, ye are welcome all
To Lisbon, and the court of Portugal;
"Wliere your fair eyes shall feed on no worse
sights
Than preparations made for kings' delights.
We wjsh to men content, the manliest trea-
sure;
And to the women, their own wish'd-fbr
pleasure! [Flourish,
£nter Emanuel and liabella, Lords, and
Attendants,
Eman, Fair fountain of my life, from
whose pure streams
The propagation of two kingdoms flows,
Never contention rise in either's breast,
^Mt contestation whose love shall be best!
hab, Majestick ocean, that with plenty
feeds
Me, thy poor tributary rivulet;
Sun of ray beauty, that with radiant beams
Dost gild and dance upon these humble
streams ;
Curs'd be my birth-hour, and my ending day,
When back your love-floods I forget to pay!
Or if this breast of mine, your crystal brook.
Ever take other form in, other look
But yours, or e'er produce unto your grace
A strange reflection, or another's face.
But be your love-book clasp'd, open'd to
none
But you, nor hold a story, but your own;
A water fix'd, that ebbs nor floods pursue,
Prozen to all, only dissolved to you !
Eman, Oh, who shall telJ the sweetness of
our love
To future times, and not be thought to lie ?
I look thro' this hour like a perspecti\'e.
And far off" see millions of prosperous seeds.
That our reciprocal afiection breeds.
Thus, my white rib, close i n my breast with me,
Which nought shall tear hencSe, but mortality !
Ijords. Be kingdoms blest in you, you blest
in them! [Flourish."
Fri. Whist! signer! My strong imagination
Shews me love, methinks, bathing in milk
A nd wine in her cheeks. Oh, how she clips him.
Like a plant of ivy !
Rin, Ay ; could not you be content
To be an owl in such an ivy-bush,
Or one of the oaks of the city, to be so dipt?
FrL Equivocal don, tho' Hike the clipping
well,
I could not be content either to be your owl.
Or youj^ ox of tlie city.—The play begins.
[Flourish
' Enter a Poet toith a Garland.
Poet Prologue. Low at your s!icred feet
our poor muse lays
Her, and her thunder-fearless verdant bays.
Four several Triumphs to your princely eyes, y
Of Honour, Love, Death, and Time, clc» rise
From our approachingsubject; which we move
Triw'rds you with fear, since that a sweeter
A brighter honour, purer chastity, [love,
Maiich in your breasts this day triumphantly.
Than our weak scenes can sbe^v : then how
dare we
Present, like apes and zanies, things that be
Exemplified in you, but that we know
We ne'er crav'd grace which you did not
bestow ?
Enter in triumph zoith Drums, Trumpets,
(A)lours, MartiuSj Valerius, Sophocles
bound, Nicodemus, Cornelius, Captains and
Soldiers.
Mar. What means proud Sophocles ?
Soph. To go even with Marti us.
And not to follow him like his officer:
I never waited yet on any man.
Mar. Why, poor Athenian duke, thou
art my slave ;
My blows have conquer'd thee.
Soph, Thy slave, proud Martins?
Cato thy countryman (whose constancy.
Of all the Romans, I did honour most)
Ripp'd iiimself twice to avoid slavery,
Making himself his own anatomy.
But look thee, Martins; not a vein runs here
From head to foot, but Sophocles would
unseam, and
Like a spring-garden 3 shoot his scornful blood
Into their eyes, durst come to tread on him.
As for thy blows, they did not conquer me :
Seven battles have I met thee face to fece.
And given thee blow for blow, and wound
for wound, [tire :
And, 'till thou taught'st me^, knew not to re-
Thy sword was then as hold, thy arm as strong;
Thy blows then, Martius, cannot conquer me.
Val. What is it then ?
Soph, Fortune.
Val. Why, yet in that
Thou art the worse man, and must follow him.
Soph. Young sir, you err : if fortune could
be caird
Or his, or yours, or mine, in good or evil.
For any certain space, thou hsuist spoke truth;
But she but jests with man, and in mischance
Abhors all constancy, flouting him still
With some small touch of good, or seeming
good.
Midst of his mischief; which vicissitude
' And like a spring garden.] Spring-OATLDi^v appears to be corrupt. Perliaps the line
should run, "^
And like a spring gun shoot, &c.
♦ Thou taught'st me.] 'fhe context seems to require fate taught me, or words to that
* VOL. III. 4E jy,k,.
578
FOUE PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE.
Makes him strait doff his armour, and his
fence
He had prepar'd before, to break her strokes.
So from the very zenith of her wlieel.
When she has dandled some choice favourite,
Giv*n him his boons in women, honour,
wealth.
And all the various delicacies of earth,
That the fool scorns the gods in bis excess,
She whirls, and leaves him at th' AntifKules.
Mar. Art sure we have taken him ? is this
Sophocles ?
His fetter'd arms say no ; his free soul, ^y.
This Athens nurseth arts, as well as arms.
Soph. Nor glory, Martius, in this day of
thine !
Tis behind yesterday, but before to-morrow;
Who knows what fortune then will do with
thee?
She never yet could make the better man.
The better chance she has: the man that's
best .
She still contends with, and dotli favour least.
Mar, Rethinks, a graver thunder than
the skies
Breaks from his lips : I am amaz'd to hear;
And Athens' woras> more than her swords
do fear. [Aside.
Slave Sophocles —
Soph, MartinsScouldst thou acquire
And did thy Roman gods so love thy prayers
And solemn sacrifice, to grant thy suit
To gather all the valour of the Caesars
Thy predecessors, and what is to come,
And by their influence fling it on th^e-now,
Thou couldst not make my mind go less, not
pare
With all their swords one virtue from my soul :
How am I vassal'd then ? make such thy slaves,
As dare not keep their goodness past their
graves.
Know, general, we two are chances on
The die of Fate ; now thrown, thy six is up,
And my poor one beneath thee ; next, the
throw
May set me upmost, and cast thee below.
Mar, Yet will I try thee more:' calamity
[Aside.
Is man's true touchstone. — Listen, insolent
prince.
That dar'st contemn the master of thy life,
Which I will force here Yore thy city-walb
With barbarous cruelty, and call thy wife
To see it, and tlien after send her —
StmA. Ha, ha, ha! [ground.
Mar, And then d^nolish Athens to the
Depopulate her, fnght away her fame.
And leave succession neither stone nor n
Sofh, Ha, ha, ha!
Mar, Dost thou deride me?
VaL Kneel! ask Martius
For mercy, Sophocles, and live happy atili !
Soph, Kneel, and ask mercy? Iloman, art
Bgod?
I never kneel'd, or begg'd, of any else.
Thou art a fool ! and I will lose no more
Instructions on thee, now I And thy ears
\SoUmn mudek,
. Enter Dorigen, Ladies hearing d SmartL
Are foolish, like thy tongue. — My Dor^eii
Oh, must she sec me bound ?
1 Capt, There's the first sigh
He breathed since he was born, I think,
2 Capt, Forbear,
All but the lady his wife !
Soph. How my heart chides
The manacles of my hands, that let them oot
Embrace my Dorigien !
Val, Torn but thy face.
And ask thy life of Martius thus, and tfaoa.
With thy fair wite, shalt live ; Athens sball
stand.
And all her privileges augmented be.
Soph. Twere better Athens perishM, and
my \»!fe
(VVhich, Romans, I do know a wortliy one),
Than Sophocles i»hould shrink of Sophocle^
Commit profane idolatry, by giving [ma^!
The reverence due to gods co thee, blowii
Mar, Rough; stubborn cynick!
Soph. Thou art rougher far,
And of a coarser wale, fuller of pride.
Less temperate to bear prosperity. ftbee
Thou seest my mere neglect hath rai»'d in
A storm more boistrous than the ocean's;
^My virtue, patience, makes thee vicious.
Mar, Why, fair-ey'd lady, do you kneel?
Dor. Great genend, [maid
Victorious, godlike Martius, your poor band-
Kneels, for her husband will not, cannot;
speaks
' Soph. MartiuSy slave Sophocles^ couldst thou acquin?.] A transposition here has rendered
this absolute darkness. Martius being struck with admiration at Sophoclei% intrepidity, u
resolved to put it to a fartlier trial by scofls and insults ; he therefore begins with calling
him sla;oey as the answer evidentl;^ shews. There is therefore scarce a doubt of the true
reading being as the text is now reformed, making the first *part of the speech spoke aside,
and then.
Slave Sophocles.
Soph. Martius, couldst thou acquire^ &c.
But there is, I believe, a great corruption still remaining in the word acquire^ to acquire to
gather y is bad Bnghsh; besides as the sentence stands, the acquisition precedes the prayers,
^is therefore most probable that the true word is aspire^ which seems ckar of all ob-
jections. Seward,
A/cquire is, in our opinion, preferable.
Tliu^
POUR PLAYS^ Oil MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE, 670
I>w. He would not beg to live :
When he shall so forget, then I begin
To command, Martius : and when he kneels,
Dorigen stands; when he lets fiill a tear,
I dry mine eyes, and scorn him.
Mar. Scorn him now then,
Here in the face of Athens and thy friends !
Self-will*d, stiff Sophocles, prepare to die.
And by that sword thy lady honoured me,
With which herself stall follow. Romans,
friends, [with me
Who dares but strike this stroke, bhail part
Half Athens, and my half of victory.
CapL By Heaven, not wc !
Nic. Com. We two will do it, sir.
Soph, Away, yc fish-facM rascals !
Val. Martius, [fame^;
To eclipse this great eclipse labours thy
Valerius thy brother shall for once
Turn executioner : give me thy sword.
Now, Sophocle!), Fli strike as suddenly
As thou dar*st die.
Soph. Thou canst not I and, Valerius,
rris less dishonour to thee thus to kill me,
Than bid me kueel to Martius : 'tis to murder
The fame of living men^, which great ones do
Their studies strangle; poison makes away,
The wretched hangman only ends tbe play.
VaL Art thou prepared ?
Soph. Yes.
VaL Bid thy wifeiarewell !
Soph. No; 1 will take no leave !— -My Do»
rigen,
Yonder above, 'bout Ariadne's crown.
My spirit sluill hover for thee; prithee haste!
l>or. Stay, Sophocles ! with this tie up my
sight :
Let not soft Nature so transformed be
(And lose her gentler^ex'd humanity)
Thus humbly , that he may not. Listen, Roman !
Thou whose advanced front doth speak thee
Roman
To every nation, and whose deeds assure it i
Behold a princess, whose declining head,
Xike to a drooping lily after storms.
Bows to thy feet, and playing here the slave.
To keep her husband's greatness unabated ;
All which doth make thy conquest greater !
for,
If he be base in aught whom thou hast taken,
Then Martius hath but taken a base prize :
But if this jewel hold lustre and value,
lAartius is richer than in that he hath won«
Oh, make him such a captive as thyself
Unto another wouldst, great captain, be !
Till then, he is no prisoner fit for thee.
Mar. Valerius, here is hannony would hnve
brought [Jove
Old crabbed Saturn to sweet sleep, when
Did first incense him with rebellion !
Athens doth make women philosophers ;
And sure their children chat the l«iik of gods«
VaL Rise, beauteous Dorigen !
Dor. Not until I know
The general's resolution.
VaL One soft word
From Sophocles would cahn him into tears.
Like gentle showers after tempestuous winds.
Dor. To buy the worid, he will not give a
word, [ment,
A look, a tear, a knee, 'gainst bis own judg*
And the divine composure of his mind:
All which I therefore do; and here present
This victor's wreath, this rich Athenian sword,
Trophies of conquest, which, great Martius,
wear.
And be appeas'd ! Let Sophocles still live I
Mar. He would not live..
* To eclipse this great eclipse labours thy fame.] This is so obscure, that many readers may
think it requires an explication. The sense seems to be — Sophocles, whilst he lives, will be
» great eclipse to thy tame, and thy fame is now labouring to eclipse him in thy turn, there-
fore thy brother shall be his executioner. Seward.
' ^ '2Vf to murder
The fame of thing men, which great ones do;
Thetr studies strangle^ poison makes ascay,
The wretched hangman onitf ends the play."] Though false pointings ha:ve rendered this
quite dark, yet if the printers have not made soin/e mistake that I cannot discover, tlie poet
btmself was ^^ry obscure, and however proper the sentiment, 'tis certainly ill exp^ssed. By
making the first part of the sentence end at strangle, tlie following sense may be deduced
from it. To make their fellow-creatures kneel to them, as great men frequently do, is worse
Uian murdering them ; it renders them servile and slavish, debases them below the dignity
of their nature, murders therefore their fame and fetters, and strangles their studies, i. e. tlie
five exertions of their rational faculties. Whereas poison makes away or destroys a man
without injuring his fame, or diminishing the dignity of his soul ; and the wretched despi-
cable hangman only puts an end to tiie part we act upon the stage of this world. This sen-
timent is continued and improved in Sophocle/s next speech upon death. Seward,
Probably we should point,
—which great ones do
Their studies strangle.
The sense is, * You will dishonour me less by killing me, than bidding me kneel to Mar-
' tius. Great men exert themselves to murder t^ fame of the living ; which is greater
* cruelty than poison or hanging, which but concludes our misery/ The expression^ how-
ever, in any sense, is certainly obscure.
4Ea To
580
FOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE.
To make me see my lord bleed! — So! 'tis
well :
Ne%'cr one object underneath the sun
Will I behold before my Sophocles.
Farewell ! Now teach the Romans how to die.
Mar, Dost know what 'tis to die i
Soph. Thou dost Dot, Martius,
And therelbre not what 'tis to live. To die
Is to begin to live : it is to end
An old stale weary work, and to commence
A newer and a better: *tis to leave
Deceitful knaves, for the society [part
Of gods and goodness : thou thyself must
At last from all thy garlands, pleasures,
triumphs,
And prove thy fortitude, what then 'twill do.
Vat. But art not griev'd nor vex'd to leave
life tliuS ? {sent
Soph, Why should I grieve or vex for being
To them I ever lov'd best? Now I kneel;
But with my back towards thee. Tis the last
This trunk can do the gods. [duty
Mar. Strike, strike, Valerius, ,
Or Martins' heart will leap out at his mouth !
This is a man; a woman ! Kiss thy lord,
And live with all the freedom you were wont.
Oh, Love ! thou doubly hast afflicted me,
With virtue and with beauty. Treacherous
heart.
My hand shall cast thee quick into my uni,
Ere thou transgress this knot of piety.
Val. What ails my brother?
Soph. Martius, oh, Martins !
Thuu now hast found a wav to conquer me.
Dor. Oh, star of Rome f what gratitude
can speak «
Fit words to follow such a deed as this ?
Mar. Doth Juno talk, or Dorigen ?
Val. You are observ'd.
Mar. This admirable duke, Valerius,
With his disdain of fortune, and of death,
CaptivM himself, hath captivated me:
And tho' my arm hath ta en his body here,
His soul hath subjugated Martius* soul :
By Komulus, he is all soul, I think I
He haih no fle^h, and spirit can't be g^v'd :
Then we have vanquish d nothing; he is free,
And Martius walks now in captivity.
Soph, How faies the noble Roman? ,
Mar. Why?
Dor. Your blood [eyes
Is suuk down to your heart, and your bright
Have lost their splendor.
Mar. Baser fires go out
When the sun shines on em. — I am not well ;
An apoplectick fit I use to have',
After my heats in war carelessly coord.
Soph' Martius shall rest in Athens with hit
friends, [Roman!
Till this distemper leave him. Oh, great
See Sophocles do that for thee he could not
Do for himself, weep. Martius, by the gpda,
It grieves me that so brave a soul should suffer
Under the body's weak infirmity.
Sweet lady, take him to thy loving charge.
And let thy care be tender.
Dor. Kingly sir,
I am your nurse and servant.
Mar, Ob, dear lady, [Heav'n !
My mistress, nay, my deity ! Guide me.
Ten wreaths triumphant Martius will give.
To change a Martius for a Sophocles :
Can it not be done,Valerius, wuli thia boot' ?
Inseparable afiection, ever thus
Colleague with Athens Rome!
Dor, Beat warlike tunes.
Whilst Dorigen thus honours Martius' brow
With one victorious wreath more !
Soph, And Sophocles
Thus girds his swurd of conquest io his thigh.
Which ne'er be drawn, but cut out victory I
Lords. For ever be it thus ! \^Ex€unt»
Corn. Corporal Nicodemus,
A word with you.
Nic. My worthy sutler
Cornelius, it befits not Nicodemus
The Roman officer to parley with
A fellow of thy rank ; th* afiuirs of the empire
Are to be occupied.
Corn, Let the afiairs of
The empire lie awliile unoccupied !
Sweet Nicodemus, I do require the money at
Thy hands, which thou dost owe me; and if
fair means
Cannot attain, force of arms shall accomplish.
Nic, Put up, and live.
; Com, I have put up too mucii already,
Thou corporal of concupiscence ; for I
Suspect thou hast dishonoured my flock-bed^
/Vnd with thy foolish eloquence, and that
Bewitching face of thine, drawn my wife,
The young harlotry baggage, to prostitute
Herself unto thee. Draw, therefore ; fortboit
Shalt find thyself a mortal corporal ! [will
Nicf Stay thy dead-doing hand, and lienr: I
Rather descend from my honour, and argue
These contumelies with thee, than djttch ihee
(Poor fly) io these eaglet claws of mine ; or
draw
My sword of fafeeon a peasant, a besognio'^
A cocoloch, as thou art. Thou sbmlt
Fii-st understand this foolish eloquence.
And intolerable beauty of mine
(Both which, I protest, are merely natoral)
* yln apoplectick ^^] Whether there is any lesser d^ree of the apoplexy that does not de-
prive a man of his senses, I am not physician enough to know; but to make a man aocos-
.tomed to apoplectick fits seems improper, since the third stroke is generally held fiual. I
rather believe the poets wrote epilepticky a distemper that Sliakespeare from history ^?cs(»
two very great soldiers, Julius C«sar and Henrjf I v . Sewtu'd,
^ With this boot;] i. e. With this advantage in exchange.
'° Besognio.] See note 1% on the Martial Maid.
' Alt
FOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE.
591
Are the gifts of the godsi with which I have
Neither sent bawdy sonnet, nor amorous
glance,
Or (as the vulgar call it) a sheep's eye
To tlty betrothed Florence.
Corn. Thou liest ! [bom
Nic. Oh, gods of Rome, was Nicodemus
To bear these braveries from a poor provant?
Yet when dogs bark, or when the asses bray,
The lion laughs; not roars, but goes his way.
Corn. A pox o'your poecical vein ! this
versifying [Cod*s-head,
"My wife has horniiied me. Sweet corporal
No more standing on your punctilio's and
punketto's [truth is,
Of honour, tliey are not worth a louse ; the
Thou art the general's bigamy, that is,
His fool, and his knave ; thou art miscreant
And recreant; notan horse-boy in the legions,
But has beaten thee; thy beginning was
knap-sack,
And tiiy ending will be halter-sack".
Nic. Methinks
I am uo<v Sophocles the wise, and thou
Art Martius the mad.
Com. No more of your tricks.
Good corporal Leather-cbopb ! 1 say thou hast
Dishonour'd me; and since honour uow-a-days
^s only repaired by money, pay me,
And I am satisfied; even reckoning keeps
Long friends.
Nic. Let us continue friends then.
For I have been even witli th^'en long time;
And tho' I have not paid thee, I've paid thy
wife. [flower'd her, Tarquin !
Corti. Flow forth, my tears ! thou Imstde-
The garden of my delight, hedged about,
III which there was but one bowling-aUey
For mine own private procreation, [hedge,
Thou hast, like a thief. I'th' night, leaped the
Enter'd my alley, and without my privity
Played thiue own rubbers, [snore ?
Nic. How long shall patience thus securely
Is it nay fault, if these attractive eyes
This budding chin, of rosy-colour'd cheek,
This comely body, and this waxen leg.
Have drawn her into a fool's paradise ?
By Ctipid's god-head I do swear (no other**)
She's chaster far than Lucrece, her grand-
mother ;
Pure as glass-window, ere the rider dash it*',
Whiter than lady's smock, whtfn she did iva<3h •
it: [command ress)
For well thou wot*st (tho' now my heart's
I once was free, and she but the camp's
laundress. [part
Com. Ay; she then came sweet to me; no
About herbut smelt of soap-suds; likeadryad
Out of a wash-bowl**. Pray, or pay !
Nic. Hold ! [nyivorths small ?
Corn. Was thy cheese mouldy, or thy pen-
Wab not thy ale the mightiest of the earth in
malt, [bed solt, and
And thy stupe fill'd like a tide ? was not thy
Thy bacon fatter than a dropsy? Come, sir!
Nic. Mars then inspire me with the fencing
skill
Of our tragedian actors ! Honour pricks ;
And, sutler, now I come with thwacks and
th wicks. [lavalto fall ;
Grant us one crush, one pass, and now a high
Then up again, now down again, yet do no
harm at all !
Enter Florence.
Flor, Oh, that ever I was bom ! why, gent !
Corn. Mees^dine of Rome ;
Away, disloyal concubine ! I will
Be deafer to thee than thou art to others;
I will have [rant whore
My hundred drachma's he owes me, thou ar*
Flor. I know he is an hundred drams o'th'
score'*; [nelius!
But what o' that ? no bloodshed, sweet Cor*
Oh, my heart! o'my conscience, 'tis fall'n
thorow [Dicfjmfius,
The bottom of my belly ! Oh, my sweet
If either of ye miskill one another.
What will become of poor Florence? Pacify
Yourselves, I pray !
Corn. Go to ! my heart's not stone ;
I am not marble : dry your eyes, Florence ! —
The scurvy ape's face knows my blind side
well enough.—
" And thy ending will he halter-sack.] The junction of sack and halter here, is only to
preserve a jingle of words without meaning. We may, perhaps, restore a quibble with
some little sense in it, if we read halter-sick. Seward.
'* jBv Cupid's I do swear (no other).] With this hiattis the line has been hitherto
printed ; btno or arrow were probably the original, but what is (no other^, and why in a pa-
renthesis iL The parenthesis, 1 believe, belongs to I do swear; and the msertion of the pre-
position Oy makes out a comic hobbling verse.
By Cupid's bow (I swear bi/ no other). Seward,
A hiatus is not likely to hav^ been put for bow or arrow, but very likely for the word we
have inserted, which equally suits sense, measure, and' parenthesis.
■' Ere the rider dash it.] Unless dash is here used in the sense of splash with dirt, this
passage seems uninteihgible. R.
■♦ Like a dryad out of a wash-bowl.] This was probably a designed mistake of dryad for
naiad, and therefore Mr. byropson, who quarrels with the printer for making the author talk
so improperly, seems to be angry without reason. It i& not the author but OomeUus talks
nonsense. Sewt/rd.
'^ Drachma's o' th' score.] So former copies.
Leave
589
FOUR PL.\YS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE.
Have lost roy fame and aatore. [£aw. C^,]
— Athens, Athens^ - .
This Dori^en is thy Paladiam f
lie that will sack thee, mim betray her first,
Whose words wound deeper than her fans-
band's sword;
Her eyes make captive still the oonqoerory
And here they keep Iter only to thiU end.
Oh, subtle devil, what a goidea ball
Did tempt, when thoa didst cast her in my
way! [to field
Why, foolish Sophocles, bronghc'st uioii not
Thy i&dy, that thou might^st have overcome?
Martins had kneeFd, and yielded all hii
wreaths
That hang like jewels on the seven -fold hifl,
And bid Rome send him out to fight wiih
men, [Fate
(For that she knew he durst) and not *ptiml
Or deities ; what mortal conquers them *
Insatiate Julius, when his victories
Had run o'er half the world, had tie met her,
There he had stopped the legend of his deeds.
Laid by his arms^ been overcome himself.
And let her vanquish th* other half; and Fame
Made beauteous Dorigen the greater name.
Shalt I thus Mif I wiU notf no; iny tears,
Cast on my heart, shall quench these lawl«i
fires:
He conquers beat, conquers his lewd desires.
Enter Dorigerif with Ladies.
Dor, Great sir, my lord commands me
visit you ;
And thinks your retir*d melancholy proceeds
From some distaste of worthless* entertain-
ment, [d'ye do, w?
Wiirt please you take your chamber ? How
Mar. Lost, lost again ! the wild rage of my
blood
Doth ocean-like overflow the shallow shoit,
Of my weak virtue : my desire's a vane.
That the least breath from herturns every way.
Dor, What says my lord ?
Mar, Dismiss
Your women, pray, and I'll reveal my grieC
Dor, Leave me ! [Exeunt Ladks.
*^ Go thy ways, and provide the cow's vdderJ] As all the rest of the speech is a burlesque
sublimity of stile, and the whole was easily restored to its droll measure, there is reason tt»
suspect this sudden fall of stile and loss of metre to arise firomsome omissions, which, I hope,
will be restored. There is no pariicular propriety in her providing a am^s udder rather than
any other disli ; but as milk is the emblem of ]>eace, and she is immedtotely after called
Lily of concord, there is great humour in celebrating thefr treaty of friendship by^a libatioa
of milk to the goddess of Peace. I read therefore,
■ which in sign of amity
I thus take off again, go thy ways, and
Provide the friewify juice of the cow's udder. SewBtd,
This is an unwarrantable alteration ; and the measure maybe preserved without it. Jwks
of the UDDEK is too bad.
'^ J cry your wishes mercy.'] If this be genuine, the meaning is, I beg pardon of your ex-
pectations, in which you are already a knight. But it will be more intelligible to read wth
thip^s mercy, Ke calls him afterwards before Martins^
His worship Sir Nicodemus. Seward.
** There seems in this scene to be toint indiffeteni imitation of Shakespeare's Pisl^ &c.
Mar.
Leave your puling : • will this content you ?
let him taste [take off again.
Thy nether lip; which, in sign of amity, I thus
Go thy ways, and provide the cow's udder'^.
Nic. Lily of concord ! — And now, honest
sutler, [ture.
Since I Ve had proof as well of thy good na-
As of thy wife s before, I will acquaint thee
With a project shall fully satisfy thee
For thy debt. Thou sbalt understand,
I'm. shortly to be knighted.
Com. The devil thou art !
Nic. Renounce me else! for the suste-
nance of which worship [nance)
(Which worship many times wants suste-
I have here the genend's grant to have the
Two hundred men. [leading of
Corn, You jest, you jest !
Nic. Refuse me else to the pit. [self?
Corn, Mercy on us! ha'you not forgot your-
By your swearing you should be knighted
already.
Nic. Damn me, sir^ here*s his hand !
Read it.
Com. Alas, I cannot.
Nic. I know that. —
T has pleased the general to look upon [in
My service. Now, sir, shall you Join with me
Petitioning for fifty men more, m regard
Of my arrearages to you ; which, if granted,
I will bestow th' whole profit of those fifty
Men on thee, and thine heirs for ever,
Till Atropos do cut this simple thread.
Corn, No more, dear corporal ! Sir Nico-
demus [cy*' !
That shall be ! I cry your worship's mer-
I am your servant, body and goods.
Moveables and immoveables ; use my house,
Use my wife, use me, abuse me, do what you
list. [an old pass,
Nic. A figment is a candied lie : this is
Mark, what follows'* ! [Exeunt.
Enter Martius and Two Captains.
Mar. Pray leave me ! you are Romans,
honest men ;
Keep me not company ; I am turn'd knave.
FOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE.
583
Mar, Long udes of love (whilst love itself
Might be enjoy'd) are lauguisbiog delays. -
There is a secret stnmge lies in my breast,-
I will partake with you, which much coq«>
cerns
Your lord, yourself, and me. Oh!
Dor. Strange secrets, sir,
^ould not be made so cheap to strangers; yet
If your strange secret do no lower lie
Than in your breast, discover it.
Mar, I will.
Oh! can yoo not see it, lady, in my sighs?
Dor» Sighs none can paint, and therefore
who can see? [Alcides,
Mar. Scorn me not, Dorigen, with mocks !
That roaster*d monsters, was by beauty
tam'd;
Omphale smil'd his club out of his hand.
And made him spin her smocks. Oh, sweet,
I Jove you ;
And I love Sophocles : I must enjoy you ;
And yet I would not injure him.
Dor, Let go! [Maxtius?
Yon hurt me, sir! Farewell !— Stay ! is this
i will not tell my lord : heMl swear I lie ;
X)oubt my fidelity, before thy honour.
How hast thou vex'd the gocfs, that they
would let thee
Thus violate friendship, hospitality,
And all the bonds of sacred piety'' ?
Sure thou but try'st mp, out of love to him.
And wouldst reject me if I did consient.
Oh, Martins, Martins! wouldst thou in one
minute
Blast all thy laurels, which so many years
Thou bast been purchasing with blood and
sweat ?
Hath Dorigen never been written, read.
Without the epithet of chaste^ chaste Do-
rigen,
And wouldst thou fall upon her chastity.
Like a black drop of ink, to blot it out?
When men shall read the records of thy
valour.
Thy hirherto-brave virtue, and approach
(Highly content vet) to this foul assault
Included in this leaf, tliis ominous leaf.
They shall throw down the book, and read
no more,
Tho' the best deeds ensue, and all conclude
That raveird tlie whole story*^, whose sound
heart [leprous part.
(Which should have been) prov'd the most
Mar, Ob, thou confiit'st divinely, and thy
words
Do fall like rods upon me ! but they have
Such silken lines and silver books, that I
Am faster snar'd: my love 1ms ta'en such hold,
That (like two wrestlers) tho' thou stronger
be,
And bast cast me, I hope to pull thee iift«r :
I must, or perish.
Dor, Perish, Martins, then!
For I here vow anto the gods, these rocks,
These rocks we see so fix'd, shall be remov'd.
Made champain field, ere I so impious prove.
To stain my lord's bed with adultrous love.
Enter Valerius,
Vol, The gods protect fair Doiigea!
Dor, Amen!
From all you wolvish Romans! [ExiU
Val. Ha! what's this? fdoubts
Still, brother, in your moods? — Oh, then my
Are truths. Have at it! I must try a way
To be resolv'd.
Mar, How strangely dost thou look?
What aii'st thou ?
Fa/. What aU'st thou?
Mar: Why, I am mad. [thy sword,
Val, Wh^r, I am madder! — Martins, draw
And lop a villain from the earth ; for if
Thou wilt not, on some tree about this place
rU hang myself! Valerius shall not live
To wound his bfother*s honour, stain his
country.
And branded with ingratitude to all times ^^.
Mar, For what can all this be ?
Val, I am in love.
Mar, Why, so am L With whom? ha?
Fa/. Dorieen. [her? speak!
Mar, With Dorigen ? How dost thou love
VaL Even to the height of lust; and I*
Or else I die. [must have her»
Mar, Thou shalt, thou daring traitor.
On all the confines I have rid my horse,
^ Was there no other woman for thy choice
But Dorigen? Why, villain, she is mine:
She makes me pine tlius^ sullen, mad, and
'Tis I must have her, or I die. {fool;
VaL Oh, all ye gods.
With mercy look on this declining rock
Of valour and of virtue ! breed not up.
From in&ncy, in honour, to full man.
As you have done him, to destroy! Here,
strike! [patch!
For I have only searched thy wound; dis*
Far, far be such love from Valerius!
So far, he scorns to live to be call'd brother
By him that dares own snch folly and such vice.
Afar. 'Tis truth thou speak'st ; but I do
hate it : peace !
If Heav'n will snatch my sword out of my hand.
And put a rattle in it, what can I do f
He that is destined to be odious
In his old age, must undergo his fiite.
'" And all the bounds ^ sacred piehff\ Tho' this be good sense, yet as bonds is the mort
natural and better word, I believe it the original. Saitard,
<^ That ravelPd, S^c] We don't clearly understand these two last lines; there seems to
be some omission.
^^ And branded,"] Former editions. I read, brand it. Seward,
Branded is best: Valerias shall not live branded, &c.
Enter
^84
FOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS^ IN ONE.
Enter Cornelius and Kicodemus,
Corn. If you don't back me, I shall never
Nic, I warrant you. fdo*t.
Corn, Humh, humh! — Sir! my lord? my
Mar, Ha ! what's the matter? [lord !
Com. Humh!— Conceniifig %he odd £tty,
My lord) an*t please your generality,
His worship sir Nicodemus —
Mar. What's here? a pass? you would for
Rome? You lubbers!
Doth one day's laziness make you covethorae?
Away, ye boarish rogues! ye dogs, awayi
Enter Florence.
Com. Oh, oh, oh !
Fior, How now, man^* ? are you satisfied ?
Com. Ay, ay, ay ;
A pox o'yQur corporal! I am paid soundly ;
1 was ne'er better paid in all my life.
yior. Marry, the gods^ blessing on his
honour's heart ! [such
You've done a charitable deed, sir; many more
, May you live to do, sir ! The gods keep you,
sir,
The gods protect you !
[Exit with Com. and Nic.
Mar. These peasants mock roe sure! —
Valerius,
Forgive m^^ dotage, see my ashes um'd.
And tell fair Dorigcn, (she that but now
Left nie with this harsh vow, sooner these
' i;ocks [that I
Should be remov'd, than slie would yield)
Was yet so loving, on her gift to die!
Vai, Oh, Jupiter, forbid it, sir, and grant
This my device may certify thy mind!
You are my brother, nor must perish thus;
Be comforted ! Think you iair Dorigen
Would yield your wishes, if these envious
rocks
By skill could be remov'd, or by fallacy
She made believe so?
Mar. Why, she could not chuse ;
Th' Athenians arc religious in their vows.
Above all nations.
Vol. Soft! down yonder hill [her;
The lady comes this way. Once more to try
If she persist in obstinacy, by my skill,
Learn'd from the old Chaldean was my tutor,
\Vho train'd me in the mathematicks, I will
So dazzle and delude her sight, that she
Shall think this great impossibility
Effected by some supernatural means.
Be confident; this engine shall at least,
'Till the gods better ordei^ still this breast*
[Erit.
Mar. Oh, my best brother, go ; aad for
reward
C huse any part o' th' world, PU give it thee.
Obj little Love**, men say thou art a god;
Thou might'st have got a fitter fool than L
Enter Dorigen.
Dor. Art thou there, basilisk? Remove
thine eyes;
For I am sick to death with tby infection.
Mar. Yet, yet have mercy on n^e! save
him, lady, [mercy
Whose single arm defends all Rome, wliose
Hath sav'd thy luisband^ and thy lite!
Dor. To spoil
Our fame and honours? No; my vow is fix'd.
And stands as constant asthese stones do, stilL
Mar. Then pity me, ye godsj you only
may
Move her, by tearing these firm stones away.
* lHoiemn musick.
V [A mist ariseth, the rocks reawore.
Enter Valerius like Mercury^ singing,
VaL Martius, rejoice! Jove sends me frooi
above,
Jiis messenger, to cure thy desp'rate love.
To shew nish vows cannot bind destiny.
Lady, liebold, Uie rocks transplanted be!
Hard-hearted Dorigen, yield; lest, for con-
tempt,
They fix thee here a rock, wlience they'ra
exempt. [lUrtf.
Dor. What strange delusion's this? wlist
sorcery
Aflrights me with these apparitions?
My colder chastity's nigh turned to death.
Hence, lewd magician! dar'st thou maktt
the gods
Bawds to thy lust ? %vill they do miracles
To further evil? or do they love it now ?
Know, if thev dare do so, I dare hate then.
And will no longer serve 'em. .Jupiter,
Thy golden shower, nor thy snow-white swan.
Had I been Lcda, or bright Daiiae,
Had bought mine honour. Turn me into
stone!
For being good, and blush when thou hast done!
[Exit Dorigen*
" Wife. Oh/ oh! oh!
How now man — — ] As it is plain the wife, by her question, knows not of her husband's
disappointment or beating, the ohs! are improper to her, and evidently belong to Cor-
nelius. Seward.
*^ 0 little Rome, men say thou art a god.l Rome in this place is in every light absurd.
For why was the mistress of the world to be called little f Why a god, when she was always
represented as a female and a goddess ? And lastly, tho' he was become a fool, it was not
Mome that made him so. For these reasons it is almost self-evident, that lotfe was the inm
reading. I had wrote this before 1 saw, that at five lines below, all Rome is mendoned with
a particular emphasis, this having been marked for Italicks, might draw the printei's eye to
it, and a small degree of absence caufiib him to insert it in this place. Seamrd,
Enter
tOUR PLx\YS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE. 58^'
Forming it to this vast rotundity.
Dissolve it now ; shuiBe the elements,
TImt no one proper by itself may stand!
Let the sea qaench the sun, and in that instant
The sun drink up the sea! Day, ne*er come
down.
To light me to those deeds that must l>e
done! ^ [£ri£.
JBii^er Mnriiut^ VaUriuSy Captaim and Sol*
dien, with drums and colours, at one doort
and Dorigen with Ladies, at another.
Enter VaUriuM.
"Mar, Ob, my 'Valerius, all yet will not do :
XJnles^ I could so draw mine honesty
£>own to the lees to be a ravisher. ^
Shp calls me witch, and villain !
VaL Patience, sir!
The gods will punish perj ury. Let herbreathe,
And ruminate on this strange sight ! — Time
decays
The strongest, fnirest buildings we can find ;
But still, Diana, fortify her mind ! [Exeunt.
Enter Sophocles and Dongen.
&p/t. Weep not, bright Dorigen ; for thou
hast stood [and men,
Constant and chaste, it seems, Against gods
When rocks and mountains were removed.
These wonders
X>o stnpify my senses ! Martius,
This is inhuman. Was thy sickness lust?
Yet were this truth, why weeps she ? Jealous
soul, [rocks,
"What dost thou thus suggest ? Vows, magick,
fine tales, and tears i She ne'er complain*d
before.
I bade her visit him*; she often did, [oh!
Had many opportunities. Humh ! 'tis naught :
No way but this. Come, weep no more ;
I've pondered
This miracle ; the anger of the gods.
Thy vow, my love to thee and iVIartiiis:
He must not perish, nor thou be forsworn.
Lest worse fates follow us : go, keep th^ oath I
For chaste, and whore, are words of equal
lens^th.
But let not Martius know that I consent—
Oh, I am puird in pieces !
Dor. Ay? say you so?
ril meet you in your path. Oh, wretched men I
"Witli all your valour and your learning,
bubbles !
Forgive me, Sophocles— Yet why kneel I
For pardon, having been but over-diligent,
Like an obedient servant, antedating
My lord's command ? Sir, I have often, and
already given -
Tliis bosom up to bis embraces, and
Am proud that my dear lord is pleas'd with it;
Whose gentle honourable mind I see
Participates even all, his wife and all,
Unto his friend. You're sad, sir! Martins
loves me.
And I love Martius, with such ardency
As never married couple could : J must
Auend him now. My lord, when you have
need
'To use your own wife, pray, sir, send for
me;
rrill then, make use of your philosophy!
(Exit.
Soph^ Stay, Dorigen ! Oh, me, inquisitive
ibol!
Tlioa tliat didst order this congested heajp
When i t was chaos, 'twixt thy spacious palms.
VOL, IIL
Dor. Hail, gentnd of Rome! From Sq«
phocles,
^hat honours Martius, Dorigen presents
Herself to be dishonour'd : do thy will ;
For Sophocles commands me to obey.
Come, violate all rules of holiness,
And rend the consecrated knot of love!
Mar. Never, Valerius, was I blest 'tilt
now!
Behold the end of all my weary steps.
The prize of all my battles. lieave us, all ;
Leave us as quick as thought. Thus jo^
begin!
In zealous love a minute's loss is sin.
VaL Can Martius be so vile? or Dorigen 9
Dor. Stay, stay ! and, mouster, keep thou
further off! [much loath'd
I thought thy brave soul would have much^
To have gone on still vn such terms as this.
See, thou ungra^ful, since thy desperate lust
Nothing can cure but death, I'll die for thee^
While^my cliaste name lives to posterity.
Mar. Live, live, thou angel of tliy sex I
Forgive,
Till by those golden tresses thou be'st snatch'ci
Alive to Heav'n; for thy corruption's
So little, that it cannot suffer death.
Was ever such a woman? Oh, mv mirror I
How perfectly thou shew'st me all my faults,
Which now I hate ; and when I next av>
tempt thee,
Let all the fires in the sodiack
Drop on this cursed head !
Omnes. Oh, bless'd event !
Dor, Rise like the sun again in all his glory^'
Aflcr a dark eclipse !
Mar. Never, without a pardon.
Enter Sophocles, and two or three with hUn,
Dor. Sir, you have forgiven yourself.
Soph. Behold their impudence! are mf-
words just?
Unthankful man, viper to arms, and Rome
Thy natural mother! have 1 \y arm*d thee her^'
To corrode ev'n my heart? Martius, prepare
To kill me, or be kill'd.
Mar. Why, Sophocles,
Then prithee kill me ; I deserve it highly ;
For I have bothtFausgres:»'d 'gainst men tuid
gods;
But am repentant now, and in best case
T' uncase my soul of tliis oppressing tlesh ;
Which, tbo* (gods vvicue:>s) ue*er was actually
-i F Injunuuy
$06 tSOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL llEPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE.
Injurious to thy wife and thee, yet 'twas
llcr goudne^ thiit restrain'd and held me now :
But take my life, dear friend, tor my intent.
Or else forgive it!
Val. By the godd of Athens,
These words are true, and ail direct again.
Soph. Pardon me, Dorigen !
Afar. Forgive me, Sophocles,
And Dori^eu too, and everyone that*Stgood!
Dor. Rise, noble Roman. BelovM So-
Take to thy breast thy friend! [pbocles.
Mar. A nd to thy Iieart [enough
Thy matchless wife! Heav^i has not stuff
To make another such; for if it could,
Martins would marry too. For thy blest dake,
(Oh, thou infinity of excellence) [take
Henceforth in men|s discourse Rome shall not
The wall of Athens, as'toforc. But when
In tlieir fair honours we to speak do come,
,'^Ve'll say 'twas so in Athens and in Rome.
[Exeunt in pimp,
Diana descends,
Diana. Honour, set ope thy gates, and
with thee bring,
My servant mnd thy friend, fair Dorigen ;
^t her triumph with him, fier lord and friend,
IVlx), tbo' tnis-lcd, still honour was their end !
[Flourish,
Xnter the shorn of Honour's Triumph; a
great flourish of trumpets and drums tiPtlA-
in; then enter a noise^^ tyf trumpets aoundr
tng ehearfuUy; then foUaws an armed
Knight bearing a crimson banneret in handy
with the iTUcriptian Valour; bj^ his side a
Lady bearing a watchet banneret^ the in-
scription Clemency; next, Martius and
Sophocles with coronets; next^ two LadieSf
one bearing a white banneret^ the inscrip-
Hon Chastity, the other a blacky the in-
wcription Constancy ; then Dorigen crowned;
> iasty a chariot drawn by two Moors, in it a
person crowned, with a scepter on the tap,
in an antick escutcheon is written Honour.
[ As they pass over, Diana ascends,
Min, How like you it? [it again !
FrL RareW; qo well, I would they would do
Wow n^any of our wives now-a-days
Would deserve to triumph in such a chariot?
• Jtiii. That'tt all one; you see they triumph
^ in caroches. [neither;
Fri. I'luit tliey do, by the mass; but not all
Many of them are content with carts. But,
signor,
I have now found out a great absurdity, i'faith.
Jiin. Whatwas't?
Frf.TheProtogue,pre8entingfourTriumphs,
Made but three legs to the ktng^^: a three-
fJTwas moDStroQs. [^^*(t Prologue!
Bin, 'Thad been more monstrons
To have had a fouHegg'd one. Peace ^ Cb*
king speaks. ^
Eman. Here was a woman, Isabel !
Isab. Ay, my lord.
But that she told a lie to vex her husband r
Therein she faifd.
Eman, She serv*d him well enough ;
He that was so much man, yet would be cast
To jealousy for her integrity.
Thisteacheth us, the passion of love
Can fight witli soldiers, and with scholars too.
Isab. In Martius, clemency and yalour
shewn,
■In the other, courage and humanity ;
/And therefore in the Triumph they were
(By Clemency and Valour. [usher'd
Eman. Rightly observed ;
As she by Chastity and Constancv.
What hurt's now*in a play, agaiusC whiclk
some rail
So vehemently? thou and I, my love.
Make excellent use, methinks : I learn to bt
A lawful lover void of jealousy.
And thou a constant wife. Sweet poetry'^
A flower, where men, like bees anasuidenu
Bear poison, or else sweets and wax awaj.
Be vjcnnm-drawing &piders they that frill f
I'll be the bee, and suck the honey still.
^ [FlauriA
Cupid descends,
Cvpid. Stay, clouds! ye rack too ^t.
Bright Phoebus, see,*
Honour has triumph'd with fair Cliastity^
Give love now leave, in puriiy to »hew
Unchaste affections fly not from his bow.
Produce the sweet example of your youthy
Whilst I provide a Triumph for your tnitii.
[FUmrish.
Enter Violunte (tcith-child) and GerrardL
Vio, Why does my Gerrard grieve?
Gcr. Oh, my sweet mistress.
It is not life (which, by our Milan law^
My fact hath forfeited) makes me thus pe»*
sive ;
That 1 would lose to save the little finger
Of this your noble burden from least hurt,
Becaube your blood is iu't: but since your Iov«
Made poor incompatible me the parent,
(Being we are not married) your dear blood
Falls under the same cruel penalty ;
And can Heaven think fit you die for me ?
For Henv^rs sake, say I ruvisU'd you ! 1%
SMear it,
To keep your life safe and repute uastain*d'*.
Yio. Oh, Gei-rard^ thouVt my life aod ia^
cultiet,
\.
^ A noise of trunq>ets;] i, e. A concert tf trumpets. See note 25 on Wit at Seread
Weapons* ^
>♦ Three legs;] i. e. Three bows. See note iS on tlie Queen of Corinlb.
^ Xp k—i ywr Ijfs and your rrjwfo ttffS^dtfiU] The text Irem lirsi froUo.
(«9i
FOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESE^TTATIONS, IN ONE.
$8r
CAnd if Hose thee, FU not keep mine own)
^he thought of whom sweetens all miseries.
Woiildst have m^ murder thee beyond thy
death!
Unjustly scandal thee with ravishment?
1 1, was so far irom rape, thatylleav'n doth know,
If* ever the 6r8t lovers, ere they fell,
Knew simply in the state of inn^nce,
Such was this act, this, that dothask no blush !
Ger, Oh, but, my rarest Violaiite, when
M^y lord Randuipho, brother to your father,
Shall understand this, how will he eKciaim,
7hat my poor aunt, and me, which his fpee
aims [tua
Hath nurs*d, since Milan by the duke of Mau-
( Who now usurps it) was surpriz'd ! that time
My father and my, mother were both siain,
With my aunt's husband, as she says, their
states
Despoil 'd and seiz'd ; 'tis past my memory.
Hut thus she told me : only this I know,
Siiice I could understund, yourhonour*d uncle
liath given me aU tlte liberal education
That his own son might look fur, had he one;
IMow will he say, Dost thou requite me thus ?
Oh i the thought kills me.
Vio, Gentle, gentle Gcrrard, [father,
Be ^heer'd, and hope the best ! My mother,
And uncle, love me most indulgently.
Being the only branch of all their stocks :
But jicither they, nor he thou wouldst not
grieve
With this unwelcome news, shall ever heaf y
Violante*s tongue reveal, much less accuse,
..Gerrard to be the father of his own :
I'll rather silent die, that thou mav'st live
To see thy little oHspring grow and thrive.
Enter Dorothea.
Dor. Mistress, away I your lord and father
seeks you:
PU convey Gerrard out of the back door.
H' has found a hubband for you, and insults
In his invention, little thinking you [too.
Have nmdeyourown choice, and poseess'd him
Vio, A husband ? it must be Gerrard, or
my death.
Farewell I be only true unto thyself, [be.
And know, HeavVs goodness shall prevented
£re worthies); Gerrard sulfer harm for me.
Ger, Farewell, my life and soul ! Aunt, to
vour counsel [art
I flee for aid. Oh, unexpressible love ! thoil
An undigested heap of mix'd extremes
Whose pangs are wakings, and whose plea<«
sures dreams. [Exeunt,
Enter Btnvoglio, Angelina, and Ferdinand^
Benv, My Angelina, never dist thou yet
So please me, as in this consent; and yet
Tir hast plcas'd me well, I swear, old wench!
ha,ha.^
Ferdinand, she's thine own ; thou*st hav^ her,
boy;
Ask thy good lady else, '
Ferd. Whom shall I have, sir?
Benv. Whom do you tliink, i' fkitbf
Ang, Gues-s !
Ferd, Noble madam,
I may hope (prompted by mysliallow merit)
Thro your profound grace, tor your cham*
bermaid.
Benv. How's that? how*sthat?
Ferd. Her chambormaid, my lord'^.
Benv, Her chamber-pot, my lurd !— >Yo«
modest ass !
Thou never sbew'dst thyself iin ass 'till now \
'Fore Heav'n, I'm angry with thee ! Sirrah,
sirrah,
This whitmeat spirit's not yours legitimate*^ s
-iidvance your hope, an't please you ! guess
again. [aim them right,
Ang, And let your thouj;hts floe hii^her ;
Sirjrou may hit; you have the feirest white'*.
Verd. If I may be so bold then, my good
lord,
Your favour doth encourage me to ^spire
To catch my lady's gentlewoman.
Benv. Where?
Where would you catch her?—
Do you know "my daughter Violante, sir ?
Ang. Well said ; no more about the bushf
Ferd. My good lord,
I've gaz*d on Violante, and tlie stars,
Whose heav'nly influence I adniir'd, nol
Nor ever was so sinful to believe [knew ^
X might attain't.
Benv. Now you're an ass again ;
For, if thou ne'er attain'st, 'tis only long
Of tliat faint heart oftliine, which never did it«
•* Ferd. Her chambermaid, my lord,
Benv. Ber, 4*c>] This lection, which redeems tlie passage from l)eiog the rankest non*
icnae, is only in first folio. Other copies re«id,
Ferd. Her chandfer^pot, my lord. You modest as9, ^
*' r^M whitmeat spirift not yours, iegilimate.] I put a hyphen to whitmeat, it bein|if g|
compouod word like Whit-Sunday, i. c wkifs^unday, alluding to the white garmente the
newly-baptised used to wear. It would be a., affront to the reader's understanding to en*
plaiii the meaning of whit-meat spirit ; lie will observe thai I scratch out a comma after
^ociff, understanding ^i^inui^e adverbially, .\s if be had said, — This weak effeminate spirit i»
not legitimately yours, you had it not from your fother. Seward.
We cannot see the use of the hyphen. tVhitmeat means white meat, which is the most
ijmple innocent food. His modesty is what Benvoelto here means to reprehend.
*» Sir, you may hit; you have the fairest white.] To hit the vhiie, is a |erai frequently*
Uied in our authors* time : it is taken from archery. K,
4 F a Sh«
688 FOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE;
§he is your lord's heir, mi ne,Ben?oglio's heir,
My brother's too, Randulpho's; her descent
Not belind any of the Millanois.
And, Ferdinand, altho* thy parentage [up
Be unknown, thou know*&t that I've bred thee
Prom five years old ; and (do not blush to
hear it) [cess
Ilave found thy wisdom, trust, and fair sue*
So full in all my affairs, that I am fitter
To call thee master than thou me thy lord :
Thou cau'st not be but sprung of gentles^
blood; [sun.
Thy mind shines thro' thee, like the radiant
Altho' iby body be a beauteous cloud.
Come ! seriously this is no flattery; [blood
And well thou know'st it, tho' thy roodest
Rise like the morning in thy cheek to hear*t :
Sir, I can speak in earnest. Virtuous service,
So meritorious, Ferdinand, as yours,
(Yet bashful still, and silent ?) should extract
A fuller price than impudence exact:
Arid this is now the wages it must have ;
3\Iy daughter is thy wife, my wealth thy slave.
'Ferd* Good madam, pinch ! I sleep! does
iny lord mock.
And you assist? Custom's inverted quite;
For old men now-a-daj'S do flout the youug.
Penv. Fetch Violante ! — As I intend this
Religiously, let my soul find joy or pain !
[ExU Angelina.
Ferd, My honoured lord and master,if I hold
That worth could merit such felicity,
You bred it in me, and first purchased it;
It is your own, and what productions
In all ray faculties my soul begets.
Your very mark is on ; you need not ad(|
Jlewards to him, that is in debt to you.
You sav'd my life, sir, in the massacre;
There you begot me new, since foster'd me :
Oh ! can I serve too much, or pray for you ?
Alas, 'tis slender payment to your bounty.
Your daughter is a Faradise, and I
Unworthy to be set there : you may chuse
'I'he royafst seeds of Milan.
Benv, Prithee, peace !
Thy goodness makes me weep. lam resolv'd ;
} am no lord o' th' time, to tie my blood
To sordid inuck; I have enough; my npme,
IMy state, and honours, I will store in thee,
AVhose wisdom will rule well, keep and en*
crease :
A knave or fool, that could confer the like,
'\yould bate each hour, diminish every day.
Thou art her prize-lotthen*',drawn outby fate;
An honest wise man is a prince's mate.
^Ferd. Sir, Heav'u and you have over-
charg'd jny breast
*' Price htJi So former copies.
30 2'he loss were sacrific'd, but Virtue
VSTith grace beyond my continence; I sbaQ
burst!
The blessing you have given me, witness saints^
I would not change for Milan! — But, mj
Is she prepar'd ? [lonL
Benv. What needs preparative.
Where such a cordial is prescrib'd as thoa ?
Thy person and thjr virtues, in one scale.
Shall poise hers with her beauty and bee
wealth :
If not, I add my will unto thy weight ;
Thy mother's with hier now. Son,takemy keys;
And let thy preparation for thi^ marriage,
(This vvelcome marriage) long determin'd bere^
Be quick;, and gorgeous. — Gerrard !
Enter Gerrard,
Ger. My good lord.
My lord your brother ciVives your conference
Instantly, on affairs of high import.
Benv. Why, what news?
Ger, The tyrant, my good lord,
Is sick to death of hi<i old apoplexy;
Whereon the states advise,that letters raissira
Be straight dispatch'd to all the neighbour-
countries,
And schedules too divulg'd on every post;
To enquire the lost duke forth: their pup-
To re-mstate him. [pose ia
Benv. 'Tisapiou^deed.— .r
Ferdinand, to my daughter ! This delay,
Tho' to so good a purpose, angers me ;
But I'll recover it. Be secret, son !
Go wooe with truth and expedition. TFxif^
Ferd, dh, my uusoundijd joy ! IIow tar««
my Gerrard, [heavy,
Mv noble twm-friend ?— Fy, thy look «
Stfllen, and sour; blanch it! Didst thou know
My cause of joy, thou'dst never sorrow more^
1 know thou lov'st me so. How dost tboa?
Ger. Well; •
Too well ! mv fraughtof health my sickness is •
In life, I'm dead ; by living, dying still. '
Ferd, What sublqnary mischief can pre«
dominate
A wise man thus? or doth thy frieodsbtp play
(In this antiputhous extreme) with miii^^^
Lest gladness suffocate me? I, I, I do feel
My spirits turn'd to fire, my bUiod to air
And 1 am like a purified essence *
Tried from all drossy parts I
Ger, Were't but my life,
The loss were sacrifice^^; but Virtue must
For me be slain, and Innocence made dust •
Ferd. Farewell, good Gerrard »
Ger Dearest friend, stay! f me now,
Jierd, baa thoughts are no companions for
the bake of the person I love. ' The correction ofthe'm^i;; kvVt^olZL'^ "" ^"^^ **
'1 he loss were sacrifice, for Virtue must
For me be slain, apd Innocence made dust. Seward. UncV
FQUK PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE.
^
)tf Hch less sad words : thy bosom binds some
secret,
Which do not trust me with ! for mine retains
Another, which I must conceal froiu thee.
Ger, I would reveal it; 'tis a heavy tale:
Canst thou be trae, and secret still !
Ferd, Why, friend,
If you continue true unto yourself,
I have no means of falsliood. Lock tlus door;
Come, yet your prisoner's sure.
Ger. Stay, Ferdinand !
Ferd, What is this trouble ? love ?
Why, thou art capable of any woman.
Doth want oppress thee ? I will lighten thee.
Hast thou offended law ? my lord and thine.
And I, will save thy life. Does servitude
Upbraid thy freedom, that she suflfers it ?
Have patience but three days, and I will make
thee
Thy lord's companion. Can a friend do more?
Ger, Lend me the means. How can this be ?
Ferd. Firet, let
This cabinet keep your pawn, and I will trust ;
Yet, for the form of satisfaction,
Take th^jB ray oath to boot : by my presura'd
Oentry, and sacred known Christianity,
I'll die, ere I reveal thy trust ! .
Ger. Then hear it!
Your lord's fair daughter, Violante, is [me;
My betrolh'd wife, goes great with-child by
And, by this deed, both made a prey to law.
How may I save htr life? advise me, friend.
Ferd, What did he say? Gerrard, whose
voice was that ?
Ph, death unto my heart, bane tM my soul !
My wealth is vanish*d like the rich man's store:
In one poor minute, all my dainty fare
Butjuggii"g dishes; ray fat hope, despair.
OerTlsthis so odious r where s your mirth?
Ferd, Why, thou
past rohb'd me of it! Gerrard, draw thy
sword:
And if thou loV'st my mistress's chastity,
Defend it, else I'll cut it from thy heart.
Thy tliievish heart that stole it, and restor't;
Do miracles to gain her !
Ger. Was she tliine ? [ther's vow,
Ferd, Never, but in my wish, and her fa-
Which now he left with' me ; on such sure
terms.
He call'd me son, and wished me to provide
lily wedding preparation.
Ger, Strange !
Ferd, Come, let's
Kill one another quickly !
Ger. Ferdinand,
Mv love is old to her, thine new-begot :
I have not wron^d thee; think upon thine
oath ! [hand
Ferd, It manacles me, Gerrard ; else this
8bould bear thee to the law. Farewell for
ever !
Since friendship is so fatal, never more
\Vill r have friend: thltast put so sure a plea,
^hfit all my weal's litigious made by thee.
Ger, 1 did no crime to yoa.-^His lov^
transports him !
And yet I mourn that cruel destiny
Should make us two thus one another's cross.
We've lov'd since boys; for the same time
cast him
On lord Benvoglio, that my aunt and I
Were succoured by Kandulpho : men hare
call'd us
The parallels of Milan ; and some said
^'e were not much unlike. Oh, Heav'n divert.
That wc should (ever since that time) be
breeding
Mutual destruction.
Enter Dorothea^
Dor, Oh, where arc you ? fder
You have made a fair hand ! By Heav'n, yon-
Is your aunt with my lady : she came in.
Just as she was wooing your mistress for
another ;
And what did me she, bat out with her purse^
And shew'd all the naked truth, i'faith. Fy
upon you! [secret;
You should never trust an old woman with a
Theycan't hold, theycannot hold so well as we^
An you'd hung 'em. First, there was sweax^
ing and staring;
Then there was howling and weeping.
And OA, mt/ daughter/ and OA, my mother i
Ger, The effect, the effect?
Dor, Marry, no way, but one with you !
Ger, Why, welcome!
Shall she 'scape ?
, Dor, Nay, she has made her 'scape already.
Ger, Why, is she gone ?
Dor, The 'scape of her virginity, [ceive
I mean. You men are as dull, you can coa*
Nothing; you think it is enough to beget.
Ger, Ay;
But surely, Dorothea, that 'scap'd not;
Her maidenhead suffer'd.
Dor, And you were
The executioner.
Ger. But what's the event?
Lord, how thou starv*st me, Doll !
Dor, * Lord, how thou starv'st me, Doll f
By Heav'n, I would ftun see you cry a little !
Do you stand now, as if you could get a child f
Come, I'll rack you no more ; tills is the
heart of the business —
Always provided, signor, that if it please
The Fates to make you a lord, you be not
proud, [wai
Nor forget your poor handmaid, Doll, wh0
Partly accessary to the incision of
This Holofernian maidenhead.
Ger, I will forget
My name first. Speak !
Dor, Then thus: My lady kncvs all;
Her sorrow is reasonably well digested; •.
Has vow'd to conceal it from my lord, .
Till delay ripen things better; wills you
To attend her this evening at the back-gate i
ril let you in, where her own confessor
Shall put you together Uwfi41yi ere
The
199 IPOUft FLAYS, OR MORAL REPRKSENTATIONS, IN ONE-
Vhe child be born ; ^hich birth is very near,
I can asbure yoa. All your charge is your vi-
filance ; [conrey
And to bring with you some trusty nurse, to
The infant out of the liouite.
Ger. Oh, Ijeain of comrbrt!
Take ! Go, telt thy lady
I pray for her as I'walk. My joys so flow.
That what I speak or do, I do tiot know !
{Exeunt,
Dumb Show,
m
Xnier Thlante at one door, rteeping, tup'
ported by Cpmelia and a Friar ; at ano*
' iher door, Angelina weeping, attended by
Dorothea, Vwlante kneelt down for par^
don, Angelina thewing remorse, takes her
nip, and cheers her ; 90 doth Cornelia, An^
gelina sends Doroilieafor Gerrard. Enter
Gerrard uith Dorothea; Angelina aiid
Cornelia seem to chide him, shewing Vich
iante*s heofvy plight, Violante rejoiceth in
Him ; he makes signs of sorrow, entreating
pardon : Angelina brings Gerrard and
Violante to the Friar ; he joins them hand
in hand, takes a ring from Gerrard, puts
it on Violante*s finger, blesseth them ; Ger"
rard kisseth her ; the Friar takes his leave.
Violante makes show of great pain, is itt-
ttuntly conveyed in by the zcoman ; Gerrard
is bid stay ; he walks in meditation, seem-
ing to pray. Enter Dorothea, whispers
hint, sends him out. Enter Gerrard with
« Nurse blindfold ; gives her a purse. To
thetn enter Angelina an^ Cornelia, with an
Infant; they praent it to Gerrard, he
hisseth and bUsscth it, puts it into the
Nurse*s arms, kneels, and takes his leave.
Exeunt all siicerally.
Enter BenvogUo and JRandulpbo.
Benv. He's dead, you say then f
Ktind, Certainly ; and to hear
The people now dissect him uovt he's gone,
Hakes my ears burn, that lov*d him not :
such libels,
Such elegies and epigrams theyVe made,
31ore odious than he was !— Brother, great
men
Had need to live by love, meting their deeds
With virtue's role; sound witJj the weight
of judgment
Their privat*st action: for tho' while they live,
Their power and policy mabque their villainies.
Their bribes, their lust, pride, and ambition,
Atkd make a many slaves to worsltiu 'em,
That are their flatterers, and their bawds in
these; [beasts die,
These very slaves shall, when these great
Publish tlicir bowels to the vulgar eye.
Benv, 'Fore Heav*n 'tis true. But is Ri*
naldo, broti^er,
pur {good duke, heard of living?
Rand. Living, sir,
And will be shortly with the senate : has
Iken close conceaTd at Mantua, and reliev'd.
But what's become of his, no cidtn^ jel f
But, brother, 'tdl our good duke shall arrivi^
Carry this news here. Where's your Ferdi-
nand ?
Benv, Oh, busy, sir, about this marriage:.
And yet my girl o*th* sudden is falPn sick.
You*ll see her ere you go ?
Rand, Yes. Well I love her;
And yet I wish I had another daughter
To gratify my Gerrard, who, by Heav'it,
Is all the giory of my family.
But has too much worth to lire so obscurer
rU have him secretary of estate
Upon the duke's return; for, credit me.
The value of that gentleman's not known:
Uis strong abilities are nt to guide
The whole republic ; ue hath learning, yooti^
I \'alour, discretion, honesty Of a sainL
I His aunt is wondrous good too.
Vu^nte discovered in a bed ; Angelina' ent£
Dorothea sitting by,
Benv. You have spoke
The very character of Ferdinand : [terf
One is the other's mirror. — How nowvdaoglH
Rand, How fares my niece f
Vio, A little better^ uncle, tliao I was,
I thank you. »
Rand. Brother, a mere cold !
Ang, It was [thaak'cF,
A cold and heat, I think ; but, Heav'n be
Wo Ve broken that away.
Benv, And yet, Violante,
You'll lie alone still, aud you see what s got.
Dor. Sure, sir^ when this was got, she haid
a bed-fellow. [belly ?
Ra7id. What, has her cholic left her in her
Dor. T has left her, but she haj* had a sore
fit. [hereut to ui
Rand. Ay, that same cholic and stone's in-
O'th* woman's side! our mothers^ had them
Dor, So hfin she had, sir.— [botiu
How these old fornicators talk f she bad
More need of mace-ale, and Rhenisb-wine
caudles,
Heav'n knows, than your aged discipline*
Benv. Say.
Enter Ferdinand,
Ang, She will have the man; and on re«
Will wholly be dispos'd by you. f covery^
Benv, That's my wench ! ^ fdinaod.
How now ! what change m this } Why, Fep»
\Are these your robes of joy should be induM I .
Doth Hymen wear black r [did send for yum
To have my honourable brother witness
The contract I will make'twixt you and her.
Put off all doubt; she loves you: what d'ye
say? [tractediyf
Rand. Speak, man; why look you so dis«
Ferd. Tb^re are your keys, siri 111 no ooih
tract, I.—;
Divinest Violante, I will serve yoa
bus on my knees, and pray for yoa«
Juno LucinOf/er optfH,
lOUB PLAYS, OR MORAL RfiPftESENTATIONS, IN ONE/ Wt
Itt ioeqiifility ascends no higgler:
1 dare not marry jrou.
Benv, How*s this?
Ferd, Good night!
t have a friend has almost made me mad :
I weep sometimes, and instantly can laugh ;
Kay, I do d>ince, and siiig, and suddenly
Roaf like a storm. Strange tricks these ! are
they not?
And wherefore all this? shall I rell you? no!
Thorough mine ears, my heart a plague hath
caugi.t;
And I have vavf*d to keep it close, not shew
My grief to any, fof it has no cure. —
On» wandring steps, to some remote place
move !
I'Jl keep my vow, tho' I have lost my love.
[Exit
Bcnv. Tore Heaven, distracted for her!
Fare ye well ! ^
ni watch his steps ;^ for I no joy shall find,
mil I have tbund bis cause, and cahn'd his
mind. ^ [Exit,
Rand, He*s overcome with joy.
Afig. Tis very strange. [time's busy.
Rand. M^ell, sister, I must leave you ; the
l^iolante, chear you up ! And I pray Heav'n
Restore each to their love, and health again.
[Exit.
Vlo. Amen, great ancle! — Mother, what
TJoluckily is added to ray woe, [a chance
In this young gentleman !
Ang. True, Violante ;
It grieves rac much. — Doll, go you instantly.
And find ootGerrard ! tell hiin lus friend's hap,
And let him use best means to comfort him;
But, as his life, preserve tliu secret still!
Viol, Mother — I'd not (mend you«^might
not'^Oerrard
f^tenl in, and see me in the evening I
Jiij. tS'ell;
Bid him do so.
Vio, lleav*n*s blessing o'your heart! —
Do you not call child-bearing /rave/, mother?
* Ang, Yes,
Vio. It well may be : the bare-foot traveller
That's bom a pnnce,and walks iiispilgrimai^e.
Whose tender feet kiss the remoi-seless stones
Only, ne'er felt a travel hkc to it.
Ala^y dear mother, you groan *d thus for me ;
And yet, how disobedient have I been !
Ang. Peace, Violante; thou hast always
Gentle and good. [been
Vio, Gerrard is better, mother:
Oh, if you knew tlie implicit innorency
Dwells in his breast, you'd love Jiim like
^our pray'rs.
r see no reason but my father might
Be told the truth, being pleAs'd for Ferdimmi
To wooe himself; and Gerrard ever was
His full comparative: ray uncle loves hun^
As he loves Ferdinand.
Ang, No, not for th' world!
Since his intent is cross'd, lov'd Fei^inand
Thus ruin'd, and a cliiid got out of wedlock,
Hib madness would pursue ye both to death!
Via, As you please^ mother. I am u4>Wy
methinks,
Even in the land of ease; I'll sleep,
Ang, Draw in
The bed nearer the fire. — Silken rest.
Tie all thy cares up ! [Exeunt,
Enter Ferdinand^ and Benvqgko prhtittly
4^Urhim,
Ferd, Oh, blessed solitude! Here mj
griefif may speak;
And, sorrow, I will argue with thee now.
Nothing will keep me company ! the fiowerf
Die at my moan ; the gliding silver streame
Hnsten to flee my lamentations ;
The air rolls from 'em ; aud the golden sua
Is smotherM pale as Phcebe with my sighs;
Only the earth is kind, that suys: then, earth.
To thee will I compUin. Why do the Heavena
Impose upon me love what I can ue'er enjoy'* ^
Before fruition was impossible,
I did not thirst it : Gerrard, she is thine,
•Seal'd and dellver'd; but 'twas ill to staift
Her virgin state, ere ve were married.
Poor infant, whaft» become of thee ? tfcon
know'st not [eartli.
The woe thv parents brought thee to. Deac
Bury this close in thy sterility ;
Be barren to this seed, let it not grow I
For if it do, 'twill bud no violet, '
Nor gilly-flower, but wild brier, or rank rue.
Unsavoury and hurtful.
Benv, Ferdinand, [my lieait.
Thy steel hath digg'd the earth, thy words
Ferd, Oh, I have violated iaith, betray 'd
My friend and innocency !
Benv, Desperate youth.
Violate not thy soul too I I have showers
For thee, vouug.man; but, Gerrard, Uan»e»
for thee! [honour.
Was thy hphe pen made to dnsli out mine
And prostitute my dauHhler? bastard, whore?
Come, turn thy female tears into revenge,
WMiich I will quench my thirst with, ere 1 see
Daughter or wife, or branded family.
By Ileaven, both die ! and, for amends,
Fcrdinando, be my heir! I'll to my brotlier.
First tell him all, then tu the duke for justice ;
This morning he'frreceiv'd^\ JVlouaiaius uor
seas
3« Impou upon me love what J can nc^cr enjoy f^ i. e. Force me to love what I cannoi^
s^tain. The editors of 1750 expunge the word upon^ for which we can see no reason; aud
l>rint loDe as a snbstantive, thous;li it is so obviously a verb.
»* This fnoming h^s receiv'd.] Mr. Sympson would read arrived, but surely received is
infinitely more expressive, as it not only speaks bis arrival; but liii being regogniz'd by uLl
Ilit subjeetft as duke of Milao. 6tvanf.
Shall
iM VOUR PLAtS, Oft MORAL REPRegENTT ATtONS, IN Otfiti
Shall bar my flight to Yengeance ! the foul
stain
Prioted on me^ thy blood shall rinse a^ain.
[Exit.
Ferd. I have tran^ress'd all gqodness^
witlessly
Raised mine own curses from po:>terity!
ni follow, to redrt'ss in what I may ;
Jf not; your heir can die as well as they.
Dumb Shaw^
Enter Duke Binaldo with attendants^ at one
door; States, Randulpho, and Gerrard, at
mnother: they kneel to the Duke, he ao
€tpts their oiedieHcef and raises them up;
they prefer Gerrard to the Duke, w/to
entertains him; they seat the Duke in state.
Enter BenDoglio and Ferdinand: Ben-
voglio kneels for justice; FercUnand seems
to restrain him, Benvoglio gives the Duke
u paper; Duke reads, frowns on Gerrard,
mews the paper to the States, they seem
worry, consult, cause the guard to f^ppre-
keftd him ; they go off with him. Then
Handulpho and Senvoglio seem to crave
Justice; Duke vows it, and exit with his
attendants. Rundulpho, Benvoglio, and
Ferdinand confer. Enter to them Cor^
nelia, with two Servants; she seems to ex-
postulate; Randulpho in scorn cnuseth her
to be thrust out poorly, ^ Exit Randulpho.
BenvogHo beckons Ferdinand to him, with
much seeming passion, swears him, then
stamps with his foot. Enter Dorothea
with a cup, weeping^ she delivers it to Fer-
dinand, who with discontent exit, and
0xeunt Benvoglio and Dorothea,
Enter Violante.
Vio. Gerrard not come? nor Dorothy
returned ?
What adverse star roPd my nativity ?
The time to-night hath been as dilatory
As languishing consumptions. But 'till now,
I ne'er durst say, my Uerrard was unkind.
Beav'n grant all things go well! and nothing
does,
If he be ill, which I much fear! My dreams
Have been portentous : I did think I saw
My love arrayVl for battle with a beast,
A hideous monster, arm'd with teeth and claws,
Grinning, and venomous, thatsou^ht to make
Both us a prey ; on's tail was lash*d in blood
Law; hnd his forehead I did plainly see
Held characters that spell'd authority.
This rent my slumbers; and my fearful soul
Ran searching up and down my di&mav'd
breast, ^ [cold;
To find a port t* escape. Good faith, I'm
But Gerrard's love is colder: here Til sit.
And think myself away.
Enter Ferdinand, tfiith a Cup and a Letter,
Ferd, The peace of love
Attend the sweet Violante! Read;
For the sad news I bring I do not knair;^
Only I am sworn to give you that, and thk.
Vio, Is it from Gerrard? Gentle Ferdi*
naod.
How glad am I to see you thus well restored:
In troth he never i^rong'd you in his life.
Nor I, but always held fair thoughts of you:
Knew not my father's meaning 'till of late;
Could never have known it soon enoughs
for, sir,
Gerrard's and my affection began
In infancy : my uncle brought him oft
In long coats hither; you were such anotfaers
The little boy would kisd me, being a child.
And say he iov'd me, give me all his toys.
Bracelets, rings, sweetmeats, all his ro^
smiles:
I then would stand, and stare upon his eyes,
Play with his locks, and swear I Iov'd hia
too;
For sure, methought, he was a little love !
He woo'd so prettily in innocence,
ThBjt then he warm'd my fancy ; for I felt
A glimmering beam of love kindle ray bloody
Both which, time since hath made a flame
and flood.
Ferd, Oh, gentle innocent ! methinksit talkv
Like a child still, whose white simplicity
Never arriv'd at sin. Forgive me, lady!
I have destroy'd Gerrard and thee ; rebelTd
Against Heav'u's ordinance ; dis«psur*d tvf9
doves, [cleft
Made 'em sit mourning; slaughtered love, and
The heart of all integrity. This breast
Was trusted with the secret of your vow.
By Gerrard, and reveal'd it to your father*
Vio, Ha!
Ferd, Read, and curse me!
Vio, Neither : I will never
Nor write, nor read again !
Ferd, My penance be it !
* Your labyrinth is found, your lust proclaim'd/
[HeadM,
Vio. Lust? hum!
My motlier sure felt none when I was got.
Ferd. * I, and the law,implacably ofiemicd;^
* Gerrard's imprison'd, and to die.'
Vio. Oh, Heav'n! ['scofe^
Ferd. | And you to suffer, with reproach and
^ A public execution. I have sent yoo
* An antidote 'gainst shame, poison, by him
* You have most wrong'd : give him yoor
' penitent tears.'
Vio. Hum ! 'tis not truth.
Ferd, * Drink, and farewell for ever?
* And tho' tliy whoredom blemish thy whole
* line, [* mine.*
' Prevent the hangman's stroke, and die like
Vio. Oh, woe is me for Gerrard! I have
brought
Confusion on the noblest gendeman
That ever truly Iov'd. But we shall meet '
Where our condemners shall no^ and enjojr
A uiore rcfin'd aflection tlian here:
70UK PLAY% QR MORAL R£Pfl66£NTA'nQN$, IN OJ:t^.
m
Kq law nor father hinders marriage ther^
rrwixt souls diviaeJj a$ed as (sme) o^rs
were;
There we will multiply and generate joys,
Like fruitful parents. — Luckless l^erduiand,
Wi)ere*8 tlie jipod old gentlewoman, my
husband's aunt?
Ferd* Thrustfrom youTuncle,toalIp6verty.
Vio> A\h% the pity! Reach me, sir, the
cup :
111 say tny prayers, and take my father's
physic.
Ferd. Oh, villain that I wa^, I had foi^ot
To spill the rest, and am unable now
To stir to hinder her!
Vio. What ail you, sir?
Ferd. Your fatlier is a mooiter, I a vilUun,
This tongue has killed you! — Pardon, Vio-
lante !
Oh, pardon, Gerrard ! and for sacrifice
Accept my life, to expiate my fault :
I have drunk up the poison.
Ffto. Thou art not so
Uncharitable ! a better fellow far ;
Th' hast left me lialf. Sure death is now a-dry.
And calls for more blood still to quendb his
thirst.
I pledge thee, Ferdinand, to Gerrard's health !
Dear Gerrard, poor ^unt, and unfortunate
friend !
Ah me, thatlove should breed true lovers' end!
Ferd. Stay, madam, stay! help, hoal for
Heav'n's sake, help !
Improvident man ! that good I did intend
For satisfaction, saving of her life,
My equal cruel stars made me forget^'.
Enter Angelina with two Servants,
Ang, What spectacle of death assaults
me? oh!
Vio, My dearest motlier, lam dead: I leave
Father, and friends, and life, to tbllow love.
Good mother, iSve my child, that did no ill.
Fy, how men lie, that say, 4eath is a pain !
Or has he chang'd his nature ? like soft sleep
He seizes me. Your blessing! Last, I
crave,
That I may rest by Gerrard in his grave.
Ferd. There lay me too. Oh, noble
mistress, I
llave caus'd all this, and tberefpre juftly die.
That key will open all.
Ang. Oh, viperous father!—
For I&av'n*s sake, bear >m iu! Run for phy-
sicians,
And medicines quickly! Heav'n, tbpu. shall
' not have her
Yet; 'tis too soon: alas, I have no more;
And taking her away^thpu rpbb'st tlie poor!
[Exeunt,
[Flourish.
Enter Rinaldo, Stat^, Randulphoy Benvo^
glio, Gerrardy Executioner, and Guurd.
Rin, The law, fis greedy as your red df-
sire,
Renvoglio, hfitli cast this man : Tis pity
So many excellent parts are swallow'd up
In one foul wave. Is Violante s<;nt for?
Our justice must not lop a branch, and let
The body grow still.
Benv. Sir, she will be Jiere,
Alive or dead, I am sure. [ments death!
Ger, How chearfully my countenance coii)«.
That which makes men seem horrid, X will
wear
Like to an ornament Oh, Violante!
Might my life only satisfy tlie law.
How jocundly my soul would enter Heav'n !
Why shouldst thou die? thou witlier^st in thy.
bud.
As I have seen a rose, ere it was blown.-**
I do beseech your grace, the statute may
(In this case madefbe read : not that I hope
T extenuate my offence or penalty.
But to see whether it lay hold on her.
And since. my death is more exemplary
Than just, this publick reading will advise
Caution to others.
Rin, Read it.
Rand, Brother, does not
Your soul groan under this severity ?
Sec. [reads.] * A statute provided in case
< of unequal matches, m^riages against
' ptu'ents^' consent, stealing of heirs, rapes,
' prostitutions, and sucl^hke : tiiat if any
' person meanly descended, or ignorant of
* his own parentage, which implies as much,
' shall, with a foul intent, unlawfully solicit
' the (laughter of any peer of the dukedom,
* he shall for the same offence forfeit his
* right-hand : but if he furtlier prostitute her
* to his lust, he shall first have his right-hand
* cut off, and then suffer death by the com-
* mon executioner. After whom, the lady
* so offending shall likewise the next day, in
* tlie same manner, die for the fact.'
Ger, This statute has more cruelty than
sense!
I see uo ray of mercy. Must tlie lady
Suffer death too ? Suppose she were enforc'd,
By some confederates borne away, and ra-
Is she not guiltless ? [vish*d ;
Rin. Yes, it" it be prov'd.
Ger, Tliis case is so : I ravish'd Violante,
State, Who ever kuew a rape produce a
child? * [command
Benv, Pish ! these are idle. Will your graop
The executioner proceed ? ^
'Rin, Your office!
'' Jkfy equal cntjsl stars, ^c,} Mr. Sympson would read,
My \tnequal cruel >tar8
but Mcgual is good sens^, X don't change the text; I understand equal adverl^i^lly, wf, my
stars equally cruel in thj> instani;^ «# in gll gthers. S$war4.
VOL. III. 4G Ger.
594
FOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL RP.PRESENTA^nONS, IN ONE.
Come down, Alphonso, one of those two twiiis^
And take thy iathei's blessing I Thou faast
broke
•No law, thy birth being above thy wife's :
Ascanio is tlie other, nam*d Fernando,
Who, by remote means, to ray lord Benvoglio
I got preferred ; and in poor habits cLid,
(You iied^ and th' innovation laid again)
I wrought myself into Raiidalpho*s service
With my eldest boy ; yet never durst rev«m)
Wliat they and I were, no, not to themselves,
Until the tyrant's death.
Rin. My joy has fiU'd me
Like a full-winded sail ! I cannot speak!
Ger. Fetch Viofente and my brother.
Benv. Run,
Run like a spout, you rogue ! A pox o* poison!
I'hat little whore I trusted will betray me.
Stay^ hangman ! 1 hav^ work for you : there*!
gold;
Cut off iny head, or hang me^ presently !
Soft musick. Enter Angelina, with the bodu$
of Ferdinand and Viotante on a bier ; Do"
rothea carryijig the cup and letter^ tckick
she gives to Rinattk) ; he reads, seems mt-
rowful; shews it to Corjielia andGerrardj
they lament aver the bier, Kandulpho and
Benvogiio sean fearful, and seem to iv-
port to Angelina and Dprothea what hittk
passed before.
Rand. This is your rashness, brother!
Rin. Oh, joy, thou wert too great Co last^
This was a cruel turning to our hopes !
Unnatural father! poor Ascanio!
Ger. Oh, mother ] Jet me be Gerrard again.
And follow Violante !
Cor. Oh, my son— fewer this.
Rin. Your lives yet, bloody men, shall ao-
Dor. I must not see 'em longer grieve^r—
My lord,
Be comforted; let sadness generally
Forsake each eye and bosom : t hey both lire:
For poison, I infus'd mere opium ;
Holdrng compulsive peijury less sin
^^han such a loathed murder would have been.
Omnes. Oh blessed maiden !
Dor. Musick, gently creep
Into their ears, and fright hence lazy sleep |
Morpheus, command thy servant sleep
In leaden chains no longer keep
This prince and lady ! Rise, wake, rise^
And round about convey your eyes !
Rise, prince; go, greet thy father and tht
mother; [brother.
Rise thou, t' embrace thy husband and ifaj
Rin. Cor. Son, daughter !
Ferd. Father, mother, brother'^!
Ger,
S4 Ferd. Father, mother, brother,
Ger. WifeJ] According to this reading, Ferdinand, whose senses were hot just reco-
vered, knows perfectly all that has past whiU.t he was asleep; although he afterwards asb
kow can this be. I first thouglit a note of interrogation niight solve it, by supposing Orae-
/ici to have informed him in a whisper, and then he might ask the question.
Father?
Ger. Farewell to thy )entici»K vanity,
Thou round gilt box, that dost deiceive man^s
eye! [broke,
The wise man knows, when open thou art
The treasure thou incliid'st is dust and smoke;
Even thus, I cast thee by. My lords, the law
Ig but the great man's mule ; he rides on it^
And tramples poorer men under his feet :
Yet when they come to knock at yon bright
gate.
One's rags shall enter 'fore the other's state.
Peace, to ye alU—Jiere, sirrah, strike!--*
This hand
|iath Violante kiss'd a thousand tiroes ;
It smells sweet ever since : this was the hand
Plighted my faith to her; do not think thou
canst
Cut that in sunder with my hand. My lord,
As free from speck as this arm is, my heart
Is of foul lust, and every vein glides here
Asfiill of truth. — Why does thy handshake so?
Tis mine must lie ciit oft*, and that is firm ;
For i^ w^s ev^r coii^nt.
]&nter Cornelia.
Cor. Hold ! your sentence
.Unjustly is prouounc'd, my lord ! This blow •
Cdts your hand off; for his is none of yours,
Bnt Violante's,gi\-en in holy marriage
Before she wa& delivered, consummated
With tjie free will of her mother, by her
Jn lord Benvoglio's house. [confessor,
Ger. Alas, good aunt.
That helps us nothing; else I had reveal'd it.
Rin. What woman's this?
Benv. A base confederate
Jn this proceeding, kept of alms long time
By him; who now, expos'd to misery.
Talks thus distractedly. Attach her, guard !
Rand, Your cruelty, brother,will have end.
Cor, You*d best
let them attach my tongue.
RSn. Good woman, peace! [phew:
For, were this truth, it doth not help thy ne-
The law's infringM by their disparity;
Tlmt forfeits both their lives.
Cor. Sir,, with your pardon,
Had your grace ever children f
Rin. Tho|i hast put [heart !
A question, whose sharp point toucheth my
I had two little sons, twins, who were both
(With my good duchess) slain, as I did hear.
At that time when py dukedom was surpriz'd.
Cor. I have heard many say, my gracious
That I was wondrous like her. [lord,
Omnes. Ha ! '
Ri?i. By all man's ioy, it is Cordelia,
My dearest y,'\(e I
Cor. To ratify me her,
fOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE.
S9S
Ger, Wife!
Vio, Arc we riot all in Heaven?
Gtr, Faith, very near it.
Ferd, How can this be }
Rin. Hear it! [seen
Dor. If I had serv*d you right, I shouldnave
Your old pate off, ere I ha^ reveal'd.
Benv. Oh wench ! [thee :
"Oh, honest wench ! if my wife die, Fll marry
There's my reward^*.
Jim. T*is true.
Ferd, Tis very strange'*.
Ger, Why kneel you, honest roaster }
Ferd, My good lord !
Ger, Dear mother!
Rin, Rise, rise! all are friends. I owe ye
For al^ their boards : and, wench, take thou
the man [merit.
Whose life thou sav'dst; less cannot pay thy
How shall I part my kiss? I cannot! let
One generally therefore join our cheeks.
A pen of iron, and a ieaf of brass,
To keep this story to eternity,
-And a Promethean wit ! — Oh, sacred Love,
Kor chance, nor death, can thy linn truth
remove. [Exeunt, Flourish,
Ent^n. Now, Isabella r
hab. This can true love do,
I joy they all so happily are pleas'd !
The* ladies and the brothers must triumfih.
Eman, They do;
For Cupid aoorns bat fhave h» Triumph too.
[FUiuriih.
The Triumph,
Enter divert muskiansy then certain singers
bearing bannerets inscribedytruth^ Loyalty,
Patience, Concord; nejet Gerrard and
Ferdinand with garlands of roses; then
Violante ; last^ « chariot drawn by ti9o
Cupids, and a Cupid sitting in it.
Flourish, Enter Prologuel
Prol, Love and the strength of fair affec-
tion, fwon
Most royal sir, what long seem*d lost, have
Their perfect ends, and crown'd those con-
stant hearts
With lasting triumph, whose most virtuous
parts,
Worthy desires, and love, shall never end.
Now turn we round the scene ; and, great
sir, lend
^ sad and serious eye to this of Death,
This black and dismal triumph; where man*s
breath,
Father? mother? brother?
But puttmg the whole into GerrartTs mouth, takes away the difficulty much more ea«ly.
Sewavdm
We think the old reading best, and don't understand the objection.
5* There s thy reward,^ Text from first folio. It means my rewarding toc.
w Ferd. "Fis true, ^
Rin. *2ai»ry strange,'] Here again the speakers were evidently wrong, and had change«I
fftlaces. Seward.
4 G 2 Enu-
Desert, and guilty blood, ascend the stage;
And view tlie tyrant^ ruin'd in his rage.
[Exit, FUmriA.
Enter Lavall, Gabridla, and Maria.
Gab. No, good my lord^ I am qoI now tor
find
Your long neglect of me: all those affections
You came first ckd iu to my love, like summer^
Lusty and full of life; all those desires
That like the painted spring bioom'd round
about ye.
Giving the happy promise of an liarves;.
How have I seen drop off, and all forgotten !
With the least lustre of another's beauty.
How oft, forgetful lord, have I been blasted!
Was I so easily won ? or did this body
Yield to your talse embraces, with less labout
Than ifyou*d carried some strong town?
Lav. Good Gabriella ! [betray me^
Gab, Could all your subtilties and sighs
The vows ye shook me with, tlie tears ye
drown'd me, [ringe?
'Till I came fairly off witli bonourVl maf«
Oh, fy, my lord !
Lav. Prithee, good Gabriella!
Gab. 'Would 1 bad never known yon, not
your honours ! fwomen.
They're stuck too full of griefs. Oh, liappj
That pl'\nt your love in equid honest bosoms.
Whose sweet dei>ii-ei, like roses set together.
Make one another happy in tlieir blushes,
Growing and dying without sense ofgreatness.
To which I am a slave ! and that blest sa-
crament
That daily makes millions of happy mothers,
LinkM me to this man's lust alone, there
letl me : <
I dare not say I am his wife, 'tis dangerous;
His hve, I cannot say. ATas,1iow many —
Lav, You grow too warm ; pray you bt.
content ! You best know
The time's necessity, and how our marriage.
Being so much unequal to min^ Itonour,
While the duke lives,! standing high in fa-
vour, [dom)
(And, whilst I keep that safe, next to the duke-
Must not be known, without my utter ruin.
Have patience for a while, and do but dream,
wench.
The glory of a duchess. — How she tires me !
How dull and leaden i^ my appetite
To that stale beauty now! Oh, I couM curse
And crucify myself for childish doling
Upeh a face that feeds not with fresh tigurea
Every fresh hour; she's now a surfeit tome!— >
m FOUft f tAYS, Olt MOIUL RKPltfiA£NTATtON8, IN 0N&
Enfer GefitiUe.
Who's that? Gentillc?— I chaige w, no
acquaintance^ [course.
You nor your maid, with him, nor no dis-
Till timte are riper !
Gent. ¥y, my noble lord !
Can you be now a stranger to the court.
When yourmost virtuous bride, the beauteous
lieUena,
Stands ready like a star to gild your happiness ?
When Hymen's lusty fires are now a-lightiog,
And all the flower of Anjoa—
Lav. Some few trifles.
For matter of adornment, have a little
Made me so slow, Gentille; which now in
readiness,
I am for court immediately.
Gent. Take heed, sir!
This is no time for trifling, nor she no lady
To be DOW entertain d with toys ; *twill cost
you —
Lav. YouVe an old cOck, Gentille.
Gent. 'By your lordship's favouiw-
Lao, Pritliee, away! 'twill lose time.
Gent. Oh, my lord,
Pardon me that, by all means!
Lav. We have business
A-fbot, man, of more moment!
Gent, Than my manners ?
I know none, nor I seek none.
Lav. Take to-morrow !
Gent. Even now, by yonr lordship's leave.
— Excellent beauty,
My service here I ever dedicate,
Inbonourof mj best friend, your dead father,
To you, his living virtue ; and wish heartily,
That 6rm aflection that made us two happy,
May take as deep undying root, and flourish
Betwixt my daughterCasta,and yourgoodness,
Who shall be still your servant.
Gab. I much thank you.
Lav, Pox o'this dreaming puppy!— Will
you go, sir ?
Gent. A little more, good lord!
Lav. Not now, by Heaven!
Come, I must use you.
Gent. Goodness dwell still with you!
[Exeunt Gent* and Lav.
Gab. The sight of this old gentleman,
Maria,
Pulls to mine e3res again the living picture
Of Perolot his virtuous son, my first love,
That died at Orleans.
Maria. You liave felt both fortunes,
And in extremes, poor lady! for young
Perolot,
Being every way unable to maintain you,
Durst not make known his love to friend or
frther;
My lord Lavall beine powerful, and you poor.
Will not acknowledge you.
Gab. No more! let's in, wench;
There let n>y lute qpeak ttiy laments! tlie/ve I
Ur*d me. [Exeunt. I
Enter Tbo Courtien,
1 Court. I grant, the duke is wondroiis
provident
In his now planting for succesnon ; [too,
I. know his care as honourable in Uie crboice
Marine's foir virtuous daughter : but what's
all this?
To what end excellent arrives this travel,
When he that bears the main roof i^ so rotten?
S Court. You have hit it now indeed ; for.
He is untemperate. [if fame lie uot,
1 Court. You express him poorly.
Too gentle, sir : the most debosh'd and ba>
barous,
Believe it ; the most void of nil hdinanity,
Howe'er his cunning cloke it to his Uiide,
And those his pride depends upon.
^ Court, I have heard too,
Given excessively to drink.
1 Coarr. Most cdktain, [these things
And in that drink most dangerous; I speak
To one I know loves truth, and dares net
wrong her.
2 Court. You may speak on.
1 Court. Uncertain as the sea, sir,
Proud und deceitful as his sin's great master;
His api- otite to women, (for there he carries
His uitiin-sail spread) so boundless and
kbominable, [spoken.
That but to have her name by that tongoe
Poisons the virtue of the purest vii^n.
S Court, I am sorry for young Gabiiella
then,
A maid reputed, ever of hit carnage;
For he has been noted visiting.
1 Coar^. She is gone tlien ;
Or any else, that promises, or power^
Gilb, or his guileral vows, can work upon:
But these are but poor parcels.
2 Court, Tis great pjty!
1 Court, Nor want tliese sins a chief
saint to befriend 'em : «
The devil follows him ; and, for a truth, iirj
Appears in visible figure often to him ;
At which time he's possess'd with sadden
trances, [science^
Cold deadly sweats, and griping of the oon-
Tormented strangely, as they say.
2 Court. Heav n turn him !
This marriage-day may'st thon well dme,
fair Hellen. —
But let's go view the ceremony.
1 Court, Fil walk with yon. [Ecsnnl.
Musick. Enter Gabriella and Maria above;
and Lavall, Bride, Statet in solemnity at
to marriage, and pass aver, viz. Like,
Marine and Longaville,
Maria. I hear 'em come !
Gab. 'Would I might never hear more!
Maria, I told ^on still; but yon ^^ere se
See, there they kiss! [tncredidoos^
Gu^, Adders be your embraces !
The poison of a rotten heart| oh, HeUtt,
Blut
rOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE.
Blast thee as I hare been I Just such a flattery,
With that same cunning face, thiit smile
vpon*t,
(Oh, muric it, Mary, mark it seriously I)
That master smile caught me.
Maria. There's th* old duke, and
Idarine her father.
Gab, Oh!
Mariu. There LongaviUe ;
.The Indies now.
Gab. Oh, I am murder*d, Mary !«—
Beast, most inconstant beast I
Maria. Tliere —
Gab, There I am not; [Heav'n!
No more—I am not there. Hear me, oh,
And, rH you pow'rri of justice, bow down to
me!
But you of pity, die. I am abus*d ;
She chat depended on your providence,
She is abus*d I your honour is abus'd I
That noble piece ye madey and call'd it nunif
. Is tum'd to devil ; all the world's abus*d !
Give me a woman's will, provok'd to mischief,
A two-edg'd heart; my suffering thoughts to
wildfires.
And my embraces to a timeless grave turn !
Maria. Here Fll step in ; lor 'tis an act of
. merit.
Gab. I am too big to utter more.
i Maria, Take time then. [Exeunt
Enter Gent ilk and Casta,
Gent, This solitary life at home undoes
thee, [tliee ;
Obscures thy beauty first, which should prefer
Next, fills thee full of sad thoughts, which
thy years [ness :
.Must not arrive at yet ; they choke thy sweet-
Follow the time, my girl ; and it wUl faring
thee,
Even to the fellowshipof the noblest women,
Hellen herself, to whom I would prefer thee,
And under whom this poor and private
carria|e,
•(Which I am only able yet to reach at)
Being cast off, and ^11 thy sweets at lustre.
Will take thee as a fair friend, and prefer
thee.
Casta, Good sir, be not so cruel as to seek
To kill that sweet content you've bred me to.
.Have I not here enough to thank Heav'n for ?
The free air, uncorrupted with new flattery ?
The water that I touch, unbrib'd with odours
To make me sweet to 9thers? tlie pore fire
2f ot smother d up^ fmd choak'd with lustful
inoapse [and high.
To make my blood sweat ? but burning clear
Tells me my mind must flame up so to ifeav'n .
What fliMufd I do ai court? wear rich apparel ?
Metbinks these are aa warm, and, for your
state, sir.
Wealthy enough: is it, you'd have me proud,
And, likea pageant, stuck up for amazements ?
.Teach not year eJuld le tiead tiMt path; for
leer, fir,
599
Your dry bones, after death, groan in your
The miseries that follow. [grave
Gent, Excellent Casta!
Casta, When shall I pray again, a courtier?
Or, when I do, to what god ? what new body
And new face must I make me, with new
manners [mistress
(For I must be no more myself)? whose
Must I be first? with whose sin-ofiiering
senson'd?
And when I'm grown so great and glorious
With prostitution of my burning bmuties,
That great lords kneel, and princes beg for
favours, [gentlemen's.
Do you think I'll be vour daughter, a poor
Or know you for my father?
Enter LavalL
Gent. My best Casta! [within thee!
Oh,\ my most virtuous child I Heav'n reigns
Take thine own choice, sweet child, and live
a saint still. —
The lord Lavall! stand by, wench.
Lav. Gahriella —
She cannot, nor she dares not make it known ;
My greatness crushes her, whene'er she oSem
.Why should I fear her then?
Oent. Come ; let's pass on, wench.
Lav. Gentille, come hither!— Who's that
gentlewoman ? [custom,
Gent. A child of mine, sir, who, observing
Is going to the monastery to her prayers.
Lav, A fair one, a most sweet one! fitter
far
T^ beautify a court, then make a votarist.-^
Go on, fair beaut^jr, and in your orizons
Kemember met will you, fair sweet?
Casta. Most humbly. [Exit wiik Gent,
Lav. An admirable beauty ! how it fires
me!
Enter a Spirit.
But she's too full of grace, and I too widced. —
I feel my wonted fit : defend me, goodness!
Oh I it grows colder still, and stifler on me ;
My hair stands up, my siuewsshake and shrink;
Help me, good Heav'n, and good thoughts
dwell within me !
Oh, get thee gone, thou evil, evil spirit;
Haunt me no more, I charge thee!
' Spirit. Yes, Lavall ;
Thou art my vassal, and the slave to mischiefs
I blast thee with new sin. Pursue thy
pleasure !
Casta is rare and sweet, a blowing beauty $
Set thy desires afire, and never quench 'em
'Till thou eiijoy'st her! make her all thy
Heav'n,
And all thy joy, for she is all trae happiness.
Thou'rt powerful; use command; if that
prevail not.
Force her : I'll be thy friend.
Lav. Oh, help me, help me I
Spirit. Her virtue like a speU, links me
to darknesi* [Exit.
^nter
598
FOUR PLAYS, Olt MORAL REPRESENTATION^ IN ONE.
Enter GentiUe and Casta.
Gent, He*s here still. — How i9% noble
lord? Methinks, sir,
YoQ look a little wildly?— Is it that way?
Is't her you stare on so? IVe spied your fire,
sir,
Bdt dare not sUiy the flaming: come!
Lav. Sweet creatore,
Excellent beauty, do me but the happiuess .
To be your humblest servant. — Oli, fair eyes!
Oh, blessed, blessed sweetness, divine virgin !
Oistm, Oh, good my lord, retire into your
honour! [helm
You're spoken good and vh-tuous, plac*d at
To 'govern others from mischances ; from
example
Of such fair chronicles as great ones are,
We do, or sure we should, direct our lives.
I know you're full of worth; a school of
virtue,
Daily instructing us that live below you,
I make no doufa^ dwells there.
Lav. I cannot answer ;
Sli' has struck me dumb with wonder.
Catta. Gk>odness guide you! [Exeunt.
Lav. She's gone, and with her all light,
and has left me
Dark, as my black desires. Oh, devil lust,
How dost thou hug my blood, and whisper
to me,
There is no day again, no time, no living.
Without this lusty beauty break upon me!
Let me collect myself; I strive like billows,
Bcaien against a rq|^, and fall a fool still.
I must enjoy her, and I will; from this hour
SAy thoughcj^ and all my business shall be
nothing.
Enter Maria,
My eating, and my sleeping, but her beauty,
And how to work it.
Maria. Health to my lord La\'all !—
Nay, good sir, do not turn with such dis-
pleasure!
I come not to afHict your new>born pleasures.
My honoured mistress — Neither let that vex
you,
For nothing is intended, but safe to you.
Lav. VVlmt of your raistrc6S ? I am full of
business.
Maria, I will be short, my lord. She, loving
lady,
(Jonsidering the unequal tie between ye.
And 1m>w your ruin with the duke lay on it,
A!» also the most noble match now made,
i^y me sends back all links of marriage.
All holy vows, and rights of ceremony,
/\ II pioiTHses, oaths, tears, and all such pawns
\ou left in hostage; only her love she cannot,
Tor that still follows you, but not to hurt you ;
And still beholds you, sir, but not to shame
you ;
In recompense of which, this is Iter suit, sir.
Her poor and last petition^ but to grant her,
When weary nights have doy'd you op witfi
kisses,
(As such must come) the honour of a mistiesa^
The honour but to let her see those eyes,
(Those eyes she dotes on, more than gods oo
goodness)
And but to kiss you only; with this prayer,
(A prayer only to awake your pity)
And on her knees she made it, that this nigjbt
You'll bless her with your company a( supper.
Lav^ I like tliis well ; and, iiuw I dunk
on't better,
I'll make a present use from this occasioii—
Maria. r*fay, good my lord, be nui m
cruel to her.
Because she has been yours!
Lav. And to mine own end
A rare way I will work.
Maria. Can love for ever.
The love of her, ray lord, so perish in yon ?—
As you desire in your desires to prosper!
Wliat gal taut under Hoav'n, but Anjou's heir,
then
Can brag so fair a wife, and sweet a mistresif
Good, noble lord !
Lav. You misapply me, Mary ;
Nor do I want true pity to your lady :
Pity and love tell me, too much I've wronged
her
To dare to see her more : yet if her sweetneff
Can entertain a mediation,
(And it must be a great one that can cure me)
My love again, as far as honour bids me.
My service, and myself—
Maria. That's nobly spoken ! [know her;
Lav.. Shall hourly see her; want shall nens
Nor where she has bestow'd ber love, repent
Maria. Now whither drives he? [ber.
Lav. I have heard, Maria,
That no two women in the world more lov'd.
Than thy good mistress and Gentille's fair
' daughter. [heard a truth, my lonl;
Maria. What may this mean? — You've
But since the secret love betwixt you two.
My mistress durst not cntertuin such fnend*
ship:
Casta is ouick, and of a piercing jodgmeo^
And quickly will find out a flaw.
Lav. Hold, Mary: [banquet.
Shrink not ; 'tis good gold, wench : prepare t
And get that Casta thither; for she's a
creature
So full of forcible divine persuasion.
And so unwearied evet with good offitie,
That she sliall cure my ill cause to my
And make all errors up.
Maria. I'll do my best, sir :
But she's too fearful, coy, and scmpolons^
To leave her father's house so late; aod
bashful
At any man's appearance, Chat^ I fear, sir,
Twill prove impossible.
Lav. There's more gold, Mary ;
And fain thy mistress wondrous aick^fio death,
wench!
Ifcrk
youR pijWS, or moral representations, in one.
599
Maria. I have you in the wind now, and
1*11 pay you. [charitjr,
Lav, She cannot cliuse but come; 'tis
The chief of her profession : undertake th»,
And [ am there at night; if not, I leave you,
Maria, 1 will not loae this offer, tiio' it
fall out
Clean cross to that we cast. — I'll umlertake it;
I will, my lord ; she ahsdl be there.
Lav. By Heaven ?
Maria. By Heaven, she shall.
Lav. Let It be sonvething late tl\en, [ber.
For being seen 1 — Now force or favour wins
My spirits are grown dull ; aitrong wine, iind
store,
^hall set 'em up again, and make me fit
To draw home at the enterprize I aim at.
[Exit.
Maria. Go tliy way, false lord! it thou
hold'st, thou pay'st [there.
The price of aJl thy lusts. Thou shalt be
Thou modest maid, if I h^ve any working.
And yet thy honour safe; for which this thief
I know has set this meeting; but TU Wj^tcb
bim.
Enter Perobt,
Per. Maria! [bless ipe!
Maria. Are mine eyes mine own? or —
/im I deluded with a flying shadow ?
JPer. Why do you start so from me ?
Maria. It speaks sensibly,
And shews a hving body ; yet J'm fearful.
Per. Give me your hand, good Maria.
Maria. He feels warm too.
JPcr. And next your lips.
jilaria. Ue kisses perfectly : [Perolot?
Nay, an the devil be no worse— lou are
Fer, I was, and »ure I should be : can a
small dibUuce,
And ten shortmonth8,take from your memory
The figure of your friend, that you stand
vonaring?
Be not amait'd! I am the self-same Perolot,
Liviug and well, son toGentille, and brother
To virtuousCasta; to your beauteous luibtrcss.
The long-bince poor betrothed, and still-vow'd
servant. [your master,
Maria. Nay,sure he lives ! — My lord Lavall,
Brought news long since to your muc)>-
mourning mistress, [too.
You died at Orleans; bound her with an oath
To keep it secret from your aged father,
I^st it should rack his heart.
Per. A pretty secret, [come
To try my mistress' love, and make my wel-
From travel of more worth; from whence,
Heav'n thank'd, [purpose,
My business for the duke dispatch'd to th'
And all my money spent, I am come home,
wench.
How does my mistress? for I have not yet seen
Any, nor will I, 'till I do her service.
Maria. But did the lord Lavall know of
Before he went ? [your love, sir,
Per. Yes ; by much force he got it.
Bat none else £new ; upon his promise too,
And honour, to conceal it faithfully
'Till my return : to further which, he told me.
My business being ended^ from the duke
He would procure a pension for my service,
Able to make my mistress a fit husband.
Maria. But are ^'ou sure of this ?
Per. Sure as my sigtit, wench.
Maria. Then is your lord a base dissem-
bling villain,
A devil lord, die damn'd lord of all lewdness.
And has betray'd you, aud undone my mistress.
My poor sweet mistress (oh, that lecher lord !)
Who^ poor soul, since was married !
Per. To whom, Maria ? [him !
Maria. To that unlucky lord, a plague upon
Whose hot horse-appetite being allay'd once
With her chaste Joys, married again (scarce
cool'd; '
The torches yet not out the yellow Hymen
Lighted about the bed, the songs yet sounding)
Mariners young poble daughter Hellena,
Whose mischief stands at door next. Ob,
that recreant!
Per. Oil, villain I oh,mo8tonmanly falshood !
Nay, then, I see my letters were betray *d too.
Oh, I ^m full of thiS) great with his mischiefs,
Loaden and burst! Come, lead me to my lady.
Maria. I cannot, sir; Lavall keeps her
conceal'd : [rann.
Besides, her gnefs are such, she will see no
Per. I must, and will go to her; I will soc
her: 4 [furthest!
There be my friend, or this shall be thy
Maria. Hold, and 111 help thee! But first
you shall swear to me.
As you are true and gentle, as you hate
This beastly and base lord, where I shall
place you, [yo">
(Which shall be within sight) 'till I discharge
WhateVr you see or hear, to make no motion.
Per. I clo, by Heaven !
Maria. Stay here about the house then,
'Till it be later ; yet, the time's not perfect :
There at the back-door I'll attend you truly.
Per. Oh, monstrous, monstrous, beastly
villain ! [Exit.
Maria. How cross this falls, and from all
expectation ! [kuows :
And what the end shall be, Heav'n only yet
Only I wish, and hope. But I forget still;
Casta must be the bait, or all miscarries.
[Rrit.
Enter Ceniille with a torch, Shalloone above.
Gent. Holla, Shalloone !
Shal. Who's there? ^
Geiit. A word from th' duke, sir.
Shal. Your pleasure ? [straight.
Gent. Tell your lord he must to court
Shal. He's ill at ease ; and prays he may
be pardon'd
The occasions of this night.
Gent. BcHke he's drunk then.
He
«00
FOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REFRESENTATJONS, IN ONE.
He must away ; the duke and bis fair lady,
The beauteous Hclleoa, are now at ceoL
Of whom she has such fortune in her carding.
The duke has lost a thousand crowns, and
swears,
He will not go to bed, 'till by Lavali
The tide of loss be turn'd agani. Awake him !
For *tis the pleasure of the duke he must rise.
Shul. Having ho strict command, sir, to
the contrary,
I dare not do it: I beseech your pardon.
Gent. Are you sure he is there ?
Shal. Yes.
Gent. And asleep ?
. SknL I think so. [him,Shalloone?
Gent, And are you sure you will not teJl
SkaL Yes, very sure.
Gent, Then I am sure, I wiU :
Open, or I must force.
Shal. Pray you stay ! he is not, [it.
Nor will not be this night : ypu may excuse
Gent. I knew he was gone about some
woman^ labour. [comfortable !
Ai good a neighbour, tbo' I say^ it, and as
Many siich more we need, Shalloon^. Alas,
poor lady, [monsieur,
Tbou'rt like to lie cro8&-leg'd to-night. Good
I will excuse your master for this once, sir.
Because sometimes I've lov'd a wench my-
self too.
Shal, Tis a good hearing, sir.
Gent, But for your lie, Shalloone, [ing ;
If I had you here, it sliould be no good liear-
For YOur pate I would pummel.
SnaL A fair good night, sir ! TE^eii,
Gent. Good night, thou noble knigiit. Sir
Pandarus^* ! {dulness
My lieart is cold o* th^ sudden, and a strange.
Possesses all my body; thy will be done,'
Heaven! [Exit,
EnterGabrieU<ifCast{LfandMaria with a taper.
Casta. 'Faith, friend, I was even going to
my bed,
When your maid told me of your sudden
sickness:
But from my grave (so truly I love you)
I think Your name would raise me. You
look ill [lom;
Since last I saw you, much decay*d m co-
^^ Sir Pat%daru$,'] See Troilus and Cressida. JR.
^^ The closet of my heart, J mil lock here, teencL'] It is more natural to read,
I will unlock^ wench,
as Mr. Sympson would read, and at first sight the same change occurred to .me, bat the old
reading is certainly sense, and a stronger sense, vig. That she would lock up all ber secrets
in Casta*s breast, which she must Ibj^ her hand on or point to while she speaks. SemndL
3B Under this glorious beast-insulting man,"^ This compound word must be strained very
much, to force into any meaning that will suit the context. Mr. Sympson tberefbre agnci
with me in supposing it corrupt, i had read,
Under this glorious ^«0f^; tnitil^g man,
but bis conjecture, though not quite so near tbe trace of letters^ makes better Bepfe, s&d |
therefore prefer it,
Under this glorious ha$e insulting man. Seward.
He IS called heast more than once before : h*te corner in but poorly here.
6aL
Yet, I thwik Hear*D, I 4nd no sucli srctt
danger (^^
As your maid frighted me witbali : take «ni-
And give your sickness course ! Some gnsf
you have gc^t
That feeds witbin upon your tender nirit^
And, wanting open way to vent itself
Murders your mind, and choaka up all joai
sweetness. [to trouble yoa,
Gab, It was my maid's fault, wortby frieod.
So lato, upon so light a cause ; yet, nnce I
Oh, my dear Casta^ ^ '[have yoa,
Casta. Out with it, i*God s name !
Gab. The closet of my heart I will loci
here^7, wench, [Lapall knocks within.
And thin]j;s siiall make you trembly.— -Who's
Umt kiiocks there ?
Maria, 'I is Lavali.
Gab. Sit you still !— Let lum in. —
I am resolv*d; and, all you wronged women,
Y^ou noi)le spirits, tliat, as I, have sufer'd
Under this glorious beast, insulting maji''.
Lend me your causes, then yourcruelocs;
For I must put on madness above women !
Casta, Why do you look so ghastly i
Gab, Peace ! no harm, dean
Enter LavaU,
Jjiv, There, take my cloak and swordw—
' Where is the banquet.^
Maria. In the next roOm. fme !
Casta, How came be here^ Heaven bless
Xav. Give me some wine, wench; fill it
full and tfpriehtly-«-
Gab, Sit stijl, and be not fearful.
Lav. Till my veins swell, rCeotani',
And my strons sinews stretch like that braie
That at the Uble snatdh'd the bride away
In spite of Hercules.
Casta, I am betrayed ! [i come,
Jmo, Nay, start not, lady! 'tis for yoa that
And for your beauty : 'tis for yon,Xavall
Uonours this night ; to yon the sacred abrine
I bombly bow, oOeriog my vows and prajm;
To you I live.
Cab. In with the powder quickly!
So ; that and tlie wine will rock you.
Lav, Here; to die health
Of the most beauteous and divine iairCasl%
The star of sweetness! .
lOUIl PLiYS, OK UORAL BePltCSENTATIQNI^ IK ONB. 601
Guk. Fear him not ; I'll die first—
Aod who shall pledge you ?
Lm. Thou sbaity tbou tonn*d gipsey !
And worship to that brigbtaew eive, aold
Tartar !— {iniitr^ss,
t^ Heaven, you shall not stir ! Yoa are my
Ttie glory of my love, the great adventurf:,
The mistress ot* my heart, and fche my whocf !
Cab, Thouliesc, base, beastly lord ! drunker
than anger, [basely!
Tbou soused lord, got by a surfeit, thou liest
Nay, stir not ! I daYe teii thee so. — Sit you
siiil.—
If 1 be whore, it is in marrving thee,
That art so absolute and full a villain,
No sRcraiueut can have that piece tied to thee.
How oltea hast thou wooed, in those ihit-
teries.
Almost those very words, my constancy ?
What goddess have I nut been, or what
goodness ?
What star, tiiat is of any name in Heaven^
Or brightness? Which of all the virtues
(But drunkenness, and drabbing, thy two
morals) [sweeter?
Have not I reach'd to ? what spring was ever
What Scythian snow so white? what crystal
chaster? [Hang thee,
Is not tiiy new wife now the same too?
Base bigamist, thou honoar of ill womea^^ !
Coda, How's this? Oh, Heav*n defend me!
Gab. Thou salt-itch,
Tor whom no curehuteyeff^umiiig bnmsione
Can be imagio'd !
Lav, Ha, ha, ha!
Gab. Dost thou laugh, thou breaker
Of all law, all Adigion? ol'all taith
Thou foul contemner!
Lav, Peace, thou pallry woman !-— >
And sit by me, sweet.
Gab. By the devil/
Lav. Come;,
And IuH me with delights.
Gab. It works amain now. [shadows
Lav. Give «se such kisses as «he queen of
Gave to the sleepioc boy she stole at Latmos ;
CiOOk foand aboot^, in snaky wreaths close-
folded,
l^iose rosy arms alioat my neck, oh, Venus !
G^, Fear not, I say.
Lhv. Thou admirable aweetuess,
l>isi}l thy blessings like tliose silver drops,
T\i«, falling <!iii fair grounds, rise all in jriises ;
8hooi Bic a thousaud darU <tJrom those fair
eyes, [stand 'em ;
And thro' my heart transfix 'em all. Til
bend me a thousa»id smiles, and presendy ^
Sll catch 'em in mine eyes^ ano by Love*s '
power
Tarn VmtoCupicIs all, and flmg'em on the»«
How high she looks, and heav*aly ! — More
wine for me ! [be not fearful !
G(A, Give him more wine; and, good friend.
Lav. Here on my kn^e, thou goddess of
delights,
This lusty grape I ofier to thy beauties:
See how it leaps to view that perfect redqesf
That dwells upon tii} lips ! now, how it blushes
To be out-blush*d ! Oh, let me feed my fiincy !
And as I hold the purple god in one hand,
Dancingabodt the brim, and proudly swellings
Deck*d in the pride of Nature, young and
blowings
So let me take fair Semele in the other.
And sing the loves of gods, then drink their
Not yet desir'd ! [nectar.
Casta. Oh I
Lav. Then, like lusty Tarquin,
Tnrn*d into flames witli Luci-ece* coy denials,
Ills blood and spirit equadly ambitious,
I force thee for mine own. [chastity !
Casta. Oh, help me, justice ! help me, my
' Lav, Now 1 am bravely quarried.
[Peroii^ above.
Per. Tis my sister ! [not carried.
Gab. No, bawdy slave, no, treacher, she's
[Exit Casta.
Per. She's loose ag^in, and go|ie. I'll keep
my place still. [cannot hurt yoy.
Maria. Now it works bravely. Stand ! lie
Lav, Oh my sweet love, my life !
Afarta. Ue sinks.
Lav. My blessing f
^ [3g/ali$ dmn and tkepu
Maria, So; now he is aafe awhile.
Gab, Lock all the doors, wench;
Then for my wrongs I
Per. Now I'll appear to know all.
6a6. Be quick, quick, good Maria, sura
and sudden.
Per. Stay! I must io first.
Gab. Oh, my OQnscience !
It is younp Perolot : oh, my stung conscience !
It is my first and noblest love.
Maria. Leave wondering.
And recollect yourself: the man is living;
Equally wrong d as yoa, and 'by thatdeviL
Per. Tis most true, lady ; your unhappy
fortune
I grieve for as for mine own; your fiudt fut^
give too.
If k be one. This is no time for kisses :
I have heard all, and known all, which mine
ears [risli'd.
Are crack'd a-pieces with^ and my heart pe-
i saw him in your cliamber, saw hia fury.
And am a-iire 'till I have found his heart out.
What do vou mean to do?' for I'll make one.
39 Base bigamitt, thou honour o^ill
• Thou horror of all women
,] Seward reads,
But HONOUR qf'iLh vromen may mean a man m request with prostitotes : fo he is afterwards
called SALT-itcA, &c. and inunediately befooe. Base bijgamiit.
*° Look round about. 4*^-1 So all copies but^first fuJio«
VOL. in. 4 H Gab.
MS
POUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE.
Gab, To make his death more horrid, for
he shall die —
Per. He must, he must.
Ga5. We'll watch him 'till he wakes,
Then bind him, and then torture him.
Per» 'Tis nothing ! [peiitance.
No ; take him dead-drank now, without re-
His lechery inseam*d upon him^'.
Gab, Excellent! [provide ye;
Per. Ill do it myself; and when 'tis done.
For well away for Italy this night.
Gab. We'll follow thro' all hazards.
Per. Oh, false lord, [thee !
Unmanly, mischievous ! how I could curse
But that but blasts thy fame: have at thy
heart, fool ! [out
Loop-holes ril make enough to let thy life
Lav, Oh ! does the dcvilride me i
Per. Nay, then !
Lav. Murder!
Nay, then, take my share too.
Per, Help ! oh fh' has slain mc.
Bloody intentions must have blood.
Lav. Ha!
Per, Heav'n [Diet.
Gab, He sinks, he sinks, for ever sinks !
Oh, Fortune ! [me !
Oh, Sorrow ! bow like seas thou flow'st upon
Here will I dwell for ever. Weep, Maria,
Weep this young man's misfortune. Oh, thou
truest —
Enter Spirit,
Lav. What have I done^
Soirit. Tliat that has mark'd thy soul, man.
£av» And art thou come again, thou dis-
mal Spirit i
Spirit. Yes, to devour thy last.
Lav, Mercy upon me !
Spirit. Thy liour is come : succession, lio-
nour, pleasure.
And all tlie lustre thou so long hast looked for,
Must here have end : summon thy sins before
thee.
Lav. Oh, my affrighted soul !
Spirit, There lies a black one ;
Thy own best servant by thy own hand slain :
Thy drunkenness procured it; there's another:
Thmk of fair Gabriella ! there she weeps ;
And such tears are not lost.
Lav, Oh miserable! [Casta.
&>irit. Thy foul intention to the virtuous
JLa9. No more, no more, tlkou wildfire !
^ Spirit, Last, thy last wife.
Think on the wrongs she suffers.
^' Take him de<id-dnink, S^c] This horrid sentiment seems to have been adopted from «
Miilar one in Hamlet ; where tlmt prince, debating on the purposed death of the Ki^g, aayt,
* When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage;
* Or in the incestuous pleasures of his bed,
* At gaming, swearing; or about some act
* That has no relish of salvation in't:
* Titen trip him, that his heels may kick at Heaven;
' And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
' As Hell, whereto it goes.' IL
Lav. Oh, my misery !
Oh, whither shall I fly ?
Spirit, Thou liast no futh, fooL
Hark to th;r knell ! [Singt^ and i
Lav, Millions of sins muster about mine
eyes now ; fllorror.
Murders, ambitions, lust, false fiuths: Oh,
In what a stormy form of death tboa iid*si
now!
Methinks I see all tortures, fires, and irosli^
Deep-sinking caves, where uotliing but de-
spair dwells.
The baleful birds of night hovering about 'em ;
A grave, methinks, now opens, and a hearse^
Hung with my arms, tumbles into it. Oh !
Oh, mv afflicted soul I I cannot pray;
And the least child that has but goodness in
him ^ [powen:
May strike my head oS^ so stupid flu« mj
I'll lift mine eyes up tbo'.
Maria. Cease these laments ! [lives yet.
They are too poor for vengeance: Lacrall
Gab, Then thus I dry all somws from
these eyes; [devil!
Fury and rage possess 'em now ! Ilami'd
Lav, Ha!
Gab. This for young Perolot!
Lav, Oh, mercy, mercy !
Gab. This for my wrongs !
Lav, But one short hour to cure me !
[Knock wMim.
Oh, be not cruel : Oh ! oh !
Maria, Hark, they knock !
Make haste, for UeavVs nke, mistress!
Gab. This for Casta!
Lav. Oh, oh, oh, oh ! J He diet.
JIfarta. He's dead; come, quickly! let's
away with him,
Twill be too late else.
Gab, Help, help, up to the cliamber !
[Exeunt with LavmlTB bod^
Enter Duke, Uellenoi GentUle, Cosfa, end
Attendant$ with lights.
Duke, What frights are these t
Gent. I'm sure here's^ one past frightinc.
Bring the lights nearer : I've enougjb alresoy.
Out, out, mine eyes I Look, Casta.
J.ord. 'Tis young Perolot! [dewomaa!
Dnke, When came he over? Hold the ga^
She sinks; and bear lier o6f.
Canto. Oh, my dear brother! [Eiii,
Gent. There is a time for dl; for n»e, I
And very shortly. Murdei'd f [hope too^
[GabrteUa, Miria, with Lavaltihody^ ai
lOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE.
60i
Duke* Who's above there ?
GiA. Look up and see.
Duke» What may thiii mean ?
Gab. Behold it !
Behold the dranken murderer
Of tliat young gentleman; behold the rankest,
The vilest, basest slave that ever flourish'd !
Duke. Whokili'dhim?
Gab, I; and there's the cause I did it:
Read, if your eyes will give you leave.
HeL Oh, monstrous !
Gab, Nay, out it shall : there, take tliis
false lieart to ye.
The base dishonour of a thousand women !
I^eep it in gold, duke ; 'tis a precious jewel.
Now t^ myself! fori have liv'd a fair age,
Longer by some months than I had a mind to.
Duke, Hold! [tractcd!
Gab, Here, young Perolol, my first-con-
True love shall never go alone.
DuAir. Hold, Gabriella !
I do forgive all.
Gab. I shall die the better. [with me !
Thus let me seek my grave, and my shames
Maria, Nor slialt thou alone, my noble
mistress *.
Why should I live, and thou dead ?
Hard, Save the wench there ! [written.
Maria. She is, I hope ; and all my sins here
Duke. This was a fatal night.
Gent. Heav*n bus his working.
Which we cannot contend against.
Duke. Alas!
Gent. Your Grace has your alas too.
Duke. 'Would 'twere equal !
For thou hast lost an honest noble child.
Gent, nris heir enough h' has left, a good
remembrance^^.
Duke. See all their bodies buried decently;
Tho' some deserv'd it not ! — How do you do,
lady ?
HeL Even, with your grace's leave, ripe
for a monastery ;
There will I wed my life to tears and prayers.
And never know what man is more.
Duke. Your pleasure.
How does the maid within ?
Lord. She Lh gone before, sir.
The same course that her lady takes.
Gent. And my course [crace
Shall be my beads at home, so please your
To give me leave to leave the court.
Duke. In peace, sir;
And take my love along !
Genf. I shall pray for you.
Duke. Now to our:ielves : retire we, and
begiu
By this example to correct each sin !
[Exeunt. Flourish.
Eman. By this we plamly view the two
imposthumes [wantonness;
That choak a kingdom*s welfare ; ease and
In both of which Lavall was capital; [nour,
For, first, ease stole away his mind from ho«
That active noble thoughts liad kept still
working ;
And then deliver*d him to drink and women.
Lust and outrageous riot; aud what their
ends are,
How infamous and foul, we see example.
Tiierefore, that great man that will keep his
name.
And gain his merit out of Virtue's schools,
Must make the pleasures of the world hit
fools. [Flourish.
The Triumph.
Enter Musicians; next themj Perohtj with
the wound he died with; then Gabriella
and MariOf with their wounds; after them
four Furies with bannerets y inscribed. Re*
venge, Murder, Lust, and Drunkenness,
singing ; next them, Lavall wounded; thsn
a chariot with Death, drawn by the Desti^
nies. [Flourish.
Enter Prologue,
ProL From this sad sight ascend your
noble eye.
And see old Time, helping triumphantlv.
Helping his master Man : view here hfs va*
nities; [flies,'
And see his false friends, like those glutted
That, when they've >\icWd tlieir fill, ^1 ofl,
and fade
From all remembrance of him, like a shade !
And last, view who relieves him ! and that
goncy
We hope your favour, and our play is done.
[Flourish.
Enter Anthropos, Desire, Vain-Delight, and
Bounty.
Anlh. What hast thou done, Desire? and
how employ'd
The charge I ^ave thee, about levying wealth
For our supplies?
Desire, I have done all, yet notliing;
Tried all, and all my ways,yetall miscarried:
There dwells a sordid dulness in their miiuls,
Thou Sim of earth, colder than thai thouVt
made of.
I came to Craft; found all his hooks about;
bini.
And all his nets baited and set^^ ; his sly self
And greedy Lucre at a serious conference
Which way to tie the world yrithiu their sta*
tutes :
^ ^Tu heir enough has lost a good remembrance. 1 Corrected by Sympson.
43 ■ all his hooks about him,
And all his nets baited and se^] Mr. Sympson says, that to bait and set nets is inaccu-
rate, and therefore would have hooks and nets change places: but nets are sometimes baited and
9rt as well as hooks, as for cray fish, grigs, &c., so that the change is uot neoetsary. Seward,
4 U 9 Business
<04
torn tLAYS, OR MORAL RfiPRSBENTATlONS, IN 0!flt
Business at all skles^ and of all sorts swarm-
ingy^ [clar'd
Lake bees broke loose in summer; I de^
Your will atid want toirether, both enforcing
With all the power and pains I had, to reach
Yet all fell short. [him;
Anik, His answer?
Desire. This be gave me : [plies
Your wants are never ending; and those sup-
That came to stop those breaches, are ever
lavish'd,
Before they reach the main^tn toys and trifler,
Gewgaws, andgilded puppets. Vain-Deliehc,
He says, has ruin'd you, with clapping all
Tlmt comes in for support, oa duatlis and
coaches [mistress,
Perfumes and powderM pates; and that your
The lady Pleasure, like a sea devours
;At fengtfi'Botli you andliim too. If you have
houses^ [hear vou.
Or land, or jewels, for good pawn, hell
And will be read;^ to supply occasions;
If not, lie locks his ears up, and grows stupid.
From hiiii, I went to Vanity, whom I found
Attended by an endless trtxip of tailors,
Mercers, embroiderers, featner-makers, fu-
mers,
All occupations opening like a mart.
That serve to rig the body out with bravery;
And thro' the room new fashions flew, like flies.
In thousand gaudy shapes; Pride waiting on
her,
And busily surveying all the breaches
Time and decaying Nature had wrought in her,
Which still with art she piecd again and
strengthened : [head-tires,
J told ;^our wants; sheslieVd tpe gowns and
Embroider'd waistcoats, smocks seaiu'd thro*
with cut-works, [paintings,
Scarfs, mantles, petticoats, mu^, powders.
Does, monkies, parrots, which all seem'd to
. shew me
^ Buuness of all sides and of all sorts.] Mr. Sympson Chinks the common eipresdos mm
the ong^nal here.
Business of all size and of all sorts,
or else of all sites. But I can by no means admit either into the text, for tlie old reiMiii^
is perfect good sense. And the first change proposed is scarce Enelish; the other bwts
the measure; and its beiug a valgar expression is the werj reason why a poet would not
use it. ' Sewtrd,
We think Sympsoa's first conjecture not inelegant, and very pbnsible. Of aU eidet^ h
very vulgar.
4J __ are crept cbsefy :
None feel my vanU, fwt one mend with me.
Desire. None, sir f] The next line shews evidently that all the pmnts here were
wrong. The last line of Anthpopos*^ speech should besomed from the forepmi^ avd be
a question which Desire should answer, but these were not the worst of the mistake ia this
passage, for what is
not one mend with me ?
One might force a sort of sense out of it, but 'tis much more probable that it is a mistake of
the press, and that we should read either,
■ • ■ not one friend with me?
oV, J not one Ufriend me?
Tlte former ts nearest the trace of the letters, banke latter gives ft more easy sense. SmordL
Tlie way her money went From her lo Pin-
I took my journey. ^fiie
Anth, And what says our best mistress?
Desire. She danc*d me out this iuis^er
presently : f ready.
iEtevds and masques had drawn ber dry ai-
'I met old Time too, mowing mankind domtt,
Who says you are too hot, and he must purge
you.
Anth. A coM ^nie^tfs.' Miserable creafores,
Bom to support and beautily your master,
The gchd-like Man,tet here to do me service^
The children of my will, why, or how dare y^
Created to my use alone, disgrace me?
Beasts have more courtesy ; they live aboot
me,
Otfcring their warm wool to the shearer's hand
To cloath me witn, their bodies to mylaboon;
Nay, even their lives they daily sacrifice,
( And proudly press with garlands to the altars^
] To fill the gods' oblations. Birds bow to me,
Strikio|/ their downy sails to do me service,
Tlieir sweet airs ever echoing to mine honour.
And to my rest their plumy softs tbej send
me.
Fishes, and plants, and all where life inhabits,
But mine own cursed kind, obey their niler;
Mine have forgot me, miserable mine,
, Into whose stony hearts, nedect of dutj,
Squint-ey'd Deceit and SdJ^love are crrept
closely I
None feel my wants? not one befriend me^?
Desire, None, sir. [friend, jFlattery;
Anth, Thou hast fofgot, Desire, mj bat
He cannot fail me.
Delight. Fail ? hell sell himself.
And alt within his power, close to his skin first
Desire. I thought so too, aud made him
my first venture ;
But found him in a young lord's ear so busy.
So like a smiling shower pouring his sonl
In at his portals ; hisfiice in thousami figares^
Ihe first, is, we think, the. best of the two;
Catching
SOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE.
ios
Cfttduog tiie vain .mind of the m«n: I poU'd
liim, [him ;
But itill he hung like bird-lime ; ipoke unto
I J is answer still was, * By the lonl, sweet lord/
And * By my soul, thou master-piece of
honour!' [your flood's gone,
Nothing could stave hbn otf: be has. beard
And on decaying thiiip he seldom smiles, sir.
Anth, Then here I break up state, and
free my foUowers,
Putting my fortune naw to Time and Justice i
Go seek new masters now ; for Anthropos,
Keglected by bis fnendsy must seek new
fortunes.
Desir«, to Avarice I here commend thee,
Where thou may^st live at full bent of thy
. wishes.
And, Vain-Delight, thou feeder of my follies,
With ligbt FantastickDess be thou in favour!
To leave thee, Bounty, my most worthy
servant,
Troubles me more than my own misery ;
Bat we must' part: go plant thyself, my best
friend.
In honourable hearts that tml]^ know thee,
And there live ever like thyself, a virtue !
But leave this place, and seek the country;
For L'lw and Lnst, like fire, IicIl all op here.
Now none but Poverty must follow me,
Despised pntch'd Poverty; and we two married,
Will seek Simplicity, Content, and Peace out,
Enter Poverti/.
And live with them in eiile. How uncall'd on
]dy true. friend comes!
Fov. Here hold thee, Anthropos!
Thou art almost arriVd at rest^ : put this on,
A penitential robe, to purge thy pleasures;
OtT with that vanity!
Anth. Here, Vain-Dclight, ^ •
And, with this, all my part to tliee again
Of thee I freeW render.
Pov, Take this staff now,
And be more constant to your steps hereafter!
The staff is Staidness of Affections.
Away, you painted flies, that with man's
summer
Take life and heat, buzzing about his blossoms !
>Vhen growing full, ye turn to caterpillars,
'Gnawing the root that gave you life. Fly,
shadows! [Exeunt Detire and Delight,
Now to Content Til give thee, Anthropos,
To Rest and Peace : no Vanity dwells there,
Desire, norPleasure, to delude thy mind more;
No fiaUery*s unootb-fird tongue shall poison
thee.
Anth, Oh, Jupiter, if I have ever offer*d
Upon thy burning altars but one sacrifice
Thou and thy fair-ey*d Juno smird upon ;
If ever, to thine honour, bounteous feasts,
Where all thy sCatoes sweat with wine attd
incense.
Have by tbc son of Earth been celebrated ;
Hebr me (the child of Shame now) hear, thou
helper, [jusliQe,
And take my wrongs into tl^ hands, ti»«
Done by nnmbidful man, unmerciful.
Against hi& master done, against thy order;
And raise again, tlMiu father of all honour.
The poor, despis'd, buC yet thy noblest
creature!
Raise from his ruins once more this sunk cedar.
That all may fear thy power, and I proclain
it! [EjteunL
Jupiter and Mercury descend ttoetally, Sqft
Musick.
Jup, Ho! Mercury, my winged son!
Merc, Your servanc
Jup, Whose powerful prayers were thooe
that reach'd our ears,
Arm*d in such spells of pity now^ ?
Merc, The sad petitions [thropos;
Of tlie scom'd son of Earth, the gocMike An*
He that has sweird your sacred fins with
incense.
And pird upon your altars thousand heifers;
He that (b^uiPd by Vanity and Pleasur^
Desire,C ran, Flattery, and smooth Hypocrisy)
Stands now despis*d and ruin'd, left to poverty.
Jup. It most not be ; he was not raised for
rum ; [perish :
Nor shall those hands heav*d at mj altars
He is our noblest creature. Flee to Time ;
And charge lum preMHitly release the bands
Of poverty and wanrthis suitor sinks in :
Tell him, among the sun4iumt Indians,
That know no other wealth but peace and
;^ pleasure,
tile shall find golden Plutos, god of riches,
^Who idly is ador*d, the innocent people
Not knowing yet what power and weight he
carries :
Bid him compel him to his right use, honoar.
And presently to li\*e with /Vnthropoa.
It is our will. Awa^l
Merc, I do obey it,
[Jupiter and Mercury taeendagain, Musick,
Enter PlutuSy with a troop of Indians singing
and dancing wildly about him, and bowing
to hiih ; wUch ended, enter Time.
Time, Rise,andaway ! 'tis Jove's command.
Plutus, I will not! [das.
Ye have some fool to furnish now ; some Mi-
That to no purpose I must choak with riphes.
Who must i go to ?
'Bme. To &e son of Earth;
He wants the god of wealth.
Plutus, Let him wmit still!
^ TAou art almost arm*d at rest,] Amended by Sympson.
^' Arm*d in such spells of pity.] The spells were undoubtedly those ofviety, which might
awake pity in Jupiter, but could not ifn that reason be called the sptUs of pity. Seward,
We see no reason for variation.
I wai
§06
FOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTAllONS, IN ONK,
I wM too lateljT with hiniy alinost torn
Into ten thousand pieces by his followers :
I ooaU not sleep, but Crait or Vanity
Were filing off my fingers; not eaft, tor fear
Pleasure would cast mrself into my belly.
And there surprize ni v heart.
Jlme, These hare torsaken him :
Make haste then ! thou must with me. Be
not angry.
For fear a ereater anger ligiit upon thee.
Flutus. I do obey then : but will change
my figure;
For when I willingly befriend a creature, ^
Goodly and full of gloi7 T shew to him ;
But when I am compell'd, old and decrepid,
I halt and hang upon my staff. Farewell,
friends!
I will not be long from ye : all my servants
I leave among ye still, and my chief riches.
lExeunt IndianSy with a dance,
Ob, Time, what innocence dwells here, what
goodness! [hug me.
They know me not, nor hurt me not, yet
Away! 1*11 follow thee: but not too fast.
Time! [Exeunt FlutM and Time.
JSnter Anthropos, Honesty^ Sin^Ucity, Hu*
mility, and Poverty.
Htaml, Man,. be not sad; neither let this
divorce
From Mundus, and. his many ways of pleasure,
AflBict thy spirits! which consider'd rightly,
'Witbinwardeyes, makes thee arrive at happy.
Pov. For now what danger or deceit can
reach thee ? ^
What matter left for CRft or Covetize
To pbt against thee? what Desire to bum
thee? [thee!
Hon. Oh, son of Earth, let Honesty possess
Be as thon wast intended, like thy M^ker ;
See thso' those gaudy shadows, that like
dreams [goodness,
Have dwelt upon tliee long; call up thy
Thy mind and man within thee, tliat lie
smpwreck*d ; [fections,
And then how thin and vain tliesc fond nf-
How lame this woridlv love,, how lump-like,
And ill-digested, all tnese vanities [raw.
Will shew, let Reason tell thee!
Simpl. Crown thy mind^* [suffering.
With that above the world's wealth, joyful
And truly be the master of thyself,
Which is tlie noblest empire! and there stand
The thins tboa wert ordain'd, and wt tm
govern!
FoD. Cotne, let us sing the world's ahane ;
hear us, Anthropos?
Song : And then enter Time and Fiuttu,
Hon. Away! we are betniy*d.
[Exeunt all hut Pef9^
Time. Get thou toe after.
Thou needy bare companion ! go for ever.
For ever, I conjure thee. Make no anawerf
[Exit Fm.
Anth. What raak'st thon here. Time? tbou
that to this minute
Never stood still by me?
Time. I've brought thee succonr;
And now, citch hold, I*m tliine : the god of
riches
CCompeird by him that saw thy miseriesy.
The ever-jast and wakeful Jove) at lengUi
Is come unto thee ; use him as thine own ;
For 'tis the doom of Heav n, he must obe/
Anih. Hare I found nity then? [thee.
Time. Thou hast, ana justice
Against those false seducers of thine hononr.
Come, give liim present helps ! [Exit Tine.
Industry and the Arts disaroered.
Flatus. Come, Industry,
Tliou friend of life ! and next to thee, riae^
Labour! [Flutus Hamps, Labour riaeu
Rise presently; and now to your employ-
ments!
But first conduct this mortal to tlie rock.
[They carry Anthropos to a rocft, amdf
fall a-digging.
What sec'st thou now f
[Plutus strikes the rocky andjUmtesfy ami.
Anth. A glorious mine of metal.
Oh, Jupiter, my thanks!
P/n/efs.'lo iue a httle.
Anth. Andtothegodofwealtli,mysacriiSce!
Flutus. Nay, then I am rewarded. Take
heed nowy son.
You are afloat again, lest Mundus catch yon !
Anth. Never betray ine more!
Flutus. I must to India, [lies bnried,
Fromwliencel came, where my main wealth
And these must with me. Take that book
and mattock^,
And, by those, know to live again !
[£rfttn^ Flutus, Indsfxtry, Labaur, Ac.
J»M. 1 shall do.
^ Crown thy mind
With that above the vorl^s wealth, joyful suffering.] I read
With tliat's above
t. e. with that which is above the world's wealth, joyful suffering. It might be still belter
English to say.
With what's above the world's wealth,
but tlie other expression is very frequent with our authors. Seward.
The old text is best, and most poetical.
^ T'ake that book and mattock.] Mr. Sympson would read hook and nuUtoeky as die tw*
emblems of industry; but knowledge and virtue beine as necessary to Anthropmn indiiflcr|^
I ttaUerstaad book as an emblem of theui. Seward.
Enttr
FOUR PLAYS, OR MORAL REPRESENTATIONS, IN ONE.
eoT
Enter Tame^ Bounding,
Fame. Thro' all the worid the fortone of
great Antliropos
Be known and wondered at ; bis riches envied,
As far wi suu or time is; his power feared
too ! \ExeunL
[Munck.
Enter Delight, Pleasure, Craft, Lucre,
Vanity y Spe. dancing (andmatgued) t<mards
the rock, offering termce to Anthropm,
Mercury from abooe, Mutick heard. One
half of a cloud drawn, iingen are dit"
covered; then the other half drawn. Jupiter
,$een in glory.
Merc, Take heed, weak man! those are
the sins that sunk thee; fJupiter.
Trust 'em no more : kneel, and give thaxiks to
Anth, Oh, mighty power !
Jup, Unmask, ye gilded poisons!—
Now look upon 'em, son of Earth, and
shame 'em ;
t*low see the faces of thy evil angels;
Lead 'enK to Time, and let 'em fill his
triumph!'
Their memories be here foreot for ever
Anth, Oh, just, great god! how many lives
of service,
What i^ies only given to thine honour,
What infinities of vows and holy prayers
Can pay my thanks ?
Jup, Rise up ! and, to assure diee
That never more thou siialt feel want; strike
Mercury,
Strike him ; and by that stroke he shall for ever
Live in that rock of gold, and stiO enjoy it.
Be't done, I say! Now sing in honour of
him. [Song.
Enter the Triunfh. lUtt, the Muueians:
then Vam-'Dehght,Pleamire, Craft, Lucre,
Vanity, and other rf the vices: then «
chariot with the person cf Tme sitting w
it, drawn fy four persons, representing
Hours, singing, [ExeunS. FlouritS.
Eman, By this we aoCe, sweetheart, a«
kings and princes, -^
' A weakness, even in spite of all their wisdonu^
i And often to be master'd by abuses.
Our nature's here describ'd too, and what
humours
Prevail above our reasons to undo as:
But this the last and best: when no friend
stands.
The gods are merciful, and lend thor hands.
IFlourisk. Exeunt.
EPILOGUE.
Now as the hQsbandman,whose costs and pain,
'Whose hopes and helps, lie buried in his grain,
Waiting a happy spnng to ripen full
His long*d-for harvest to the reaper's pull,
Stand we expecting (having sown our ground
With so much cliaiige, the fruitfulness not
found)
The harvest of our labours: for me know
You are our sprmg; and when yon mile w«
grow.
Nor cliniige nor pain shall bind ns from yoor
pleasures.
So you bat lend your bands to fill cor i
sures!
END OF THE THIRD VOWME.
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